#emotionally constipated dean winchester

[nym-wibbly]

Now that you've watched TW what is your Destiel reunion headcanon like?

I hadn't thought! Um... *thinks*

I'd probably go with a hug that starts off uncertain, ends up teary and shaky in that half-laughing/half-crying sort of way, and neither wants to be the first to let go because they missed each other so much and the future they're facing is so huge and real now that they don't know how to begin.

They can sort the other stuff out afterwards, but first, a big, soft, comfortable, comforting, private hug where they have time to get comfy and close their eyes and start to feel self-conscious but hold on tighter until it passes and feel each other's warmth and safety and they're just Home.

[atlas-assbutt]

Dean Winchester running from his feelings:

[steponmedean]

Cas: so you're feeling a feeling, what do you do about that?

Dean: I ignore it

Cas: no

Dean: repress it?

Cas: no

Dean: drink it way??

Cas: no!

Dean: ...feel it?

Cas: correct

Dean: NOOOOOOO

[loving-family-poll]

Ultimate Incest Tournament - Semifinals

Propaganda under the cut:

Sam/Dean:

I'm sorry but they have it all. children of metaphorical incest just continuing the cycle in any way they can. they are brothers and mother + son and wives and each other's scorned lovers and life partners they've had multiple infidelity arcs they are sexually psychopathic together they have forsook life and morality and the earth itself for each other and just love each other so much . They are literally in a heaven of their own making together for eternity, incestuously. Come on!!! Blueprint!!!!! It's not gay if he's your brother!!!!!

dean did stuff to sam's dead body in ahbl. i just know it

Messed-up, isolated sibs with all the daddy and abandonment issues. Their lives are so claustrophobic with the brothers no more than five feet apart in the car, a motel room, or standing next to civilians (face it, they are frigging magnets). Can't leave out that they are always touching each other to check for wounds which is a huge PLUS for any shipper.

Sam and Dean ARE literally the blowjob brothers. They walk into a situation and everyone goes well well well if it isn't the blowjob brothers....... And they say. Yep. That's us. And then they fix the situation with their epic love story

THE classic, iconic, show shopping, never done before etc. etc. incest ship. It changed fandom and it changed the world

Dave/Rose:

Daverose blondetwin sweep because they were codependent without ever meeting from growing up seeing each other in their dreams

What does it mean to be an abused teenage boy growing up alone and seeing a girl in your dreams every night who is also your best friend. and when you finally meet her you go on a suicide mission together even though nobody was asking you to die with her. and then you are the only two human beings left in the recognizable universe on a cold meteor surrounded by aliens but you’re glad it’s with her. and when you finally touch the girl from your childhood dreams she looks exactly like you. because she’s your sister

I don't have words for how good these snarky assholes are together. DaveRose is brain chemistry changing. They both put up so many fronts, and engage in so much snarky wordplay, and are constantly trying to get under each other's facade. They play off each other so well, witty and sharp, I need them to be together always

We all die & we all die alone are the two cold truths of the universe but dave and rose broke both simultaneously by ascending to godhood together

Their twincest wins because it is just so confusingly tragic? profound? dave leaving rose behind in a doomed world, dave following her to the bomb. they are both so closed & cut off & curt its hard to imagine the depth of these things. but that is their love language: giving up their lives for each other over and over, in a confusing and fumbling and heartfelt love song. i can’t say i love you but i know we’ll die together anyway. because we’re made of the exact same stuff. i’ll find you again at the last moment. that’s love.

THEY DIED TOGETHER, YOUR HONOR

Confirmed canon by the author, (something happened) between them. Parallels of dying by each other's sides in EVERY timeline. They are THE womb-to-tomb. There is nothing platonic about winking at your brother while talking about crushes, that shit is incestuous. Seer/Knight archetype. They will die protecting each other.

do you realize love someone if you don’t follow them on a suicide mission into the gaping maw of a literal fucking sun after they knock you out and psychoanalyze you in your dreams? the blueprint of the “ethereal androgynous blonde boygirl twins” trope. witch/knight dynamics. they find each other to die together in every timeline no matter what (but they’re still emotionally constipated teenagers who bicker and make fun of each other in pesterchum). kids with grown-up powers. perfect little freaks of nature. what if we looked exactly like each other’s eyes

[jasmines-library]

Hiii!! Firstly, I love your writing and I hope you’re having a great day!! I was hoping to request a Winchester sibling fic where the reader is really comforted by physical touch but is really observant and receptive to the fact their brothers are emotionally constipated and touch starved so the reader has never really asked for it but then one day either just a bad day or bad hunt and the reader just asks the boys to hold them or one of them to sit in the back of the Impala with them? Thank you so so much and I hope you have a lovely day!! 🫶

So close, yet too far.

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

Summary: You just really need a hug.

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: Touch Starved, character death mentioned, swearing

p.s. Sorry for the long wait! I've got exams at the moment so they're taking up a lot of my time.

⛧ SPN MASTERLIST ⛧

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

Life as a hunter was never still. You were constantly moving. Constantly looking over your shoulder. Constantly chasing what could be your last day on earth. And you wouldn’t ever have said you regretted it. No. In fact, you wouldn’t have changed it for the world. Hunting creatures and saving the world? It was all You couldn’t have imagined a better life…

But sometimes you found yourself wanting life to just slow down for a minute. It was so hectic and you just needed a breath. A hug. With such a busy life, there was no time for just spending quality time with your brothers. Or anyone for that matter. It was an endless cycle: Wake up. Research. Hunt. Drive. Sleep. There was no time for sitting on the couch and watching cheesy movies together. Nor was there any time for curling up together like you used to do when you were smaller. You found yourself yearning for it. For a hug or simply just a gentle arm around your shoulder. It used to bring you so much comfort. But times were tough with all that had happened recently. The three of you were even more on edge than ever before. 

Your brothers had always told you that you could ask them for anything. That you could tell them whatever you wanted… but this wasn’t just something you could ask them for. You had seen how they often shunned away from touch. From relationships. Having seen so much pain and having lost so many people…they struggled to allow themselves to let their guard down enough to enjoy a tender moment. Even with you. So no matter how much you yearned for it you could never bring yourself to push the want from your mind and into words. 

So when the hunt went worse than you could have imagined you kept quiet. 

Dean’s hand was right there; peeking out from the hem of his flannel. His fingers were bloody and calloused, scarred and covered in small cuts and yet his touch was still tender. You felt your own fingers itch to reach out and lace them between his. You wanted for him or Sam to wrap you up in their arms and hold you close. To squeeze your hand. Or a shoulder. But you knew that they had much more pressing matters to deal with that overshadowed “needy little sister”. 

You trailed behind them, dragging your feet ever so slightly to kick up the dirt and leave trails between the orange leaves. You did not look up at your brothers because you knew you would see Dean's set jaw and Sam’s pinched eyebrows as they too mourned the hunt. 

