#dean why did you love this boy so much he let you in and you became his everything then went ahead and died

[shadystranger]

Dean is cruel to Sam until the end. He knew Sam wouldn't be able to just survive without him; he knew Sam would lose everything he had with his death. That Sam would always remember him, and every minute he would be shattered by the pain of losing him.

Dean is aware that he is an unearthed part of Sam. Normal people can grieve over their loved ones and eventually put that sadness behind them so they can go on with their life. But Sam couldn't. He is emotionally buried; every waking moment for him is a painful misery, grief tethered to him as much as Dean is, and the ache is loomimg and unforgiving in intensity. No amount of time will make you forget what is aggressively rotting beneath your skin, deep into your marrow and bones. Sam remembers Dean when he wakes up and cries; he remembers him when they used to dine together while he is now eating alone and cries; and he sits in his home, gazing far away, reliving each memory while crying. His surroundings or the people around him are never present, even if they are physically there. His body is present, but his soul, heart, and mind are always preoccupied with Dean, tearing him apart. He has become a shell that yearns, hurts, and is never at true peace. It's an awful ending for him. Sam's death would be far more merciful than his devastatingly broken life. But, Dean went on and cruelly told Sam not to make any deals to bring him back and to continue living.

Sam would have tried until the very end to bring Dean back, or he would have died purposely, either directly or indirectly, shortly after. Cut this suffering short and be with him again. Dean was aware of the fact. But he loved him too much he wanted Sam to have what he believed his entire life was the best. And through his love for Sam, he paralyzed him one final time.

[deansbeer]

where the waves rest easy ⎯⎯ DEAN WINCHESTER.

⎯⎯ you and dean take the kids to the beach, where he opens up about his past, his love for you, and the life you've built together after leaving hunting behind.

♡ KARI YAPS! @deanswidow also contributed a tiny lil idea 4 this so dedicating this 2 her <3 ur dean's babygirl bc it felt right 🤍 love u pooks !!!!!

♡ WARNING(S) fluff | angst | family bonding | mentions of past violence | major character death (pls dont hate me I’ll cry) | grief. mdni ♱ 18 plus. adult content.

📖 JACKLES library.

IT'S BEEN TWO YEARS SINCE DEAN QUIT HUNTING.

two years since he put the colt and his sawed-off shotgun away for good. since he walked away from the life that had defined him for so long. since he said goodbye to the monsters, the blood, and the constant weight of death hanging over him.

two years since sam died.

god, you still catch him looking at the horizon sometimes, his jaw tight, his hands clenched into fists like he's bracing himself for something—like he's expecting the next apocalypse to come knocking at your front door. but it never does.

because dean walked away.

he walked away for you. for your family. for SAMMY, the little boy with his brother's name and his father's stubbornness. for JEMMA, the baby girl who's only been on this earth eight months and already has DEAN WINCHESTER wrapped around her tiny fingers. he walked away because he couldn't do it anymore—because burying his brother nearly killed him, and he knew if he didn't stop, he'd be burying you next. or the kids. or himself.

and you know sam would've wanted this for him. he would've wanted dean to have what they'd always dreamed about when they were kids: a home, a family, a life that wasn't overshadowed by death and duty.

so dean quit.

he got a job as a firefighter, of all things—because of course he did. being a firefighter lets him save people without the baggage of what came with hunting. it's hard work, but it's honest work, and it keeps his hands busy. it keeps his mind busy, too, most of the time. and you? you're a kindergarten teacher, which means your days are filled with crayons, storytime, and glue-sticked chaos.

it's not the life he ever thought he'd have—hell, it's not the life he ever thought he deserved—but he loves it. he loves you. he loves his kids. and even on the hard days, when the itch to hunt creeps up on him, or when he sees something on the news that makes his instincts scream at him to grab his gun, he reminds himself why he stopped. why he has to stay.

because this is worth it.

you and the kids are worth it.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

it's a friday when DEAN suggests going to the beach.

you both decided to take a day off—something rare, since your lives are usually so busy between work and the kids. but today, the sun is shining, the weather's perfect, and dean woke up with that lopsided grin you love so much, the one that makes him look ten years younger.

"whaddya think?" he asks as he pours you a cup of coffee, jemma balanced on his hip like she's always belonged there. "a beach day? sammy's been talking about it all week, and i think the squirt here could use her first dip in the ocean, don't you?"

you laugh, taking the coffee from him and leaning up to kiss his cheek. "sounds perfect."

so you pack up BABY with towels, sunscreen, a cooler full of snacks, and all the other million things you need when you have two kids under three. sammy's bouncing with excitement the entire drive, and jemma babbles happily from her car seat, her chubby hands reaching for DEAN every time he glances back to check on her. what a daddy's girl.

when you finally get to the beach, the first thing you notice is how peaceful it is. it's not too crowded—just a few families scattered along the sand, kids building castles and couples lounging under umbrellas.

and you can tell the moment DEAN steps onto the sand that this place means something to him.

you've been here before, of course—this is where he proposed to you. but there's something about the way he looks at the water, the way he takes a deep breath like he's letting go of something heavy, that makes you realize just how much this spot actually means to him.

"you okay, baby?" you ask softly, slipping your hand into his.

he turns to you, and for a moment, the smile he gives you is so FULL of love it makes your chest ache. "yeah, sweetheart," he says. "just… this place. it kinda reminds me why i'm here, y'know?"

you nod, squeezing his hand. and then sammy tugs on his leg, demanding to go play in the water, and DEAN laughs, scooping him up and spinning him around before setting him down and chasing after him.

you watch them run toward the waves, and your heart feels so full it might burst.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

a little while later, you're walking along the shore with him, jemma cradled in his arms. sammy's still splashing in the water, his laughter carried on the breeze, and you can't help but smile as you watch him. he really is a miniature version of DEAN—same green eyes, same freckles, same mischievous grin.

"he's got your stubbornness, too," you say, nudging DEAN with your shoulder.

he chuckles. "yeah, well, he gets that from both of us, sweetheart. don't kid yourself."

you laugh, leaning your head against his bicep as you walk. the sand is warm beneath your feet, the waves lapping gently at the shore, and for a moment, everything feels perfect.

"you remember why i proposed to you here?" he asks suddenly, his voice soft.

you look up at him, surprised. "of course i do. but i wouldn't mind hearing it again."

he smiles, his eyes distant for a moment as he looks out at the water. "it was right after we found out sammy was on the way," he says. "i was scared out of my fucking mind, if i'm being honest. not about you—about being a dad. about screwing it all up. but then we came here, and you were sitting right there"—he nods toward a spot near the water—"and you just looked so… happy. like you weren't worried about anything. and i realized that if i was gonna do this—if i was gonna have a family, a real life—it had to be with you. because you make everything better, y'know? even when it's scary. especially when it's scary."

his voice cracks a little at the end, and you blink back tears, reaching up to cup his face. "baby…"

"i mean it," he says, his voice rough. "you saved me, sweetheart. you and the kids—you're the reason i'm still here. the reason i didn't just… give up after sam."

you kiss him then, pouring everything you feel into it. he kisses you back, jemma squirming a little between you but not enough to break the moment.

when you finally pull away, you're both smiling, and for the first time in a long time, you see nothing but peace in his eyes.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

the rest of the day is spent soaking up the sun, building sandcastles, and chasing sammy around the beach. DEAN lets him bury him in the sand at one point, laughing as both SAMMY and JEMMA work together to pile sand on top of him.

"i think they're plotting against me," he says, grinning up at you from his sandy grave.

"probably," you reply, laughing as jemma pats a handful of sand onto his chest.

as the sun starts to set, dean takes both kids down to the water to look for crabs. sammy's eyes light up every time he spots one, and jemma claps her hands excitedly, even though you're pretty sure she doesn't know what's going on.

you watch them from a distance, your hand resting on your stomach. it's still early—you haven't told DEAN yet—but you know he'll be just as thrilled as you are when he finds out you're expecting again.

watching him with SAMMY and JEMMA, seeing the way he lights up around them, there's no doubt in your mind that he was meant to be a dad.

and as you sit there, watching the man you love with the family you've built together, you realize that this is what happiness looks like.

it's not perfect—it's messy and chaotic and sometimes downright exhausting—but it's yours.

and you wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

later that night, after the kids are asleep and the house is quiet, DEAN pulls you into his arms.

"thank you," he whispers, his voice barely audible in the darkness.

"for what?" you ask, resting your head against his chest.

"for this," he says, his hand moving to rest over your stomach. "for giving me a reason to keep going. for giving me a family."

you smile, tears pricking at your eyes again. "you don't have to thank me for that, my love. you've given me just as much."

he presses a kiss to your forehead, holding you close. and as you drift off to sleep, you can't help but think about how far you've both come—how far he's come.

because DEAN WINCHESTER may have walked away from hunting, but he's still a hero.

he's YOUR hero.

and he always will be.

♡ SPECIAL TAGS. @beausling @a1ecmcdowell @jasvtsc @titsout4nicholas @aileenunfiltered @frosttbitessam @bluestrd @archiveofvirtue @ultravi0lence14 @rubyvhs @ohsc . . . ૮ ․ ․ ྀིა

[ghoastixx]

SPN Boys w/ angel wing tattoo gn! reader

Synopsis: The Supernatural boys reaction to finding out you have angel wings tattooed onto your back.

Warnings: Mention of possible innuendos

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Dean

When he sees them for the first time, he's suspicious. He's seen angels, knowing how tricky they can get.. Perhaps you were just another trick of Heaven to make him vulnerable. He doesn't like it

Once you both confirm that no, you are in fact not an angel, he chills out about it a bit.

Definitely asks you if you regret it now that you both know how big of dicks angels are.

Doesn't really ask about it. The most he would do is get drunk and ask why you got it but that's it. He really doesn't care much.

As much as he's indifferent about it, he'd eventually grow to adore it.

"Hey! Angel!" Castiel looks over, "No, not you. Y/N."

I personally think he would like to look at them. He would like it if you wore shirts with the back showing or no shirt at all.. He just wants to see them.

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Sam

Much like his brother, he's a little suspicious at first, would interrogate you.

"Y/N," "Yes Sam?" "What's that tattoo for?" "Which tattoo." "On your back." "Angel wings?" "Yes." "Just liked them." "Oh."

He would trust you, especially if you have other tattoos that don't have to do with hunting or the such.

Would ask you about them, constantly referring to them as "Your wings."

A long day of interrogation of a town? He's patting the spot next to him on the small motel bed saying, "C'mere, I'll rub your wings for 'ya."

Messy hunt? "Go clean your wings off, Y/N."

It's even funnier if Dean doesn't know about the tattoo. He's so confused as to why his brother keeps mentioning you having wings. Assumes it's sexual.

He just..adores them? In a way he feels as if you are an angel sent to keep him in line.

He'd rather have you than other angels anyways.

Would 100% call you angel out of it. Forget any other nickname he may of been trying out, you are now just angel.

"So, angel, get this.."

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Castiel

He doesn't understand at first. At all. He will ask you about it.

"Why are you pretending to be an angel?" "Excuse me?" "You have wings drawn on.." "Oh, my tattoo?"

Once you explain it to him, he calms down a bit, but he's still a bit confused. Why did you get it, why angel wings? Why the specific design? Why on your back? Did it hurt? Lots of questions.

He likes them. Why wouldn't he? It makes him feel closer to you in a way.

Dean will refer to you two as "the match made in heaven."

It's cheesy.

I think Castiel would like tracing over them with his finger, dedicating it to mind.

He likes having something in common with you, in a way. He thinks it's endearing.

"Y/N," "Yes, angel?" "Take your shirt off," "Oh-Cas-" "I would like to examine your tattoo."

