#dean is rip too lol

[anundyingfidelity]

how i as a latina feel with destiel being canon in the spanish dub when in the original version writers were fucking pussies and didn't let the gays be happy:

[finalgirlsamwinchester]

Alex Irvine, "John Winchester's Journal" | 3.07, "Fresh Blood"

[r0semultiverse]

Rose & Kanaya as Castiel & Dean Winchester from Supernatural sprites

rosemary but it's destiel

Feel free to use these for whatever you want or for edits, just credit me for these outfit designs &/or sprites! It took a lot of hours to come up with these! 💜

[apathyfairy]

not me pulling up to the starbucks drive thru looking as ugly as humanly possible only to realize that the cute barista boy is working and he got a haircut and he's even cuter than before i fear

[caplanbuckybarnes]

In the Lonely Shadows

Summary: Crowely's always there to help convince you everything's going to be okay after Dean leaves with Lisa & Ben.

Requested by my beloved wife @midnight-moonlight-and-mars sometime back in March. LOL, sorry it’s been forever, my love.

Request: I've got a Crowley request! It can be platonic or romantic. It takes place the year Sam is resurrected and dean is living with Lisa. The reader was close with the Winchesters but after the fight with Lucifer dean abandoned the reader to be with Lisa and cas never answers ( unrequited love maybe?) so the reader teams up with Crowley and becomes like a bounty hunter for him for Lucifer loyalists. 

A/N: It's technically not Crowley x reader since she's pining for Dean. Oops, but I hope you enjoy this all the same, my love.

WC: 1054

Warnings: mentions of loneliness, and blood, the reader feels abandoned and unloved, crowley’s nice, however.

Read on Ao3!

--

It had been months since Dean had made his choice. The memory still stung—he chose normalcy, Lisa, and a life far from the chaos... far from you.

The moment Dean drove away to that suburban dream with Lisa and Ben, it was like a wound ripping open and never closing. You didn’t hear from him again, and there was no check-in or phone call—just silence. Castiel, too, was gone, leaving nothing but the ghost of his presence. Prayers went unanswered, and you were left alone with the echoes of battles fought and lives lost.

It was after Lucifer fell that everything seemed to break apart. Sam was gone—dead, you thought. Dean buried himself in the illusion of family, and you… well, you weren’t sure what you had anymore. There was no going back to who you were before the apocalypse, and your heart ached with unspoken feelings, ones that Dean never noticed.

He never loved you the way you loved him.

In the emptiness that followed, Crowley found you. The King of Hell always had impeccable timing. "You look like a stray," Crowley had said the night you crossed paths in some dingy bar in some forgotten town. "Lost your boys, I see. Shame. You were always good at what you do."

You could've walked away, but what was left? With nowhere to go and no one to fight for, you accepted Crowley’s offer—a devil's bargain, becoming a bounty hunter for Hell, tracking down Lucifer loyalists who still believed in the fallen archangel’s cause. It was dark work, but it was work, and it kept your mind from drowning in grief and longing.

The irony wasn’t lost on you. Hunting for Crowley meant betraying everything you’d once stood for, but that world had abandoned you first.

Months later, you stood in the ruins of an old church, blood splattered across the stone walls and broken angelic statues depicting Saints. The demon you’d tracked was a fanatic, a true believer in Lucifer’s return. You wiped your blade clean, not even flinching as the body burned to ash behind you. It was mechanical now—kill, move on. Feel nothing.

Crowley appeared, as he often did after a job well done. He smirked, his eyes gleaming with something close to pride. "Well done, love. Another one bites the dust."

You didn’t respond, just holstered your blade and looked out into the night. The stars were out, a stark reminder of the heaven you couldn’t reach, of the angel who had left without a word.

"You know, I’ve always admired your efficiency," Crowley continued, walking up beside you. "But there’s something hollow in it. Still pining for the good ol' days? For Dean? You haven’t been the same since the Moose and Not Moose fled away from the lifestyle."

The mention of Dean's name sent a wave of cold through you, but you kept your face neutral. Crowley was good at finding cracks in your armor, but you weren’t going to let him in. Not tonight.

"He made his choice," you said flatly. "I made mine."

"Yes, yes, he’s playing house while you do the dirty work. How noble of him," Crowley mocked, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "But you and I both know it’s eating you up inside. It’s killing you that he’s living a life that you so desperately crave with him."

You glanced at Crowley, your jaw tight. "What's your point?"

Crowley chuckled, his smile dark. "My point, darling, is that the past always catches up to us. Dean may think he can run from it, but he can’t. Sooner or later, he’ll come crawling back to this life—and to you. And when he does, what will you do? Welcome him with open arms? Or remind him of what he left behind?"

You stared at Crowley, his words sinking in deeper than you wanted to admit. You could pretend that Dean didn’t matter anymore, that you had moved on. But the truth was, no matter how many demons you killed or how many deals you made, there was still a part of you that longed for the life you had before everything went to hell. The part that still loved him. The piece of yur heart where Dean and Sam would wake you up in the mornings with the scents of breakfast wafting through the morning air.

But the man Dean had become—the one who chose Lisa, who walked away without a word—wasn’t the man you had fallen for. Maybe he never was.

"I don’t owe him anything," you said, though your voice sounded hollow even to you.

Crowley’s grin widened, a glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes. "That’s the spirit. But don’t be too quick to write him off. You never know when an old flame might reignite."

That night, alone in a dingy motel room, you sat on the edge of the bed, staring at your phone. You hadn’t tried calling Dean since the day he left, and you weren’t about to now. But your fingers hovered over Castiel’s number, the angel who had disappeared like smoke as Dean had done so long ago.

You had prayed to him, begged for his help, for some sign that you weren’t completely forsaken. But he, like Dean, was gone.

With a bitter sigh, you tossed the phone aside and laid back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Maybe Crowley was right. Maybe the past never really stayed buried. But what did it matter? You had made your choice, too. You had become something else—something darker, harder.Something you hardly recognized when you’d glanced at your reflection.

The only thing that lingered was the ache. The unspoken words, the love that was never returned, and the haunting thought that in another life, maybe things could have been different.

But this was the life you had now, and there was no going back.

Outside, the world continued its chaotic dance of light and shadow, of good and evil. And you, standing somewhere in between, were left to hunt in the darkness. Alone.

The wind howled against the motel window, but you barely noticed as sleep finally claimed you, the weight of a broken heart your only companion, not noticing the door opening to see a figure standing in the threshold holding a quickly packed luggage bag.

[PART TWO]

--

tags!

EVERYTHING PERM: @nekoannie-chan @kjs-s @notyourtypicalrose @mistressofallthingsgeeky

SPN FOREVER PERM: @amelia-song-pond @salt-n-burn-em-all @kenzieam @flamencodiva-reblogs @spn-fanfic-reblog-writes

DEAN WINCHESTER: @fandom-princess-forevermore

[little-diable]

Lies, nothing but lies - Dean Winchester (smut)

This is pure filth really, but at least there's a little bit of plot as well (not much tho lol). Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Dean and the reader have been friends since childhood, the reason why neither of them ever addressed their crush on the other. When a hunt gone wrong forces her confession out of the reader, Dean finds himself drawing back. But there was no escaping, all thanks to some strange, powdery substance.

Warnings: 18+, unprotected piv, sex pollen, choking, sloppy oral (m), slight breeding kink, friends to lovers, a small rejection though happy end, typical SPN setting

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader (2.7k words)

A gasp rippled through (y/n) as she opened her eyes, slowly adjusting to the darkness that surrounded her, wondering where she was. She tried to move around, though without any luck, bound to the chair as if she was a sacrifice that would find its end in Death’s cold arms any moment now.

“Fuck, Dean? Sammy?” She whispered the names of her hunting partners, hoping that they were close. But she was met with nothing but silence, a silence so thick, (y/n) feared she may never speak another word again. Her eyes fluttered close as she tried to remember what had happened, it took her a few seconds till the memories found their way back to her like the tide rolling back in.

She had stayed behind in the motel, needing to catch up on some sleep as the brothers went out to speak to a few neighhours, hoping that somebody had seen or heard something. It had taken them hours to figure out new details, convinced that this was the sloppy work of a werewolf, but yet (y/n) had been stupid, leaving the motel after a few minutes of trying to fall asleep though miserably failing. She should have waited for them, should have trusted the funny feeling in her gut, but it had been too late the second darkness had swallowed her whole, trapping her.

Once again (y/n) tried to shuffle around, trying to reach the pocketknife she always carried around with her. Heavy breaths left her, eyes squeezed shut to try and collect all her strength, freezing as she heard the sound of heavy steps echoing through the air. Fuck, she’d have to be quick, she’d have to collect all her strength, trying to fight her way out of this mess.

Her heart longed for Dean, knowing that he’d fight side by side with her, sticking to the woman that had been around for years. They were one, one team, one heart, one soul, though without ever addressing the palpable tension between them. 

“(Y/n)? Sweetheart?” The sound of an all too familiar voice ripped her out of the wave of sadness threatening to pull her under. “Fuck, of course she’s not here. I’ll kill that motherfucker with my own two hands.” 

“Dean! I’m here! Sammy!” Her vocal chords ached from the strength she used to call out to the two brothers, hoping that they’d hear her. (Y/n) kept calling, listening to the sound of their steps, seemingly moving closer with every passing second. 

“(Y/n)?” Sam’s voice rang in her ears, forcing a relieved gasp out of her. A cry left her, luring the two closer till they finally reached her. Dean cupped her cheek as he crouched in front of her, holding her close, letting Sam cut her free. She tumbled into Dean’s arms, inhaling the comforting scent she’d always felt recognise no matter how long they’d be apart. “Shh, we’ve got you, my brave girl, you’re okay.”

……

“Don’t look away, I’m not done yet.” Dean’s soft words filled the small motel bathroom, hands cupping her cheeks as he cleaned her scratches. She had her legs wrapped around his middle, keeping him close, not yet ready to part from him.

Her heart raced at the mere thought of ever missing a moment like this with Dean. Her life had no meaning without Dean in it, needing him to guide her, the one her heart needed to survive. 

“Dean?” A hum left him, allowing her to keep on talking. Dean was oblivious to the racing of her heart, not picking up on the sounds the strong muscle created as it skipped beats. Her nervousness flushed through her veins, body forcing her to keep on moving, searching his closeness like she should have done years ago already. “Thank you, I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Her gaze flickered between his eyes and his plush lips, momentarily distracted by the freckles she kept counting like sand collected in a glass, trying to keep memories bottled in to never forget them. His breaths got quicker, accelerating with every passing moments.

“I can’t, sweetheart.” His words made her breath hitch in her chest, staring at him with wide eyes for a few seconds before she slowly nodded her head, murmuring a soft “Of course.” (Y/n) gave Dean a small push, needing to get some distance between him and herself before he could notice the tears welling up in her eyes.

His hand found her wrist, stopping (y/n) from stumbling out of the bathroom. The sight of Dean was slightly blurred by her tears, making her feel even more pathetic as his sad smile grew clearer. Dean studied her for a few seconds, slowly letting go of her. “I wish I could, but I can’t risk our friendship, not when it’s the only good thing I can have all too myself.” 

“It’s alright, Dean. I uhm, I’ll try to get some sleep in.” He watched her leave the bathroom with trembling fingers, wrapping her arms around herself. She didn’t pick up on the tears welling up in his forest green eyes, didn’t hear the silent curses leaving him nor the sound of his hands angrily meeting the cold surface of the counter she had been sitting on. 

(Y/n) didn’t pick up on anything, but the quiet sobs clawing through her, making her heart clench in her chest.

……

“Careful!” Dean’s arms found it’s way around her waist before (y/n) could stumble over the step, eyes meeting his to communicate a quiet “Thank you”. The tension between the two had something uncomfortable to it, not yet over the conversation they’ve shared in the small bathroom days ago. Dean couldn’t help but wonder if he should have given in, ending up in a situation by far more pleasing than whatever this was, while (y/n) still cursed her exhausted self for acting like she had never done before and probably never will again.

“I’ll check out the rooms upstairs.” She had moved up the stairs before Dean could say another thing, moving through the unfamiliar house. Another case was keeping them on their toes, wondering who they were dealing with, but the things they now stumbled upon in their very house screamed “witch”, making them more uncomfortable than they’d ever admit.

(Y/n) combed through the empty rooms, opening boxes, shelves, whatever she could find. Before she could leave the upstairs area, moving back down to the man she tried to avoid like the plague, her eyes caught on a golden, small box. She moved closer, not hearing the sound of Dean’s heavy boots meeting the wooden steps, luring him closer.

“What’s that?” His voice made her jump, box crashing to the ground before she could catch it. A powdery substance now littered the ground, forcing curses out of (y/n) as she crouched down to push the substance back into the box. Dean wordlessly started helping her, eyes not daring to meet her angry ones. “I didn’t find anything, maybe we should try and see if we can find something online about the weird drawings we saw.”

“Alright, let’s go.” (Y/n) followed Dean outside, ignoring the heat simmering inside of her, threatening to take over her system. No words were spoken between the two as Dean started driving back, wiping away the drops of sweat pooling on his forehead, making him wonder why he was suddenly feeling all this hot.

“Dean?” His name left her, a sound torn between a cry and a moan, leaving his eyes to snap towards her. She was struggling just as much as he was, forcing him to tighten his grip on the steering wheel. “Fuck, I’m so hot. Open the windows, please.”

“It’s fucking freezing outside, sweetheart.” Both pondered over his words a few seconds, clinging to the quietness filling the Impala. “It was that fucking powder, shit, Sammy told me about this a while ago.”

“What is it? Will it kill us?” Her voice trembled, hands snapping into action to undo the first buttons of the jacket she was wearing, close to ripping her shirt open. Dean’s hand found her thigh, fingers dipping into her skin, forcing her to stop moving. 

“They’re called sex pollen, you have to fuck them out of your system, otherwise they’ll kill you.” A groan left Dean, mind creating vivid pictures of (y/n)'s naked frame pressed against his, how she’d mewl his name, begging him to fuck her harder. Dean had imagined this for countless times, fucking his hand to the thought of her naked frame, imagines he clung to, very well knowing that he’d never touch her, not daring to ruin his oldest and closest friendship. Lies, nothing but lies. 

“What? You’re joking! That can’t be true, what should we do?” A whimper left (y/n) as Dean’s hand started moving up her thigh, slowly, since his mind was trying to fight his body’s urges. Baby came to a halt in front of the motel, forcing the two into the room they shared. Dean couldn’t help but thank whoever was listening that Sam hadn’t joined them on this hunt, staying in the bunker for the time being. 

“I don’t know about you, sweetheart, but I’ve got something to take care of.” She looked at him with big eyes for a few seconds, well aware of the way his hardening cock pressed against the tight fabric of his trousers, forming an uncomfortable bulge. No words left her as (y/n) leaped at him, lips finding his as her mind was silenced by the pollen taking over the last bits of her system, guiding her every movement. 

Dean welcomed the kiss with a moan clawing through him, hands finding their way to her jeans, undoing the button with quick movements, set on undressing her. Both parted from one another to rip their clothes off their bodies, only left in their underwear, a sight that left them both breathless, fingers aching to feel one another. 

“I need your cock, anything, please Dean, it burns so much.” Her body was aching for his touch, wanting to feel him buried inside of her, desires fuelled by the pollen that worked like a drug on her system. Dean pushed her down on the bed, ripping her panties down her legs as she worked on her bra, a sight Dean didn’t allow himself to get lost in, needing to work quickly. His cock was twitching, leaking precum, laced with a desire so strong, he feared he’d pass out any moment now.

With his hand wrapped around his cock, Dean pushed the tip through her slit, coating himself with her arousal before he pushed into her. Both moaned in unison, eyes rolling back to give room to the darkness swapping through their systems. Dean fucked her without any mercy holding him back, hand finding its way to her throat, pinning her down as his other hand clung to the bedframe. 

It felt as if both had been needing to feel this for months, perhaps even years, a longing that had been nothing more than a daydream they’d try to escape from, at least till this very moment. Their bodies fit together perfectly, moving in sync as they tried to stop the heat that kept on flushing through them. 

Both were too far gone to speak, unable to produce anything but moans and groans, sinful words that rippled through them. Her orgasm moved closer quickly, flushing through her before she could stop her body from giving in, but Dean didn’t stop moving, not nearly as done as she was. 

Her body kept calling out to his, the heat still thumped through her veins, almost as strong as it had been before her first orgasm of the night. Their eyes met, hers hazy and confused, Dean’s twinkling with joy, excitement, and the pride he wasn’t able to swallow down. Even though he couldn’t guide his body, having to trust his instincts, he couldn’t deny that he loved seeing her like this, moaning for him, fucked out within a few moments. 

“I need to fill you up, want to fuck you full with my cum.” His words forced another moan out of her, body not satisfied just yet. Their hearts kept jumping, her arm found its way around his neck, pulling Dean in for another kiss. They were a mess of tangled limbs, tongues, and digits, a mess so perfect, they never wanted to free themselves from it.

Dean kept staring down on her as his hand disappeared between their bodies, rubbing her already overstimulated pulsing bundle of nerves with a smirk tugging on his lips. Her moans were everything but quiet, loud enough to ring in his ears like a cry of help in the quiet night would. 