A small boy had been caught by a shtriga. He had been no older than 5 or 6 with these big, blue eyes that got impossibly wider as the creature stalked toward him. And his scream…it pierced through the air like a beam of light: clear as day yet providing no clarity. No safety like light should bring. Instead it was cold and filled with a gripping terror. 

The three of you had been too slow. No matter how hard you dragged your stubborn limbs you couldn’t get to him fast enough. So now you trudged along in silence. 

The sight of Baby did not, in fact, provide you with the relief you thought it would. Instead the gleaming of the bonnet against the moonlight just made your stomach churn. You knew that you would all try to bury the memory in a box, deep in the back of your mind. But it was never that easy. They tried hard, but you would hear them late at night. Dean hardly slept as he tried to drink his troubles away and Sam barely left his room. And then there was you who lay awake staring blankly at the ceiling as you wept softly, wrapping your arms around yourself to curl up in a ball. It didn’t bring the same comfort as theirs did, like it had done when you were small and naive when you crawled into their bed after a nightmare. When things weren’t so fucking complicated. 

Tears pricked in the corner of your eyes as you reached for the metal handle. You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t sit in silence to be left with your own thoughts. You couldn’t be alone. Not right now. 

“Sammy…”  Your voice was quiet. Hushed. Barely a whisper pushed out on cracked lips that trembled. 

Sam paused, his hand halfway between where he had been picking at the hem of his jeans and the handle of the passenger door. He lifted his head, humming softly in acknowledgement. 

“Sit with me… Please.”

“Of course.” His face melted and he moved in one swift movement. 

He slid in the backseat, leaning against the door frame and stretching out across the seats. He pulled you in to lean against his side, wrapping his arms around you. You lay your head on his shoulder, snuggling into his side. And began to weep. 

“Kiddo?” Sam asked gently. “What’s up?” His hands traced small circles on your arm.

Dean reached over the back of the seat with a concerned look, though part of it could be easily mistaken for fear. “It’s not your fault, Sweetheart-” He started.

“Just…hold me. Please.” You clung onto Sam, your other hand reaching out to settle atop of Dean’s. Their touch was comforting, yet you couldn’t help the wavering as you wept. “I don’t want to be alone right now.” 

And so they did. Sam nestled you further into his side, tucking your head beneath his chin and Dean clambered out of his seat to join the two of you in the back. He settled down on your other side, sandwiching you between the two of you. And they held you. They ran their fingers through your hair, held your hand and spoke to you. They held you tight and the three of you stayed close together, with no intention of moving any time soon.

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

SPN TAGS:

@defonotashleyr

@aestheticdaisies

@xxrougefangxx

@hell-o-kittys

@inlovewhithafairytale

@harleycao

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

[tteotlma]

Brewing Emotions

- tension and unspoken feelings finally come to a head.

Sam Winchester/Reader 2.1kw

a/n: i wrote this after finishing spn over the summer. can u tell i love tension.

tw: mild violence mention, mild sexual content (kissing), emotional distress

The drive back from Wheeling, Illinois to the Bunker was an excruciatingly silent drive. It seemed as though everyone was steeping in their misery, and it was gonna be hard to shake off.

A family of Djinn’s were plaguing the city with missing persons for the past three weeks, and by the time the three of you showed up – there was more bloodshed than expected. Turns out the Djinn were running this operation for way longer and tens of lives were lost.

The three of you tried to save the remaining five survivors but because they were so weak, not all of them could be saved. Much to Sam and Dean’s dismay, only two walked away.

Of course, you were devastated as well but having been a solo hunter far longer than teaming up with the boys – you learned the hard way that losses were inevitable.

You were also less emotionally constipated than the other two, so you knew the better way to feel better was to surround yourself with things that bring you joy. But tweedle dee and tweedle dum here like to sit and stew in silence.

You were able to get them to talk here and there for the first few hours but your efforts ultimately fell short and silence took over. Exhaustion took over and you just let the silence be. During the car ride, you stared at the back of Sam’s head trying to stop yourself from reaching out and touching him in some way. Especially running your hands through his hair. You didn’t know if it was because of your feelings for the man, or because the act of petting lowered stress levels but whenever you found yourself feeling troubled you always found your hands in the man's hair, and vice versa.

Sure the science article was about animals but – potato, potato.

Instead you just crossed your arms and tucked your hands into your armpits, closing your eyes to try and get some shut eye.

The first person to say something was Dean, when the car pulled up to the Bunker.

“I’m gonna wash up.” He huffed, as his leather jacket squeaked against the leather seat while shimmying out of the car.

Perfect, you and Sam could prepare a meal while Dean washes up. You were about to reach out to Sam when he sprung out of the car.

“Hey Sam-” you rushed, following his steps in unloading the car. “Why don’t we-”

“Actually, I’m feeling a little grimy so I’m just gonna wash up too.” He mumbled, lugging the duffel bag over his shoulder, and walking away.

“Oh, okay.” you whispered, trying not to sound dejected. You entered the bunker and everyone made a B-line for their bedrooms.

Throwing your backpack onto the ground, you started undressing wanting nothing more than to just step under hot water and let it burn the tension away from your shoulders.

—

By the time you were done, you were already feeling much better. Your pajamas felt softer and cleaner than the stale outfit you had been wearing for the past two days. Your hair no longer felt stringy and greasy, and your skin felt exfoliated. Now to top it all off with a nice warm cup of tea.

You startled, seeing Sam standing in the kitchen.

“I thought I wasn’t gonna see you until tomorrow.” You said, giving him a soft smile as you walked up to him.

“Uh, well we hadn’t eaten anything since that rest stop about seven hours back.” He returned the same smile, before beginning to chop vegetables. You nodded, placing a swift hand on his shoulder blade as you passed him, to let him know you were walking behind.

He cleared his throat, and a small smile spread on your lips.

“I’m making tea,” You started, “would you like some?” Opening the drawer in front of you, an array of colored boxes splayed out before you.

“Sure, I’ll just take a cup of whatever you’re having.”

You took the small red box out the drawer, placed it on the counter and opened the cabinet above you to get your mugs. You grabbed your favorite, and when you went to grab Sam’s you realized it wasn’t in the usual spot next to yours. Pushing around the mugs, all that could be heard was the ceramic clinking together.

“You need help there?” A small scoff escaped his mouth.

“Your mug isn’t here.” Ceramic still clinking, standing on your tippy toes to try and get a better look.

“That’s okay just grab any other one.” He said, throwing the chopped vegetables in a large bowl.

“But you like that mug,” He turned to look at you. “I swear I put it here when I did the dishes.”

“Maybe someone used it.” He obviously wasn’t convincing you that another cup could be used so he put down the knife with a chuckle and walked towards you.

You could feel his presence loom over you as he stood behind you – barely able to feel his warmth on your back. You tried not to move a muscle.