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Gabriel

Oh this cocky bastard.

He's honored, for starters, or at least that's what he says.

"oh-Baby, what's that you got there?" "Gabriel, what are you talking about." "Those delicious wings you've been hiding from me."

He understands the concept of tattoos more than Castiel does, so he doesn't have too many questions.

He just thinks that they are hot, and honestly he is so valid for that.

"I mean- these are almost better than the real things!"

He likes to tease you about them, since he's in fact the inspo.

But, happy spouse is a happy house, he does constantly talk about how much he likes them. Constantly.

"C'mon sugar, let me see them again, please???" He loves to look at it, touch it, etc.

He gets sad when he remembers you don't actually have wings.

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Lucifer

I do not think he'd be a fan.

Sure, he stands you as a human, but.. a human pretending to be an angel?

"Darling, you realize you're not an angel, correct?" "Yes, Luci." "Just making sure."

Sure, he wouldn't say anything about it to drive you away, but he thinks you have a lot of nerve.

He doesn't like to think about it too much.

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Crowley

Bud does not really like them much due to what they represent but he really doesn't care.

He'd go so far as to just call you an angel to go along with it.

he's really indifferent about it :/

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Picking Sides

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

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

Warnings: feelings of abandonment, angst with a happy ending

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But you didn’t hear—“

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

“B-but De—“

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

Dean was confused. “But she—“

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

“I said go! And don’t you come out.”

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

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

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

“Out for a walk,” you huffed.

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You can’t—“

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

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

“What’s wrong, what happened?”

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

“Oh, little one…” Cas sighed. “You—“

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

“They’re your brothers,” Cas argued.

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

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

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

“What did happen?” Cas asked gently.

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

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

“It matters to me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t answer, please,” you begged.

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

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

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

“I don’t want to see them right now.”

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

“I came to—“

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

Mary retreated to the Impala without another word.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

Mary was silent for a moment.

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

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

“Ok?” Mary asked tentatively.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That went well,” Dean said awkwardly.

“Don’t make jokes,” you commanded.

“I’m sorry.”

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

“Y/N—“

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

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

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

“Of course I forgive you.”

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

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

“Yeah. Yeah I’ll come home.”

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl @casmustdiee

[thirdsaltyhunter]

Pretty Green Eyes-I Mean Ties

Dean Winchester x gn!Reader

Summary: you find a little present for Dean

Warnings: none, pure cuteness, slight embarrassment, gn but use of 'sweetheart'

A/N: I'm obsessed with this gif, not proofread all mistakes are my own

You walked through the iles of the thrift store, looking for new shirts after your favorite one was shredded by a monster last week. You and the Winchesters frequented second-hand shops; your clothing got ruined pretty often, so you had to buy cheap. That's also why you wore so much flannel, it was easy to find here.

The boys hadn't joined you on this shopping trip, so you were left to peruse the store without Dean getting onto you for 'getting distracted by the dead people stuff'. I mean, in your defense, wasn't that kind of part of your job?

As you looked through the men's clothing for a replacement jacket for Sam, something on one of the end caps caught your eye. You went over and picked up the deep emerald green suit tie. It reminded you of Dean's pretty green eyes.

In the years you had been hunting with the brothers, you had developed quite a crush on the older Winchester. Crush? Let's face it. You were in love with him, and you had alway loved his beautiful eyes.

You almost wanted to buy the tie for him. You rolled your eyes at the thought. It's not like the boys were big on gift-giving. Debating for a moment, you decided he could wear it with his 'fed threads' ‐as he called your fake FBI suits- and tossed it in the cart before you could second guess yourself.

"Honey I'm home," you greeted in a sing-song tone as you entered the motel room you were sharing with the boys.

Digging in your bag, you handed Sam the jacket you had gotten him and he thanked you. Dean looked up from where he sat at the end of one of the beds cleaning his gun.

"I got you something too," you said, dropping the tie onto the bed next to him.

He picked it up and looked at you with a brief look of confusion.

"It matches your eyes."

Why did you say that? You internally cringed, feeling the heat rise in your face. Instead of looking at him, you stuffed your new clothes into you duffle bag.

"Thanks Sweetheart," Dean said a sweet smile gracing his lips.

"I'm going to take a shower." You hurried into the bathroom and shut the door behind you. Really you wanted to run away from this situation so he didn't see how flustered you were.

"Awww," Sam said in a mocking tone as soon as the bathroom door shut behind you.

You may have missed how Dean blushed when you said that, but Sam didn't, and he wasn't going to miss the opportunity to tease his older brother. He knew that Dean had had feeling for you for years, but was too blind to realize that you felt the same.

"Shut up," Dean said, brushing off his bothers' teasing. He ran his fingers over the fabric of the tie and smiled to himself. He knew he would keep it forever.

[slasherscream]

i would love to know which of the crazy ass boys gang would indulge a partner who watches reality tv? whose getting just as invested and angry and who is standing to the side saying it’s dumb and fake? (i know it’s kevin)

❥ who grins and bares it so they can bond with you ❥

Billy Loomis - This is just a bonding activity for Billy. It’s not awful. Nor is it the most fun thing in the world. It’s just one of those tiny moments that relationships are built off. The small bids for connection that build intimacy. You don’t bitch when he wants to watch Psycho for the sixth time in two months. He doesn’t bitch when you turn on trashy TV. He pulls you close, so that you’re sitting in his lap, or laid up against him, and pays enough attention to ask you the odd question or two to clarify what’s going on if he gets lost. What do you mean they switch couples?? When did they start doing that? Last week… oh I bet Luca was pissed. 

David Mccall - David is obnoxious because he pretends to be the type who is upset when you watch without him. He’ll come home, glance at the TV and gasp dramatically: Baby! Why are you watching our show without me?! How far along are you? You watched an entire episode? You know better than that, baby! You gotta rewind it, hold on, I’ll order us some pizza. Can’t believe you’d watch behind my back! This is a ridiculous pantomime that you may or may not pick up on. Mileage varies as always. David couldn’t care less about the reality TV shows you watch. But he likes the way you giggle as you rewind it for him. Or the way you light up when you’re discussing it with him. You used to spend way too much time talking with your friends about this stupid crap. Now you talk to him. Who gives a shit about whatever mindless little thing you’re watching. What David enjoys is your undivided attention. 

Jason Dean/JD - JD also sees this as a bonding activity and bid for connection… However, JD is a born hater. He bonds by talking shit. He’s not necessarily trying to be a bummer about the things you enjoy. He’s just a certified yapper when it comes to shit-talking. If he thinks something is stupid he just can’t sit in silence. This is his most underdeveloped life skill. He’s got ten minutes of quiet in him max. If he does manage to bite his tongue his face gives him away anyways. So what was the point? Will say something pretentious like: “Why are we watching people play out a badly scripted version of their lives through a screen when we could be out living ours, right now? Let’s hop on my bike and just ride, darling! Live a little!” Sir, I just worked an eight hour shift. I need to see someone who doesn’t deserve a rose get sent home in tears. Read the room. Get a grip. 

❥ who is pissed off/devastated when you watch it without them ❥

Sebastian Valmont - What can he say? Sebastian likes to watch people experience psychological torment. He’s trying to turn on the first seasons of “America’s Next Top Model" and watch a girl get sent home in tears after the judges convinced her to shave her head bald to look more fierce.This is the type of quality reality TV that makes Sebastian laugh. Watching people go through their darkest moments in front of a camera that highlights the creases in their cheap makeup is how he likes to spend the occasional date night. You had to put him onto reality tv shows, but now he’s hooked. He probably watches more reality TV than you do. If we’re being honest. You think this might be how he gets to still live out his glory days of being an unrepentant asshole. Sometimes he sighs a little too wistfully when someone is being a monster. 

Jordan Li - Jordan enjoys anything you do together. Even if they hate a particular activity, at least they’re spending time with you. Still, there are reality TV shows that Jordan really likes, such as: home improvement shows, “Say Yes to the Dress'', “Face Off”, “American Ninja Warrior”, and “RuPaul's Drag Race”. And then there are shows that Jordan puts on a brave face about. Things like “Love Island” and “Jersey Shore”. Jordan gets queasy just scrolling past them. There was a time before they became one of Brink’s favorites that their parents kept pushing them to try and be an entertainment Supe. No one is taking you that seriously, anyways! Maybe you’ll do better in the reality TV circuit. It’s unlikely Jordan will ever get stuck in projects like that now. They’ve proven they can be a heavy hitter. Proven that they’re strong enough to not need to sell themselves as cheap, easily-digestible, entertainment. Still, they don’t like thinking of the alternate world where they’re having to sit in front of a camera and do twenty retakes of “authentic” confessional room venting.

Stu Macher - He likes reality TV and doesn’t care who knows. Hooray! A shared interest… except watching these shows with him will piss you the fuck off. He has dog-shit opinions about everything. You will never be rooting for the same people. You will never agree on who handled a situation better. He’s always rooting for the asshole, it seems. You don’t even think he’s doing it to be contrary or to make you mad. He’s genuinely on their side (most of the time… he does enjoy making you mad.) Watching reality TV with Stu makes you want to kill him. It also makes you look at him funny. Why are you always siding with the bastards? You don’t think Ekin-Su needed to apologize? Stu, are you out of your fucking mind?

Josh Washington - You’re gonna try to tell me that the twins weren’t making him paint toenails while they pulled all nighters of “The Bachelor”? Sure, okay, if you’d like to believe that. And his inner circle consists of Emily and Jess? Please. He’s been watching trashy TV for years. He’s watched a little of everything. He is so well acquainted with the dark underbelly of reality TV that it would roll over for a tummy rub from him. It knows his scent. He can easily keep track of the names, faces, and plots. Who’s fucking who. Who hates who. Who’s forming secret alliances. You’ll probably be more lost than Josh ever gets. He’s a day one. He’s an OG. 

❥ who is pissed off to even be hearing about it second-hand ❥

Sparrow!Ben Hargreeves - He has better shit to do than watch reality TV show crap all day, and so do you. These are the kinds of harsh words that will be waiting for you if you try and get him to watch anything fun with you. Ask him one too many times and, like a parent who is annoyed that you are bothering him, he will begin to fill up any moment of free time the two of you have with activities. No, babe, we can’t watch “90 Day Fiance.” Why? Because we’ve got to run the marathon for kids with cancer and then we’ve got dinner with the mayor after that. You two are gonna be booked and busy. You were obviously bored. Now you won’t have time to even think!

Kevin Khatchadourian - Please don’t remind him so blatantly of his own intellectual superiority over you (he’s an asshole.) He gets the ick of the century when you try and tell him what happened during one of your little…programs. If you have the audacity to take it a step further and ask him to watch with you? He’s rendered speechless. Since when is this relationship a safe space? He doesn’t enjoy well-written, heart-stopping, incredible genre-defining movies and television. And yet, somehow, you’re so delusional you think he’s gonna sit through reality television with you? Don’t piss him off. He doesn’t even bother responding. Enjoy the view of his back as he walks away!

❥ secret fourth worse thing ❥

Nathan Prescott - Nathan is once again in a category of his own, which you might call: too nosy to not get into it, but doesn't want you to know he enjoys it. He made fun of you when you first started to watch reality TV. He can’t go back on his word now. If you were cuddling on the couch he’d have his face turned into your stomach and dramatically roll his eyes at your absentminded head rubbing. Could we focus on what’s important please? But then the plots started thickening and the heated exchanges started to pique his interest. He knew he was cooked when he started recognizing names, who was booed up with who… wait that disloyal prick hooked up with who this week?! He tells you to just replay the episode because you’re explaining it shitty and you obviously want him to watch it and talk to you about it. It isn’t for his benefit at all. Turn the subtitles on, god dammit.