“Cum inside of me Dean, please, I want it, want it so badly.” Her words were slurred, giving Dean the last push he needed to tumble over the edge, cum painting her walls white as a heavy groan left him. Slow thrusts kept pushing his cock into her heat, cock still hard and twitching, needing to chase another high before they’d feel somewhat satisfied. 

Without another warning Dean pulled out of her, flipping them around so that (y/n) had her face buried in the pillows, heavily groaning as he pushed back into her from behind. Their moans grew louder once again, dripping with pleasure and lust, an insatiable hunger they couldn’t still, all thanks to the pollen drugging their system.

“I should have fucked you sooner, fuck, I won’t ever let you go again, sweetheart, you belong to me, just like your body does.” Dean spoke his words with his jaw clenched and his teeth pressed together, still rushing along the waves of pleasure that made them tremble. (Y/n) could only groan, sobbing his name with squeezed together eyes, fingers digging into the fabric of the pillow. 

Her walls kept fluttering around his cock, ready to give in again, shaking fingers finding their way to her aching clit. Within seconds she was pushed over the edge again, finally letting go of the heat that had forced her to keep on going, allowing her body to somewhat relax. 

Dean stared down on her for a few seconds, hips still snapping against her behind before he pulled out of her, groaning a throaty “I need your mouth, sweetheart”. With tired though excited eyes staring up at Dean, (y/n) shuffled around, allowing him to abuse her mouth, forcing his cock deep down her throat.

She gagged for him, instantly making a mess with saliva dripping from her lips and chin. (Y/n) clung to him, corners of her mouth burning within moments, and yet she couldn’t help but moan for more, eyes rolling back into her head with every rough thrust. Her moans vibrated on his skin, forcing Dean to keep on going, adding to the speed of his thrusts to push himself over the edge again.

He came with a heavy groan, curses rolling off his tongue as he filled her cheeks. His hand found her hair, tilting her head back, watching tears run down her cheeks. 

“Fuck, are you okay, sweetheart?” A tired hum left (y/n), finding comfort against his chest, pulled closer with his hands holding onto her waist. His hand ran up and down her spine, forcing goosebumps to rise on her skin, not wanting to break out of this state just yet. “Listen, sweetheart, about what I’ve said-"

“It’s okay, Dean, you don’t have to explain yourself.” She slowly pulled back, at least she tried to, though without any luck. Dean kept holding her close, lips finding hers before she could speak another word. 

“I was stupid, just scared to ruin our friendship. But I can’t let you again, if you still want me.”

[oceansblvds]

You and Coryo being Academic rivals, one day you're arguing in class too much and highbottom kicks you out and tells you to figure it out and come back once the two of you finally get along - however you keep arguing until the tension is too much and you end up making out in halls of the academy. 👀 also imagine highbottom catching you and being so over it like "that's not what i meant when i told you to get along"

perhaps.... had too much fun with this LOL

warning(s): nothing rly. kissing?

you and coriolanus had never been close, you were both convinced that the only thing you had in common was where you two both stood academically. you two were both at the top of the class together, the dean even said it himself, there was no way of distinguishing who was higher than the other because of how close you two were grade wise. both of you always got essays and tests back with one hundred percents, both of you were always the last two people in the library when it was almost midnight (always on opposite sides of the room), and the both of you absolutely hated it. you both hated that you couldn't best each other. the arguing never stopped, the bickering getting on everyones nerves. some people thought that you two would be good friends if you just talked to one another, but no way, not when he was your worst enemy. or so it seemed.

it had gotten so bad that the two of you were even arguing in front of teachers. the most recent time, when everything changed, you two were arguing over something to do with calculus. you were solving complex, two variable integrals and he was committed to telling you how wrong you were about the way that you had solved it on the whiteboard. although the teacher had given the class time to solve problems with your table while she talked with the dean, who had stepped in to have a private word, their talk was interrupted when the dean told you that you two needed to take a breather, and learn how to talk to each other without ripping each other to shreds.

you were fuming, walking out of the classroom before him and stepping into the hallways. you could hear his footsteps behind you, and when you were far enough away, in a hallway that didn't have any classrooms and was instead lined with shelves of past academic pictures, you turned around. "what do you want," you asked him, standing in the middle of the hallway. coriolanus looked almost amused by how pissed off you were. "you know, you ruin everything," you said. "i've never been kicked out of a classroom before until you." your words were venom.

then he began talking. about how you drove him crazy with how smart you were, and how much you liked to rub it in his face. "i just wish that for once you could shut your fucking mouth," coriolanus said to you. he had gotten closer, his breath fanning your face as he towered over you. this close to him and you could smell the faintness of roses, you could see the smile lines on his face, the tiniest bits of freckles dotting his skin. you hated him. you hated how beautiful he was. and so, giving the faintest of a smirk, you stated, "make me."

and although what happened next was a wrong move, on both of your parts who were so keen on keeping appearances and your reputation in toe. put coriolanus grabbed your shoulder and waist, slamming you into the wall of the hallway. you didn't pull away, instead pushing your lips towards his almost as fast as he did the same thing. he muttered something about how he knew how to shut you up against your lips, barely giving you enough time to breath between heated kisses. it was rough, bruising even, like he was trying to consume your soul. his lips were so soft, pissing you off enough at their perfectness that you nipped at them, sucking the bottom one into your teeth and biting. he hissed at the feeling, pulling away for just a moment, panting, and putting his finger to his lip that had a little blood splattered on it. instead of saying something, he kissed you even harsher, tongue pressing into your mouth and slotting between your tongue and the roof of your mouth.

coriolanus' hands were in your hair, pulling it harshly down to gain better access to your lips, his other hand pressing into your hip to keep you against the wall. your hands were on his back and around his neck, fingernails scratching against his pristine skin that gave him goosebumps.

the two of you stayed like that, kissing and basically morphing into one complete enigma for who knows how long. long enough that both of you heard someone clear their throat. it was dean highbottom, looking at the two of you like you were crazy. your cheeks burned, thinking that this was it, you were going to be kicked out of school and you would never have a life ever again. instead, he just looked at the two of you for another moment as coriolanus pulled away, leaving you against the wall. "when i told you to get along . . ." dean highbottom said, turning on his heel to walk away, "that's not what i meant."

you two got detention for a week.

at least afterwards the two of you could continue to get along.

[sammyluvr]

but daddy i love him — sam winchester

cw : gn!empath!reader, light angst, fluff, some canon typical violence, demons, mentions of weapons, emotional manipulation/some emotional abuse in reader’s past/presence, dean’s kinda mean for a bit, kissing, food/drink mentions, poor editing, 11.3K words. listen to but daddy i love him by taylor swift. requested !

summary : you were raised sheltered from the world, but once you meet sam, you come to understand what freedom means. ౨ৎ … [ empath : has the ability to read and manipulate anyone’s emotions. not the psychology kind lol ]

you’re not a demon, though you’re certainly no angel. in all technically, you suppose that you’re closer to a demon since they used to be human. not that you’d want to be put in the same box as any single demon, but you know that they feel some emotions. angels, you’re told, do not. to you, that’s quite a strange concept. someday, you’d like to meet one to see if it’s true.

and though you are not a demon, you’ve learned very well how to be like one, or at the very least how to feel like one. this is only helpful because your uncle, the demon who raised you (who is not your real uncle, nor related to you at all) wants you to be just like him. that implies being entirely uncaring and mostly unfeeling, with the exceptions for feelings being guiltless, hatred, annoyance, generally anything negative and parallel with aggression, and pleasure in the face of enacting pain or evil things upon somebody else.

having been surrounded by exactly that for as long as you can remember, you have no trouble pretending to be that way. in actuality, you find it totally impossible to embody it in truth. you, opposite to demons, are especially in tune with all aspects of your humanity. this does include the bad, but you’ve spent your life clinging to and longing for the good. plus, you don’t particularly enjoy experiencing the constant negativity that rolls off of most demons and right onto you. although your powers are geared towards other humans and you can’t read or manipulate demons’ emotions as easily, you learned to use your powers on them before anything else.

today, you accompany a crossroads demon, as per usual. your uncle has you trying a new tactic to aid in soul-collection. unfortunately for you, it’s been working well and you have to pretend more often than not that your powers are failing you when they’re working just fine. you feel like a door-to-door salesman for guaranteed painful death and torture until one’s humanity is ripped away, all under the guise of pretty or petty dreams come true.

your accompanying demon, russell, is one of your least favorites. you don’t really like any of them, but unfortunately, russell is one of your uncle’s most trusted. you think it’s stupid, because you’re able to tell that he’s a coward and most likely not as trust-worthy as your uncle thinks. personally, you just find him annoying.

russell approaches the next house, knocking on the door as you lag behind. the man at the last house sold his soul in exchange to look ten years younger. not everyone exchanges their lives for such stupid reasons, but when they do, it makes you feel extra disgusted by the work you have to participate in. but for the sake of fooling your uncle, you pretend to enjoy it. someday, you might get away… you just don’t know what you’d do or how you’d survive.

the owner of the house opens the door, and the second she sees you and russell, dressed in suits and smiling all fake, her annoyance and skepticism immediately become apparent to you. your first order of business is to push that away and replace it with openness, curiosity, and a little bit of desire to get her to listen to you. since you “failed” at the first three houses and were successful at the last one, russell expects you to make this one work as well. it takes a bit of concentration to keep everything subtle and slow so that she doesn’t notice anything too strange.

when she greets you, she smiles a little and you know that you were successful. you let russell do all the talking as you continually feed the woman more desire and assuredness. little by little, you tug at her hesitation, pulling it away as russell gives her his pitch.

“anything you could ever dream of for the small price of your soul!” he lies about how small of a price it is and you mask your abundant discomfort. the more and better you do for your uncle, the more he lets you off of your figurative leash. the woman, mrs. hadley, as she introduced herself, is on the verge of saying yes. you’re seated in the living room as she goes on about how her one wish is for her young son to be treated well at school. you debate sabotaging the deal to save her, when the door bangs open and two men burst into the house, both sporting various weapons.

mrs. hadley screams and your concentration snaps. immediately, her fear and confusion wash over you, along with everything else that the two men and russell are feeling. suddenly quite overwhelmed, you squeeze your eyes shut for a moment before remembering you’re under threat. russell curses loudly, and when you snap your eyes open, he’s halfway across the room as he sprints full speed for the back door.

“sam!” shouts one of the men, nodding towards you and the frightened mrs. hadley as he takes off after russell. the other man, now dubbed sam, points his knife at you and begins rehearsing a latin exorcism.

“i’m not a demon, i swear,” you say, slowly standing and putting your hands up in surrender. his eyebrows furrow in confusion. you also sense his urgency and protectiveness, but you don’t sense as much aggression in him as you’d expected. the rush of that which you’d felt before must have been from the other man.

“then what are you?” he asks, voice gruff as he slowly approaches, trying to carefully manuever in between you and mrs. hadely.

“i’m human,” you answer, honest but withholding the full truth. “i promise,” you plead, trying to gauge his reaction without actually manipulating his feelings. when sam reaches mrs. hadley, he holds his arm in front of her protectively. there’s still fear and utter confusion rolling off of her.

“wh–what the hell is going on?” she asks, voice panicked.

“it’s alright,” sam reassures, trying to be as gentle as possible. “you just can’t make that deal. it’ll get you killed.”

“what? killed, i– but it seemed– it seemed fine?” you can feel doubt creep into mrs. hadley as well as she questions why she trusted you and russell so much without any real reason.

“trust me, whatever they promised you, it’s not worth it,” sam emphasizes. mrs. hadely goes to speak again, but sam returns his attention back to you. “what are you doing with a demon?”

“i… they have me trapped,” you say in a half-lie.

he clenches his jaw, but most of his distrust subsides because he feels more concerned for mrs. hadley than you. he tucks his knife somewhere accessible, and turns to the woman to comfort her. he tries to explain without too much detail that she should never sell her soul to anyone, but that it’s best if she tries to forget this all. but it’s clear to both you and him that she’s just panicking more and more. you easily read the way that sam wants to help her and it makes you want to do the same.

you mean to just send mrs. hadley a touch of calm and comfort, just so sam can get through to her. but you yourself are panicked and overwhelmed, never having been in such an out-of-control situation, and your strong desire to help her comes out unfiltered and unhindered by your usual careful control when you deal with humans. suddenly, mrs. hadley is grinning from joy, even laughing a little. for a moment, this seems fine to you. you fixed her fear, didn’t you?

but sam turns even more confused and worried. this, in turn, confuses you and breaks your concentration, and she falls back into an even stronger fear as she realizes starkly that she’s been experiencing emotions that aren’t her own.

she bursts into tears. “what– what was that?” she cries. you feel quite overwhelmed by her strong emotions.

you frown deeply. “i– i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to– i mean, i was just trying to help. i didn’t want want you to feel so afraid. i can help, though, i promise. i just– i was distracted and humans can be so sensitive.” you begin to approach with your hands still in the air, but you halt when her fear spikes even more and sam’s hesitance returns in full. they don’t want you near. you consider manipulating both of their emotions, just to get them to allow you closer, but you think better of it at the last second. they might grow even more wary if they notice the change in their own feelings.

“did you do that?” sam asks.

you deflate in guilt. “i’m sorry,” you say again, filling your voice with sincerity, “i didn’t mean to scare you,” you look at mrs. hadley, then proceed carefully, “but i can help, just a little, i won’t do anything crazy– i– i can’t do anything crazy, i promise. and i can make sure that no one ever bothers you again. you don’t have to let me close if you don’t want me to, but i really can help. just to… to calm things down a little and– and leave a little room for you to process. or, of course, i can just go and you’ll never see me or that guy again.” you look between sam and mrs. hadley, trying to calm yourself so you can get a proper read on both of their emotions without overloading yourself with all the information. mrs. hadley is just about as confused and scared as before, but you think that sam’s reassuring presence is helping her. you’re not so sure that your words have done anything to help. sam himself is still hesitant, but as some of his wariness slips away, you think he might be willing to hear you out or at least let you go unscathed.

“oh, you’re not going anywhere,” comes a gruff voice from behind you, along with the kiss of cold metal on the back of your neck. it’s a gun, you presume. you slowly lift your hands back up, having forgotten about the other man’s presence when he disappeared to take care of russell. you turn your attention to his feelings instead of the other two in case you need to use your powers to try and save yourself. he’s got aggression, calm anger, and a whole lot of protectiveness practically spilling out of him. he thinks you’re dangerous. he’s not necessarily wrong, but you really aren’t a danger to them, not unless you have to be.

“i’m telling the truth, i swear. please, just– just let me go.” you keep your voice steady, but pleading, trying not to let on just how scared you are but also appeal to their sympathy. you’re in danger, something that you’re completely unused to despite the way you grew up all around it.

“and let you get back to those demon bitches? not a chance. what even are you?” the man’s voice is unforgiving as he digs the gunpoint further into your skin, pressing for answers. you wince.

“dean, wait,” sam interrupts, “i don’t think they’re trying to hurt anyone,” he says, trying to reason before dean gets any more violent.

“sam, they’re clearly working with demons. i think that qualifies as trying to hurt people. we don’t even know if they’re human,” dean counters.

you’re about to speak again in your own defense when a familiar voice fills your ears.

“it’s always you boys, isn’t it? i should have known that the winchesters would crash my little soul-collecting party,” your uncle drawls.

“crowley,” sam growls, and you’re suddenly flooded with his anger.

your uncle completely ignores sam in favor of dean. “i kindly ask that you let my sweet pet go, squirrel.”

dean turns around, pulling you with him. “so they’re with you?” dean asks, voice accusatory.

“they are. and if you don’t hand them over, i will knock you out cold without a second thought. your choice, of course, darling,” crowley quips. you’re highly confused. the three clearly know each other, but your uncle has never mentioned anyone like the “winchesters” before. dean grows even more suspicious of you, sam confused and worried, and you know very well that crowley is only barely covering up his total anger. he’s anything but pleased to have found you in this situation.

“tell me why, and i’ll hand them over,” dean bargians, not realizing just how much he’s pissing crowley off. your uncle doesn’t even wait to answer before sending dean flying across the room and grabbing your wrist.

“let’s go,” he grumbles, tugging you along with him. you glance back at sam, who moves forward, trying to stop crowley until he too gets flung into the wall.

“uncle!” you shout in protest. “wait, i need to–”

“absolutely not,” he shouts back, “what the hell were you thinking? how’d you mess up a simple deal so horribly?”

“i’m sorry,” you apologize, suddenly remembering yourself. he’ll only grow more angry if you continue to protest.

“damn those winchesters,” he grumbles to himself. as he drags you home, he continually complains about them, cursing that you got mixed up with them and pounding into your head that you should never, ever get involved with the winchesters.