“Yeah look it’s right here,” He said, reaching into the only shelf you couldn’t reach, and behind a large bowl he pulled out a dark blue mug. He looks down at you as you turn to grab the mug.

“Well, that’s not where I put it.” you mumble, taking the mug from his hands.

Inspecting the mug, to make sure it’s clean you notice Sam falls silent. You look up at him and catch him looking at you – quite intently.

Heat rushes up the back of your neck, and you give him a little smile hoping to god this tension building up isn’t just your imagination.

“Are you okay?” You ask under your breath. Sam blinks and shakes his head clearing his throat.

“Uh, yeah, yes I am.” He spits out, and he steps away. The cool air swooping in and taking place where he previously stood. He goes back to chopping vegetables in silence. His kurt answer leaves you thrown off, so rather than respond you choose to join in the silence and fall into a sort of rhythm beside Sam as he preps the salad he’s been working on as you work on the tea you offered.

As Sam shakes the bowl to mix the dressing, you could feel his warmth and you wanted nothing more than to step closer, under the impression that maybe his warmth could take away these remaining forlorn feelings.

"How'd you like your tea?" you ask, steeping the leaves.

"Like I said, whatever you're having." He puts down the bowl and turns to look at you. You shift your eyes towards him, then away when you feel his gaze boring into you.

As you grab the honey and a spoon, you turn to get some oatmilk from the fridge. Suddenly, you realize Sam is no longer behind you but beside you, his chest at eye level. You startle and look up.

"You okay?" His eyes never leave your face.

"Yeah," is all he says, his gaze unwavering.

Shifting uncomfortably, you begin to look anywhere but at him. An unbearable longing aches within you to touch him—to feel the rough texture of his shirt beneath your trembling fingers, to inhale the faint scent of his cologne mingling with his skin's warmth. You yearn to be enveloped in his embrace, to feel his strong arms wrap around you, pulling you close until his steady heartbeat thrums against your chest. Every fiber of your being screams for that connection, that solace, that undeniable closeness.

Your hands clench and unclench at your sides as you look down, the weight of his gaze becoming too intense.

"What is it?" Your voice barely rises above a whisper, afraid to break whatever spell he might be under.

He remains silent. Instead, he steps closer, fingers trailing lightly along the hem of your shirt. He moves even nearer until his chest is mere inches from your face. His hand circles around to your lower back, slowly pulling you in. The movement is so gradual you're barely sure you're moving at all. It's not until you feel Sam begin to lean in, his arm wrapping fully around your waist, that you realize he's been wanting to touch you just as badly as you've been wanting to touch him.

Your breath catches in your throat as Sam's arm tightens around you. Your already small world narrows even more to just the two of you—the warmth of his body, the sound of his breathing, the faint thrum of his heartbeat. You finally allow yourself to raise your hands, letting them rest tentatively on his chest. You slowly look up at him.

"I-I'm sorry, for brushing you off earlier," he says, a glint of remorse in his eyes.

Your hands move to hold his face, thumbs gently caressing his cheeks. "It's okay," you whisper, maintaining the intimate atmosphere between you. "You don't have to apologize."

You watch as Sam presses further into your hands, his eyes closing. A breath of relief leaves his lips, the tension in his shoulders visibly easing. The vulnerability in this moment strikes you, making your heart swell with affection.

Studying his face, your hands glide into his hair, gently pulling him close. As if by instinct, Sam buries his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply. His hands, initially at the middle of your back, slide down to your hips. He tries to bring you closer, but you're already pressed against him. Instead, your hips align more firmly with his as he holds you there.

The sound of your shaky breaths mingles with the scent of his cologne. The warmth of his body envelops you, and the gentle tickle of his breath against your neck sends shivers down your spine. Time seems to slow, each sensation heightened in this intimate embrace. It all feels like a dream—a long-awaited, exquisitely real dream.

Sam's fingers flex slightly at your hips, as if reassuring himself that you're truly there. You respond by carding your fingers through his hair, relishing the softness beneath your touch. The world outside fades away, leaving only this moment, this connection that you've both longed for.

Sam pulls away to look at you, his eyes searching your face. You lightly tug at the hair entwined in your fingers, a silent gesture of affection. Without a word, Sam begins to lean in. His lips brush against yours, feather-light and questioning. Your stillness is all the encouragement he needs.

Years of unspoken feelings finally come crashing down as Sam captures your lips in a proper kiss. He pulls you impossibly closer, one hand cradling the back of your head as if afraid you might slip away. His lips part slightly, and you seize the moment to nip gently at his bottom lip. Sam responds by deepening the kiss, and you meet him willingly, your mouths moving in perfect harmony.

A soft noise escapes him, echoed by your contented sigh. The kiss grows more passionate, your shared breaths becoming ragged. Sam's hands, which haven't left your body, slide down until his fingers find the bare skin at your hips. He kneads the flesh there, his touch both tender and desperate.

The intensity builds with each passing second. Sam's kisses grow more insistent, more passionate, mirroring the longing you both have harbored for so long. The forgotten tea steeps on the counter, the abandoned salad wilts - neither of you notices or cares. There's only this moment, this long-awaited connection, consuming you both entirely.

"Hey, did you guys make any—" Dean's words cut off abruptly as he entered the kitchen. "Well, alright Sammy!"

You and Sam spring apart, both flushed and breathing heavily. Dean stands in the doorway, his eyes wide with surprise before a knowing smirk spreads across his face.

"About damn time," he chuckles, shaking his head. "Don't let me interrupt. I'll just grab a beer and go."

As Dean rummages in the fridge, you and Sam exchange sheepish glances, a mix of embarrassment and barely contained laughter in your eyes. The spell of the moment is broken, but the warmth of it lingers.

Dean grabs his beer and heads out, but not before throwing a wink over his shoulder. "You might want to take this somewhere more private next time. And Y/n? Your tea's probably over-steeped by now." He chuckles.

As Dean's footsteps fade down the hall, you and Sam look at each other trying not to laugh, the tension dissipating. Sam reaches out, taking your hand in his.

"So," he says, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth, "about that tea..."

You squeeze his hand, your heart light despite the interruption. "I think we might need to start over," you reply, unable to keep the grin off your face.

As you move to prepare fresh tea, Sam's arm wraps around your waist, unwilling to let you go just yet. You lean into him, savoring the closeness. The night may not have gone as planned, but it's ended better than you could have imagined.

—————

pls leave comments/feedback! i luv hearing ur thoughts!

[dreamscapesofimagination]

Hi! I hope you're having a good day!I came for the tdb requests :D

I have Jin as the default character on the main screen (didn't choose him nor liked him at first , he resembled default cold male lead in Korean transmigration manhwas , he's the first ssr i pulled tho soo) and his lines about him establishing a servant-king dynamic ( a tsundere , constipated feelings )without giving us the option to be slightly annoying about it _us servaning him_ is annoying to me.