A/N: this was really fun! how did you know i've been watching reality TV shows lately?? if you enjoyed these headcanons consider reblogging, leaving a reply, or an anon! a writers fuel is engagement. xoxoxo

[swtsupernatural]

S.W || SILK & SHAPESHIFTERS

Sam Winchester x Thick!Fem!Reader

Content Warning reader being shorter than Sam, reader desc as having thick thighs, dean being annoying, swearing, reader wanting to fuck sam (but no sexual content in this fic)

Summary Fluff, (Sexual tension lowk) strangers to acquaintances to lovers(?) - You didn't work in the field. You did research. But when your good friend Bobby Singer asks you to help some friends of his by posing as a couple at a charity ball, you don't refuse.

W.C. 2.2k words

Ask anon: A: Hello hello! I'm back again; I'm going to change my request style a bit, how about a female reader with thick thighs? Make her with Sam please

Playlist: ♫ Bed Chem - Sabrina Carpenter, Shoot to Thrill - AC/DC

A.N. sam fic ! i am curvy so i was excited asf for this req !!! part 2 coming soon... ;) - claire xx

Being a Lore-keeper has its perks. It let you put your literary degree to some use, and it didn't usually get you into too much trouble. But, tonight it had. Bobby Singer was one of your favorite hunters; always treated you well, housed you in sticky situations, and sometimes had books or information you didn’t know about that he offered for you to borrow. Usually, he came to you for information. He didn’t hunt a lot, but it was still more than you hunted. But, when he and his hunter friends did go out looking for trouble, he often came to you for information. When he’d asked you to help out some of his family on a case that was real serious, you agreed begrudgingly. But only after Bobby told you your outfit, dinner, and drinks that night would be paid for by this said ‘family’ of his. 

You’d already done a bit of research for him about this particular case and even you knew it was a tricky one. You’d spent the last week trying to piece all of the information together — running it through your countless trusted lore books, sites you favored, and even paper clippings and newspapers from the library. The place in question was only a few hours from Bobby’s in some fancy estate you’d mapped out by memory the last few days. You were guessing it was your least favorite of the supernatural creatures you’d perilously studied — shapeshifters. They made your skin crawl, and were tricky when they came in multiple. The family you suspected they were impersonating were the Bradys, a rich family that had lived in South Dakota for generations and hosted fundraiser parties each year for some organization their rich friends ran. Some of the members of the family had been photographed partaking in some suspicious activity, activity of which the police deemed fine of course; but you were smart enough to know this was your type of problem. A few of them had also seemingly gone missing, and either mysteriously turned up fine, or were still a missing persons case. 

You decided to use Bobby’s as a place to get ready the second he offered, he lived closest anyways. You thought it was best to come over in the morning to talk more to him and whoever you were going on the case with, plan everything out. He’d been vague about who it was, though, and when you walked inside and saw Sam and Dean Winchester holding suits, a shopping bag, an EMF reader, and a pack of Coronas, you knew why. 

You’d never given the boys information directly — Bobby had told you he relayed much information from you to them in tricky cases, but that the older one, Dean, was too prideful to ask you directly yet. Of course, like all male jackass hunters, he had eventually asked when he learned what they were dealing with and all the intricacies that you were extremely skillful in. The catch was that you hated field work, but also loved an excuse to get dressed up. You’d told Bobby your dress and shoe size, and sure enough, the taller one was holding a dark velvety blue dress over his arm. 

“y/n, this is Sam, and this is Dean.” The shorter one, though he towered over you still, stuck out his hand, that jackass smirk on his face you knew he’d have. 

“Heard a lot about you.” He spoke, the smirk still on his, admittedly handsome, face.

You didn’t like having your guard up. You hated it really, but being in your line of work and constantly dealing with men who dismissed your intelligence made you rightfully put up walls when you’d first meet them. 

“Heard a lot about you too, but don’t think that means I’m your best friend now. I’m doing this for Bobby.” 

The taller one smiled gingery, letting out a silent laugh watching Dean’s ego deflate. You turned to him, sticking out your hand. “Sam. Nice to meet you. And uh, thanks for coming out on this case, Bobby said field work isn't usually your thing so we really appreciate it.” You already preferred him. A lot, actually. He was tall, and looked way too fucking cute in that oversized brown hoodie he still had on despite being inside Bobby’s fairly warm home. 

“We’re taking off at five so we’ll be right on time, okay?” Dean said to the two of you, rolling his eyes at how you hadn’t made any sassy comments at his brother. 

“Sounds good. May I have my items, gentleman? I’m not doing this for free.” Sam smiled again, more noticeably this time, handing you the dress and shoes, and a purse, which you hadn't asked for but were not going to turn down. 

“Thank you. So, the game plan is…?” “Game plan is you and I pose as a date and distract people while Dean sneaks around and corners a couple shifters, ganks ‘em, and then we get out before all hell breaks loose.”

You shrugged, looking at Sam, “Sounds good to me.” Of course he was cute and smart. God, you usually never let some guy get between you and case work, but he was making it hard. But if all you had to do was pose as a couple…

“Wait. If you needed me for acting I don’t know why you couldn’t call someone else.” 

“We don’t know who's a shifter and who isn’t. That’s the problem. You know their tells, what makes them tick, how to trick them, the layout of the place. Bobby's got some ear pieces for all of us so you can help me from afar, don’t have to get your hands dirty.” Dean grunted, losing his dark leather jacket and grabbing a suit, heading to the bathroom to change. 

“How thoughtful,” you mused, and he smiled annoyingly at you.

“We’ll talk more in the car, okay? Just get ready and we’ll be here if you have any more questions.” Sam said softly. HIs voice was deep and smooth, and it made you want to grab him by his collar and lock the two of you in Bobby’s guest room. Instead, you opted for pushing your thighs together and clearing your throat. “Sounds good. Thank you.” He smiled, going into the guest room with his own suit. You opted to lock yourself upstairs in the bathroom blasting music while you did your makeup in order to pump yourself up. You were a bit nervous, but you didn’t have to do dirty work, you got a nice new outfit, hopefully a nice drink, and a hot date? This was much better than how you thought your night was going to go — curled up on the couch, looking through way too many old files and books for another hunter, playing an old movie in the background and wishing you were elsewhere. You liked your job, you really did. But sometimes it drove you crazy how little you saw other people, people your own age especially. Tonight was like a gift sent from the angels. Well, ones that you hadn’t met; so far they had all been dicks. 

“y/n, ya’ almost ready?” Dean called up, just as you finished styling your hair in a classy style. 

“Coming!” You came down the stairs in a navy dress that hugged your curves pretty well, you thought. The dress was pretty low cut and the sides came up at a slit high up on your right leg. You honestly felt exposed, you usually didn't dress like this. Sam still had your heels, and when you came down, the first thing you saw was his eyes on your legs, stopping him from tying up his shoes.

You heard a low whistle behind you, and Dean’s gruff voice, “Damn, you clean up nice.” Bobby smacked him over the head with the book he was reading, going to the kitchen to get you an earpiece he had for each of you. 

“You don’t look so bad yourself.” You smiled, walking over to Sam on the couch. He was still occupied with your dress, and his eyes were making your face burn up. Your brain couldn't decipher how he was feeling based on his face… you teetered between him wanting to rip off your dress and stay home with you all night, or that he thought you looked…not good. You knew you didn't have skinny model legs, but that wasn't you job. Your job was to decode, translate, find, and relay important information to hunters, stopping people from dying. That was you job, and you were good at it. There was so much more to you than your looks, and if someone couldn't see that then fuck them. But, with how stuffy the room was and how close Sam was to you, you wrapped your arms around your shoulders, sitting a bit far from Sam asking for your shoes despite the voices in your head telling you you were fine.

“Y-yeah, here. I’ll put them on.” Your mouth opened to speak, but it was dry and nothing came out. Sam leaned down from the couch, sitting on his knees right in front of you. You finally stretched out your left ankle, and he slid on one of the black stilettos they'd picked out for you. He set down your foot after buckling the straps, grabbing your right ankle and moving it forward gently, causing the fabric of your dress to fall between your thighs on one side, and on the very back of your hip on the other, your leg completely bare. Sam finished tying up your second shoe, his eyes flashing to your soft thigh before clearing his throat and offering a hand to help you stand up. 

Once you were stable, you flattened down your dress. You looked up at Sam and pouted at how much taller he still was than you. 

“Aren’t these like…almost 4 inches?” Sam looked down at you and chuckled deeply. 

“Uh, yeah. They are. Disappointed you're still shorter than me?” You rolled your eyes and glimpsed over him — eyes trailing his fitted black suit, the fabric clinging to his chest and legs nicely.  

“What are you, like part giant? 7 feet tall?” You said it as a joke, but you honestly thought he had to be close to that. 

“Please,” Sam said, a bit close to your ear, leaning down to talk to you, “I’m…6’5. Just about.”

“Jesus…” you muttered, and realized you’d said it outloud. “Uh, we should get going soon, I think, it’s almost five, right?”

Sam nodded, squinting his eyes at your lower body so quickly you almost missed it. Dean put ear pieces in each of your hands and showed you how to use them. You followed the brothers out to their car and said bye to Bobby.

“Be careful, idjits. Keep in contact.”

“Will do.” You said, smiling to Bobby before getting in the back of the car, Sam opening and closing the door for you before sliding into the front seat a bit awkwardly from how long his legs were.  

“Ready?” Dean uttered, putting his elbow on Sam’s seat. 

“As ever.” You tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, seeing Dean’s vividly green eyes through the rear view mirror. Shoot to Thrill by AC/DC came on, and Sam mused on your quiet singing.

“You like AC/DC?” Sam asked, turning around a bit to talk to you more clearly. 

“Yea, that, Metallica, some Guns N’ Roses, Rolling Stones....” Sam groaned, rolling his eyes, knowing Dean would have some stupid comment about that. 

“Really?” Dean spoke up, turning down the music a bit.

“Yes. Don’t cream your pants.” Sam smiled at that. It wasn’t super often that women Dean hit on shut him down as unreservedly as you did. 

“I know you got eyes for my idiot brother, but at least entertain me.”

“Okay. Who was the one that picked out the dress? And shoes? And purse?” You smirked at the back of Dean’s head. 

“Sammy…” Dean mumbled begrudgingly. 

“That's what I thought. Can you turn the music back up?” Dean’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. He’d never had someone come in his car and tell him to do something like that, but he did so without saying anything. 

Hours passed, and the Impala rolled to a stop in front of the biggest most obnoxious house you’d ever seen. 

“Jesus. Showoff much?” Dean voiced from the front seat, unbuckling and stepping out. Sam followed, opening your door before you got the chance. 

“So civilized.” You said poshly, seeing that adorable smile you liked seeing on Sam’s beautiful face. 

“Alright. You two go inside first. Use the earpiece to tell me when you know where one is, tell me which way to go. We don’t know each other, got it? You got your fake, y/n?” said Dean.

“My what?” Sam handed you an ID with a photo of your face, but it didn’t say your name. “How many of these do you guys have? Actually, don’t answer that.” Sam held out his right arm and you slid yours under his. He began walking, taking large spread out steps. You saw his face flash, knowing he realized you were struggling to keep up; not just from your heels, but from his obnoxious height. 

“Sorry,” he muttered, again, with that deep, smooth voice close to your ear. Fuck. This is gonna be a hard night. 

[gallavichsreddie1128]

You’ve Never What? (Dean Winchester)

Description: Y/N has never rode anyone’s face before and Dean is shocked.