⟢⟢⟢

honeybee cafe is just about the only solace that you have. it’s away from your uncle and the other demons, the place you always come when you’re allowed out without supervision. on top of that, it’s small and quiet, and you never visit during crowded hours. technically, you’re required by crowley to stay somewhere with other people so you can practice your powers on them. you picked this cafe for it’s cozy, quiet atmosphere, and the general lack of patrons from one to three pm. that way, you’re never overwhelmed by too many emotions. it’s usually just you, another regular or two, and the few workers. maybe it’s a little odd, but you feel secretly close with the people whose emotions you tune into over and over again. and you certainly don’t manipulate their emotions as crowley likely wishes you would.

you always sit in the corner furthest from the door, facing the rest of the small shop so that you can keep an eye on anyone who comes in or chooses to stay inside. sitting with your favorite beverage and a book you picked up from the library beforehand, you relish the comfort and warmth of the sunlight coming in from the window behind you. your room at home has no windows, and that just about kills you. you love windows.

only the soft tinkle of the bell on the cafe door interrupts the focus you lend to the book in front of you, and you look up on instinct. your breath catches in your throat as you immediately recognize the man who walks in. he doesn’t notice you, but you watch him as he orders a coffee. as he waits off to the side, you turn slightly, and you’re too late to cast your eyes down before he catches your gaze. his face lights up in recognition and surprise. he takes a step towards you before he’s interrupted by the barista’s call of his name. quickly, he takes the cup from their hand and thanks them before turning back to you. you weren’t planning on speaking to him, not after your strange first encounter and crowley’s warnings against him, but you feel an odd sort of relief when it becomes clear that he wants to approach you, to talk to you. he had left an impression on you when you’d met. he’d just seemed so… good.

his eyes flicker around the cafe as he comes closer, likely looking for signs of demons.

“i’m alone,” you assure him, smiling carefully as he gets close enough. he nods, slowly sitting across from you when you nod at the seat. “though i have to be back by evening or someone will come looking for me,” you explain, mouth forming a small frown as you think about it. he’s confused and concerned as he looks at you, and it feels sort of nice to guess that he’s maybe worried about you.

he seems unsure of what to say, so he just jumps right into it. “i never caught your name. i’m sam winchester, though i’m sure you got that before. can i ask… are you an empath? i did some research since we last met.” he gives you a tense sort of smile, not because he’s nervous, but just because this second meeting feels very awkward.

you nod and give him your name before anything else. “and yes, i am an empath,” you confirm, unsure if you should explain further or not. he seems to understand well enough.

he’s a bit more hesitant the next time he speaks. “and can you explain your… situation? you said you were trapped, and crowley seemed very possessive of you… but i thought i heard you call him uncle? whatever it is, i can help you get away from him, my brother and i have dealt with crowley too many times to count.”

his immediate offer to help and instinct to suggest you just leave crowley are both sort of overwhelming to you, but a part of you likes his words.

“oh. i– well, it’s complicated. crowley, he’s– he’s sort of my only family.” sam’s eyebrows raise a little in questioning. “we’re not actually related, or anything, but he raised me. he’s– well, he’s taught me everything i know and… i can’t– i can’t really leave. besides, he’s really not all that bad,” you try to excuse, suddenly feeling oddly defensive in a way that you can’t really explain. “and i get days to myself like this, i– i have my freedom, i just… before, i didn’t want you to think i was trying to hurt people, or that i like to, but uncl– crowley doesn’t really know… that i don’t like the things that he… that he asks me to do for him.”

suddenly, this wave of sad understanding rolls over you from sam, and you’re not sure why. his face doesn’t change much as he listens, but to you it seems like he thinks you’ve said something so sad.

“but it’s alright,” you quickly try to amend, “he thinks i’m weaker than i really am. that way he doesn’t suspect when most demon deals i’m a part of fail. i have to… i have to get some to work so that he thinks i’m trying, but i promise i try to hurt the least amount of people possible. and.. and he still lets me have my days out when the deals fall through. i botched two yesterday, but i’m still here, aren’t i?” you attempt at sounding lighthearted, but sam’s sadness doesn’t go away much. instead, you just feel compassion blooming from him as well.

“i understand,” he says kindly, “i didn’t think you were trying to hurt people. i believe you.” he’s completely sincere and you realize that that’s not something you’re too used to from almost anybody you talk to.

“thank you,” you sigh in relief, smiling and trying to show him that you’re sincere too. “your brother? dean?” sam nods. “he didn’t believe me,” you state.

sam cringes a little. “he can be like that. he–” he purses his lips, looking for the right words, “he doesn’t trust very easily. he’s very suspicious of people he doesn’t know.”

“i don’t think he really thought i was a person,” you say, starkly honest in a way that surprises sam for a moment. you don’t quite understand what his surprise was for, but he quickly shoves it away before you can ask about it.

“he’s– he’s working on that. i’m sorry he made you feel that way,” sam says, truly feeling apologetic.

“well, i didn’t feel that way. just him. i know that i’m a person,” you smile, trying to reassure him and wishing he didn’t feel sorry.

sam smiles back a little. “right,” he nods, “well, i’m still sorry he thought that way about you. he’ll come around.”

“thank you, sam. but you don’t have to feel sorry, it’s not your fault he felt that way,” you assure, completely sincere and trying to work out why sam would feel sorry about something he didn’t cause, nor that he agrees with. he’s already proved himself to be kind and believing enough.

“sure,” he agrees, trying to figure out the right way to explain what he means as he begins to understand how truly sheltered from normal human interaction you’ve been. “but i know how it feels to have someone doubt how human you are and that it’s not a good feeling. so i’m just sorry and empathetic that you had to experience that.”

you nod in understanding. “ah, well, that’s kind of you… you’re right. it wasn’t the most pleasant thing to feel, but i understand that dean was feeling sort of afraid and definitely mistrustful. you didn’t really find me in the most trustworthy position. but if i meet him again, i hope you’re right that he’ll come around. i really am just a person, but i get that i’m, you know, not one hundred percent normal. really, empathy’s a very human thing, mine’s just… exaggerated, i guess.” you look at him, head cocked to the side in confusion. “but you, sam? why would someone doubt how human you are? you feel things just like a human.”

sam gives you a half smile. there’s a tinge of bitterness when he answers, but the way he talks and feels makes it seem as though time as softened most anger or sadness. yet, it also feels as though he’s never really talked about this much.

“i used to have psychic powers. i’d have visions, these premonitions before people died.” he explains it as something so casual, and he’s trying to feel that way about it, but he really seems to care. “in a way, i was barely different from you. of course, i’m still not. we’re both people.”

“really?” you ask, curious, “i didn’t know other people had that sort of thing. and your powers? they’re gone now?”

“it seems like it. i haven’t had a vision in a long time,” he answers.

“you seem relieved by that,” you note. sam picks up on the tinge of sad disappointment in your voice.

“i am,” he answers honestly, “but not because it’s bad to have those sort of powers. i just didn’t really enjoy getting visions of people dying violently.” he gives you a tight-lipped smile to show you he’s okay being lighthearted about it all.

you relax. “right, of course. that must have been hard,” you give him a small, kind smile, “i can feel that it was hard. i’m glad you don’t have to go through that anymore.” you’re all sincerity, and sam smiles right back.

“can i ask what it’s like for you? to have these powers?” he asks, careful and kind. he wonders if you get headaches or terribly tired of feeling other people’s emotions all the time, but he doesn’t want to make you talk about it if you’d rather not.

you’re slightly taken aback by the question, and not because you don’t want to talk about it. you just never really have at all before. you realize the simultaneous oddness and loveliness of this conversation. not once have you spoken about your powers with another human before, much less one who has some understanding about them.

“well… i guess i’ve never really thought about it much. just because i’ve never known anything else. i honestly don’t remember much from when i was young, but crowley’s been teaching me how to use them for as long as i remember. it’s both better and worse with practice, i guess. and the way i learned was kind of odd.” you pause, unsure if sam wants to really hear about it all. but he gives you an encouraging nod and you feel genuine interest coming from him, so you continue.

“i started learning with demons, but they feel a whole lot less than humans do. and i can’t feel or manipulate their emotions as easily or strongly since my powers are geared towards humans. but since that’s how i learned, it’s decently easy now, though it technically takes more effort than it does for humans. now i’m practicing on people, and it’s sort of too easy. it takes much more control because i’m used to exerting more power on demons. and humans feel things much more strongly, and are much more sensitive to change. i’ve gotten much better, but if i’m distracted or overwhelmed, my control slips. that’s what happened with mrs. hadley.” suddenly, you remember her. “is she okay?” i made things worse for her, didn’t i? you think.

“she’ll be alright,” sam says. “she was shaken up, but she was doing much better when i left. don’t worry too much about her.”

you almost want to ask again, if she’ll really be okay, but it seems that sam will most likely give you the same answer he just did. “okay,” you relent. then you realize you did more explaining about how your powers work than what it’s like for you. “to really answer your question; it’s my norm, and i’m not sure what it would be like without them. but sometimes i think it might be nice if i didn’t have them. i would’t have to help the demons, and it can be… overwhelming. i’m used to the demons; their emotions are easier to tune out. but with people? well, they just feel a lot. of course, i’m used to my own feelings, but to feel that, plus everything else around me, especially when someone could be feeling so much all at once is just… it can be a lot. i’m learning how to tune it out, but honestly, i’m still figuring it all out.”

sam thinks you look a little embarrassed when you finish, and he certainly doesn’t want you to feel that way. “that makes sense,” he reassures, “i barely had any control over my own powers. i can’t imagine how difficult it is to be in control of something so complicated and fickle as emotions. most people can barely deal with their own emotions. being able to feel everyone else’s too can’t be easy at all.

you nod in simple agreement. “it isn’t. but i’m also glad for it. sometimes, unc– crowley has me use it for his, you know, demon things, and i don’t like that. but i think my powers are part of the reason why i’m able to hate it. i’m so connected to humanity, the good and bad in everything that people feel, that no matter how i grew up, i’ll always have empathy in its rawest form. and though i don’t get too many chances, and i mess it up sometimes, i can help others when i’m away from the demons. last week, there was this girl in here,” you smile lightly at the memory as you begin to recount it to sam, “she was smiling and nice to everyone, but i could feel how just sad she was. i paid for her drink and told her she looked pretty, and the way that it made her feel… i didn’t even have to use my powers. she was just so grateful and happy that she teared up. and i barely did anything at all. that’s what keeps me going,” you say, completely honest, “knowing that i can help and that it’s my choice when i do it.” you feel like some huge weight has been lifted from your chest. you’ve never said this all aloud, and certainly not for someone else to hear. but something about sam and his sincerity and goodness makes you feel comfortable enough to say almost anything at all.

sam looks at you with a sort of admiration and total understanding, and that alone is almost enough to overwhelm you. it seems like, in all your experience in feeling, sam is showing you more, all by himself and without even trying. to be understood, so fully in so little time, is not something you’d ever felt for yourself before.

“i know what you mean,” he says, and you absolutely believe him. you want to know him, more than you’ve ever wanted to know anybody. you want to know all about what he feels and why and what he likes and how he knows what you mean without being able to read your feelings like you can his. and you know that he feels just about the same way you do. he wants to know you just as much as you want to know him.

and so you talk and talk and talk until you realize that the sun is dipping low in the sky because you begin telling him how much you love windows. then it’s a sort of frenzy; you’re worried you’ll be caught and try to leave right away, but sam catches your wrist, his calloused hand so gentle on your skin. he asks for your number, but you don’t have a phone, so you tell him to come back at the same time next week if he can. then you rush out and he watches you go.

the next week, sam appears in the cafe doorway at 1:24 pm, and he looks all soft when you smile at him wide. before you have to go again that day, he hands you a cheap phone with both his and dean’s contact already in place. he tells you it’ll make things easier because he might not be able to make it again next week. he doesn’t know when he’ll be on a hunt or not. then he tells you not to call dean unless it’s a true emergency; dean still isn’t sure about you.

when you go, you forget to ask him how to use it. so, when he texts you on thursday to tell that he’s on a hunt, and might not make it to your meeting spot on sunday, you’re very unsure what you’re supposed to say. figuring out how to use the phone itself isn’t difficult, but you’re unaware that your simple response of “that’s okay.” is a bit bare-boned and dry in response to his kindly worded message. over time, you get used to how sam talks over text and learn how to emulate it.

and when sam calls you for the first time, you’re completely taken aback. you’d seen people talking over phone calls many times, but you’d never actually done it yourself. you accidentally hang up on him four rings in, but he calls you back a moment later. your surprise is delighted when you hear his voice through the speaker. then you discover it’s just like a demon call without all the blood involved. you also discover that, while you can pick up on emotions from his voice, you can’t really use your powers at all through the phone.

he regretfully interrupts your long spiel about the different pastries you’ve tried from honeybee cafe, telling you he has to go. you ask why, confused that you can’t just keep talking since you’re now able to through the phone. you love talking to him, and you think he enjoys it too. then he tells you that he was just calling to see if you could meet a different day this week, like he asked at the beginning of the call, and that dean expects him to be doing research for a case right now. you ask why he didn’t just text like normal, why he’d call if he didn’t want to keep talking.

“i do want to keep talking,” he reassures, “it’s just that i don’t have the time right now, but i thought calling might be a little easier than texting this time around. but i can call you again later tonight?”

“okay,” you respond, happy enough with that solution. after that, you call him any time you have something to say. he laughs to himself, completely endeared when you call him to tell him that you saw a very cute cat, then hang up seconds later before he can even respond.

eventually, you come to learn that he can’t actually pick up most of the time, but he tries to as much as possible, and that calling is nicer when you both have the time to actually sit down and talk. as you get to know sam, you learn many, many things along with all the questions he answers about himself. 

most amazingly, you learn what it feels like to fall in love with someone fast, and what its like for them to fall right in love with you too. whatever connection that you and sam felt the first few times meeting each other very easily and naturally turns into love. there’s this tug between the two of you, pulling you closer to each other every time you meet. his hand brushes over yours and you smile at him brightly, and you constantly think about each other when you’re apart.

sam tries to take things slow, feeling a little bit like he’s taking advantage of you and your sheltered past. but you know what you want, what you feel, and what he feels too. he wants you just as much as you want him, and you see no reason not to give each other just that.

and it’s so glorious, because you don’t have to read his emotions to know that he loves you back. he makes it so abundantly clear with the way that he acts around you, the way that he looks at you, and the way that he kisses you. you’ve learned that you’d do just about anything for him. you’ve learned how to feel this wild joy that you didn’t know how to feel before.

and it’s true that you’ve learned other, less pleasant things. you hate aiding demon deals even more than you thought. you’ve begun to think that, maybe, almost everything crowley’s raised you to view as the facts of the world, aren’t nearly as true as you thought. you’ve learned that maybe you don’t really owe him so much for raising you or teaching you to use your powers, and you’ve thought the scary thought that he might’ve done it all just to use you. you’ve learned that you should be able to do anything you’d like without having to fear the king of hell’s wrath. that you want to, probably should, get away from crowley, and that feeling like you don’t have a choice isn’t healthy or good for you at all. you’ve learned that you’re still too scared, but you’d rather be with sam, and that every day you spend with him, you become braver.

you’ve also found out that loving in secret can be hard, and that you want to see sam all the time, not just the times when both of you can sneak away. apparently, dean’s still having trouble “coming around” to the idea of you. he doesn’t know that sam’s yours and you’re his. he’s worried that you’re manipulating sam in caring about you, but sam’s reassured you that his love for you is the realest thing that he feels. you couldn’t be more grateful for the fact that he trusts you so much. 

he trusts you so much that every weekend possible, he meets you in the cafe or the nearest motel and you spend hours just talking or laying in comfortable silence together.

he always books the room with the best view from the window and opens the curtains before you get there so that the sunlight bathes the room in warmth and light. today, the late afternoon light is especially pretty, tinted orange and casting a bright hue over yours and sam’s skin as you lounge in the bed together.

his arm is wrapped around your shoulders, both of you propped against the wall with several pillows. you hold his other hand, playing with his fingers and relishing in the feeling of his pretty nose against your cheekbone. because he can’t resist you, he likes to keep his face as close to yours as possible so that it’s very easy to kiss you. his lips will brush against your cheek constantly, and other times he lifts his hand from your upper arm to gently nudge your face closer to his so that he can seal his lips over yours.

you’ve already talked about lots of things today; the best toppings on salad, sam’s most recent case, the symbolism of rhododendron flowers in the book you finished three days ago, and surely more. but the last hour has been quiet, filled with more rustling of blankets, soft sighs, and occasional whispers more than anything else. you’re content, and sam is too, for the most part. often, you try not to be reading sam’s emotions, but spending so much time with him and being so close to him has put you almost irrevocably in tune with his feelings, and you can feel that something’s nagging at him. it’s both good and making him nervous at the same time, but you don’t say a word. you wait for him, until he’s ready to say whatever it is.

it’s when he presses another kiss to your temple that he speaks, voice a more steady volume rather than a whisper this time. “honey?” he says like a question, signaling to you that he’s got something to say, maybe something important that he wants to ask.

“yes, love?” you respond, trying to sound receptive to whatever it is he wants to talk about.

“i, uh, i asked dean if he’d try and meet you, and i managed to convince him. he– he doesn’t know that we’re together, love, but i told him i ran into you again. i think… i think he probably suspects that there’s more to it than that, but he hasn’t said anything about it and i’m taking that as a good sign. would you be okay trying to meet up with him?” he asks, careful and tentative. you can tell that he’s scared to interrupt the balance of things, but that he really wants this. you know how much he hates hiding this all from dean.

“of course,” you assure him quickly. you want the same as him. you don’t want to have to stay furtive and distant from sam so much. but you also have a question. “are we… going to pretend? you know, not to be together?”

sam’s face falls a little at that thought, and at the hint of sadness in your voice when you ask. “i don’t want to,” he starts.