I am a person who likes to challenge those around me (I like to play with what given to me since everything is more than it seems)even tho I am a calm person so ppl rarely wait for it,so, I have been wanting to get Jin to go to those 'peasants' locations he mentions in his voice lines (like seeing fireworks is better on a helicopter) for a date to get him to admit the beauty in what you can create (we have all noticed he' s grieving a loss so I kinda want it to take inspo from thod daye in order to challenge his current situation especialy his stigma )

Thank you in advance!

A/N: This is an amazing idea! I actually love Jin- I really enjoy the emotionally constipated characters (Aka why I love Alan, Megumi from JJK, and Dean Winchester sm lol). I hope you enjoy!

T/W: Cursing, Jin is kinda a spoiled ass- but also not?, soft Jin

Summary: Jin doesn’t understand why you insist on making him stargaze with you- he could take you to an observatory. He doesn’t understand the appeal of laying in the grass. He doesn’t understand why you’re so happy, or why your smile makes such a warm feeling spread through his chest.

—————

This truly had to be some kind of joke.

In fact, Jin was sure it was.

In what world was laying in the grass outside of your dorm better than viewing the stars at a world class observatory?

You, however, were extremely pleased that you had convinced him to quote “do peasant shit.”

His haughty attitude irritated you to no end, and you were determined to make him eat his words, which is exactly why you had chosen tonight for this.

He glanced over at you, watching you settle onto your back.

“This better be good. After this I’ll show you what it's like to see the sky through the best observatory in the world,” you rolled your eyes at his words.

“I know you’ll enjoy this, as long as you pull your head out of your ass.” you flashed him a sweet smile as he glared at you for your response.

“Wow, got some bite to ya, huh? Scared to admit this is a waste of my time?”

Your eyes narrowed, “Jin, sometimes I want to smack that smug look off of your face,” your ridiculously handsome face.

It was quite vexing- Jin was exactly your type. His attitude was the only deterrent, which frustrated you.

You knew there was more to him, he just refused to let people in.

He let out a bark of laughter at your response.

“I’d like to see you try- that would be the highlight of my day.”

“Your attitude is exactly why you have two friends.”

“Bold of you to assume I need friends.”

With a sigh, you refocused your eyes on the sky, choosing to ignore that statement.

You wished you could just get through to him- figure out why he was so guarded.

Jin watched you for a moment, uneasy at your lack of response. He was so used to you always having a retort to his remarks. Nothing he had ever said had seemed to genuinely upset you, until this.

Besides, he only had one friend, Tohma.

Until it hit him- you.

Despite how cold he was, you had always been friendly to him, insisting on sticking around even when he relentlessly pushed you away.

With a sigh, he laid beside you in the grass, choosing to follow your lead in hopes of making you happier.

The sky was an endless sheet full of stationary pin pricks of light.

His eyes widened when it started.

Flashes of light across the sky- hundreds of them.

A meteor shower.

His eyes flashed to you, and he couldn’t resist the warmth that spread through his chest at the look of wonder on your face.

You were hyper aware of Jin beside you. You wanted him to enjoy this- not just admit that it was better than a damn observatory.

The night was cool, with a small breeze that rustled past you both on occasion.

Seconds passed into minutes as you both watched the meteor shower, and you couldn’t resist the smile that spread across your face. You loved stargazing- and meteor showers were so rare that you had never seen one.

“Isn’t this amazing?” Your voice was breathless as you spoke, and his gaze went to you and he couldn’t stop himself, “Yeah, guess so.”

Pride filled you and you spoke again, “better than a fancy observatory?”

He felt his lip curl up, unable to tear his gaze away from the happiness on your face.

“It's probably the company.”

Cheeks burning, you sat up, watching him.

Jin couldn’t help the way his heart fluttered, not entirely opposed to the feeling of warmth in his chest.

He carefully avoided your gaze, turning his eyes back to the sky, “afterall, I’ve got two friends, so I should enjoy spending time with the better of the two.”

You smiled, rolling your eyes.

It wasn’t difficult to recognize that this was the best you would get, and you were satisfied seeing the icy exterior he held melt even the slightest.

[hum-suffer]

Obsessed with how protective Dean and Sam Winchester are of eachother. It's not enough that they live in eachother's pockets, they will absolutely murder anyone just to make sure that their brother stays with them and wow no one did codependency as well as those two tall ass emotionally constipated idiots

[xielian-autism]

dick grayson, wei wuxian, & dean winchester are all the same to me and their counterparts are jason todd, jiang cheng, & sam winchester.

older brothers raised as soldiers and take the brunt of the emotional anger of their dads (father figure in wwx case) who are forced to self sacrifice for the sake of the whole who go out on their own after a breaking point.

younger brothers who are deeply loved by their dads but the dads in question are kind of mid and emotionally constipated so they view their dads betraying them at every turn and it results in extreme suffering on both ends.

[literally-noone83]

Supernatural Headcanons: Receiving Affection (1/?)

About: female!reader×platonic!everyone, teenage/young adult reader, reader's love language is touch: hugging, hanging off the boys' shoulders, falling asleep on their shoulders and the like :) just wholesome things (with some angst).

Word count: It's a long a one...

Warning: Angst, Shouting, other than that it's just fluffy :)

A/n: This reallt isnt a head cannon tbh. Started with an idea, created an OC then a background and then and then and then — it spiralled into this mess haha.

I meant to go further - provide that conclusion to create a holistic narrative... but it's already really long and atm felt uninspired to keep going with it. So we wait, sorry !

Welp, enjoy!

Let's imagine your love language is touch. The crave and the lingering need to touch, hug, lean on, hold onto someone, some one you felt safe around and loved by was a instinct you've always had.

Surrounding yourself with some of the most emotionally stunted and constipated people — emotionally unavailable car, pie and ACDC loving hunter, his emotionally neglected brother and monotonous 'I don't understand the reason for handholds if you're not lost' angel boyfriend — your touchy feely nature was met half-heartedly.

Given the moment you first met them was amidst a series of tumultuously devastating events — one easy case turned bad, the loss of family was never easy on a adolescent. And for the most part that's all you were to them. Another poor young soul caught up in the cusp of a terrifying world Dean and Sam intended to protect. To save. It never came without consequence — it's just this time in came in the form of a teenager, tear stained and alone.

Dead of night, once the vampires who took your mother and little brother were resolved with a few knife swings and burning bullets — it was the embrace Sam offered that changed things.

You needed it. Solace, comfort. Something to keep you grounded.

The Winchesters would do more than offer a hug. Decisions and shots were called, arguments sure did occure — another mouth to feed, a head to look out for — but in the end life kept moving and this was all you had left; a reason, an opportunity, to help.

A Winchester. You were the rookie who could barely hold a gun. Then you were the amature that fought to fight; snooping for cases, sneaking out for a chance to shoot and to prove you can contribute. Couple years fly by and now you're family.