Warning: Face Riding, Age Gap

Word Count: 1,531k

I sat at the table eating alongside Dean and Sam. I made us mac and cheese because we’ve been having take out all week and I wanted something different. The boys and I were pretty close, almost like a family but I certainly didn’t view them as family. They were both so hot but one of them caught my eye more than the other. Dean. He was older than me, sure but only 14 years. He was strong and muscular and oh my god his voice? I could get off to the sound of him talking. He was so hot and he knew it which was why he talked to the why he did. Anytime he saw a pretty woman he had to voice it and say what dirty things he wanted to do to her.

It made Sam and I roll my eyes but we were rolling them for different reasons. Sam was annoyed and didn’t wanna hear his brother talk about that stuff and I was annoyed he wasn’t talking about me. But why would he? He probably has zero interest in me. “Y/N are you okay?” I snapped out of it and looked at Sam. “Yeah sorry.” I said and went back to eating. “Man, I would love to be on the beach right now with some hot chicks.” Dean said. Sam and I look at him. “A hot girl sitting on your face. It’s the dream isn’t it?” I shrugged at him. “I don’t know, I've never done it.” I said.

Sam looked at me with his eyebrows raised and Dean’s jaw dropped. “You never what?” He asked in shock. I shrugged. “Being with you guys the past 5 years I haven’t really had time.” I say. “Before then?” He asked. I shook my head. “Well sweetheart if you want to just ask.” He said. It was my turn to be shocked and I squeaked out a “what?” Sam got up with his bowl and walked to his room. I didn’t blame him. “If you ever want to experience it just ask.” My face was red. “Oh come on. I see how you look at me sweetheart. I’m not an idiot.” He says. I just stare at him too shocked and embarrassed to even process what is going on. “Dean, what if this ruins our friendship?” I asked after a few minutes. “I won’t let it.” He says. How could he be so sure? “You can’t know that it won’t.” I whisper. He gets up with his bowl. “The offer still stands.” He shrugs. 

I sat in my room on my bed thinking about what he said, what he offered. It would be a dream but at what cost? I didn’t use to do anything and it would be awkward after. I had a pretty good relationship with him, I didn’t want that to be over because of hormones. I really liked Dean too. I didn’t just want us to do sexual stuff, I wanted something real with him. But the more I thought about it the more I realized what if this was my only opportunity to be with him in any way? If he thinks it won’t affect our relationship then maybe it won’t.

A knock at the door snapped me out of my thoughts again. I got up from my bed and opened the door revealing the man I was just thinking about. “Hey Sam bought some pie if you want some.” He suggested. “Yeah sure.” I say and walk out of my room. I followed him into the kitchen where the pie was. It looked and smelled delicious. “You want me to get you a slice?” He asked, grabbing a knife to cut the pie with. “Yes please.” I say. I sat at the table and watched as he cut two slices of the pie for us. He brought them over and sat down next to me. “Thank you.” I say and start eating the pie.

We ate in silence for a while but I was thinking too much about the conversation earlier. Dean seemed to notice. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” He said. I looked at him. He didn’t make me uncomfortable, just made my feelings worse. I shook my head. “No you didn’t but I think…I wanna take you up on your offer.” I say. “Are you sure?” He asked. I nodded. “Yes.” Before I could say or do anything he leaned over and kissed me. Catching me off guard. It took me a minute but I kissed back. Our lips moved together at the table and he pulled me closer. His arms wrapped around me pulling me into his lap. I straddled him as our lips didn’t stop. My hands run through his hair and his hands run up and down my back. Wherever Sam was I only hoped that he didn’t walk in on this. I pulled at his shirt wanting him to take it off. He pulled away from the kiss. “Not here. In my room.” He said against my lips.

I nodded and got off him. He took my hand and dragged me to his room. He closed the door and took off his shirt revealing his beautiful body to me. “Take off your clothes, sweetheart.” He told me. I took off my big shirt revealing my matching bra and panties to him. I looked at him as he walked up to me. “Wow. You’re so beautiful.” He says and cups my face. I stare at him and look at his lips as he leans down and kisses me. This was a different kiss than the one we had in the kitchen. This one was more passionate and slow and not so lustful. I wrapped my arms around his neck and leaned up to deepen the kiss. “Jump.” He mumbled into the kiss. He caught me and I wrapped my legs around him. He turned us around and fell onto the bed with me on top. I pulled away to catch my breath. His eyes stared into mine and his hands ran up and down my thighs. “Take off your panties.” He tells me and I do, throwing them somewhere in his room. I straddled him once more and he tugs me up his body.

My nerves grew as I got closer and closer to his face. He smirked up at me and my breath got heavier. “It’s okay sweetheart.” He tells me in a soft voice. I nodded and he helped me to where I was hovering over his face. I looked down at him and I saw my juices drip onto him. I gasped in embarrassment and went to apologize. “No need. Your juices are going to be all over my face.” He winks. I let out a breath I was holding in and he lowered me onto his face. I gasp as I feel his hot breath tickle my area and his nose settle on my clit. “Fuck.” I gasped. His tongue began swirling my hole making me let out a little moan.

I didn’t have anything to grasp onto so I laced my fingers through his hair. His tongue entered me a little, making me moan louder than I wanted to. His hands that were gripping my hips started moving me. My clit was dragging on his nose and his tongue was moving in and out of me. My moans grew as I let myself ride his face. Though his tongue couldn’t go super deep into me but it still felt good. His nose was perfect for riding and I took a mental note of that. With my clit constantly bumping into it my high was very close. I moan his name over and over like I was praying to the man below me.

He hummed against me making vibrations course through me. “Dean fuck i’m really really close.” I whimpered. He sped up his movements and within seconds I came all over his tongue and nose. My hips stuttered on his face as I rode my high. Once I became over sensitive I pushed myself off his face with shaky legs. He helped me stay up as he smirked at me. I gasped seeing his face covered in my orgasm. He licked his lips and hummed. “Are you okay?” He asked me. I nodded and chuckled. “Yeah definitely.” He helps me off him and I collapse next to him. “I’m glad you enjoyed that.” He winked.

I laughed and looked up at the ceiling. “That really was amazing.” I whispered. “You can have my tongue and nose anytime you want.” He tells me. I looked over at him and he was already looking at me. “I know that I talk about women a lot and I know you and Sam hate it but I really like you and I want something more than just this.” He motioned to what we just did. I was shocked that he returned my feelings. “I like you too Dean. And yeah I was hoping that this wouldn’t have been a one time thing either.” I say. He smiles and leans in and kisses me.

[siriusblacksbxtch]

I'm in love with your dean x male reader smuts- is there any way you could do a pretty extreme dom!dean sub!male reader with any combination (your choice) of the following kinks?: gun play, bondage, choking, knife/blood play, oral fixation, stalking/cnc/kidnapping, religious play, spit sexual fighting (like slapping, punching, etc.) , violence/gore, demon!dean, edging/teasing begging, sub not being able to form words, degrading and praise- and could you include specific terms? like pretty boy, good boy, kitty, slut, bitch, whore, dumb, and easy for the sub and for dean just simple stuff like sir, dean, stuff similar. I'm writing you a book I'm so sorry bjfjd I just have a really hard time finding male reader smut as good as yours that suit my kinks 😭😭 I also love a good sub!dean dom!male reader and the kinks and names I provided earlier would suit a fic like that too!! thank you sm for reading this NOVEL jdjsjs i hope you have a great day- aaaaand if you're not comfortable writing something with such extreme kinks I completely understand, I just thought I'd ask cause I love your work!! xoxo 💞💞💞

A/N: everybody kiss this requester on the mouth I demand it/ I wish I did better but I did what I could! I hope you still like it!

Pairings: Demon!Dean x male!reaader

Warnings: unholy, seriously.

Summary: Demon!Dean had been around for too long, and he looked much too like your boyfriend

You glared across the kitchen at the flannel wearing monster. Oh you hated him. Hated him bad, wearing your beautiful Dean’s face to be an absolute fucking psycho.

Sam had come to terms he’d be sticking around until they found a cure, but you couldn’t stomach it. It made you so goddamned mad.

Like right now in your own home glaring invisible lasers into his head as he sat across from Sam eating food like he was normal.

“(Y/N),” Sam sighed with a conflicted look. “It’s nothing new.”

“Better get used to it, baby boy.” Dean, or not Dean, or whatever— gave you a devilish grin.

“Oh, both of you fuck off. I can’t standing seeing his disgusting ass every second.”

“This disgusting ass can remember some pretty nasty images of you as well.” The demon lowly chuckled as you flushed red, Sam looking down at the table to avoid the conversation.

“Fuck you, psycho.” You rolled your eyes, stomping to your room and slamming the door. You kicked the metal irritably muttering curses under your breath as you pulled off your shirt.

You were hot, nearly feeling as though you were sweating from the interaction. You hated him, god more then you thought you could, walking around with your boyfriends face and just about everything that made him an asshole.

“Let me get this straight—”

“God!” You let out a gasp as you clutched your heart, turning to face the very demon himself.

“Not God,” he smirked. “Just me (Y/N).”

“No shit, what the hell do you want?”

Before you could move for your shirt he stepped closer, walking you back into the wall until your chests were touching.

“What do I want?” Dean laughed, his hot breath hitting your face. “I want to know why you could bend over like a bitch—” His eyes flashed black— “Before I got these babies.”

You swallowed harshly at the words, staring into the abyss of black.

“You used to be so good for me.” He began rubbing at your crotch, you breath hitching in your throat as you tried to look anywhere else.

“You’re not—”

“But I am,” he hissed before you could finish. “I’m still Dean. The Dean who would sleep next to you, fuck you til you cried baby.”

You once again shuttered at the thought, cheeks growing hotter as he continued to palm you through your jeans.

“The one who knows how secretly bad you’ve wanted something like this.”

At that you shoved him back, swinging a fist into his jaw and slamming him into the wall across from you.

He punched you straight back, pushing you onto the bed and swinging his fist again for good measure.

You could taste the blood on your teeth as he grinned down at you, moving his hips down to meet yours as a strangled moan left your lips.

“Quit trying to fight it and be a good boy.”

“Fuck you,” you sighed out.

He backhanded you, grabbing your jaw in a stone clutch, moving so his lips pressed against yours.

“I know how bad you want it, (Y/N). Stop fighting.” With that he pulled back slamming his lips into yours.

You couldn’t help but pull him closer, missing his soft lips and strong build.

As soon as it started it seemed to be over, Dean pulling off your pants and flipping you over before you could even process.

“See how good things go when you’re a good boy?” A strangled gasp left you as his hand slammed down on your ass cheek. He did it once again with enough strength to cause you to move forward. “You just love being my little slut?”

Dean’s low chuckled filled the air along with the sound of his hand coming down on your ass.

“Fuck,” you were struggling not to be a drooling mess at this point, Dean flipping you around again to face him.

“You ready to stop being a little bitch and be a good boy, (Y/N).”

You stared into his black eyes finding what you used to despise all too intriguing as you finally gave a stiff nod.

“No, no,” he chuckled lowly as he ran a hand over your torso. “You are a pretty boy, but your mouth,” he whistled lowly. “We gotta make up for all that ugly talk, baby boy.”

Dean pulled you by your hair, and you let him, shoving you roughly to your knees as he undid his belt.

“Open.” Came the cold voice, much less playful than he had been when he entered your room.

You did so, opening wide as he slid his dick into the back of your throat, a soft sigh escaping as he did so.

“Jesus, slut.” Dean’s moan was like music to your ears, the demon grabbing your hair roughly as he moved you up and down on his dick.

“You act so tough now I get it,” came his devilish laugh, “you’ve been so worked up because I haven’t used you like the dumb whore that you are.”

You moaned around him at this words, his movement suddenly slowing as he pulled you forward and rested his dick down your throat.