“but you’re nervous,” you gently interrupt.

“a little,” he admits, giving you a small smile, “but i was going to say that it’s up to you. dean could… i don’t know, freak out and i don’t want you to have to worry about that if you don’t want to.” you nod at his words, feeling a bit embarrassed at your interruption. while you try not to let your ability to discern his feelings dictate exactly how you interact with him, you’re still learning that sometimes what someone feels doesn’t always let you predict what they want to say. and of course, he’s sincere about his concern for you, as always.

“well,” you consider his words seriously, “maybe we don’t have to tell him out right, but if he asks? we don’t have to lie?”

“of course, honey,” he nods, “i’d never lie about being with you if he asked directly,” he promises, sealing it with a chaste kiss to your lips. if there’s one thing you know, it’s that sam is proud of loving you, and one of his least favorite things it’s having to hide it. he wants dean to know, he just doesn’t want him to say something scathing to you or try to keep him away from you.

“okay,” you smile. you understand his hatred for hiding it and his nervousness well. you’d be more nervous than he is now about crowley discovering what you’re doing and who you’re meeting with when you’re out on your own. “but you don’t have to worry, sammy. we’ll try to keep him from asking unless he’s reacting well. if he’s still too suspicious, i’ll know and make sure we won’t act in a way that will make him ask. we have time,” you assure.

now sam feels conflicted, because he’s both relieved by your reassurance and sorry you’d have to hide that he’s yours and you’re his. then he’s suddenly hit by this desire to hide anything at all. he doesn’t want to hide from dean or let the way that dean feels get in the way of him seeing and loving you whenever he wants. he wants to show dean just how good you are and how good you are for him.

“thank you,” he says sweetly, “but i don’t want to keep hiding it from him, not for any longer. you’re too important to me for that.”

you want to melt right into him. “you’re important to me too, sam. really, really important. we’ll do this on your time, yeah? whatever you want.”

“yeah,” he smiles, “and we’ll do other things on your time, and others on ours,” he says assuredly. 

you give him a nod as he reminds you that he’s by your side as you build up the courage to get away from crowley. sam has always been cautious about the topic, never saying too much until it was you who brought it up. the first time you told him you’d been thinking about escaping crowley, about realizing you don’t owe him your service or that he doesn’t treat you well, you had felt this surge of pride rush off of sam and onto you. outwardly, he was gentle and quietly encouraging, and he’s been just that since. he reminds you that you should do things at your own pace, but he’s there to do everything he can to help you. the more time you spend with him, the readier you are to stay with him, and just him. unlearning the things that you’ve had beaten into your head for as long as you can remember is nowhere near easy, but it’s undeniably better with sam by your side.

and less than a week later, you’re nervous and wishing for that exact comfort as you wait for him and dean to meet you in the cafe. you sip on your usual order, glad for its familiarity. after ten long minutes, your head shoots up at the sound of the door’s little bell ringing, signaling the arrival of sam and dean. dean walks in first, eyes scanning the small coffee shop until he sees you. you try not to look too nervous as you stand and send him an amicable smile.

you glance at san as he comes up from behind dean, giving you a reassuring smile. the sight of him relaxes you a bit, though you’re so in tune with his emotions by now that his own nervousness immediately washes over you. as dean approaches you try to get a read on his emotions as well. he’s less hostile than you expected, moreso careful, defensive, and begrudging. there’s also a hint of willingness along with it all, and you cling to that. there’s even some trust thrown into the mix, though you assume that it’s reserved only for sam.

“hi,” sam says kindly as he and dean take the seats across from you. you sit along with them.

“hi, sam,” you answer, reciprocating his friendly smile. “hi, dean,” you then say, turning your head to look him in the eye.

“hi,” he echoes, voice gruff. he settles his elbows onto the table top, trying to look casual and at ease, like he’s the one in control of the situation. “let’s, uh, skip the pleasantries. sammy here tells me that we should be protecting you from crowley. i don’t trust you and i’m not convinced you even need protection at all, given that you were helping him with his little demon deals. i’m also not convinced that you’re not using your freaky powers to make him trust you.”

“dean,” sam hisses. you feel a spike of anger from him when dean uses the word ‘freaky.’

“it’s okay,” you say, smiling a little at sam. you honestly appreciate dean’s frankness. “i understand that. i know we didn’t meet in ideal circumstances. i might not trust me either if i were you. and i’m honestly not sure exactly how i can convince you to, but i’d be grateful if you’d let me give it a shot.” dean looks completely skeptical. “without my powers, of course,” you rush to assure him.

“and i’ll know that how? you can literally change the way that i feel. it’s not really a good look for you,” he points out, earning a glare from sam that he completely ignores.

“you’re not entirely wrong,” you acknowledge, “but that’s a lot easier said than done. first of all, the effects of my powers are only temporary. i can only use my powers on you when i’m around you and focused enough. aside from that, you’d most likely be able to tell if i did use them.” dean raises his eyebrows in suspicion, so you go one to explain further. “you’re aware of what i can do, and you’re rightfully wary about it. that means you’ll most likely pick up on even minute changes in your emotions that i make. when you’re aware like that, you can overpower me. my abilities are strong, but frankly, authentic human emotions are stronger. long story short, i can’t do much at all to you. and while sam’s less wary than you to begin with, he’s still aware enough that the same applies to him. either of you would know and be able to overpower my hold on your emotions if i tried anything. the most i can do is get a read on what you’re actually feeling.”

dean still looks skeptical, but you sense a bit of his unease being to slowly slip away. “how do i know you’re telling the truth?” he demands.

without a word, you send just a small wave of trust and comfort through him. for a moment, he relaxes, but just as quickly, his scowl deepens and his own distrust replaces your influence. your affect on his emotions is easily pushed away.

“that’s what it would feel like if i were trying to get you to trust me with my powers. that was about as subtle as i can be with emotional manipulation, and you still noticed. all i can do is tell you that you’re still skeptical, but a little less than when you walked in here. and i can hope that means that you’d be willing to hear me out. i really, honestly could use the help.” you add as much sincerity to your voice as you can, relying on almost all logic to convince him.

dean scowls even more when you mention his feelings and read them accurately, but he does seem to realize that you read a whole lot more than what you actually said aloud. he also can’t say that he thinks you’re lying. it was easy for him to pick up on your influence. almost immediately. “fine,” he grumbles. “no promises, though.”

you nod, relaxing a bit despite his words being less than kind. “that’s fine,” you accept. “thank you.” you glance at sam, suddenly feeling unsure. he gives you a sweet nod and smile and you take a deep breath before forging on. “i don’t know how much sam told you about my… situation. but… for a long time i just didn’t really know i had any other option than to stay with and help crowley. and you don’t have to believe me, but, for the record, i really don’t enjoy helping him. but i think that he’d freak out if i left. and maybe send an army of demons after me, which i do realize would be highly inconvenient for you…,” you trail off, feeling more and more nervous. you take a deep breath to recollect yourself and give your full explanation as to why dean should be compelled to help you. 

“but crowley’s also bound to find out that i’m holding my powers back and purposely sabotaging his demon deals. and let’s just say that nobody wants that. he wants my powers and i don’t know what lengths he’ll go to to get them. so… if you help me, you’ll be keeping my powers out of the hands of the king of hell, which means slowing down his demon deals and making sure i’m not doing whatever evil demon-y things you think that i might.”

you can see dean contemplating, sense his feelings shifting. he intertwines his fingers and looks at sam with a raised eyebrow. sam nods, his expression completely serious. dean turns back to you.

“alright,” he says, “this is nowhere near the worst deal we’ve ever made. we’ll take you with us, keep crowley and his demons at a distance, and you can get out of our hair and onto your own life once things settle down. sound good?” he asks the question like he’s already made the final decision.

“thank you,” you sigh, shoulders sagging in relief. it’s not perfect since he still doesn’t know that you’re totally in love with sam and he’s totally in love with you, but it’s a better start than just about anything else. then it suddenly hits you that you’ll really be walking away from crowley, and that scares you. sam manages to catch your gaze. he looks at you with a hint of concern, but also relief as well. you can see him asking with his eyes, should we tell him? it’s you that gives him an encouraging nod this time. if you want, you’re saying.

he gives you a smile, and you know it means that he’s going to tell dean, right here, right now. you’re about to smile right back, but your gaze catches on movement behind him. your face drops, and you feel the blood drain from it. you don’t catch sam’s worried look that he gives you before he twists in his seat to see what you’re looking at. everyone reacts just a little too late, and crowley slides into the seat beside you.

“well, hello boys! darling,” he looks at you pointedly before turning back to the brothers. “not quite the trio i expected to find today! or ever, considering the fact that i expressly ordered you to stay away from the winchesters, isn’t that right, darling?” he doesn’t even look at you, but you cringe away from him slightly. a wave of protectiveness rolls off of sam as he clenches his jaw, resisting the urge to pull you right away from crowley.

you avoid crowley’s question entirely. “what are you doing here, crowley?”

“crowley? what happened to uncle? you’re breaking my heart, darling,” he drawls, faking a dramatic offense. “just because it’s one of your free days doesn’t mean i can’t visit you, does it? especially not when i get a report that the winchesters are headed inside your favorite cafe. as your caretaker, i was very alarmed. these two are quite dangerous, you should know.”

sam looks at you carefully, wanting to speak up for you, but not wanting to say what’s yours to say or decide what’s yours to decide.

“i’m leaving with them,” you say to crowley, blunt and too scared to force out any words that aren’t simple. “i don’t want to keep helping you collect souls.” pride and relief wash over sam. it feels good to sense.

but crowley’s anger is the opposite. he’s red-hot mad. “after everything i’ve done for you, you’re going to try and leave with the bloody winchesters?”

“i never asked you to do anything for me. it’s not like any of it was ‘for me’ anyway. it was all for your own gain. sam’s done more for me than you ever did.” you let that last sentence slip out without trying, but you find yourself too angry to be in complete control of the things you say. angry, and afraid.

both dean’s and crowley’s eyebrows shoot up. “sounds like you’ve been spending time with dear sam now, have you?”

you swallow, biting the inside of your cheek before speaking. “i– i have. and i’ve learned much more important things from him than i have ever did from you. so you can just give this up and make things easy. i’m not going back with you.”

“i raised you,” crowley growls. “do you know how much i hate children? but i still raised you, taught you to use your powers and made you stronger than you ever would’ve been without me. what the hell could this giant twat have done for you that’s better and more important than that? and don’t dare say something horrible like love. have you never considered the power that you’d have by my side? clearly you learned nothing of loyalty! you’re completely thankless and a complete dimwit if you thought i was going to just let you go. i’m taking you back, whether you like it or not, and you’ll stay in your room until i’m positive you won’t set foot near dearest dean or your stupid, freakishly tall boyfriend. is that understood?”

“no,” you choke out, reaching for sam’s hand across the table. crowley looks like he’s about to explode. dean quickly puts his hand out to interrupt.

“we’re getting stares,” he says, “we can take this outside.”

“no,” sam counters, standing and pulling you up with him, guiding you to stand by his side. “we’re gonna go. and you’re not following, crowley, unless you want my demon blade shoved up your ass.”

“do i look like i care about stares?” crowley seethes, standing and grabbing your other wrist. you yank at his hold to no avail, and sam moves to break his hold as on you he continues to speak. “i will toss both of you winchesters and everyone else in this godforsaken place across the room until you’re all knocked out cold, if that’s what it takes.”

“let me go,” you insist, voice almost a snarl, right as sam tells him to get his hands off of you.

crowley ignores you, even as you struggle against his iron grip. “you first, moose,” he says through gritted teeth.

the second that dean steps closer to the three of you to intervene, crowley flicks his free hand and sends dean crashing into the farthest wall. a few disjointed screams ring through the cafe and spikes of fear wash over you from all the innocent civilians. sam’s anger grows by tenfold and all of it has you squeezing your eyes shut for a moment. you know that crowley wasn’t bluffing when he threatened everyone in the cafe, so you untangle your hand from sam’s and stretch your arm out in front of him before he can lunge at crowley.

“it’s okay, sam,” you say, voice surprisingly calm. you stop struggling and sam looks at you with such desperation and pleading that you almost want to let him fight. but you don’t want him or anyone else hurt. “i’ll be okay. and i’ll be back.”

“no, don’t do this,” sam starts. crowley doesn’t wait for you to answer as he begins dragging you away. you stumble more than once, looking over your shoulder to see sam start after you. “you don’t have to do this.”

“don’t, sam,” you beg. “it’s okay, i promise.” your voice raises to a shout to make sure he can hear you as crowley pulls you through the door and away from sam.

⟢⟢⟢

you know without a doubt that sam’s looking for you. that he’s pouring every minute into finding you, that he’s probably skipping meals and losing sleep because of it. but you also know that you won’t be easy to find. either way, you’re getting out. out of this godforsaken room with no windows and drab walls and out of this life, away from this fear. and you’re going to do it yourself.

it’s not easy, per se, but it’s not difficult either. just tedious and time consuming. it’s fortunate for you that crowley’s narcissism can blind him to certain things, like the fact that you’re much more adept at using your powers than he thinks you are, or that the demon guarding your door, hazel, hates him for giving her such a boring job. he doesn’t even think that you’re capable of manipulating his emotions, given his extra power as king of hell, and that’s exactly why it works when you do.

your escape plan is simple, though not foolproof. but it seems to be working so far. each time that crowley checks on you, you boost all of the hatred and annoyance in both your guard and him. this makes crowley snap at your guard constantly, berating her and blaming her for things she didn’t do. in turn, this makes her hate crowley even more, to the point that her rage no longer needs to be manufactured. hazel hates him more than enough on her own.

even more subtly, you’ve done your best to appeal to her, mostly by complaining about crowley through your shut door and lessening her annoyance as you speak. at first, she’d tell you to shut up, but now, she listens if you don’t talk for too long, sometimes even complaining back. 

but today, when she began complaining about crowley to you, unprompted, you decided you’d throw all of your effort into escaping. she’s particularly spiteful, all on her own, and all day, you boost that feeling, complaining along with her and building up the sense of comradery she’s starting to feel with you.

crowley stops by, and you can feel her anger acutely. you do as you’ve done every day, making him annoyed so he says something scathing. with the strength of her hatred, you’re impressed that she doesn’t say something back, something that would likely get her killed by his hands.

instead, she waits until he’s gone, and begins to mutter to herself how she’d love to cut that haughty smirk from his face. you lean against the door, making noise so she knows you’re there.

after a few moments, you speak. “you could just leave,” you suggest casually. she scoffs, trying to sound annoyed at you. truly, you can tell just how much she’d like to do exactly that.

“and risk getting hunted down by his minions? not a chance,” she growls.

“i hate him just as much as you do,” you remind her strategically. “if he’s not in charge, you wouldn’t have to worry about his minions, right? whether it’s now or later, i’m getting out and i’m making him pay. he doesn’t know that i have the power to turn every single one of  his demons against him. he thinks i’m weak, but i can topple his kingdom, and i will.” you infuse your words with venom and conviction, just how any demon would like. then you fill her with conviction too, making her believe your words easily. “all i need is to get out of this goddamn room.” to you, her silence is loud, but her feelings are louder. hazel grapples with her hatred and her fear and her utter spite. 

“i know you have the key,” you remind her. crowley would never bother to be the one to unlock it each time you need food. “we can both disappear, right now. crowley will get what he has coming for him, i’ll make sure of that.” you send her a wave of boldness and reassurance, confidence that this would be a good decision. it’s easy to feel when you tip her over the edge. a split second later, you hear the door unlock and come face to face with her determined expression.

“this isn’t a favor to you. it’s for me,” she says, voice low and harsh. “i’ll be waiting to see what you do to him.”

easily, you act just how you know she’d want, eyes and voice ruthless like how you learned to be growing up trying to convince crowley you were like him. “trust me. i’ll rip his kingdom apart brick by brick,” you snarl. she nods, and you brush past her, feet light and quiet as you make it out of the building without incident.

once outside, you break into a run, unable to stay calm enough to walk. clutching the small bag of belongings you took, you make for the road. it’s a bit of a ways away, but you reach the highway, panting and desperately looking out for a car that’ll pick you up and take you to the next town over. all you need is to get on the train and head for kansas. you have the way to sam’s bunker memorized.

too afraid not to keep moving, you walk along the side of the road, listening intently for any car or truck. the area is quiet, frustratingly slow, and the few cars that pass you by choose to ignore the thumb that you stick up in the air.

it’s practically torture, walking and walking and waiting. waiting for something to go wrong, for crowley and his demons to find you within mere hours of your escape. your anxiety builds as your hunger and thirst do, and you want to sit down in the grass when you pass an exit sign signaling another five miles to the town with the train station.

but you don’t think you can stop, even with your parched throat, heavy feet, and anxious heart. it’s a strange feeling; elation mixed with nerves so strong you think you could throw up.

you perk up at the sound of a rumbling car engine, but deflate in disappointment before it even comes into sight from around the corner. it’s headed in the wrong direction, straight back towards the place you want to get away from. for a moment, you wonder if you should try and hitch a ride anyway, in case they can drop you off in a different town with a train station. then the car comes into sight, its sleek black body reflecting back the mild sun of the afternoon. you gasp, an impossible hope entering your body.

it had taken you a moment to recognize it; sam’s never driven the impala to see you before, but he’s shown you pictures of his brother’s beloved car. praying it could really be him, you wave your arms in the air, heart beating wildly.

the car slows and breaks a little ways away from you, and before it even comes to a full stop, the passenger side door swings open, and sam comes running out. he looks nowhere but you as he runs across the wide road.