So many night spent trading stories, on the stupid shit Dean pulled and Sam moments of pubescent embarrassment among the pockets of normal school life, or your gems of memory with your mother you missed and a brother you had teased. The banter was rich on both ends — most prominently with Dean. It was just so easy. A grumpy old man who dished out the rules and stomped around with that voice of his — you couldn't help yourself.

*in Dean's voice* "Its too dangerous, me macho man will take care of it" *normal voice* "y'know I didn't realise you were one grey hair away from being my father..."

He lets out a humorless laugh, rubbing his chin and gesturing to you at Sam. "She thinks shes funny huh? youre real comedian— thats it!"

He chases you down the bunker and you run away. Deans yelling and your laughter ringing behind Sam.

Sam truly was enjoying to have someone on his side — till at times he wasn't so lucky. You and Dean were a little too powerful once you joined arms...

Amidst this new found family, Dean and Sam quickly noticed how much you liked to hug them... almost clingy.

Granted, it wasn't like you smothered everyone who walked into your life — with Dean and Sam it was different. They saved you, welcomed you, took care of you. You trusted them.

It qas noticeable during the early days of your stay. After long hunts when you were left behind, in security of the bunker, those hours felt like days and days felt like years. Crippling fear of losing the only formed tether of family and safety frightened you.

The moment the door clicked open, "Hey, Y/n, we're back," a bag of take out ready and jackets being torn off in lethargic movements of a day's struggle, "got some burgers and those curly fries as remembered and—"

Frantic steps and a leap, Dean was almost knocked down by the force of your hug. Wrapped around his neck, face buried in his collar. "Woah there, Kid." He stumbled and huffed from the suddenness.

"Y/n? you ok?" Sam asked at your long passing moments in embrace. Words of gladness and "Thank god"s poured from your lips, stepping back to look at how they're really here. Alive. Safe. The brothers noted it was probably because of your family — you were dealing and I think they are one of few people who could really understand that.

However, this passing moment became everytime. They'd come home and you'd hug them briefly. Once you were coming with them than waiting patiently, you'd embrace them before bed.

Huddled around the table, Sam reading, Dean nursing a cold beer whilst flipping through a magazine as you ate and prompted Dean into weird topics of 'never have I ever - monster edition'. You'd bid yourself adue.

"I'm gonna hit the sack, weirdos." You'd walk around to them. "Enjoy your light reading, Sammy. And enjoy your pervy magazine, old man." Passing by, wrapping your arm their shoulders, affectionately nudging cheeks with them — Sam would accept them graciously, the loving gesture comforting to him. And Dean would simply hum at you, trying his best to look indifferent or exasperated by such contact. But you knew he silently enjoyed them, and Sam did especially; knowing his older brother, the boundary of affection was never crossed but from you — a semblance of a younger sister — was soothed but this entry of comfort. Shoulders slacked, posture less tense, you were a reminder of everything was okay.

"Now get off me - you need a shower."

When Castiel was around it, too, didn't take long before he was another victim to your embraces. Seeing how close Cas was to Dean and Sam, it meant he was good.

Late night car rides, slumped against the worn leather of Baby as the soft rock channel hummed alongside the murmuring engine pushing the hunters and a angel home. The orange street light continuously ran over their laps, exhaustion lingered in the vehicle — Dean's raw red knuckles were prominent, wrapped around the steering wheel. Sam sported a scrape on his cheek bone, exchanging hushed words between his brother and Castiel. Sat in the back with Cas, you couldn't bother chipping on the discussion. The headache you endured only just subsided, with just a bruise that ached at your side, both the dull music and gentle voices did well to block it. Soothing you into a lul.

"Someone's uncharacteristically quiet..." Sam humoured. The two shared a peak through the review mirror to catch your heavy eyes and tilting head you struggled to hold up. Dean couldn't help but smirk, chuckling under his breath at your disgruntled hum towards Sam.

"It's a nice change," he joked.

"Dean," Cas warned, glancing attentively to you, "She did a lot today."

"Yea... she did." He said silently proud. Of course she did.

Moments passed and next thing you know, Cas felt your held fall on his shoulder. Almost surprised, he didn't move an inch. Tossing and turning, laying on him finally made you settle. Staring down at you, he was glad to see you sleep — you took too many nights to sitting on thay laptop keen that every minute need not be wasted. And so he laid back a bit more comfortably, mindful on how much he moved. He understood, humans needed their rest.

Dean couldn't help but find it endearing.

The boys did their best to revieve your affection in stride. Cas was always naturally stiff when you slung your arm over his shoulders. Dean tried his best to act annoyed when you attack hug him from behind, and awkwardly patting your back. Sam never minded the time you'd sit beside him, leaning against his larger stature while he read or researched.

Then Jack showed up. Between losing Mary, Crowley, the fright of Cas' death and so much more — times weren't the easiest. Lucifer's son, the premeditated anti-christ that was the cease all life and goodness, the first day of getting to know Jack was a rocky path. While Sam continuously sympathised the young man and Dean couldn't even look at him, you remained initially indifferent. Just like your brothers, you were scared more than anything, grieving over the losses especially Cas — you didn't know what to think but you did know they needed you.

Jack noticed how you kept wrapping your arms around them every time you left off to somewhere or twist your twist your face into something warm at the much angrier man. It was so peculiar to him that he asked Sam when they were in the cellar, "why does she do that?"

"What?"

A look of seriousness worried Sam, "Do that - hold him. Dean." And he looked at him confused.

"You mean— she hugging him." Jack's face didn't change, "she's embraced him because she's worried about him," it sounded more like a question as he mimicked the gesture, "you embrace someone when you want to comfort them, or show them affection."

"'affection'?"

"It's means to show care for someone."

Jack looks at him, "She does it a lot." He noted.

Sam omitted a breathy laugh, "Yea. She does - she cares a lot, I suppose."

Soon your apprehension grew to empathy for the nephillum. His innocence and innate kindness baffled you at times. He borne no essence of evil - he rather carried Kelly's sweetness, and a fear that made you realise that Jack was far from anything like his father. He was just Jack.

The realisation settled within you as you sat on that crate where your breath transpired in the cold, facing Jack curled up beside the dumpster. Large shadows drew over his furrowed brows, deep with sadness and hurt as he said, "Maybe I'm not worth all this". Your heart sunk. All alone without the comfort of his mother and guidance of the angel she promised, made to feel like he was something he wasn't — worthless.

"Stop." The words escaped your lips faster than you could think and he stared at you saddened. "Don't..." You hesitated, too many things you want to say and you settle with reaching out a gentle hand. "Can I please uhm..." Jack slightly confused gave his hand at your hushed question. And he was surprised by your warm and firm grip; holding his palm with your other hand instantly clasping over his knuckles, you told him "Jack, you are worth all this..." staring intently into his eyes. "Sam thinks your worth it, so did Castiel, your mother. And so do I."