“Acting like a whiny bitch when all you wanted was me back in your bed.” Tears and drool began to escape you, struggling to breathe on his dick.

The sight seemed to amuse Dean, you felt his dick growing in your throat as you struggled.

“All you had to not do was be a whiny slut, and instead here you are choking.”

You began to try to pull off, but he held you there a few seconds long before pulling you back into a wet kiss.

“You gonna be a good boy now, (Y/N).”

His black eyes poured into yours and instead of hatred all you felt was desire.

“Yes—”

Dean smacked you hard, pulling you close by the jaw as he bit on your lip and pulled, a hand going to your throat to squeeze roughly.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir.” You breathed shakily. “Please.”

He grinned as he flipped you back onto the bed, hovering over you as your chest rapidly began to rise and fall.

“Please what, pretty boy?”

“Please,” you whined. “Please, fuck me. I’ve wanted it for so long please, Dean.”

His arrogant smile never left his face as he spit into his hand, the other going to squeeze around your neck. Dean shoved his fingers into you, loving the way you squirmed around him, trying to moan but nothing coming out from the force of his hand.

“Cant have Sammy hear us. Can we dumb whore?”

You only tried to moan more as he worked you open, then suddenly without warning he flipped you over and pressed at your entrance.

“You want me to fuck you, baby.”

“Yes sir, please.” You were trembling at this point, wanting nothing more than for him to fuck you into the mattress so hard you couldn’t walk.

“Not very convincing for a needy whore,” he sighed teasingly.

“Please, Dean. I need you to fuck me, please. I need it so bad—”

A low moan escaped you as he suddenly pushed in, grabbing the back of your hair to control his thrusts as he set a fast pace.

Dean’s hand slammed down on your ass once again, a whiny moan escaping you as you felt him stretch you open.

“You gonna be a good boy now, or do I need to remind you who you belong to all the time?”

“A-All the time,” you muttered out between gasps. “Need this all the time.”

Dean laughed grabbing your hips to pull you back even harder as your moans only grew.

“Say you’re my whore,” Dean grunted as his pace began to falter.

“Yours. All yours, Dean. All the time.”

With a final hard thrust, and another smack to your ass, you felt the demon finish deep inside you, as you did on the sheets below.

You were gasping for air, tears of pleasure gathering in the corners of your eyes. You slowly turned to meet Dean, a shit eating grin always seeming to appear on his face.

“What?” You snapped with an angry glare, a flush of embarrassment falling over you.

However, Dean leaned forward pulling you into another warm kiss.

“Been wanting to do that since I got here pretty boy.”

[yinora-evergreen]

how do you think the spn boys ( Sam, Dean, Cas) would separately react to a reader who needs reading glasses. like it's boring long ass research time and reader just pulls out their glasses and the boys are like '??? when was this'. I just think it would be very cute 😭🫶

a/n: OMG YES!! i love this request sm <3 though personally i dont have reading glasses, i tried to make this accurate, i hope this is good T.T i hope you enjoy!!

pairing: Sam, Dean, Cas (seperately) x gn!reader

Dean Winchester

it was just another ghost case, a vengefull spirit that's pissed off, so ofcourse, you had to figure out who this ghost was, when they died and where the remains were burried.

you were in a small town, the ghost was killing people with what they feared, so far, there were three victims, one was a woman who was scared of heights, she got pushed off a building. the second was a man who was scared of tight spaces, he got suffocated in a closet, and lastly there was a young girl that was scared of deep water, and she drowned in the deep side of a pool, all over the span of a month.

Sam offered to go get you three some proper lunch from the local store, so you and Dean have to do most of the research, or atleast make a start on it.

Dean is making himself comfortable on one of the two motel beds, with Sam's laptop for research.

you sit down next to him, with a book on vengefull spirits, because you mentioned something about how this spirit could be a different kind than usual.

Dean glances at you for a second, a small smile on his lips, but quickly, his expression changes to one of absolute surprise as you whip out a pair of glasses and put it on, opening your book, though in the corner of your eye you can see him looking at you.

"what?" you raise an eyebrow.

"you have reading glasses?" Dean asks in a surprised tone.

"yeah, obviously" you glance at him.

"got a problem with that?" "what? no, no ofcourse not" he replies, though he has a teasing smile on his face, which makes you roll your eyes. yeah, he was so gonna use this against you for teasing.

Sam Winchester

its been over an hour since Dean said he was gonna go and check out the scene once more with Cas, and you and Sam are still sitting there in a motel room.

Sam has been researching for the past 45 minutes, on his laptop. you two are quiet, save for the occasional typing from Sam.

you made yourself a cup of tea, before sitting down at the small table in the room, pulling a book. you also pull out your reading glasses, putting them on and adjusting them slightly before flipping your book open.

Sam, being so engrossed on his laptop, doesn't notice for about 20 minutes, untill he looks up to ask if you've found anything, but the words die on his tongue as he looks at you, focused and reading... with glasses? since when?

"uh... did you find anything yet?" he ask with slight hesitation. he doesn't want to mention the sudden glasses, because what if you take offense? or get embarrassed? he doesn't want that, the least he wants is feel like an absolute idiot.

"no" you respond with a sigh, putting your book down and sliding off your glasses to be ontop of your head, grabbing your now room temperature tea, though you know Sam, and you can see in his eyes that he's confused about the glasses.

"i've had them for years, though they make researching on a laptop even shittier, and usually i borrow yours for research, so i don't put them on. besides, they don't do much for anything else, and i usually inspect the items we find at a scene, so, don't feel bad you didn't notice them before" you explain, smiling a little to yourself when he lets out a silent, relieved sigh.

"okay, okay, so i'm not a terrible boyfriend for not knowing you had reading glasses, good to know" he says with a slight laugh at the end of his sentence.

"you look cute in them, they suit you"

Castiel

Dean and Sam left to get dinner, leaving you in the motel room alone to research some more, because why not.

you were peacefully reading some newspapers, checking for any details you might've missed. the glasses you were wearing sliding down every once in a while, so you adjust them to sit back up on your nose properly.

you suddenly hear the sound of wings fluttering, and low and behold, Cas is standing across from you, though instead of the usual greeting, you're met with silence as you two look at eachother, the angel tilting his head to the side as he usually does when he's curious about something.

"....hello [name]..." he finally says, his eyebrows furrowing subtly.

"i didn't know you needed reading glasses." he mentions rather bluntly, making you smile.

"yeah, i know. you haven't been around much lately during research" you see him furrow his brows even more.

"i... think i should've known." he mumbles.

"isn't it normal for someone to know those things about their partner?" he asks you.

"yeah, but its not a big deal if you simply haven't noticed, its just a pair of glasses i barely use, its nothing to feel bad about" you say reassuringly.

[mind-empty-just-fictional-people]

Poems

main masterlist | supernatural masterlist

summary: dean searches your room when you’re missing, and the love letters he finds break his heart

pairing: dean winchester x female reader

rating: R for language

word count: 1.9k (1.5k excluding poems) 

warnings: reader goes/is missing, language, 

author’s note: please don’t make fun of my “poetry”, i know it’s not good that’s why i don't write poems lol

“Hey Dean, I’m working a case near Wichita so I’ll probably be back home by the end of the week. See you soon, bye.”

“That’s the last I heard from her,” Dean told his brother after playing him the message you left. “It’s been over a week, I’m gettin’ worried here!”

“Do you know what kinda case she was working?” Sam asked, Dean shook his head. “Okay, well I’m sure she’s fine, Dean. Let’s call the hospitals around where she is and ask if she’s there.”

“You do that, I’m gonna head to Wichita,” Dean replied.

“I think we should call the hospitals first, Dean. She said she was near Wichita, she could be anywhere from here to there!”

Dean sighed but agreed with Sam’s plan.

**

The boys had no luck with any of the hospitals so they decided to head over to Wichita and look for you. They searched for a few days before heading back to the bunker, hoping you might be there waiting for them. You weren’t, of course, and that only made their worry grow.

You’d been missing for nearly two weeks!  

Dean thought there might be some kind of clue in your room and decided that searching it was next on his to-do list. Though he knew he was grasping at straws, he did it anyway.

Opening the door to your room, he smiled at the poster near your bed. It was the one he’d gotten you for Christmas last year. It was a kind of gag gift—it was his favorite band. (His real gift had been much more thoughtful.)

He began his search at your desk, digging through the mess of papers splayed out on the wood surface. His brows furrowed when he found one paper in particular. It looked like… a love poem?

The way your hair looks in the morning

The way your laugh adds life to moments boring

The way your breath hits my neck when you’re standing just behind me

Reaching over to grab something off the table

A lore book, of all things to be

And the way your eyes light up when you look into mine

I swear I almost see a hint of love

Behind those piercing starlights

Your lips on mine is what I need

Did you hear me? 

I said kiss me, you fool!

We’ve not got much time

In this line of life 

And I need you at my side.

Dean didn’t know if the poem would be considered “good” in the public eye, but he knew it made his heart clench. You were in love? But… with whom?

To him, the words were beautiful, and the thought that you wrote them about someone else broke his fucking heart. He knew there were no clues to your whereabouts in the next poem, but of course, he read it anyway.

I think of you when I drive and spot a classic car

I think of you when I eat a cheeseburger 

And I’ll turn it upside down when I’m missing you

I think of you when I hear a Zepplin song

And I turn the music up when I’m not with you

I think of you when I see anyone wear flannel

Or a leather jacket that’s clearly a size or two too big

And I love to think of you

It just makes sense to me

I love to picture you beside me

At night when I can’t sleep

Or when I get scared of what I’m facing

I think of what you would do

Day or night

Night, day, or noon 

I always think of you

Whoever this mystery person was, they were fucking lucky. Dean had never felt so jealous in his entire life. He always thought you two had a “will they won’t they” side to your relationship but at that moment he realized it was completely one-sided. The fun, flirty side to all your late-night conversations had just been friendly. Two friends playfully talking as if they both wanted to be more.

Of course Dean wanted to be more. Of course he knew he wanted to be with you. But now? Now he knew he’d either missed his chance or he simply never had one.

You were in love with someone that wasn’t him. And the love you’d been writing about wasn’t the kind someone gets over. It’s the kind that sticks—for life. The kind that people write songs about, the kind that people fight wars over, and the kind that makes people go crazy in the best way. 

He knew he’d found that love when he first fell for you, but it turned out you had found that love in someone else.

“Anything?” Sam asked, walking into your room.

“Uhm,” Dean cleared his throat, hoping his eyes didn’t look as cloudy as they felt. “No, nothing important. Just some love letters or something.” 

Sam furrowed his brows and picked up one of the poems off the desk, one that Dean had not read yet. As the taller Winchester read what you wrote his eyes grew wide, practically popping out of his head as his mouth fell open.

“Oh my fucking god!” Sam exclaimed. “Y/n’s in love with you?” He looked at his older brother in shock.

“Me? No, these poems are about whoever she’s been seeing recently, they aren’t about me. We’re just friends.”

“You haven’t read this one yet, have you?” Sam asked with a small smile before handing it over.

You asked me today; “what’s your favorite color?”

And I just shrugged; “I don’t know, blue?”

Cause how could I have said the truth?

The color I love most in the world

The color that brings me nothing but joy

In this sad, awful little life

Is the green and hazel of your eyes

The emerald diamonds that shine

When you look into the sun

The soft hazel that looks over at me

When we’re reading in the library

How can I tell you all of this 

When the question is so simple and plain

How do I go into such specific detail

About the color I’m in love with

Without freaking you out

Or scaring you away

Or making you laugh at me

Because I know your favorite color 

And I know it’s not the color of my eyes

“You…You think this is really about me?” Dean asked his little brother, hoping Sam was right.