“sam,” you gasp, voice barely loud enough for him to hear. you match his pace, running to meet him. he practically crashes into you, enveloping you in his arms and sighing out your name. you hug him back just as tightly, pressing your face into his neck.

“i’m so sorry,” he breathes out, “crowley was hard to find and–”

“shut up, sam,” you grinned against his skin, the affection clear in your voice. “don’t be sorry, it’s not your fault. it was my choice and i knew i’d be able to find a way out. and i knew even better that you’d look for me.”

he barely parts from you, just so he can gently place his hands on the sides of your face and really look at you. “you’re amazing. i–” he stops himself from saying sorry again. “i know that wasn’t easy for you, none of it. but you did it. you did it, all by yourself. i’m so proud of you.” 

your heart lurches at his words. they feel too good to hear, too sweet, too full of relief. tears spring into your eyes as you really realize just how difficult it all was, as you’re hit with exhaustion from the walk and the fear and the uncertainty of it all.

“thank you, sam,” you whisper. it’s true that you did it all for yourself, but it may never have happened without him. “you helped me. so much, sam. and i missed you a lot, and– and–” you decide that if you keep talking, you’ll cry. so instead of that, instead of trying to come up with something to bring justice to the way that you feel, you kiss him. you remember that sam knows how you feel because that’s how he feels too. and though you can’t quite show him that in the way you experience his own feelings, you can show him by kissing him, and kissing him hard.

he melts into you, his hands impossibly soft, yet steady and so sure on your face. he kisses you back with the same ferver, right there on the side of an empty highway with his brother likely watching. he doesn’t care, not about any of it.

when you finally part, breathless, dean clears his throat loudly, and you grin at sam a little bashfully. he grins back. you peek around his shoulder to see dean leaning against the car’s hood, trying and failing to hide his smile.

“while i hate to break up the lovefest, i’m not sure how long we’ve got until crowley sends that army of demons you mentioned. let’s hit the road, kids,” he calls out to the two of you. 

in the car, it seems clear that dean’s attitude towards you has improved significantly since your last meeting. maybe it was seeing the way crowley treated you, watching you give yourself up in defense of sam and the others in the cafe, or seeing sam this past week and a half and coming to understand how much he really cares about you. whatever it is, you completely welcome the hesitant sort of affection that begins to permeate dean’s wariness of you.

then, there’s sam, sitting all content in the passenger’s side and unable to stay still. he keeps turning to look at you, as if he has to be sure that you’re really there, sitting pretty in the backseat of the impala like he’s imagined a million times before. the only thing keeping him from sitting next to you is the fact that he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands and lips off of you, and that would be a bit too much with dean in the car. so instead, he smiles at you all soft and listens intently when you explain how you got out. he tries not to talk too much to avoid bothering dean, but you can tell that dean doesn’t mind one bit hearing the happy tone in sam’s voice as he talks to you.

and for you, to be flying down the highway and looking at your sam, your revelry, your wild joy, you finally understand what freedom really feels like. what it feels like when it’s yours.

[deanbrainrotwritings]

— BLUEBIRD

REQUEST : “Would you be willing to write a Dean and Castiel 3some with female or nb reader? Kinda like a mix between sweet and rough with the guys. Thx in advance and I love your writing!!!” — @madzzz0797

PAIRING : castiel x nb!reader, dean winchester x nb!reader x castiel

CHARACTERS : none

WARNINGS/TAGS : explicit(18+), female anatomy, friends w/benefits, threesome MFM, fluff, Dean in sweatpants, oral sex, vaginal fingering, harddom!cas, sub!reader, softdom!dean, edging, a bit of voyeurism, overstimulation, degradation and praise 🤭, cum eating, cum play 

WORD COUNT : 3.5k

A/N : title from a christina perri song. hi, this was fun to write and thank you so much, i also needed something to restart my motivation 🤭. i think since i wrote this in 2nd POV the reader can be considered non-binary? I hope that’s okay 🫶🏻 i think this is more of a castiel x reader fic bc I've been wanting to write a fic about my angel LOL XX

You had no idea how you ended up in this situation.

You, Dean, and Cas were in the ‘Dean Cave’ watching a horror movie. 

At some point, you pissed Cas off when he said something about the movie was unrealistic. He’d get easily irritated at these movies, frustrated by the uselessness of the characters, or by the overpowering of the villain. You told him to shut up and Dean snorted at you, but Cas glared at you. 

His eyes were narrowed in your direction for a while--for saying that to him and because your comment made Dean laugh at him. Because you jumped at the opportunity to take jabs at him for critiquing the movies both your and Dean loved. Dean never said anything, but you said too much.

It was at the end of the movie when Cas pulled you onto his lap, his lips were everywhere. They were on your neck, biting your shoulder and leaving red marks on your throat. He ripped open the flimsy, buttoned top you were wearing and opened it, his large hands smoothed up the front of your body. Your nipples hardened at the coldness of the air within the concrete walls of the room. Cas’ warm hands held and kneaded your breasts, and from beside you, Dean stared at you with hooded eyes--aroused and surprised. 

You reached back and buried your fingers in Cas’ dark hair, grasping soft strands of his hair between your fingers. You could feel how hard he was under you. Wearing only some plaid shorts, you felt yourself get wet instantly when you circled your hips to feel some friction between your thighs, spreading your legs to feel him better. 

He pinched your nipples murmuring degrading words into your ear and shoved his hand inside your shorts, no underwear to stand in his way. His cold fingers touched the warmth between your legs, making you gasp in surprise, and squirm in his lap. 

“You’re more irritating than Dean,” Cas whispered huskily against your skin. You almost laughed, but you bit down on your lip, and grinned mischievously instead.

Dean palmed his cock over the black sweatpants he was wearing, staring at you as you arched your back, pushing your chest into Cas’ hands. Cas dipped his fingers into your entrance, gathering the slippery liquid of your arousal on his fingertips. You whined softly, whispered his name, begging him to touch you. Your clit throbbed, aching for attention but Cas ignored it and your words, creating a ‘v’ with his fingers slipping through your folds, grazing the sides of your clit. 

You looked to the side at your best friend, his teeth snagged his lip as he watched you, and his cheeks were coloured with a deep red blush that flared up to his ears.  

“You like when Dean watches you as I touch you?” Cas asked, nipping at your earlobe. Dean's eyes snapped up to your face, away from your wriggling hips and arching chest, watching you nod your head in response to Cas’ question. 

Cas removed his hands from your body, to push you off his lap. Your shorts rested haphazardly on your hips and you turned curiously as Cas shrugged the trench coat off his shoulders and started to loosen the tie around his neck. Your eyes darkened and you almost forgot to breathe.

“Sit down.” You did as Cas told you while biting your tongue to stop your snarky reply, and sat down on the armchair he was just sitting in. You rubbed your thighs together, staring up as Castiel slowly unbuttoned his shirt. He was teasing you on purpose, staring into your eyes assertively as he took his sweet time getting to the last few buttons on his white shirt. 

He kept the shirt on, opened up so you could see his tan skin and the taut muscles on his stomach. He only unbuckled his belt and popped the first button, slowly pulling the zipper down before getting down on his knees before you. 

Cas looked up at you indifferently and hooked his fingers into your shorts, pulling them down slowly. He trailed his lips up your thighs and then moved up to chase after the waistband of your shorts as he pulled them lower, pressing open mouth kisses at the exposed skin. Cas’ tongue dipped in between your folds to teasingly press against your clit, causing you to moan and roll your hips upward into his mouth.

Dean moaned softly, too, from beside you, so you turned to watch him curiously. His hand was hidden beneath his sweats, moving along his cock beneath unknown layers, watching you. It made you hornier, wetter, your clit pulsed at the sight of him and then at Cas between your legs. 

He grabbed your knees when your shorts were off, discarding them on the cold floor. Cas spread your legs and lifted them up so they draped over the arms of the chair, but you were a panting mess before he even touched you. 

You whispered Dean’s name, urging him to come to you. With a whine, he slipped his hand out of his pants and almost excitedly made his way over beside you, leaning down he captured your lips in a heated kiss. You gasped into his mouth, and Cas decided to dive into your pussy at that moment, too.

He was merciless, sucking your clit and grasping your hips to keep you still. An iron grip preventing you from moving against his warm mouth, but Dean tongue fucked your mouth into silence, rolling one of your nipples between his rough fingers. 

You placed your hands on Cas’ head, threading your fingers through the dark strands of his short hair. You didn’t tug too hard, knowing Cas would take it as you trying to take control from him, and he’d deny you an orgasm. 

Out of breath, Dean pulled away from you and then lowered his sweatpants and boxers down his thighs. You licked your lips, trying not to close your eyes so you could watch Dean touch himself, his pretty cock leaking precum at the tip. Your mouth watered at the sight of him and you moved forward while your eyes fluttered close, hoping Dean would come closer and put his dick in your mouth. 

He bunched the Henley up his chest and guided his cock into your waiting mouth. He teased you first by tracing your lips with the tip, leaving you mouth covered in a thin layer of his arousal. A shaky little breath from between your lips made him shiver, but the feel of his warmth parting your mouth made you moan around him instantly.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” Dean gasped, gripping the hair at the top of your head once his cock slipped between your lips. 

Meanwhile, Cas rested his arm over your thighs rather than holding you down with two hands. With one hand free, his long fingers played with the wetness and saliva he left behind on your folds, getting them lathered up before pushing them inside your leaking cunt. 

Dean guided your mouth in his cock and you opened your eyes to watch him. His head was thrown back and his mouth was open, little gasps and moans of pleasure slipping out of him as he pushed your head onto him. You forced yourself forward, taking him deeper. A loud grunt vibrated through his chest and he praised you, unlike Cas. 

“That’s right, baby, take my cock all the way. Fuck.”

You knew if you spoke your snide thoughts Cas would leave you without an orgasm with Dean’s heavy cock in your mouth. The pleasure felt too good, you refused to say anything that would prevent you from reaching the ultimate high. Cas’ tongue felt amazing massaging your clit and his fingers were shoved deep inside of you, the pads of his fingers finding multiple sensitive spots that you couldn’t find otherwise with your own hands. 

Eventually, Dean had shoved his cock so far down your throat your nose would press against his soft skin. Your eyes watered as you became out of breath, gagging occasionally around him, but he seemed to enjoy it more. Your throat made a completely obscene sound and Dean sometimes pulled you off his dick to let you breath, edging himself. 

You opened your eyes to gaze at Dean. He heaved above you, his fingers gripping his shirt in place and your hair tightly, almost painfully. Even Cas moaned softly against your pussy, sucking your clit, or grazing the sensitive nerve with his teeth. You moaned loudly when you blinked tears away, your thighs twitching at the thought of being used completely by your two hot, best friends. 

“Are you going to orgasm already?” Cas murmured mockingly against your clit. You whined around Dean, who then pulled out of your mouth so you could respond to Cas. You let out a breathy ‘yes’ and moved one of your hands up to your breast and away from Cas’ now-messy hair, tweaking and pinching your nipple. 

Dean guided his cock back into your mouth and just then Cas said, “don’t let Dean cum yet.” Dean groaned in irritation and slowed down the bob of your head on his cock, his thighs tense and his stomach tightened. 

“Fuck,” Dean whispered, “just cum, sweetheart.” Cas looked up at you and he nodded his head in approval, signalling for you to orgasm. Your body became stiff at first and Dean removed his cock from your mouth as you moaned loudly. Dean slid his hands down your body, his touch intensifying your pleasure and you let go completely. Cas sucked loudly at your pussy as you shook, gasping his name.

You squirmed, trying to push him away, but he smirked, and continued to suck your swollen, sensitive clit. You cried out and whined, writhing, trying to get away, but he kept you in place. Dean chuckled at the sight of you and lifted his pants. He leaned back down, this time, to slip your nipple into his mouth, he lapped at it lewdly, left it coated in his saliva and sucked on it while pinching the other one softly. 

You whined when Cas found a new rhythm on your clit, his fingers pumped into you roughly, wet and loud. His saliva and your cum coated his fingers, dripping down to his palm and you came again, unexpectedly but less intensely than the first time. Dean moved away from you and bit his lip to look at you as you orgasmed for the second time within minutes after the first. 

You tried to relax as Cas trailed his wet lips down the inside of your thighs, soothing your restless body. You shut your legs as soon as he moved out from between them. His mouth was wet still, his lips dark pink and swollen, his hair a tousled mess. He cleaned it up with his shirt, lifting his shoulder to his mouth in two swipes. He watched you squeeze your thighs and rub them together in the armchair he usually sits in. 

“We’re not done with your, yet,” Cas told you flatly. You stared up at him, not knowing how to respond, especially as he lowered his black slacks and his boxers low enough to release his cock. Dropping your gaze down to his cock, your oversensitive clit throbbed and your pussy clenched around nothing. “Get up,” he ordered, then bit his lip as he thumbed the head of his cock, spreading the precum that dripped from the slit. 

You scrambled up off the armchair on shaky legs, thankful that Cas caught you with his arms around your waist to kiss you passionately. He hummed softly, tasting Dean on your tongue, and you moaned against his mouth, kissing him hungrily despite tasting yourself. He shoved the unbuttoned sleep shirt from your form and once it was on the floor, your hands slid down the front of his body, feeling the smoothness of his body, then moved up to brush against his nipples. 

Dean eventually found his place behind you, his hands mimicked yours. He dropped kisses along your shoulders and your back, both of his skilful hands cupping your breasts, teasingly ghosting his thumbs over your nipples. 

You couldn’t decide whether to grind back against Dean or rub yourself up against Cas. But Cas chose for you, the three of you moved smoothly, Cas spun you around so he could sit down. He pulled away from your lips and you were trapped in a daze when he did, trying to focus on what was going to happen next. 

“You’re a whore,” Cas said suddenly. It made your cheeks flare up and Dean's lips froze on your shoulder blade. “You’re letting both your friends use you for pleasure,” he stated bluntly, even while staring up at you, he still had more power than you could ever possess when you had sex with each other. “You like that, don’t you? Switching that mouth of yours between Dean’s cock and then mine?” Your eyes darkened with lust and you didn’t even deny it. His words made you more aroused than you already were and Dean must have known because he grabbed your hair and tugged on it to roughly bite down on your neck. “Spreading your legs and letting either one of us fuck you until you have an orgasm so intense you pass out? Over and over.” Dean smirked against your skin and laughed through his nose, which made you feel hotter and wetter. “How many times have you come to me to make you orgasm? How many times did you go to Dean when I wasn’t there?”

You were breathing heavily by the end of his speech, your knees felt weak and you were already considering getting down on your knees to suck him off when Castiel opened his mouth again to demand, “get down on your knees. Taste me, let me fuck your dirty, whore mouth.” Cas stopped jerking himself off to hold a silent conversation with Dean, tipping his head towards where his coat was. 

He was much nicer to Dean which irritated you. When you curiously looked away from Cas to watch what Dean was doing, you did it to make Cas angry, to tease him the way he’d done to you. Dean rifled through the pockets until he pulled out Castiel’s wallet, searching through cards, cropped photos, and a dry flower to pull out a square foil. A condom. 

“Awesome,” Dean announced with a grin, which made you smile.

Cas diverted your attention away from Dean with a yank of your hair. You whined and narrowed your eyes at him. He didn’t care, he smirked at you and shimmied his hips downward and pulled your face forward until you were close enough to his cock that he could tap your lips with the soft head. 

Your mouth watered quickly and your knees ached from the concrete beneath you.

“Hey, let me put this under you. The floor’s gonna hurt your knees.” You glanced at Dean, keeping Cas’ dick close enough to your mouth that he could continue playing with you. Dean brought Cas’ coat over to you, rolled up nicely and you let him place it where your knees were. 

Cas didn’t let you thank Dean, instead guided your mouth to wrap around the tip of his leaking cock. He controlled what you did and you willingly let him do what he wanted to your mouth. You salivated around him, sucking softly, licking the slit to taste everything that he had. 

“Ready?” Dean asked you. Having stripped off his own clothes to use it for his own knees, before slipping on the condom and settling behind you. You moaned wantonly in response, but Dean chose to tease you first. He slid his cock between your folds, rubbing against your clit with a moan. You whined around Cas’ cock, impatiently wiggling your ass so Dean could take you, but Cas shoved your face down all the way down his dick, muffling any other whines and moans. 

“You told me to shut up,” he told you breathlessly, “I’ll teach you to shut up with my cock in your mouth.” You whimpered quietly, tears stinging your eyes from how unexpectedly Cas was holding you down on him. You ached for Dean to fill you up, aroused as you felt Cas’ dick move down your throat, only to pull you up and then back down again.

“So wet,” Dean moaned softly, then moved to give you what you wanted. He slowly and gently pushed into your wet hole, unlike Cas. Dean’s thumbs brushed against your hips and he moved forward until he was buried into you as deeply as he could go. “You feel so good,” Dean continued to praise you, deviating from the harsh way Cas pushed your head down his cock. 