His eyes softened, and a small smile slipped onto your lips. Hope seeping into his features, he asked, "Really?"

"Really." You said.

That night you shared a room with Jack, agreeing with Sam things were too tense with Dean. You'd continue to be at Jack's side, speaking to him, answering his questions, simply being with Jack whilst mediating your brothers. Meaning, your constant defense of Jack caused a constant bickering and arguing with Dean. Unlike Sam the Diplomat, you two were almost explosive. Dean hated how close you'd stick by that thing, that freak; he was dangerous, he could hurt you! And you hated Dean's merciless disdain for him — always throwing warnings at the names and disregarding statements Dean would say without a thought with Jack.

At times, when Sam was with Jack, the moment he'd leave you and the eldest alone, stiff muttering of words escalated into loud yelling. Seething at each other until your red faced. Sam would always have to intervene, assuring Jack they're just "hot headed".

This anger festered into Dean's asserting orders; regulations, rules, reprimanding of your interactions with Jack. You were holding Jack's hand cause he seemed nervous, Dean would explicitly say no handing holding with devils. Alone in a room with him on an off chance again? Dean's dragging you out on errands or telling you to go to your room. Walking around the table offering your bidding night hugs, your affectionate squeeze on Jack's shoulder earned a warning glare from Dean.

You always made a face back, countering his overprotective as overbearing and stupid. When you finally had a go at him for it, Sam was out and there was nothing holding them back. You both pushed at each other to your limits. Comparing Jack to you when you some kid helpless and alone too, or Sam deemed bad before he could do any good, really sent Dean down the rails — because you're family. Jack is Lucifer's son, not you.

"Does he look like Lucifer's son to you, Dean?! He does nothing but be kind, gentle. He listens to your orders, he's even terrified of you!"

"And so he should be!" His voice booms with anger you hadn't heard from Dean till now and it shakes you. "You think I care that he can smile nicely at you, and say 'thank you' and 'sorry'? That doesn't matter. Cas is gone because of him, Mum is gone because of him. Wake up, Y/n, he can't change what he is and what he is, is a freak, an inevitable danger to you, to us, this entire freaking world- I'm sorry youre too damn stupid and niave to realise that." His starn, harsh words push past his lips in a burst of thoughts that seemed like he's been holding in forever, and he has to lean back for a moment to sigh. You stood there without moving, your eye glisten against your will as you swallow his words. He paused before turning to walk away without another word — the knife sunk a little deeper.

"I know you're hurting, Dean," your voice went small, and you caught him mid step. "but you're not the only one." His face grew sullen: he was too angry, too tired. He hadn't the energy to say or do something. Looking at you, he noticed your quivering lip you tried so hard to hide and instantly in his eyes you reverted back into that small 14 year old girl he and Sam decided to take under their wing. An image that flashed by and then you were walking away. To the other side of the bunker. And after a few heart beats, he did too.

Without either of you knowing, Jack had heard the entire altercation. Your purposeful steps rushed past him and you didn't see him — too busy fiercely wiping away escaping hot tears you didn't want. Jack had never seen you this upset and quietly he followed you to your room. He heard you slam the door shut and heard you sniffle inside. Hesitant he slowly cracked the door open to see your back facing towards him, sat on the edge of your unmade bed, silently crying.

A sensation of sorrowful guilt imbued in the centre of his chest. This was his fault wasn't it?

"Y/n?" His sudden appearance finally made known surprises you and you whip around. "Jack," your voice is thick with emotions, harshly sniffed back as your wiped your cheeks several times. "What are you..." You took a deep breath. Seeing his worried eyes you realised your attempt to appear unphased and normal was feeble — your eyes were puffy, flushed cheeks and red nose. And then it hit you, "I'm sorry, Jack. Sorry you had to hear that it's just, he's just..." you lett your hands fall to your lap defeatedly and head hung low. You looked him and flashed a weak smile, "Don't worry," Jack moved to sit on your bed, "It's just everything's a bit weird."

"I'm sorry." He finally said simply.

"What? Jack-"

"I'm sorry," he looked at you with those same eyes that night. "that you, Dean and Sam are hurting - because of me."

You shook your head, "No, no Jack, you have done nothing wrong, we're fine. We will work this out-"

"But you are crying, you are upset."

"I'm fine, Jack, don't-"

"Why are you lying?" He places a hand over yours, catching your evasive and scattered gaze. He pulls you to a halt, forcing you to meeting his big attentive eyes. They were so kind and gentle. And the warm of his hand stopped your racing heart. "You can tell me." He said softly and such simple words crashes over you. Your eyes locked onto his, you let silence hang in between as you soaked in this blooming comfort from someone you least expected it. It was overwhelming. And the longer you looked at him, all thoughts and emotions started to feel too real, too much, and your eyed began to well up in tears. Trying to blink them away made them fall faster and your gaze fell to his hand. "I- I'm sorry."

Your voice cracked and your instinctively tried to cover your face; to hide from Jack which you were sure you were confusing him even more with your immense and sudden outpour of emotions. You muttered your apologies, intending to turn to avoid overwhelming him further until the mattress dipped this way and there and a pair of arms embraced you. The foreign feeling of his body against yours made you hold your breath for a second — digesting the unexpected gesture of comfort from Jack and one that you didn't know you needed.

He held you firmly, his head tucked beside yours, eyes scrunched tight as if desperate to make you feel better. Seconds pass before you relent into his touch, wrapping your arms around his neck and burrying yourself away into the nape of his neck. And Jack squeezed you a little tighter.

You and Jack would stay like that for a while. Until your quiet sobs muffled into his shirt quietened down to weak sniffles and your arms loosened, feeling yourself wafting into sleep.

Once Sam came home from his grocery run, he was met by the unsuaul silence and brooding Dean who fixing himself a sandwich.

"Dean, I literally went shopping to cook now why are you-"

"'s not for me." He finished it before pushing it towards Sam, "Mind giving this to Y/n?" It was hardly a question.

The way his brother barely looked at him leaning back with a drink, and the sullenness of his voice, Sam knew something must've happened, "...And why can't you do that?"

"I don't think she's in the mood to talk to be right about now."

Sam walked up to your door, sick with worry and anger to hear what had gone down between you and Dean. The steam from yet another argument with Dean came to a simmer seeing your door not locked but left ajar. He slowed, softly calling out "Y/n?" coming closer he heard not only your soft snores he knew well after years but another's.

Entering he stopped — there you were deep in slumber. And in the arms of the nephilum. Your head lay in the croock of his neck, arms loosely fallen across his torso while his around your shoulders. Sam noted your red eyes and nose, stains of tears that revealed the severity of this argument with Dean had a toll on you. It pained his heart yet seeing Jack with you overturned such hurt — he comforted you. A cosmic being does not need sleep yet Jack visibly chose to rest with you — to show you he cared too. However it there was no doubt you had fallen asleep on him first — a sign of your trust.