“Dean in all my life I have never seen anyone but you eat a burger bun-side-down,” Sam chuckled a little having read one of the poems Dean had read earlier.

“Oh my god.” Dean furrowed his brows, looking back down at the paper in his hands. “We’ve gotta find her, Sammy, I gotta tell her!”

“Tell her that you went through her stuff while she was gone? Don’t think that’s the best idea.”

“No! Tell her I’m in love with her! Tell her that the color of her eyes is my favorite fucking color too! And every time her favorite band comes on the radio I turn it up, and every time I see a woman wearing her type of clothes I think about her. Tell her that all I do every waking moment of every day is wish I was with her, wish I was holding her in my arms so I could never let go.”

“I think you just told her.” Sam smiled, nodding to where you now stood at your door. Dean turned around quickly. Tears of joy stung your eyes as you looked at him and smiled.

“You love me?” you asked.

“More than anything,” Dean admitted as he hurried to you. He wrapped you in a tight hug, kissing your temple quickly before he tucked your head under his chin. “I’m so glad you’re okay!”

“I’m sorry I didn’t call, it’s a long story,” you mumbled. “When vampires ban together with twisted humans, they’re a lot harder to kill.”

“We were really worried about you,” Dean admitted. “Like…fucking terrified.”

“Is that why you decided to dig through my personal shit?” you asked. You were one hundred percent kidding, but Dean was still nervous.

“Yeah…sorry,” Sam cringe-clenched his teeth, “it was my fault.”

You and Dean pulled back from the hug, but you took his hand in yours as you narrowed your gaze at the younger hunter.

“I know your tell, Sammy,” you said. “But it’s sweet that you’re trying to cover for Dean.” 

“Yep, all Dean’s fault,” Sam admitted before heading for the door, giving his brother a pat on the shoulder on his way out. “Good luck.”

“Look, I didn’t mean to invade your privacy, I swear,” Dean told you quickly. “I was looking for something that might tell me where the hell you were.”

“How many did you read?” you asked.

“Three,” Dean sighed, still thinking you were pissed at him.

“So…you know, then? That I’m hopelessly in love with you? And you think I’d be mad at you for looking through my stuff?”

“I mean, I know you value your privacy.”

“Dean,” you started, putting a hand on his cheek and turning his face to look down at you, “would you please just fuckin’ kiss me already?”

He seemed almost surprised by your question but he quickly smiled as he bent down and kissed you. His one hand stayed clasped in yours while his other went to your waist and then trailed to your lower back. The hand you had on his cheek went to the upper back of his neck so you could tangle your fingers in his hair. The smiles on both of your faces only grew before you both pulled away.

“Wow, I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” Dean mumbled before he let out a short, breathy laugh.

“Me too,” you replied. 

**

You’d been back home for a few days now and you had explained the whole missing situation to the brothers. You told them how the simple vampire hunt turned sour quickly when you realized the small-town’s sheriff was in on it and helped the vamps with making humans just disappear. They’d made you as a hunter instantly and held you hostage for a few days before you killed your way out. 

Dean never left your side so when he saw a new poem on your desk his brows furrowed. Curiosity got the better of him as he sat down to read it.

My god aren't I lucky

Now that you're holding me at night

And that first time we kissed in the doorway

I could’ve sworn I was kissing pure sunshine 

When your lips hit mine it was better

Then I could’ve ever imagined

And the love poems I've written became

Manifested words of affirmation

The butterflies in my stomach fluttered

And the blood rushed to my head

Think I could stay like this forever

Won't overthink it, I’ll just go and kiss you instead

“Well, well, well.” You came up behind him, and put your hands on his shoulders before you trailed them down and clasped them together over his chest, leaning your chin on his shoulder and kissing his cheek. “Look who’s digging through my shit again.” You smiled against his skin. He turned his head and placed a deep kiss on your lips.

“I’m not even sorry this time, because I think this might be the best thing I’ve ever read.”

“I love you,” you said and kissed him again.

“I love you so fuckin’ much,” he mumbled back.

[whimsyfinny]

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

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

Slow burn, enemies to lovers, smut

Warnings: None (Yet) in chapters to come there will be smut (and lots of it) and possible violence/blood/gore

Chapter Word Count: 668

—-MDNI—-

A/N: My first Supernatural fic so I hope it doesn’t suck ass. Only proof read by myself, so pls let me know of any errors so I can correct! Also I know at this point in the series Dean is more serious, however I love pre-Hell Dean so imma bring some of those vibes in here. This is also posted on my AO3.

——————————————————————

I’m Not Your F*ckng Maid

-Prologue-

Dean was awoken with a slam inches from his face and he sprung to life, almost losing his balance before he realised where he was. He’d fallen asleep at the table with his face in a book and surrounded by heaps of paper - many of which he hadn’t even started to read through yet. Blinking awake and gaining his bearings, he heard a familiar voice ring through the room.

”You boys are disgusting, how do you live like this?” The older Winchester finally looked up to see Charlie lifting a plate of half eaten, day-old pizza whilst kicking several beer bottles aside so she could pull out a chair and take a seat next to Dean, who was pinching the bridge of his nose.

”Yeah well, we’ve been a little busy recently if you haven’t noticed,” his voice was gravelly from the sleep. Charlie put down the plate of old food and sat down, worry crossing her face as she looked at the man next to her. She knew they’d been under a lot of pressure lately with their work, so much so that the brothers were starting to neglect themselves. It had been months since they’d eaten proper food that wasn’t instant or take-out, they rarely went outside, always locking themselves away in the bunker to do research and the bunker itself was getting cluttered with bin bags and pizza boxes. Not to mention the piles of laundry that she’s noticed slowly starting to form its own ecosystem in the washroom.

“Yeah I get that, but you really have to look after yourselves. When was the last time you ate a vegetable?”

Dean scoffed.

“Yesterday, obviously,” he gave her a look like she was from another planet, and she rolled her eyes.

“The pizza sauce doesn’t count, Dean.”

He looked puzzled, raising an eyebrow, “Why not?”

Before she could even humour him with an answer, Sam emerged, rubbing his eyes.

“Oh hey Charlie, when did you get here?” His voice was equally as gravelly as Deans, so she assumed he’d also just woken up.

“Five minutes ago.”

“She called us disgusting Sam. And she said the sauce on pizza isn’t made from vegetables,” Dean gestured to Charlie like she was the fool as he looked up at his younger brother who now stood across from him on the other side of the table. Sam went to open his mouth to respond, but closed it again quickly and furrowed his brows, clearly unsure how to reply to his older brother without opening a can of worms. Charlie huffed.

“You guys need to sort yourself out. I only dropped by because I hadn’t heard from you for a while and thought you might’ve worked yourself to death. I can’t stay long because I’m meeting a friend for a drink. She’s already at the diner waiting for me”

“A friend?” Dean wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and the redhead smirked.

“I wish, sadly she’s into dudes,” she paused, a thought crossing her mind, “Come to think of it, she’s actually looking for work, you guys might be able to help.”

Dean and Sam shared a glance.

“She’s a hunter?” Sam asked.

“Not exactly. Her uncle was, so she knows about stuff, but from what I know she was just a research girlie,” Charlie peered at the mess of papers on the table, “and it looks like you could use the help.” She looked between the brothers as they stared at each other, like they were having some sort of unspoken conversation. A few moments passed before Dean slapped his hand on the table and stood up.

“Sure ok, but we’re coming with you today to meet her,” he went to grab his jacket from the back of his chair, an eagerness in his movements before Charlie put her hand out to stop him.

“Great!” She grinned, before raising her eyebrows and pointing to them both, “but first you guys have got to shower, because I can taste your BO from here.”

——————————————————————

Up Next

Chapter 1

[thebiggerbear]

"I hate you." "You have a weird way of showing that." - Soldier Boy Prompt Response

Summary: You're pissed that he put himself at risk yet again.

A/N: Prompt from @creativepromptsforwriting (#941). This was too much fun to play with. Soldier Boy is something, that's for sure lol. Hope this is alright.

Thank you to my beta @rieleatiel for her services. You rock, girl!

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Female!Reader; Soldier Boy x Female!Supe!Reader

Warnings: mentions of violence; mentions of sex; implied sex; Soldier Boy being himself; language (I guess?)

Word Count: 1881

Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187

SB Taglist: @heartlessdelusions; @nancymcl; @brightlilith

Jensen Taglist: @samanddeaninatrenchcoat; @deansbbyx

You can also read on AO3

"I hate you." "You have a weird way of showing that."

Beau version ✨ Dean version ✨ Jenny version ✨ Jason version ✨ Tom version ✨ CJ version ✨ Rachel version ✨ Anael version ✨ SDV Leah version ✨ Alec version

You stormed into the suite you and Soldier Boy shared in Vought Tower. The supe strolled in after you, a scowl on his face as he shut the door behind him.

You waved around your hand and suddenly, a glass flew out of the cabinet, landing on the counter. A bottle of the finest whiskey you owned made its way from the bar as ice cubes from the fridge settled softly into the glass. Once the whiskey was poured and the bottle was safely settled beside it, you held out your hand and the drink slowly fit itself into your palm. You took a sip, letting the liquid travel down to the pit of your stomach, and relished the fire it stoked; it was a fire that had already started during your mission.

“Got one of those for me, doll?”

You scoffed and walked away from the kitchen—away from him. “You’ve got working limbs. Use them and make it yourself.” You didn’t need to turn around to know that that response pissed him off. Well, too damn bad; you were pissed as well.

You headed into the bedroom and, heaving a deep breath, you began to take off your gear. Soldier Boy came in behind you, but you refused to turn around.

“Come on, you’re making a big deal over nothing.”

“Nothing?” You spun on your heel, glaring at him. “You could have been killed, Ben!”

He was glaring right back at you. “Yeah, well, I wasn’t. I did what I had to do to take that fascist fuck down.” 

You let out a frustrated huff as you slammed your gloves down onto the dresser next to you. “You are the most stubborn, pig-headed jackass I’ve ever met! You just refuse to hear what I’m saying to you!”

Hands grabbed onto your hips and spun you around, bringing you face to face with a very turned on Ben. Of course. You knew he loved it when you would get angry since he could “fuck it right out of you,” as he’d once told you when you’d asked why he enjoyed riling you up so much. “Best fucking ride I get to take,” were his exact words. He’d given you a salacious grin and then that deep laugh when you’d smacked his bare shoulder. The action didn’t, and wouldn’t, hurt him in the slightest; in fact, he’d pulled you closer and you had taken the opportunity to run your fingers through his sweaty locks.

Ben leaned in to kiss you, thinking things were about to pop off once again (he was pretty sure he’d never seen you this pissed off before and he wanted to skip the yelling altogether, get right to the fun part), but you prevented him from doing so. The impatient frown you’d expected was in place and you cupped his cheeks to meet his eyes. He knew this was a sign that you wanted him to really listen to you.

“Ben, you can’t keep doing things like this,” you told him in a softer tone but laced with as much firmness as before. “You’re not invincible, you know that.”

His lips lifted up into a smirk. “Pretty damn close, though.”

You let out a sigh of frustration and decided you’d had enough. A bluish white haze came over your vision and you saw Ben’s eyes widen as your palms began to glow. You showed him your perspective of the day’s events: how you’d watched the missile launched by the townspeople, heading straight towards the building he was in; how you’d been unable to stop it but still slowed it down enough so that more people could get out of there; how everyone had been clear except him and the asshole dictator and their regime that he’d been ordered to kill; how you’d screamed for him to get clear because you couldn’t hold it back much longer; how you’d finally collapsed because you had no juice left, only able to helplessly watch as the weapon slammed into the building. You let him feel your heartbreak, your grief, your pain from thinking he was dead. And then you shared with him the massive relief you felt once he managed to dig his way out, dirty but unscathed nonetheless—and then your anger once he told you he’d heard you yell for him but he had to take down the dictator. He chose to stay inside, knowing he could very well die, and he was okay with that. He simply snorted at the idea that he should run for cover, for safety, and that enraged you.