Soon, both of your friends were fucking you earnestly at both ends. Dean rolled his hips slowly and deeply, constantly hitting that perfect spot inside your walls with each thrust. He gripped your hips tightly but his sweet words eased your mind and soothed your ego as you pleased them both and let them please you.

You couldn’t focus on them separately. You could feel them everywhere, all at once. Dean's hands roamed, from squeezing and pulling at your tits, to rubbing your clit. You felt worshipped, even though Cas was being rough with his hands and harsh with his words. You could feel Dean throb inside your pussy, the same way Cas’ cock throbbed in your mouth. 

Cas’ grip on your hair didn’t let up, edging between pleasure and pain. The thought of the three of you coming at the same time aroused you. Without Cas’ guidance you sucked and took him down your throat enthusiastically. Despite the harsh words that he grunted at you when Dean went quiet to moan and pant.

You took Cas’ words as praise because you must be making him feel so good all he could think of were filthy things to throw at you. With his cock throbbing in your mouth and Dean’s throbbing in your tightening pussy, you moaned a warning of your orgasm. Dean picked up the pace, his fingers focusing on your clit, and Cas relaxed completely beneath you.

Your muffled cry made Cas cum and in turn, the flutter of your pussy around Dean drove him over the edge. Just as you wanted, the three of you moaned, gasped, and groaned in pleasure. Cas pulled out of your mouth, giving you only half of his release and then came on your lips, part of your face, and your chest. As soon as Dean pulled out of you, Cas moved you up into his lap, holding your face gently as he gathered his cum and made you eat it. 

You licked his fingers, swallowed the come he gathered from your skin, and scooted forward to rub yourself on his cock. “Still not satisfied?” He teased you, letting you suck and lick his fingers as you’d done to his dick. 

Dean discarded the condom and laughed boisterously from where he stood. You let go of Cas’ thumb to raise a brow at Dean, offended. 

“You can’t laugh at me when you get laid way more than I do,” you complained, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I haven’t had that much sex these past few years. That thing with the Amazons was scary,” Dean admitted, with a shrug and a tight smile. “Also, I dunno if you noticed but the end of the world constantly, almost happening, is such a boner-killer. And I’m only surrounded by you guys. I don't really have time to go out and chase tail in between killing monsters and then saving everyone.”

“What about that girl you're calling and texting?” You asked, confusion taking your mind away from Cas’ roaming hands. 

“Not official at all... It’s too complicated.” Dean turned away and started to gather his clothes. You figured he was hoping to change or avoid the subject by ignoring the two of you, by leaving before you could keep prying. 

“Dean’s too afraid to make a move. Even his mom likes her, which is far more intimidating to Dean because he thinks he’s going to ruin it the way he thinks he always does. And if his mom sees what he sees in himself, it’ll feel much worse,” Cas explained to you brusquely. You looked at Cas with a frown.

“Thanks, man,” Dean replied sarcastically. 

“You’re welcome,” Cas responded. You couldn’t tell if Cas was being witty or serious when he said that, but you snickered anyway. 

“Okay, I’m gonna shower and sleep, ‘cause I’m.. old. Have fun!” Dean almost ran out of the Dean Cave but he backtracked and made his way back to you. He pressed a long and affectionate kiss to your forehead and grinned down at you playfully. You smiled and watched him leave, sexy and still naked with his clothes in his arms.

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[lanawinterscigarettes]

Jason Dean dating someone who's transmasc

Warnings: brief mentions of transphobia, canon typical stuff such as bullying, swearing, violence, murder, etc, slight suggestive things but nothing that's full on smut (I might make another post with that later), smoking (because we all know our boy JD smokes like a chimney), mentions of dysphoria, mentions of menstrual cycles/periods, some forcemascing by JD (sorry I couldn't resist)

A/N: I did a Veronica version of this like two years ago and since I'm currently obsessed with JD (and it's pride month) I felt the urge to write one for him too (also because I've come to the conclusion that I might just be transmasc and not genderfluid so this is mostly just written for me)

I wanna start off by saying that yes JD is an asshole, but he'd never be (intentionally) transphobic. However, if he thought you were trans then he would push your buttons a little bit to see how long it would take you to admit it, especially if you met before you came out

Let's say you two started dating when you still saw yourself as a girl or something (I know that JD's supposed to be "straight" or whatever but he's bisexual to me okay fight me on it). If he saw you acting a little uncomfortable being referred to as his girlfriend or having to use the women's restroom at school he would 100% call you out on it

Not in a degrading way or anything like that, just to see how you would react to it. The second you start to get defensive or give him the silent treatment he shuts up, not only because he accomplished what he set out to do but also because he feels a little bad

Eventually you just decide to rip off the bandaid and come to terms with the fact that you're actually a trans guy, him being one of the first people you tell. His only real response to this "startling revelation" is to look at you and go "Yeah I kind of figured that one out for myself already, I was just waiting for you to"

Your worries that he'd want to break up with you after telling him disappeared almost immediately as you crossed your arms and rolled your eyes at him. "Ha ha, very funny smartass"

If you decide you want to cut your hair shorter then he will absolutely offer to help you with it, insisting that there's no reason for you to go to a professional with him there (it's totally not just because he's very possessive and would never let anyone else touch your hair other than him, that's crazy)

You may have wore his clothes some before, but he practically begs you to do it after you come out. Why would you ever need to go shopping when you can just raid his closet, y'know? Plus seeing you in them really turns him on

He gets ten times more protective afterwards too, constantly following you around to make sure you're okay. You could have classes that take place at the same time on opposite sides of the school and he'll always skip his to join you. Eventually the teachers just move his class schedule around to match with yours since he never attends his anyway

Always has an arm wrapped around you no matter what, especially if he sees someone like Kurt and Ram passing by. It's best to distract him with kisses or something so he won't hear the things they call you and get mad (he hears them anyway but can't resist making out with you so he lets it slide for the time being)

Speaking of making out, he does it with you everywhere and all the time, whether it's a modern au or the 80s. He's not worried about what people say or do, usually letting his gun do all the talking. He shoots them is what I'm trying to get at here lol

Most people are much too scared to even breath too loud near you because of your attack dog boyfriend but if it ever does happen that you get bullied (whether that be verbally or physically) he will go out of his way to make sure the local morgues, cemeteries, and funeral homes have plenty of business

Feeling anxious or stressed about having to spend time with/be around someone who misgenders/deadnames you? Just let him tag along. He might not say much but what he will do is very passive-aggressively correct said person on their "mistakes". It pretty much always works as no one wants to argue with a guy who frequently carries a gun

It's not the best habit around but he probably gets you hooked on smoking at least occasionally, especially if he hears you complain about your voice being too high. Oh, you're worried that you sound too feminine and "girly"? He has the perfect way to get you that low and gravelly voice that you want! You think he's talking about voice training or something until he hands you a pack of cigarettes and with the most serious expression ever says "these will do wonders"

Even if you don't smoke religiously like he does it's kind of hard to resist it completely given how often he lights up a cigarette (and yes, he will blow smoke into your face, because while he loves you he's also an asshole and thinks it's funny when you wrinkle up your nose in disgust at him)

He's not the best at comforting you when it comes to days where you feel dysphoric. Like, he won't flat out say that he thinks you're acting ridiculous because he knows it would only make things worse, but he's also not great when dealing with emotions, so the most he might do is let you cling to him while he gives you a few awkward pats on the back

If this goes on for days borderlining on weeks, however, that's when he'll start to act less sensitive and give you a bit of tough love. "What are you talking about saying that you 'don't look like a guy'? Are you crazy? You really think life would be better if you were still living as a girl? Do you honestly think that would make you happy?"

It surprisingly works, believe it or not. Even if you know he's purposely trying to rile you up it ends up making you feel better and more confident in yourself. Anytime he notices you starting to slip back into feelings of self doubt or insecurity, he just wraps you up in his arms and whispers soft encouragements in your ear. "You were never a girl, you just need to work a little bit harder than others to grow into the man that you are. If anything, that's a testament to your strength for being able to do that"

This certainly happens whenever you're on your period and feel grouchier or less confident than usual. "You're so strong for being able to endure this every month, did you know that? You're much braver than I am, I doubt I'd be able to get through it as well as you"

Sometimes you almost start crying because of how emotional his words make you feel, and sometimes you roll your eyes with annoyance while muttering "you're a condescending asshole" under your breath. Either way it ends up making you feel better, especially when he offers to rub your lower abdomen when your cramps get too bad

If you decide to start HRT then he wants to be there to help you take the shots, even if you insist you can do it yourself (he likes being part of the process of helping you "turn into" a man). Same thing if you use T gel or whatnot, he gets really pouty if you ever apply it without him

He's not really the best person to do "guy bonding" activities with unless you like making pipe bombs or planning the murders of people you hate (hypothetically speaking, of course) but if there's anything like that you want to try out then he'll definitely be there to support you. Like I don't know, hunting/fishing? Or watching sports games while drinking beer? Or breaking out the toolbox and fixing things around the house? Sorry I don't really know things that guys do despite being one myself 😭

The only exception to that is probably car maintenance. I see him as being very protective over his motorcycle and learning how to take care of it himself so he doesn't have to worry about taking it to the shop and having them screw it up. He'd be happy to teach you about how to change your own oil and might even teach you how to ride it as long as you don't accidentally scratch up his paint job. He might not kill you for it, but he will be very upset and end up ignoring you for a few hours afterwards

Purposely introduces/refers to you as his boyfriend in front of others just to see your face light up with confidence. It's not like JD has a lot of friends or anything but anyone that he does know feels as if they've met you already because of how he much he talks about you (he's totally that one annoying person you know who never shuts up about their partner ever)

All in all, I'd say he's a relatively good boyfriend in general, but especially if you're transmasc. Solid 8/10 (one point was deducted for his slight insensitivity and another was due to his crazy streak. Sorry JD I promise I still love you </3)

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End notes: this ended up being much longer than I anticipated but I have absolutely no regrets whatsoever at all

Likes < reblogs | comments are greatly appreciated | requests are currently open

🏷 taglist: @missmewts @ghot-girl @gilmore-angel @your-next-daydream @the-night-owl-blr @noisy-dumb-piece-of-shit @pregnantmen @theonetruepotato87

[partyanimal167]

I’ve just been watching Bleach and in the credits to ep 118, Grimmjow gets called a Professor 👀 and now I can’t stop thinking about it…

So how about an AU where Grimmjow is a professor? Sorry if that’s too vague and random 😅

Oh no, that's not too vague. Thanks so much for suggesting. I always laugh thinking about certain characters being "responsible" adults esp when it comes to working with other people lol. I was so close to making Grimmjow a culinary professor, but it'd be too easy lol. I hope you like this!

CW: sfw, college au, gn! reader, cussing (bc let's be fr now), slight flirting near the end

There were so many signs that this class was going to be...not normal. However, when you gleamed through the professor reviews there wasn't anything out of the ordinary...well you didn't read them all. Mistake number one.

Mistake number two was not reading the syllabus (who does though) and showing up to class when it started--10am. There were a few people, but after waiting fifteen minutes, not even half the class was there and neither was the professor. After another fifteen minutes, you were starting to get a bit antsy and confused, but soon the rest of the class filled in. Then one guy came in with ripped jeans, a white jacket, shades, and a Monster in hand.

Damn, this guy looks rough. I bet he was partying too hard with the new semester starting. You jumped when a bag slammed on the teacher's desk. You tilted your head as the man's shades came off, and you were met with blue-as-hell eyes and a grumpy expression.

It seems you weren't the only one confused.

"Hey! Class was supposed to start at 10! Why is the professor late?" one guy yelled from his seat. A few other students mumbled in agreement.

"Oi, why the hell are you yelling?! Too fucking early in the morning," the man barked back. You could feel his voice rumble in your chest. It sounded as if he had just woken up not too long ago either. The man went over to his seat and kicked his feet on the desk. He popped open his energy drink and went on. "Literally on the first page of your syllabus it says that class starts at 10:30 because 10 is too fucking early and I like my sleep. It ain't my fault the dean wouldn't give me a noon class, tch."

You couldn't believe your ears. This guy can't be serious. This is my literature professor? You didn't like to make assumptions about people, but the guy looked to be around everyone else's age and even if he did teach a class, with his attitude you'd think it'd be something...not like literature.

"Anyway, the name's Grimmjow. I don't really care if you call me Professors. That's your business. This is Global Literature of the 21st Century. I hate repeating myself so listen the first time, and I don't give out extra credit unless you drop off a 12-pack of these first." the man went on tapping the can.

You sunk it your seat a little. What the hell did I sign up for?

~~~

After those first couple of weeks, you decided that you would do your absolute best in that class and avoid being a nuisance to that grumpy professor. Grimmjow definitely had a reputation on campus. Many students had a love-hate relationship with him--grateful for the extra time to sleep in, no bullshit, and the somehow rowdy yet engaging teaching. Definitely hate though for the teasing, cussing, yelling, and him being ready to chew out whatever dumb ass he picked that day.

So it certainly wasn't your best moment when the man practically ordered that you came to his office hours later that day.

You slowly opened the door to his office and met with the rather odd scene of your professor with reader's on his nose going over papers. For a moment, he looked really peaceful and actually almost professional.

"Oh wow, you actually fucking showed up."

And moment over.

You stopped yourself from messing with your elbows and nodded. "Uh yeah what's up, Grimm?" you immediately winced on the inside unsure of how the man would react to the unofficial nickname. But he didn't say anything.

He pointed at the chair, and you immediately sat. He rubbed his face and pushed the glasses off his head. "Look, I'll make this quick. Tell that idiot Jackson to stop stealing whole paragraphs from your papers or I'll break his arm."

You blinked. "Excuse me?"

There was that annoyed look again. "I'm not stupid. The guy has been copying sentences and paragraphs and piecing them together as his own work. He's already going to get in trouble, of course. But seriously, your work always seems to be included. Is he your idiot boyfriend or somethin'?"

The mention of a boyfriend flustered you a little even though you wouldn't dare consider that particular classmate. "Oh no uh- I'm single, and I kinda don't know how he's getting my assignments. I mean we do work together in the library but-,"

The man cut you off and waved his hand. "Okay, okay whatever. Just be mindful of where you're leaving your shit I guess."

You nodded then paused for a moment. "So I'm not in trouble?" You couldn't deny that being in front of the man made you nervous.

"Tch, for what? You're like one of my best students." Grimmjow easily said. "I actually think you know how to read a book and write. Some of these fools are using ai bots as if I can't tell." That was as close to compliment as you ever heard the man say. His face softened for a moment before he grinned meanly. "Well, I will give you some advice."

You weren't sure what it'd be, but you brightened up at the offer. "Sure!"

Grimmjow flicked your forehead before leaning back into his chair. "I got a rule that I don't go dating students, so you better fix how you keep eye-fucking me before I make it a problem." he snickered.

"What! I don'-,"

"Get out."

You squeaked before hightailing it out of the office--face warm and heart racing.

One thing you did know for sure though, you were certainly ready to see what type of problem your professor would give you.

~~~

Grimmjow! I want more of you lol. Thanks for reading! I'll be here if anyone has any thoughts, prayers, or ideas haha

[studiogrimm810]

hii!! this is my first fic i’m posting here so excuse the not-put-togetherness of this post lol, i just really wanting to share this!! also i would love any and all feedback please!! :)

pairings/characters: sam winchester x you, dean is also there

summary: you get shot while on a hunt and the brothers work to patch you up on the scene

warnings: blood/blood loss, gunshot wound, graphic depiction of retrieving bullet from stomach

word count: idk, i typed this out in a tumblr draft, i’ll do better next time haha

_______

God, if it weren’t for that damn gun…

This was a vamp nest they were hunting and Sam still had brought his gun. Yes - of course it’s good to have extra protection, but if he knew that a vamp would used it against you he would have never brought it.

And now there you were, sprawled out on the icey basement floor, slipping in your own blood. Sam lunged for the vamp as soon as he noticed the creature had his gun, but the monsters trigger-finger was more determined and his heart sunk as he heard the gunshot ring out.

Sam didn’t dare to look over at you until the vamps head was clean off it’s body. The slice of Sam’s machete sprayed a spit of blood across his cheek and he huffed for a second before his memory caught up with him and he snapped his head to where you whimpered on the floor - breaths ragged and pained.

“Hey- hey, hey…” Sam crawled over to you, his hands slipping in the puddle of blood growing beside you. Your mouth gaped open, chin quivering as you tried to get out a word - any words. Sam pressed his hands into the wound and you only gasped because there wasn’t enough air in your lungs to scream.

“I know, honey, I know,” Sam fingered his phone out his pocket and called Dean, putting him on speaker and throwing the phone back down so that he could remain the pressure on your stomach.

“Sammy?” Deans voice flowed through the phone right next to you on the floor. You turned to the phone, seeing Deans name light up the screen and the timer going on the call. It was blurry and you blinked to try and focus but it didn’t help. You realize your eyes were full of tears.

Sam rambled out what had happened, his voice tight with worry and his hands trembling.

“We- we’re in the basement, I need you to get the kit from the car and get down here- now!” Sam’s voice left no room for questions or concerns so Dean didn’t even respond past saying “2 minutes”.