The two of you have connected, and Sam quietly left, clicking the door shut with a relief and no plan on letting his older brother know about this.

[samanddean76]

Title: Jensen's Haus Of Hair

Author: SamandDean76

Pairings: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki, Dean Winchester/Jared Padalecki, Jensen Ackles/Sam Winchester

Fandoms: Supernatural & Supernatural RPF

Rating: Explicit | Word Count: 5k | Major Warnings: None

Tags: AU, French Mistake Jared & Jensen, Protective Dean, Hurt Jared, Protective Jensen, Sam Has A Plan, Frustrated Dean, Having To Deal With Those Male Model Sons Of Bitches, Canon Fix-It, Mildly Dubious Consent, Canon-Typical Violence, Non-Graphic Violence, Angst With A Happy Ending, Prompt Fill, WinterNatural 2023

Summary: Dean finds himself searching a dark New York City alley for Sam. But when he finds him, Sam is hurt and not making sense. Calling him Jensen. Dean quickly realizes that something is wrong about the entire situation, but Jared passed out before Dean could solve the mystery.

Meanwhile, Sam discovers the emotionally un-constipated Jensen to be full of rather pertinent and vital information. Will he be able to use it to ensure that he and Dean get to live out their post-Chuck life?

Fic on AO3

I am happy to finally be posting the final prompt fill. It was requested by the dear @masoena and she basically gave me carte blanche to do whatever I wanted. And I wanted a happy ending for the boys. It's a bumpy ride, but they do get there eventually. I hope you enjoy it!

@WinterNatural2023 @quickreaver

[dontlikeconflict]

Based on S11EP13 Love Hurts (in which a supernatural creature called a Qareen appears to you as the person you desire the most, in an attempt to steal your heart)

TW: internalized homophobia, derogatory terms, John Winchester being a shitty dad

AO3 link

Dean's ready for it, he knows the bastard is around here somewhere and all he has to do is find it and kill it (or at least hold it off until Sam finds its heart, and stabs the damn thing)

He and Sam had been theorizing over who it might appear to them as, joking over childhood crushes and celebrities, but as the creature came into sight Dean's heart sunk. Some part of him knew who it would be, but he thought maybe if he didn't allow the thought to take hold -if he kept the idea in his peripheral vision, not looking directly at it- that it wouldn't be true.

but now the manifestation of his desire was staring directly at him, and it couldn't be ignored.

"Hello Dean"

The gravelly voice sounded the same as it had a hundred times before. The downward tilt to the corner of his eyes was the same, as was the slight skew to his blue tie. It was exactly as he saw Cas, in his mind's eye.

"oh don't try to be cute, I know exactly what you are Qareen"

He didn't want to have to try to kill this thing as it flawlessly imitated Cas, but at his words, the creature allowed its head to softly tilt to the side and his - its - eyes to slightly narrow. An expression that was so painfully Cas, that Dean was torn between pain and anger.

"I understand, Dean" the creature speaks, stepping slightly closer to the large work table that separates them

"is that right?" he responds, trying to focus on anything other than how much this thing looks like Cas, having to remind himself that it was an illusion, despite the tight feeling in his chest that always seemed to respond to the other man's micro-expressions.

The creature continued forward toward him "The longing in your heart? I feel it too"

If only the circumstances had been different, if only this was Cas, the words might have felt like a relief instead of so painfully raw.

"well that's touching" Dean began, as he tried to subtly move toward a knife wedged into the wood of the workbench "considering you don't have a heart. Considering... you're not Cas"

Dean didnt know if he was saying it aloud for the creature, or just to reassure himself. So that when he inevitably plunged a knife into this thing, he would know the expression of pain didn't truly belong to his friend.

"who I am doesn't matter" A small smile graced Cas' lips " The real question, is who are you?" Cas' eyes looked at Dean the way they had so many times like he was trying to understand him; like he thought if he stared long enough he could unravel the enigma that was Dean Winchester.

"what do you mean, who am I?" Dean trying to inch toward the knife, but the Qareen was tracing his movements

"You're a mystery. I can see inside your heart" They are both moving in sync, both so aware of the other " Feel the love you feel"

the use of that word causes Dean to stop in his tracks, and the creature stops with him "Except, its cloaked in shame"

and that's it isn't it? what it's all about. Dean has never been one to shy away from romantic feelings. Whereas one could describe him as emotionally constipated in almost every other area, romance had always been the easiest one, and even if he got turned down it never really affected how he approached potential partners.

But Cas was different. For starters he wasn't human, a factor he had gotten over a while ago but something that at the beginning had always been in the back of his mind. Back when Cas still spoke like an angel, 'raising him from perdition' and then subsequently threatening to throw him straight back to it. But it had been a long time since that mattered, a long time since he viewed Cas as Other in that way. and yet there was something so trivial yet so big that held him back. Cas was a man, his vessel was at least. And no matter how many people he meets, how much he grows and changes, his father is always there.

Throw away comments about 'pansys' and 'queers' and much harsher words that Dean doesn't even like to think. He can still remember his father watching the news and tutting at why "they have to go and get married, why can't they just stop shoving it in everyone's faces".

It felt wrong even back then, and Dean knows his father was wrong. Knows that even though he loves him, that he was an asshole on his best days. But the idea of people looking at him and thinking all those horrible things, the knowledge of what his father would think of him if he could see him now, always held him back.

When he spent too long looking into Cas' eyes, when Cas touched him and he felt himself light up, when he said something that sounded slightly too affectionate, he would feel his father's shame like a weight dropping down onto him.

He knew that he and Cas had something, that they shared a "more profound bond", as the angel had put it. But he could never get past the shame that lurked within him.

"when it comes to this" the creature continued, looking down at the shape it had taken, lifting a hand to Cas' chest and rubbing across it "You can't help yourself, so why fight it?"

To hear these words in Cas' voice; it was almost too much.

The creature was stalking its way forward "Just give in"

Ah, see that was just enough. That was so unlike Cas, to ask him to give in to anything, to not kick and fight the whole way as he always did, that it knocked Dean's mind out of its self-loathing and allowed him to act, to plan.

"yeah, you know what? You're right" suddenly feeling more confident that this was just another monster, just another hunt

"The real Cas, he does have a hold over me" It was the closest he had even come to admitting what it really was "but you... are nothing but a cheap imitation"

the creature was almost close enough to rip his heart from his chest, so he acted and did the first thing he could think of. He picked up a metal table to the side of him, holding it up like a shield just before the creature's hand burst right through the metal as if it were paper.

funnily enough, this felt more like Cas than the creature had been before, reminding Dean of when they first knew each other and Cas would constantly startle Dean with effortless strength. Holding a pipe Bobby swung directly for his head or lifting an entire anvil up as if he were holding a pillow.