You ended this viewing with memories you swore you’d never show him (but would if that’s what it took to get your point across). You both watched as you first met—your apparent disgust towards him; your perception of him changing over time; the first time you’d let him into your bed, how you two grew closer; the look on his face when you demanded exclusivity or you’d walk after you’d found him with a receptionist from the 28th floor willingly on her knees; the contentment you felt being partners with him both inside the job and out of it; your worry for him each time he separated from you on a mission; the threats you’d made to Stan Edgar if he ever tried to have another Nicaragua happen again and the hell you’d unleash if he did; the tenderness you watched him with as he slept after having more nightmares; your compassion for him the one time he’d mentioned his father to you; the enjoyment of spending time with him watching things from the past and watching him laugh or enthusiastically tell you about that time, and finally, the kicker — the love you’d started to feel for him. You moved your hands away, the glow disappearing as did your haze, and you turned away from him. You hadn’t meant to show him that last part or let him in that deeply. You had been waiting for the right time, which you were pretty sure would be never, but when your emotions ran high like they did today, it was harder to keep everything behind the wall you usually kept in place.

Instead, you quietly cleared your throat and decided to act as if he hadn’t just heard those last thoughts. “You get it now? How dangerous that was? How dangerous it is every time you do some stupid crap like that?”

He gripped your chin and forced you to meet his gaze again. 

“Ben, you can’t keep—”

He cut you off by leaning in and kissing you. Instead of turning it dirty like he usually did or ramping it up, he pulled back after a minute and stared into your eyes. “I do, too, you know,” he murmured.

You were afraid to ask. Still, you had to know. “Yeah?”

He ran his thumb tenderly over your bottom lip. “Yeah.” You studied him as he studied you in return. For once, you didn’t see any hint of amusement, bullshit, or even lust. He was telling you the truth.

You lifted a hand to run your fingers through his hair, which made him shut his eyes halfway; you knew he liked it when you did that. “Then you can’t keep doing things like this.” You wrapped your arms around his neck and he lowered his forehead onto yours. “I thought you were dead today,” you let out in a broken whisper. He had really scared the shit out of you… You had been beyond devastated for those few minutes.

“I’m right here in front of you, sweetheart,” he reassured you, giving you a sweet smile that you only saw when it was just the two of you. 

“But what if—”

“I’ll be more careful from now on,” he promised, kissing you once more. He then grinned wolfishly. “So, do those magic hands of yours work both ways?”   

You knew they did but you’d never told him that. He’d only seen you use them to insert images sometimes into your targets to paralyze them or make them vulnerable, but you���d never actually used them on him before. “They can,” you answered carefully. “But I don’t usually do that. I don’t like reading someone’s thoughts without their consent.”

“So all this time we’ve been rolling around, you’ve never once tuned in?”

“No,” you insisted, offended and moving away from him. “I can only imagine the jizz-soaked apocalyptic ride through unforgettable hell that would be. There probably isn’t enough alcohol in the world to try and wipe those memories from my mind.”

He caught your wrist and gently placed your hand against his bearded cheek. “Read mine now.”

“Ben,” you pleaded. “Please don’t make—”

“Trust me.” He leaned in closer. “Read ‘em.”

You weren’t sure you wouldn’t be retching after this. He’d literally just learned you loved him and he implied he felt the same, so if he showed you the highlights of his glory days, you swore you’d nut punch him after you got sick and then force him to relive your own highlights and how much you very much still enjoyed those from time to time. Usually, of course, when you were alone in the shower.

You took a deep breath and opened the connection. You were suddenly flooded with images of your greatest hits: him going to town on you and being merciless, making you cry out his name in passion; the furniture you’d broken during your escapades and the walls you’d cracked, even one floor you’d broken through (right into the middle of a table being used for a board meeting but that didn’t stop either of you—if anything, Ben enjoyed everyone watching him give it to you and making you almost feral in chasing your high); you taking charge and putting him on his back, your eyes having a bluish white glow as you smirked wickedly down at him before taking what was yours and truthfully had been yours since you’d said you wanted him all to yourself. You could hear your cries and moans echoing in your ears along with his grunts and yells and dirty talk you both loved. You could hear other sounds too—sounds that made your cheeks warm—and you could feel the lust and heat rising within you as that same bluish white haze settled upon your vision.

You suddenly broke the connection. His brow furrowed in confusion before you growled out, “Suit off. Now.”

His typical smirk returned as he began to undo his chest plate.

“Not fast enough.” You waved your hand and Ben’s suit undid itself at the same time yours did. The shield planted itself in the corner where it usually sat while the clothes situated themselves beside it. Both of you were stark naked but that wasn’t enough. You flicked a finger and Ben was immediately shoved back onto the bed, right where you wanted him. You clambered up on top of him and positioned yourself, his hands on your hips to help you, when you leaned down to look into his eyes.

“I hate you.”

His grin was wide, knowing you definitely didn’t mean it. “You have a weird way of showing that.”

You snorted and kissed him, taking what you now knew was undoubtedly yours.

dividers by @firefly-graphics

[everything-fine-n-peachy]

two sides, same coin (n.jm)

pairing: na jeamin x reader genre: eldest/only daughter angst, fluff, strangers to whatever this is summary: y/n's one duty in life is to look out for others. romance who? however, jaemin comes along and maybe he can change her mind. alternatively, prom committee love story

Jaemin is the date-to-marry type. His friends call him grandpa for it but he doesn’t care, not even a little. No, Na Jaemin knew that the love he wanted was the kind that meant family heirlooms, photo albums of embarrassing baby pictures, and sharing warm coffee the morning after crying the whole night. He wanted the handholding and cuddles but only if it would include all the booboos in between that life inflicted. 

Don’t ask him why. He just knows. 

The thing is, despite everything Jaemin was such a hopeless romantic. Everyone would tell him to “just pick a girl” and while he’s happy for his couple friends, Jaemin just likes to march to the beat of his own drum. 

You, on the other hand, are the only daughter in an Asian household, your father is the dean, and everyone down to the school janitor knows you. That in itself was a sure fire guarantee that you could never entertain boys romantically, let alone find a boyfriend in high school. So you’re resigned not to. Love was way too complicated anyway. Besides, you had student council and prom wasn’t going to plan itself. 

But did you feel tired sometimes? No doubt. 

While there was a lot of love to go around, there were also a lot of responsibilities and a shit ton of expectations. On some days you just needed a break. Which is why even if you felt shy to admit it, you found Jaemin the most charming member of the prom committee. 

Jaemin didn’t exactly plan on signing up. However, he would much rather spend his time volunteering for something that was purposeful than get stuck being buggered on about why he still didn’t have a girlfriend. You, on the other hand, pretty much inherited the role of prom committee head, as did all senior student representatives every year. 

You didn’t intend to get close to Jaemin. Yes, you knew each other for your entire lives since elementary but you weren’t exactly from the same circles. But it just kind of happened. Prom was fast approaching, you liked to be precise in your work and Jaemin had a penchant nosing around. 

“If you need anything, you shouldn’t be afraid to ask,” he emphasized as he carefully placed a bandage on your finger. It was only a papercut but Jaemin insisted you sit down and take a break from sorting all the documents needed for prom. 

You shrugged, “Deadline is tomorrow morning.” You weren’t exaggerating but you didn’t make the rules and if those papers weren’t on the principal’s desk by 7 am, simply put, there would be no prom. 

Understanding flickered in his eyes as he smoothed the bandaid over your finger gently. He’d found you all alone way past school hours in a frenzy of folders and decided no one deserved to die by papercuts all alone.  

This wasn’t the first time this happened. In the course of the last few weeks, you’d eagerly scheduled meetings and town halls with the graduating class all in an effort to give everyone the prom they deserved. However, this had meant you skipped meals and went home late most of the time.

“This is way too much work for you,” he said as he started rummaging through his school bag. “This is the reason we have a committee.” 

The concern was highly appreciated but then again, who else was going to do the work if not you? “Jeamin, as much as I agree with you the reality is every senior is swamped with final requirements and-” 

“And you aren’t a senior?” he interrupted with an unimpressed expression. 

“I can handle the stress better than most,” you argued. 

“Yeah, clearly,” he snorted, which made you frown in his direction. 

Wordlessly, he offered you a brown paper bag. A smile creeps up on your face. If he was going to keep this up, someone’s heart was definitely going to be in trouble. 

“Let me guess, you accidentally ordered an extra meal, again?” 

Jaemin beamed, ”quite the opposite.” He cleared some space on the desk and gestured for you to sit across. 

You humor him and peer into the bag, chuckling, “this time it’s a whole lunchbox?” 

“I intentionally ordered two because I knew you would never listen to me.” 

You open the lunch box and feel pleasantly surprised that the food is quite warm. Your last meal was lunch and that felt like ages ago. “Thanks for looking out for me, you really didn’t have to,” you say. 

“What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t look out for you?” He pauses, and for a moment you feel like he’s looking straight into your soul. 

Hearing Jaemin call you a friend struck a chord in that if you were being honest, you haven’t really felt like you had any friends since senior year started. You haven’t had company like this in a while. Sure you had your best friends but they were busy trying to survive. You still had the occasional breakdown here and there, but more often than not, you knew how to handle yourself. There wasn’t much of a choice anyway. You didn’t want to blame your friends for needing more support than yourself, so you power through; just doing what needs to be done. 

Comfortable silence fills the room as you both eat thoughtfully. You appreciate the stillness and bask in the company of Jaemin. You think, better make the best of it while it lasts, right? 

A thought stirs in your mind and you’re compelled to satisfy your curiosity. “Jaemin? Why the prom committee?” 

“Why not? He grins. You laugh at his response, mentally slapping yourself because you actually anticipated this sort of crap from Jaemin. 

“Okay let me rephrase that,” you continue, “Is there any reason you chose to join prom committee?” 

He drops his form into the now empty lunchbox, appearing to give his answer some thought, “Well, when I asked the upperclassmen last year they said tickets would be discounted for committee members.” 

You nod thoughtfully, admiring his practical mindset. 

“But if you want the real answer, it’s because I felt like being a part of something we could all look back on,” he answered. 

You can’t help but smile at him, at his genuineness. Something about how open he was despite having spent only a month in each other’s company has your heart feeling a certain way. 

“And you, why student council for four straight years?” he asks with a quizzical expression. 

Your fingers trace the wood grains as you rack your brain for an answer. An acceptable answer would be, that you "cared a lot" or that you "want to make a difference". But instead, you gravitate towards something you don’t exactly want to admit, “I just, don’t want to think.” 

Jaemin bursts out laughing. “You’re saying that when you’re obviously doing all the heavy brainwork here?” 

“But that’s all it is, work,” you quip back. “When it’s work I know what to do. But with everything else?” 

The way your expression shifts is unmistakable for Jaemin. Doubt is not something he’s accustomed to when it comes to you. Yet, something about your vulnerability compels him to push farther. 

“Do you ever feel like people have a certain idea of what you need to be doing, anything outside of that is sort of like a crime?” He asks. 

You nod slowly in agreement, “Like ‘hey, since you’ve proven that you’re great at this, only ever be great at this. Don’t ask for help cause everyone is too busy. But also, you’re such a workaholic’.” Your words spill out faster than you can think. 