“Look at me, honey,” Sam cooed, tilting his head so that it lined up better with yours but it just made your vision spin more. You felt sick.

“Fuck-“ you mumbled, pressing your head back into the concrete floor. You just noticed your ears had been ringing because now the sound was starting to dull and the buzzing in your stomach started to tickle away into a searing pain.

“Baby, I need you to look at me- can you hear me?” Sam had removed a hand from your stomach and brought it up to your face, trying to snap you out of your shock. The overwhelming weight of the past 60 seconds of reality slammed back into your brain at full force and now your breathing was quick and you tried to sit up to look at the wound. “Woah, okay, baby. Calm down, Dean’s coming with some help and I’m gonna fix you- I’m gonna fix this,” he stated like a prayer, willing it by just his own desperation.

You could hear footsteps clunking around upstairs but Sam assured it was just Dean. Your mind was all over the place, constantly getting reset by the wash of pain ripping through your abdomen. The back and forth of what you tried to focus on felt like your metaphorical neck was about to snap from the emotional whiplash.

‘God, this sucked…’ you thought.

Sam continued to mumble reassurances and praises and you weren’t too sure if it was for him or yourself. He seemed to just be on autopilot. He gently lifted your torso which earned a soft cry from your lips, making Sam want to retreat further into the corner until he couldn’t hear or see or feel the secondhand of your pain.

“I know, honey, I just need to check something,” his voice was soft, or at least he was trying for it to be. You saw his face stiffen and you knew what he was about to say. “There’s no exit wound.”

Your jaw clenched and you closed your eyes. You tried to focus on the pain to gauge to location of the bullet.

“Where- where is it?” You stutter, looking up at Sam. Due to your current consciousness and Sam’s eagerness you can hope that it isn’t fatal.

“Uh- it’s…” he pulled up his hand to point to the side of his stomach, “you’re- you’re gonna be fine.”

He still looked completely freaked and pale, more worried about you bleeding out than from organ damage. He looked up as Dean descended the basement steps, Deans face falling at the sight before him.

Blood. There was a hell of a lot of blood. Sam’s hands were stained and his sleeves soaked. Dean fell to his knees right beside her and ripped open the kit.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Dean addressed you, smiled softly and looking into your eyes for just a moment, “You’re gonna be just fine.”

Dean pulled out a bottle of antiseptic and a pair of scissors then he looked up at Sam, “Sammy, you with me?” Dean demanded, knowing it’s hard for him so see you like this.

“Yeah- yeah, I’m here,” Sam cleared his throat and took the kit, Dean tore the fabric of your shirt and poured the antiseptic over your gaping bullet hole. You cried out.

“Fuck- Dean… maybe a wa-warning next time?” You stuttered out, your hands started to shake and you stared up at the ceiling, your vision blurring.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, working quick.

“Dean- the bullet is still in her,” Sam almost whispered and his face contorted into a cringe. Dean met Sam’s eyes with a sigh. Dean looked down at you and called out your name.

“You know what that means, don’t you sweetheart?” He asked, jaw clenched and hands already stained. You continued to look at the ceiling and just nodded, digging your fingers into your ribs to try and redirect your pain. It didn’t work, but you couldn’t stop. “Sam, tweezers,” Dean ticked his head to the kit that was now besides Sam.

You heard the clanking of metal and your own feared breaths. You wanted to sob but you felt frozen, completely and utterly in shock. The noise around you started to echo.

“-…2…1”

You scream. You scream as the cold tweezers claw their way past your freshly, air-exposed insides. Dean keeps the tweezers clenched on purpose and if you could think straight you would thank him.

Your body tries to squirm away but Sam is holding you in place and again- if you could think straight you would curse him.

Your jaw is clenched so tight that you worry your next injury may be a cracked tooth and your eyes are so screwed shut that you’re starting to see dancing colors and shapes on the back of your eyelids. You can hear Sam’s voice trying to reassure you but you can also feel the stiff metal fishing in your insides for the last piece stiff metal that fucked you over. It was agony.

Sam felt a thick, bunch of worry almost blocking off his windpipe. He could barely get a proper breath and he just stared down at your pain contorted face wishing there was something else he could do besides wait for Deans next instruction. Sams hands were sticky with your blood as he caresses your cheek and he knows that he should wipe off the blood first but he so desperately wants to comfort you and to be something more than what he is now.

Deans expression is stiff, his eyes unfocused and hands almost cramped from how tensely he’s holding himself. He created a mental image of the tweezers in your abdomen, working carefully and slowly, waiting for the… tick! That’s it, he let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding and nodded at Sam, signaling he found the bullet. Dean almost glanced down at you but knew if he did he would loose his sense of collected attention. He positioned the tweezers to open them and latch onto the bullet and began to pull directly out of your flesh.

The motion earned a deep groan to rip through your throat that made Sam want to throw up but once the bullet was out, you all took a moment to catch your breath and look at the pebble that caused you so much pain.

“Honey, hey,” Sam pulled your cheek to look up at him, your eyes were glossy and crossed but you could see him enough, “Dean got it out, you’re gonna be fine okay?” Sam nodded, trying to get you to catch up with him mentally. You slowly lolled your head in an attempt to nod but the weight pressed against your skull like a magnetic ball trying to escape, you groaned again.

“Sam- gauze,” Dean commanded and Sam immediately listened, moving away from you just far enough to reach the requested item. Sam hands it to Dean. “Need a hand, Sammy.”

And Sam listens. It’s a rhythm that the brothers have learned over the many years working together, how to fight, work, stitch. Dean always took the lead while Sam held their ground and that’s exactly how they worked on your wound. Sam cleaned up excess blood and surrounding areas while Dean disinfected and readied a bandage. Quickly, the wound was patched up enough for them to move you and get you all the hell out of that musty basement.

“Think she can walk?” Dean asked Sam while he wiped your blood off of his hands, packing the kit back up. Sam looked down at you, a sweet, open look of wanting to absorb any and all details of your face, he smiled softly at you and shook his head.

“No, I’ll carry her,” Sam said without asking you first, not willing to risk you any more pain. He gently pressed a kiss to your forehead and held it for a moment. “You’re okay,” he repeated, this time for himself.

He slowly pulled away and worked his arms beneath you to lift you and as your body contorted you let out a soft, pathetic whimper. You were too tired to make any real noise.

Sam held you close as Dean lead the way out of a building they never wanted to see again.

[according2thelore]

I’ve been devouring your ES/LS verse tags, and you know what i can’t stop thinking about? How purely ESdean loved ESsam. Like. My baby bother can do nothing wrong. You killed that guy? Guy must’ve done soemthing it’s ok. And how that was absolutley ripped away from Sam by season 4, and he never actually got it back. Not from his POV. In Sam’s mind I’m pretty sure he knows Dean loves him- but it’s part obligation, part history and pattern, and part *in spite of* all the shit. Not the same kind of absolute devotion he grew up with until Dean died (of course it is, but not to Sam). It can’t be. Not after he didn’t save Dean from hell, the demon blood, the voicemail, Lucifer, the amulet, soulless Sam, purgatory, etc etc.

And now. Now. He’s gone esDean right THERE. A Dean that still loves his Sammy the way lsSam thinks he’s lost forever. And lsSam didn’t even know how much it hurt to lose that until he’s looking at it. Like he’s been bleeeding out for decade about it and n it even really noticing. A brother who loves him- absolutley- is back. Is right there. Is looking at him the way he used to. Before Sam ruined everything.

Holy shit how bad does that fuck up lsSam. I don’t see how he wouldn’t become obsessed with esDean. And I mean obsessed. Wanted to be around him all the time. Just soaking up what he thinks he doesn’t have anymore and can only have fire little while as a reprieve. I cannot emphasize the obsession.

To the point where lsDean notices. Like. Really notices. Because he never actually stopped being devoted to his brother, and Dean? He’s never experienced Sam being obsessed with someone else. Not ever. He thought he had- Stanford or ruby- but that wasn’t the same. That wasn’t this. That wasn’t Sammy staring at someone with all the love he has for Dean and soemhow even more stars in his eyes. It has to drive lsDean insane. Insane insane. He grew up to be a mean sob, and this is pushing every Sam button.

I caaaaaaant. An insanely depressed and fucked up laSam being based with the younger Dean, while lsdean froths at the Mouth.

Chefs kiss.

GAHH!!!!!! this is beautiful!!!! everyone stop what you're doing and read this!!!!!! i love the way you phrased this @bickbickbarnes, and i am frothing at the mouth reading it over and over again!!!!

i wrote just a little thing about this--i hope that's alright!! your (totally on point) description of their dynamic really captured why i love LS!Sam/ES!Dean sm!!

AN: i fucking lied this thing is 1.3k words...i hope you like, lol!

-lizzy

"woah!" dean shouts, and sam jumps a little. he whirls around, and younger dean is running up to him, eyes wide. his arms are thrown open, machete dangling casually from his grip. he punches sam in the arm when he finally catches up to him. the smile on his face is blinding. "sammy what was that, man?"

sam drops his own machete to the side. he's still heaving for breath, having just decapitated a vampire that ran at him. older dean and sam are standing off to the side, and sammy notices his younger self gawking at older dean with something...heavy, something hot, in his eyes as dean hauls one decapitated body over his shoulder to start the pyre.

"what?" sam asks, looking back down at young dean. he looks down at the body and nudges it a little. did dean think he didn't cut all the way through the neck? the body jiggles.

"that was so fucking cool." dean crows, and sam turns back around to look at him, taken aback. dean is grinning so wide that it closes his eyes. he shakes sam's shoulder. "grandpa!" dean calls, and older dean looks over with a scowl. "that's how you do it."

"oh." sam's chest feels tight, and he feels hot creep across his cheeks, up his neck. "thanks."

dean is still patting him on the back, and sam hasn't been praised like this for taking out a vampire since they first found out they still existed. sam jostles under dean's arm.

"'thanks'--" dean repeats, scoffing, and raises an eyebrow at younger sam, who's scowling. "humble, too."

"whatever." sam spits, and stalks off. sammy doesn't take dean's arm off of him, expecting him to move it, but he doesn't. not for a minute.

~~~

"i knew you could do it!" dean snatches the book out of sammy's hands, and sam's chest feels weird--tight--as dean beams down at the page. they'd been researching werewolves all afternoon, and sam finally found a passage in urdu that mentions the strange scales they've been finding at the murder sites. dean squints at the words like he can read it at all, and nods. "my geeky little brother never loses."

dean states, dismissive, a sarcastic grin on his face like he's mocking him.

"uh--" sam starts, trying to find the footing in this conversation. the praise is casual--purposefully degrading--but it's praise. older dean hasn't blinked at sam finding a clue--in any language--for...god, years probably. they've just gotten that good.

dean peeks a look up at him, and sam is stopped by the strange look in his eyes.

"tried to strangle the inner nerd with those things--" dean gestures at sammy's arms with a casual hand and a raised eyebrow. "--but you couldn't." dean looks up, and his smile is quiet and softer. his tone is admiring. "man."

dean shakes his head and looks back down at his own book--written in english--with a bottom lip cushioned around a pencil.

sam folds his arms, conscious of them again. that's been one of the biggest sticking points for younger dean: sam's size. strangely, sam suddenly wishes he was smaller. small enough that dean--this dean--could do...something. sam can't put his finger on it.

it had been a long time since being with dean felt like this, since the tension was full and heavy and warm. it feels like long drives and quiet silences and shitty whisky passed back and forth under the table.

sam's breath catches when he realizes...it feels like home.

being with dean always feels like home, but this feels like sitting back down in the childhood bedroom that sam never had and letting the mom he never knew pet through his hair and tell him it was always going to be okay.

the world is so strange and terrifying and smaller than sam had any right to know, but dean--this dean--nudges his foot under the table without thinking about it.

he loves him in the way that children love things--without equivocation, without years of betrayal and revenge and torture and nightmares.

it's dean.

sam nudges his foot back, and greedily drinks in the pinkness on the top of dean's ears.

~~~

older dean wipes blood off of his jaw, and sammy helps younger sam off of the floor. the kid is fine, but younger dean immediately takes the burden of him, sliding under his arm like he's always been there.

sammy notes that older dean's eyes track the kid, too, and sammy rolls his eyes. he's fine.

the cave they're in is dark, and sam can feel the damp like a cool sweat on his skin.

dean clears his throat, "okay we need to split up, i say--"

"i'll take dean," everyone--including sammy--is surprised, when he speaks up first.

sam shifts his arm over dean's shoulder, and pushes sweaty bangs off of his forehead.

"don't you think we should split experience levels--" he starts, but sammy cuts him off with a finger.

a finger pointing at the man under his arm.

"i meant dean," sammy says, and sam straightens, shocked out of the performance of needing dean to stand.

"yeah," younger dean says, straightening too. his eyes are bright, and his smile is so satisfied that sammy finds himself smirking, too. "he meant dean," dean says, glaring at older dean. sammy pats him on the shoulder, hard, and dean obediently follows after him as they split up.

"don't worry, i'll protect you." dean says, after a while, young voice echoing over the cavern walls and reverberating in sam's skull. sam wishes his internal voice sounded like this, instead of...sam shakes his head to clear the thoughts.

he looks down at dean, whose chest is puffed up. it's all play-acting, and they both know it. dean looks up at him, and gives him a slow once over that makes sammy have to swallow, hard. "don't think i could human shield you, but...i'll do my best." dean smirks.

sam punches him in the shoulder, and then has to kneel on the ground as the hit takes dean to the floor, apologizing profusely.

~~~

"shit, man," dean hisses, and squats down so he can press a rag to sam's head. sam freezes, shocked by how close he is.

sam is forty. this kid is twenty-seven, but he pats at sam's cut and coos sympathetically like he's tending to a child. sam knows his head wound must gush again, because all the blood in his body rushes to his face.

sam had been cut by a piece of glass but it was shallow, and the slice had been clean.

"that was nasty. are you okay?" dean asks. sam stares at him.

dean's eyes are green, and his freckles stick out on his skin. fuck, he's gorgeous. he's so fucking gorgeous.

his lips are plump and pink, and his eyes are soft and round. it's disney princess shit. sam blinks up at him, and feels like he's fourteen again, and this boy could fix every single thing that's wrong.

his mouth is dry.

"who was the centerfold model in the '89 playboy i kept in my bag?" dean asks.

"reneé tenison" sam mutters automatically, dazed, and dean's face splits in a shit eating grin.

"i always knew you read it after me." dean crows. but he still pats sam's cut like he's porcelain. "dirty bastard."

sam nods. fuck. he'll be anything.

"let me help you up." dean sits back on his heels, and sam obediently raises his arms, palms up. he's being babied. he's being babied.

~~~

"dean--" sam leans back, book open in his lap, and older dean looks up. his gaze softens when he catches sam's eye, having been glaring and muttering down at his record player for the last hour and a half. he's gutted it on the table, and is fiddling with wires because he's not going to pay some some man-bun yuppie $700 to tell me what i already know.

"yeah?" he asks, clearly relieved for the reprieve.

sam winces.

"no, sorry, dean--" he points at younger dean, slumped over the couch in the library, flipping through the hunger games with a rapt expression.

he snaps to attention, dropping the book on the floor and denting the cover. "oh! yeah?"

sam holds up the book in his lap--a catalogue of the weapons storage room.

"i found it." he grins.

dean scrambles off of the couch, almost sliding up to sam like someone slides into home plate.

"DUDE!" he snatches the book out of sam's hands and reads it rapidly. he looks down at sam, beaming. "your brain scares me." he gives sam the book back, and tries not to look interested as he asks, slowly. "do you think we could--"

sam looks down at the open page. the kitsune death sword. it was said it could peel the skin off of people that looked at the gem on the hilt.

dean's excitement is contagious, though, and sam can feel his own grin spreading. he looks back up at him.

"it's on the fourth floor."

dean is already running out of the room, and sam scrambles up to follow him, the distant "fuck yeah!" of dean making sam sputter with laughter.

he doesn't notice the expression on older dean's face when he leaves.

~~~

"GAH!" dean almost drops the ladle into the pot of mystery soup on the stove. sam leans in the doorway of the kitchen, having been observing his quiet puttering for a few minutes. "jesus. sorry. you're big. i mean--" dean holds out his hands, dropping soup on the floor due to the ladle still clenched in his fist. "you're here. WHICH IS GREAT. sorry, you're big."

his cheeks are bright red, and sammy tries to arrange his facial features into sobriety.

"yeah, i am." sam says, somber. "big and great."

dean sucks on his teeth, pink up to his ears, and leans back over his soup, muttering.

"brat." he admonishes, and sam snorts. he walks the few steps into the kitchen to lean against the counter next to him.

"what're you doing?" he asks. the soup smells okay, but sam can see cut hot dogs swirling in it. his stomach churns.

'i found a recipe book from the 40s and they have something called a 'triple meat sundae.'" dean says, holding up the card for sam's perusal. sam takes it from him, and reads the truly terrifying recipe list.

"that is...horrific." sam replies. marshmallow creme and barbeque sauce??

"figures you're still a snob." dean rolls his eyes.

"a snob with functional arteries." sam reminds him, putting the recipe card back by his elbow.

dean is silent for a long second, looking at him with warm eyes.

"bitch." dean says, tentative. hopeful. it almost sounds like a question. fuck. sam hasn't heard that in a while. in a long time. not since dean wore that necklace everyday like it was the best thing to ever happen to him.

sammy's eyes fall to it now, the mark of ownership clear to him in a way it had never been before.

"yeah." sam says, chest full of loveyesmine. dean's face falls, slightly, and he's quick to correct. "oh--sorry--jerk."

dean nods, hiding his grin behind the ladle of his radioactive soup.

~~~

"you didn't come to bed last night."

sam sits up, and sees dean--older dean, sammy's dean--looking down at him. there's a cup of coffee in his hand, and he puts it down next to sam's elbow. sam takes it gratefully.

he's been sitting at the war table all morning, and realizes his shoulders ache.

"hm?" he takes a sip of his coffee, and tries to un-kink his spine. dean is wearing just a henley today, and sammy admires the way it pulls across his chest as he crosses his arms.

"you didn't come to bed." dean says again. it takes sam's brain a second to process it.

he had been sneaking into dean's room--their room, really--for the past week, as sleeping alone had become irritating and exhausting. his own room had become dusty and felt barren in dean's absence.

they'd been trying to sleep separately for the sake of their younger selves, but agreed that what they didn't know didn't hurt them, as long as they didn't do it every night.

"oh. yeah. sorry--dean wanted to watch the sopranos finale. we couldn't find you or sam so we watched it in the dean cave." sam snorts, remembering the look on his face. "you should've seen him, he--"

"i know." dean cuts him off abruptly. "we watched that finale together in 2008. remember?"

sam looks at him again, brought up short. dean looks...

"oh. yeah. sorry." sam mutters, leaning into dean's leg because the sudden emotional distance has him on uneven ground.

"sam and i were in the archives. like you asked us to." dean says, lowly, and it has a bit of rasp from clenched teeth. sam sits up straight. oh fuck. he had asked them to find the file on that norse battle axe, hadn't he?

"oh, shit." he puts the mug down, and wraps a hand around the back of dean's knee. he rubs a hand over his own face. "sorry, it's been...a lot."

there's a hand in sam's hair, and sam leans into it shamelessly, relieved that he's been forgiven for this, at least.

"yeah." dean says, but his voice is still tense. "i know."

~~~

the door is closed. and both sams are in the library. so no one is there to see it. or hear it.

but if someone was walking past the door to storage room 14C, this is what they'd hear:

"--back off." the voice is tense. low.

"back off? you sound like the old man." a scoff.

"i'm only telling you once. we can't fix this shit yet, but you gotta stop hanging around him all the damn time. he's not your sam."

"why? you feelin' threatened?" a taunt. "your dick not workin in your old age? sammy want--"

a slam. a crash. something gets pushed to the floor, and things scatter across tile.

"i'm telling you. to back. the fuck. off."

"you can't hurt me." the words are choked.

"i can't kill you. there's a difference." rubber soles on a concrete wall, like someone is kicking at it. fabric rustling as a body is pushed up a wall. "it's a biiigggg line. huge." the voice is a growl, but the threat of violence is gleeful. excited.

something drops to the ground. heavier this time, and someone gasps for breath. footsteps walk to the door and almost exit, when--

"i can tell you i'll stay away all i want. can't stop him from coming to me."

~~~

older sam takes great care to ice younger dean's knee that night, and coos over his black eye. younger dean won't tell him what happened, but leans out of sammy's gentle touch when older dean walks by and asks what happened.

older dean fucks sammy through the mattress that night, so deep sam feels like he's going to choke on it. and sam wears the bruises for days.

he loves it.

[redmyeyes]

for @spnficrecfest day 7: SHORT FICS

recently i'm obsessed with short fics, esp of the <1k variety. how do you tell a story that is complete, in so few words? the best versions of these feel carved out of marble -- in that, there's a pre-existing something, whose essence is revealed through a slow chipping-away of words. every sentence shaped, every word existing because it must exist.

in this space, no one is doing more creative work than @egipci.

honestly a master class in flash fiction (for those who don't want to venture outside of spn, lol) and it kills me that her fic doesn't have more kudos.

here are a few of my faves:

Miles Ahead (G, Sam/Dean, 750 words) What I was trying to tell you — we were in the car heading out of Gary, going a hundred miles an hour, a hundred twenty. It was Memorial Day.

Vertigo, 1999 (G, Sam/Dean, Dean/John, 650 words) There were hunters there too, and they warned us.

Meditations (G, Sam POV, 800 words) That’s seven hours that they’ve been gone now which you know because your dad sat you down and taught you how to read that old-school clock.

and in slightly longer but still short fic, here's a few more that i've loved:

feels like rain | @zmediaoutlet / deadlybride (M, Sam/Dean, 1491 words) Just because it's heaven doesn't mean the weather's perfect.

no better view of heaven than this. just enough and just right.

This Next Town | @nigeltde-fic (T, Sam/Dean, 1550 words) Giving way to fruitful years.

post-15.19 sam character study, and a meditation on the small (profound) moments.

Talismans | killabeez (G, 964 words) With everything he's lost, such a small thing shouldn't matter.

one of those very early fics (written 2006, in season 2) that holds up remarkably well, as all killabeez's stuff does.

Stitches | nonnie (G, 291 words) You can rip it apart as many times as you like and start over from scratch.

on this list for concept alone, idk that it gets more creative than this. crack on the surface, with a decidedly sinister underpinning. is it crack? AU? allegory? delusion? you decide, it stands alone.

[befuddledcinnamonroll]

Wait, wasn't it just last week Alan wanted everyone at his house because danger? It's not less dangerous now that you tried to get Kim out, y'know.

Lol, Charlie knows your body pretty well too Babe.

Omg, not Winner & Dean having matching umbrella ladies.

I'm making it canon in my head that the two umbrella ladies hook up when Winner & Dean hook up.

Oh, poor Babe, he doesn't deserve this. My heart.

Dammit, I know Charlie isn't really dead, not in a romance like this, and this is still making me cry!!!

Have to say, outside of having my heart ripped out, I do love the physical comfort that Sonic, North, & Alan are all giving Babe.

I like when men in dramas show easy affection with their friends.

Jeff: I sure feel bad that Babe is hurting so much because of our plan. Also Jeff: this is my shot to fuck that old man.

Kim!!!! My baby!!!!

Lol, of course no one rescued him. This crew of idiots. At least they're kind. And now he's family! The X-Hunter crew has just had a giant leap in collective intelligence.

Ha, Alan joining the "man immediately up for lifetime commitment" club.

Also his reaction after Jeff's little kiss is so adorable!

Dammit, why are both Pavel and Nut so good at crying!? It hurts!

Dean, you dick. I knew were an inadequate little shit, but seriously.

And he's still whining about appreciation when he just TRIED TO MURDER BABE. Guess Winner can visit him in prison to kick start their romance!

[monstermoviedean]

it's honestly beyond wild how easily dean lets cas off for some pretty irredeemable, unforgiveable stuff with no understanding or even acknowledgement on cas' part of the kind of incredible actual-no-strings gift he's been given (and thrown away, rinse, repeat). i can appreciate the take that it just goes to show how deeply braindead in love dean is (and i might still be able to find the romance in it if there was ever any kind of equal or at least comparable weight on cas' end) but he can do (and has done) (and deserves) so much better! rip!! on a list of all dean's boyfriends ranked in order of how well they treated him cas would come in dead last.. can't even rate him over the ones that tried to kill dean because uh cas has not only done that too but also done that more than most (without even factoring in the mind control) lol wanky maybe but that doesn't make it untrue womp womp

anyway the trap effectively killed many of my charitable feelings for cas and despair took care of much of the rest. i know you're not there yet and still manage some warmth for cas besides (plus my post s15 cas/destiel opinions probably trend significantly more harshly than even the rare and wonderful few who have been openly critical of both that aren't br*nly/c*sties, i can acknowledge that lol) but after the trap and knowing what's still to come, it's very difficult for me to see cas-as-dean's-endgame being a positive thing for dean. that may be what he wants but like please for the love @ him: want better!!! i mean, s6 was tough but also so crunchy and opened the door for a world of (tragically unrealized) possibilities. the shadow that s15 and everything leading up to it casts over all of that is just.. so so long. there's been so many opportunities for cas to be better and he just. wastes them.

i'm so interested to see what your takeaway from despair is because it left me feeling kind of hollow on destiel and deeply skeptical of cas when stacked up against everything else. cas may be in love with his idea of dean but he's proven over and over again that he's either incapable of or unwilling to be and see dean as an equal, loving partner. idk if it's a fault in the writing (feels like a cop out to pin things on that though, especially when cas is actually written fairly consistently compared to most other characters) or just that mc isn't as dynamic/effective an actor as jackles but i find myself less and less convinced of cas' sincerity as time goes on. he's wildly selfish. i think it's far easier to make the argument in canon that everything he's done, including that confession, has been far more selfishly motivated than motivated by any genuine love or care for dean (or jack for that matter). maybe an uncharitable assessment, but not an unfounded one.

what dean says about angel's caring and cas playing sorry in 7x21 and cas insisting he's "a lot like people" to rowena's (very apt) assessment of him in 10x22 are always top of my mind when i try to make sense of cas in the aftermath. he's not sorry, he's playing sorry. he's not people, he's performing people. angels don't have souls and i'm not sure i really buy grace as a substitute but, even if i did, cas' has been waning for a very long time (which i wish had been explored more considering all of the weight the canon puts on having a soul). cas isn't that far removed from donatello who, in his soullessness, turned to mr rogers for behavioral cues. cas holds dean in that role, he's just not especially good at emulating him. or maybe just doesn't understand what it is he should be emulating. all of that to say that i really, truly believe cas wants to feel people feelings (feelings is dean as people is dean as humanity is dean etc etc etc), i'm just not sure if i buy that it's ever more than performance for him.

like fanfic is great, i love fanfic! post s15 fix-its moving further and further away from the "dean pulls his head out of his ass" model is such a gift!! but in actual canon?? ough. cas' very long, very well established patterns make canon destiel a super hard sell for me in a post s15 world. there's no reason to believe that things would ever change because, to the bitter end(?), they never did.

anyway anyway, i'm sorry for using your inbox as a rantbox and i fully understand if you ignore this, i know parts of it might be kind of a powder keg lol it's hard to not be cynical and frustrated by so much squandered potential i suppose, especially when so much of the fandom popular opinions on these things have been just so. bad and wrong. for so long. it's been a relief to see some of those tides turning as more people revisit the source material, though! please just know that i really have enjoyed following along on your rewatch and appreciate how much thought and care you put into understanding this show and these characters. i'm looking forward to seeing where what's left of the journey takes you!

there are some points here i agree with and some i don't, but i can entirely see where you're coming from. i just want to extend some love to you because yeah, sometimes this story is really incredibly frustratingly sad and bleak. also no need to apologize, i love inbox rants <3

i'm publishing this because i think there are a lot of interesting points of discussion about cas and his relationship with dean. blanket statement for anyone who might read it: i am not interested in cas-bashing or anon-bashing. don't do that here. or anywhere, frankly.

to start off: it IS beyond wild that dean lets cas off for some things. breaking sam's wall is the first example that comes to mind. i mean wow, good for dean for being the bigger person and forgiving there, but holy shit.

i'm gonna politely disagree with you on cas treating dean badly. i do see where you're coming from! this is something i've talked about before re: cas actually - that sometimes the way dean treats cas is viewed as poor treatment, but in actuality cas doesn't receive it that way at all. so cas' tendency to put the mission first, for example, is something that dean GETS. dean doesn't feel like cas is neglecting him by doing this. i think there are also circumstances in which cas' actions are understandable, even if i don't like them. and a lot of the "constant apocalypse" problems lead to responses that don't have a real-world equivalent. all that being said, i think one thing cas could fix/address is answering his phone when dean calls him.

on dean doing better - i think people in dean's life could and should treat him better. i also think he loves and cares about those people and would not trade them out, and i respect that.

on cas being better - mixed feelings on this. i totally understand where you're coming from and don't want to invalidate you here or at any point! i think cas is trying to be better. i think he's locked into a pattern where he only sees one option for being better - fixing things / getting wins / sacrificing himself / otherwise protecting dean and sparing dean harm. i feel for him there, i really do. smarter people than me have pointed to heaven brainwashing/upbringing as the reason this pattern exists. so i don't expect him to break out of that pattern, but i do think it's reasonable to wish he had come to recognize that this DOES harm dean. i think cas often believes he knows how dean feels. sometimes he's right, sometimes he's wrong. and in this case while dean can understand why cas is doing what he's doing and respect his decisions enough to not put up a fight about them, it does hurt dean to watch cas walk away into certain danger over and over. it especially hurts when dean has no power in the situation and is left with nothing to do but to hope cas comes back.

so i have actually seen 15x18 and have some feelings about it but i don't want to comment until i see it again. i know i missed a ton of context the first time i watched it (november 6 2020 after not having watched the show in a few years), and i'm interested to see how my interpretation changes!

one opinion i have that i don't think will change: i believe cas' pattern of keeping secrets to protect dean, then having those secrets blow up, causing dean pain and/or causing cas to leave, is not disrupted. i believe 15x18 reinforces this pattern, in fact. and i do not like that. i do appreciate that cas did it for love and he was backed into a horrible corner, and at the same time, from dean's perspective, it's another example of cas leaving.

on cas not seeing dean as an equal partner. hoooo boy, this one gave me pause. i am very conflicted about this, to be honest. i think cas THINKS he sees dean as an equal partner, but i'm not sure he actually does. i'm also not sure he treats him like one. consistently, at least. i think they're equals when they're dealing with "ordinary" problems (monsters, people), but when the problems are angel-level or higher, i think cas thinks he has more ability to solve those problems than dean does. sometimes he's right (cas should be the one talking to michael in 15x08, for example). but not always. and i could see that coming across as patronizing. i want to think more about this one!

on cas' selfishness. this is tough because i think cas is trying to be selfless in a way that comes across as selfish. he wants to be the hero. he believes he can be the hero. he wants to spare others from being the hero. and while that's usually well-intentioned (taking on burdens so others don't have to), it can read as "no one else is capable of this but me." and i think the major problem is that cas looks at things from a 30,000-foot level. he is often less concerned with the ground-level impacts. so when he's, idk, saying yes to lucifer, he's thinking "someone has to and it may as well be me" but he's not thinking "oh shit dean is going to have to watch lucifer parade me around and then kill me." while i understand his reasoning in these high-stakes no-win situations and i'm not mad about it, i do wish he would consider the impacts of his small decisions on others more often. sorry to bring up the phone thing again but it's the best example i've got - it would be nice if cas made it more of a priority to answer his phone when dean calls because it's important to dean, even if it isn't important to cas. it will help dean feel more secure and they will have a nice conversation because they enjoy talking to each other. we have hints of this kind of thing happening but i would like to see it more clearly and consistently. or like. icing sam out during the rupture was pretty shitty. he could have at least texted back. (yes he was in a bad spot, no he doesn't have to respond to sam all the time, but a little 'i'm not dead' text would have made a big difference)

i think "uncharitable but not unfounded" is very understandable. i, personally, believe cas loves and cares about dean. i also could come up with some examples of cas' actions that, regardless of intent, communicate to dean that this is not true. i think if you want to make a case that cas doesn't care, you can. i wouldn't agree with it, and i think there's a better case that cas does care, but i do recognize that the show itself leaves that door open. and it does bother me. i would feel better if cas showed more consistent and obvious care for dean TO dean.

i think cas does confuse/equate feeling guilty with feeling sorry. i think he does both, but sometimes he is playing sorry. i think his defense of jack at the end of s14 contradicts his claims of being sorry, for example. but i'm willing to give him the benefit of the doubt and assume he is actually sorry most of the other times.

on cas' feelings - i see where you're coming from, and i disagree here. i think cas does have feelings, even if he doesn't always know what they are or how to process them. someone (i think ilarual?) made a cool post about cas growing a soul that i thought was a neat idea. but i can certainly sympathize with wanting the show to do more with angels, grace, angel feelings, etc.

i do believe cas is sincere in his care and in wanting to do better, and that's one reason i have faith in dean and cas being able to work it out and be good for each other! i think that's a major difference between our perspectives. and i don't have an answer here, because again, i see where you're coming from. if you're open to it, i might suggest considering cas' actions from a perspective that he's 100% sincere 100% of the time. it might be interesting to try, even if it doesn't change your opinions at all (and you definitely don't have to try it or change your opinions).

one million billion trillion percent agree on squandered potential. there are so many problems we've discussed here that i think could be fixed with attention and goodwill. but will they be fixed? sigh. i don't know. i like to believe so, but cynicism is also a fair response. i think a lot of my feelings come down to this question: if the show had continued, would 15x18 have been a turning point? would it have finally allowed dean and cas to change their relationship? or would it have set it in stone, never to be changed again? i think it's a matter of interpretation. i tend toward the former - that 15x18 would have changed everything and allowed them space to finally get it right - but i can also see why the latter works, especially because the show ending DID set it in stone that way.

it HAS been a relief to see shifts in conversation, and i hope they continue. and thank you so so much for your very kind words! they are not necessary but they are appreciated :) i often feel like i'm just fumbling around in the dark compared to a lot of others, and it's nice to hear i haven't completely mucked it up. also i really enjoyed answering this, so thanks for giving me so much to chew on!