He hums in agreement allowing you to continue. “Everyone thinks they know what’s best for you but none of them actually offer any useful help,” you croak out. 

It’s quiet for a while before Jaemin breaks the silence, “Can I be really honest this time?” 

You raise an eyebrow at the interjection, “weren’t you being honest a while ago?”  

He ignores your comment and instead laughs it off. “What I wanted to say was, listening to you made something click,” he said leaning forward so his hands rested on the table. “I joined the prom committee to look for friends,” he said, pausing only to get a glimpse of your confused expression. 

“I know it sounds crazy but you aren’t the only one who feels alone,” he confesses.

“Everyone has this certain expectation that because I like to help out a lot, because I love love, that I’m not capable of feeling sad, but I am.” 

“You love, love?” you ask skeptically. 

“Was that the only thing you heard?” he asks, throwing his hands up. 

You don’t know why but you find it in your heart to giggle. “I didn’t know you were such a sap.” 

“Am not!” He counters. “I just have specific beliefs when it comes to love.” 

“And that is?” 

“That it’s supposed to be special, nothing rushed, never forced,” he explains. “It’s something that feels more warm and steady than jittery, if you know what I mean?” 

If Jaemin didn’t already fascinate you then, well he sure did now. You don’t know how the boy who liked to keep to his own business managed to conjure such deep thoughts. You find yourself nodding along. 

“I can respect that, I guess,” you finally say after some time. Sensing the time, you finally stand up to tidy the place and get back to work. 

“Thanks for being good company,” Jaemin suddenly says as he assists you in throwing the empty takeout bags in the bin. 

“You aren’t so bad yourself,” you reply. 

Jaemin thinks a lot while the two of you work. He thinks about the easy grace that you exude vis a vis being comfortable with vulnerability. And he thinks you’d battle him out for this, but he sure as hell didn’t believe that you were as cut-throat about life as your own friends labeled you. If any, he’d sure as hell vouch that you were a softie at heart. 

“Don’t skip meals,” he called out as the two of you parted ways later that evening. And you definitely wouldn’t be skipping any meals for the weeks to come. Not on Jaemin’s watch, anyway.

[kaleldobrev]

Never the Favorite

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Platonic Pairing: Sam Winchester & F. Reader

Summary: You finally try and set the record straight

Word Count: 844

Warnings: Cursing (1x)

Authors Note: Takes place during season one | Something that always got me, is whenever Sam said something along the lines of Dean being the favorite child. Like Sam, he wasn’t and it was pretty clear so that’s what I based this fic on | Let me know if you like the new way I have formatted | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

It was another classic Sam and Dean argument — Sam telling Dean how he was never the favorite child growing up and how Dean actually was; and how much of a black sheep of the family Sam had felt because he didn't want to go into the family business. It was an argument and a sentiment that you were so used to hearing at this point that you could pretty much recite word for word their replies. The boys were starting to sound like broken records, and you and Dean had only picked up Sam from Stanford a few months ago.

You didn't want to get involved in their argument as you felt like it wasn't really your place, but there was a part of you that started to get annoyed with Sam, because you knew that Dean was never the favorite — Sam always was. You knew how hard Dean had tried over the years to try and get his father's approval, but it was approval that he would never be able to get, no matter how hard he tried. It killed you inside, because you loved Dean for who he truly was, not who he was pretending to be.

But because you had heard this argument so many times, you had told yourself that you were finally going to say something to Sam; to try and stop this argument once and for all.

Parking Baby and cutting the engine, Dean pulled out his wallet from the glove compartment, pulling out a crumpled up 20 that he won from a poker game a few nights ago. “Gonna grab some snacks. Either of you want anything?” He asked before turning to you. “Want your usual chocolate anything?”

You gave him a small smile. “Yes please. And orange soda if they have it.”

“Getting you the bottle this time. ‘Cause I don’t want another spilling incident like last time with the can,” he said, giving you a wink. “How about you?” He asked, turning to Sam.

“I’m good thanks,” Sam nodded, before pulling out his phone and promptly started checking his e-mail.

“Alrighty,” Dean said, getting out of the car. “Be back in ten.”

As soon as Dean was out of eyeshot and earshot, you sat up closer to the passenger side where Sam was, placing a hand on the back of the seat. “Hey, I know he’s your brother and the whole point of brothers is basically being assholes to each other but, I really need you to lay off the whole Dean being the favorite stuff.”

Sam turned to you, placing his phone in his lap; the look he gave you was of pure confusion. “But he is the favorite. Always has, always will be. I know you probably wouldn’t know that consider —”

“I’m gonna stop you right there,” you began, slight attitude in your voice. “I’ve been hunting with Dean and your father for about a year now, and let me tell you, I didn’t need to be around for your childhoods to know that you were and are still the very clear favorite.”

“Me? The favorite?” He scoffed. “I don’t think so.”

You rolled your eyes. “Did it ever occur to you why he’s so similar to your dad? Why he barely shows any of his actual interests around anyone but me? Dean wears his jacket, listens to the same music, says the same phrases.”

“But…that’s how Dean always has been," Sam stated. For as long as he could remember, that's always how he remembered Dean, being so similar to their father. Memories flashed before him, recalling numerous times where him and his father sang along to Zeppelin during one of their many insanely long car rides to Pastor Jim's, or how Dean would refuse to go anywhere without their father's leather jacket.

"You really know nothing about your brother do you?" You asked him, slight sadness and hurt entering your voice. You hadn't known for very long, but you had known him long enough for him to start letting you in and getting to know the real him, and not the facade he let everyone else believe. "The only reason Dean acts like your father is because in his mind, if he acts like him he'll get the approval he always wanted that you never had to try and get." You felt your blood start to boil. "So please stop with the fucking favorite argument okay? I'm sick and tired of it."

Sam was silent for a moment, as he's never seen you this angry before nor has he ever seen you this defensive of anyone. As much as he wanted to disagree with you, he knew that he couldn't because he clearly didn't know Dean the way that you did. He might of spent 18 years of his life on the road with him, but he didn't actually know him. "Okay," he finally said, slightly sighing.

"Just...don't tell Dean I said any of this to you okay?" You asked him, slightly patting his shoulder.

"Of course," he said, slightly smiling.

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[supernatural-bias]

𝐂𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐁𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

↳ notes: happy birthday to me! when this posts i'll officially be older, and celebrating by being cringe (writing this). i also love that picture of misha. it's him at my birthday party for real. he told me himself (lying)

↳ warnings: none!

↳ song: rock your body—justin timberlake

masterlist | commissions | carrd

• Special occasions like this are few and far between

• The Winchester family hadn't had a proper birthday in decades. While Dean clung to memories of gas station twinkies in replacement of a birthday cake, Sam remembered most of his birthdays with a sort of sad animosity. Up until walking out on his dad for Stanford and spending his birthday that year with Jessica, he hadn't had a single enjoyable birthday party. Maybe that was part of the reason he refused to let you feel the same way about your own birthday—even if none of you were kids anymore

• Worst case scenario, the world is ending again and you all have little time for delicacies. If that's the case, you'd get a quick pat on the shoulder from Dean, one excited bear hug from Sam, and very confused Cas wishing you the best of births before being told to continue packing the shotguns with salt rounds

• "With age comes responsibility, so keep loading those guns. Spider-Man said that."

• "For someone that watches so much trash tv, you know so little about media, Dean." You snorted at your friend, fingers nimmbly crushing salt into a line of rigid red shells before moving onto the next group

• "Shut up before I decide to give you your birthday noogies." He pointed a finger at you from across the room with a single raised eyebrow. Off to the side you saw Cas ask Dean what birthday noogies were not-so-quietly, and you struggled to hold back a laugh

• Even in the worst situations, they could always manage to make you smile

• Best case scenario, however, it's a free day. Nothing to do, no devils to fight, no ghouls to stop—nothing. Just you, the guys, and time on your hands that you all normally never have. So what better way to utilize it than with a little surprise party?

• Sam would be the most into the whole birthday party shtick. He'd insist that it was the least they could do for you after all the years on the hunt together, and even got Dean to budge after a few minutes of petty debating

• "It's stupid and cheesy, Sammy. We're grown adults. We've fought the devil beforr for christ's sake." Dean gave his brother the stink eye from his spot in the drivers seat. Groceries stores and Mom & Pop stores passed them by as they ventured into the nearest town, but neither of them paid attention to their blurred surroundings

• "Come on Dean." Sam twisted his torso and turned to face him fully. "Don't tell me you don't remember the look on their face last month when we brought them back a souvenir from our hunting trip in Alabama. You would have thought we brought them a new car. Besides, this is the one chance we've had in a while to actually celebrate something." Sam's eyebrows tilted up as he recalled the memory, shooting a knowing look at Dean's side-profile

• "So what? I say we just tell them happy birthday like a regular person and call it a day." Dean grumbled

• "Is that why you're driving in the nearest direction of the bakery here?"

• Dean didn't respond

• "That's what I thought."

• "Shut your pie-hole or I'm kicking you to the curb."

• Once the boys get back to whatever new place you all are holed up for that week, a couple of crinkled bags in hand, they call on Cas to help out with setting up whatever decorations Sam had forced Dean to throw in the cart

• Cas didn't take nearly as much convincing to partake in the setting up of festivities, but he certainly did need a lot of it explained

• "I thought angels were familiar with the concept of birthdays?" Dean asked at one point while watching Sam pull part of a cake out of the oven. His hand was slapped away when he went to grab at it, and he glared at his younger brother momentarily

• "We are." Castiel's gruff answer came shortly. "But we stopped keeping count after the first couple thousand years. And it was never done like—" He flicked the party hat atop his head curiously, "—this."

• "What did you guys do to celebrate?" Sam asked while popping the lid to a can of store bough frosting open

• "Pray."

• "Naturally." Dean rolled his eyes sarcastically. A blanket of silence fell over the room after that as Sam set out to frost the first part of the cake. Then—

• "Hey. How come none of you are wearing paper hats?"

• "Oh, trust me Cas. It'll mean a lot more to them if you were the one wearing it." Dean's grin was borderline evil as he looked at the angel

• It's safe to say that you laughed the hardest you had in a while once seeing Cas looking so hesitant in a mini cone hat

• Overall, it's the best birthday— the best day —that you've had in a long time

• You didn't need much, and as a hunter you'd come to expect almost nothing. But knowing that your friends— the short tempered, college dropout, otherworldly friends that they were —took it upon themselves to set all this up for you was the emotional equivalent to a punch in the gut. A lovely emotional punch in the gut

• "If you start crying, I'll leave." Dean snapped at you when you eventuallyvoiced how much this meant to you. But the threat was empty, and you all knew it

• Sometime during the party, you had managed to wrestle a paper hat of his own onto his head, and how it sat on the side of his head like a crooked unicorn horn. Occasionally he'd reach for it as if to take it off, then lower his hand with a small smile

• "Shut the fuck up and give me a group hug, Dean." You grinned with teeth, gesturing at him to stand up

• "Wait, no, I take it back that's worse."

• "I will kill you, Winchester. I swear I'll do it."

• You ended up getting your group hug that day, even if it took Castiel trapping Dean between you and him to get him to stand still

• "I hate it here." He griped with a groan. Sam could only laugh as be watched his brother struggle in Cas's iron grip, and said angel was smiling a bit to himself. You felt your heart swell; even if the look on Dean's face was downright murderous

• "Smile or I'm egging Baby on my birthday night." You said before setting the camera's timer and holding it up above you all

• "You wouldn't—"

• "Watch me."

• All four of you have your own copy of the photo from that night, kept in your seperate pockets and bedside table drawers. To this day you find yourself smiling when you look at it, and even if you'd never know it, so do they