Dean was taken out of his musings by the threat of losing his head as the creature pulled its arm free and he had to leap away rolling over the top of the workbench, just before the Qareen's hand went right through the thick wood. The way it moved was very stiff, not very artful, clearly not used to having to work physically for its food, used to victims presenting themselves eagerly for the face of their desires.

Then Dean's eyes caught on the knife he had been inching toward earlier, and he made a grab for it swinging haphazardly for the imitation of Cas' face, only to have his hand grabbed firmly, the creature squeezing at his arm until he was forced to relinquish the blade.

He was then shoved against the wall, held in place by Cas' large hand at his shoulder, the other raising, ready to push through layers of skin, muscle, and bone, to rip his heart straight from his body. Dean had no time to be scared, but if he had time to reflect he would have thought that dying to Cas' hands wouldn't be the worst way he could go.

but then it all stopped, the creature froze before stumbling back. Cas' face twisted in pain as it began to shake and scream before the body began to dissolve into smoke, and it all collapsed into a central blue light, almost like a star.

and then it was gone. And Sam was calling his name.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Not much had been said on the ride back to their motel, mostly focusing on cleaning up their mess, and driving home the victim. But now they were packing up their few things into duffel bags, getting ready to drive back to the bunker.

As Dean was shoving clothes unfolded into his bag, Sam's voice came from behind him "So you gonna keep me in suspense here or what?"

Dean continued to pack, hoping Sam wasnt asking what he thought "About what?"

"Who was it?" Sam was prying, he seemed casual about it, still moving between the bed and his bag as he grabbed and folded each item

"it, uh" Dean began to speak before he even knew what he was going to say. The truth? Or some half-baked lie about Daisy Duke batting her eyelashes at him before she lunged for his heart? but a calm almost washed over him as he allowed himself to be honest.

"it was Cas."

"huh." the was a pause where Dean felt like he truly could throw up "Does that surprise you?"

all his fear turned incredulous "That doesnt surprise you?"

For a moment the shame from his father came back, and the idea that something about him looked gay came into his mind. What if everyone knew? like it was something they could just tell about him. But Dean had to mentally remind himself that this was Sam, that his Dad was a bigot, that his dad hadn't been around to judge him for a long time now.

"Honestly?" Sam said, as if his answer was obvious

"Honestly." Dean parroted, his defensive nature rising up "What you seriously think Cas, the poor excuse for an angel that dresses like an accountant, is my deepest desire?"

it felt wrong to deflect, to be hurtful about Cas just because he was afraid, but the words just fell out.

"he isn't?" Sam responded simply

"No!" Dean's voice pitched up at the end of the syllable, and it sounded like a lie, even to his ears. "He cant be."

"why not?" the blunt way Sam was addressing him wasn't helping the rising panic in his chest

"Why? Because that means I'm-" The words get stuck, he can't say them, especially when he knows how he'll sound as they come out of his mouth. The Qareen was right, he's still ashamed.

"what Dean?" Sam's voice is soft, like he knows exactly what Dean is thinking, like he wants to say it for him so he doesn't have too

But Dean has to be the one to say it, he knows this. He attempts to steel his expression, but as the words come out he knows he sounds afraid "It would mean I'm - " Queer, a pansy, an embarrassment "Gay"

Even though they both knew what he was going to say, Sam's face changes to one of soft surprise "Dean, Did you honestly think that something like that would matter to me?"

Dean didnt know what to say. Logically he knew it wouldn't, but some part of him felt like it would somehow make him less of Sam's tough older brother, like somehow he would be letting him down, as irrational as it sounded

Sam took Dean's silence as a sign to continue "Look I know Dad had some stupid ideas about this kind of thing, but you gotta know that he was an idiot"

some old part of Dean wanted to get annoyed at Sam for speaking out against their father, for disgracing his memory, but the feeling wasn't strong enough for him to act on right now.

"you need to know that... you and Cas" his little brother, so smart seemed like he had no idea how to put his thoughts into words "it would be okay"

the words Sam settled on were simple but it felt like such sweet relief, because really that was all Dean wanted. For how he felt to be okay. To not feel like he was wrong every time he let his guard down. every time he let himself want. He didnt quite feel like he was okay, but hearing the words from Sam made him feel a hell of a lot closer to believing.

"Thanks, Sammy" Maybe in another world he could have teared up at a time like this and told his brother how much his acceptance meant to him. But for now, all he could do was give his beanpole of a brother a strong slap on the arm and say "Let's go home", home to where Cas is.

Part two

[gothicchorror]

whenever i read meta about how dean is emotionally constipated and deeply repressed and doesn’t know how to express love and physical affection and keeps people at a distance because of his fucked up issues about performative masculinity that rattle around in his brain it’s like. you know that joke about adding “in bed” to fortune cookies. well it’s like this but “except with sam”.

because dean winchester is actually emotionally intelligent and articulate, expresses his love and is often physical and physically affectionate, and shows his dorkiest least masculine side. to sam. not all the time, sure, but ignoring it altogether despite his interactions with sam taking up the vast majority of his entire screentime over fifteen seasons it’s just funny and a pure fantasy rewrite of the foundational aspects of dean’s personality. it’s pure projection.

like the pervasive dumb ass fanon is that john beat all of that out of dean and it’s just…not true. dean saves that stuff for the people who really matter: sam.

[allegg]

Watching the earlier episodes of supernatural puts me on edge because of how emotionally vulnerable Dean gets. Like he talks to people? Doesnt bottle up his emotions for half a season until he explodes in anger? He gets emotionally vulnerable with people??

My Dean Winchester? Mr No-chick-flick-moments? Sir Emotionally constipated??? Gets VULNERABLE THATS NOT CAUSED BY HIM IMPLODING ON HIMSELF AND LASHING OUT IN ANGER??? This isn’t my Dean, this isn’t natural

[ao3wincest]

Jensen's Haus Of Hair

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/umn3Bl2 by SamandDean76 Dean finds himself searching a dark New York City alley for Sam. But when he finds him, Sam is hurt and not making sense. Calling him Jensen. Dean quickly realizes that something is wrong about the entire situation, but Jared passed out before Dean could solve the mystery. Meanwhile, Sam discovers the emotionally un-constipated Jensen to be full of rather pertinent and vital information. Will he be able to use it to ensure that he and Dean get to live out their post-Chuck life? ***** A fun and fanciful prompt fill for WinterNatural. Only the happiest of endings for our boys! Words: 5090, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Supernatural (TV 2005), Supernatural (TV 2005) RPF Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: M/M Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, God | Chuck Shurley Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki, Jensen Ackles/Sam Winchester, Jared Padalecki/Dean Winchester Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - The French Mistake (Supernatural) Fusion, Protective Dean Winchester, Hurt Jared Padalecki, Protective Jensen Ackles, Sam Winchester Has a Plan, Post-Canon Fix-It, Mildly Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Frustrated Dean Winchester, Having To Deal With Those Male Model Sons Of Bitches, Canon-Typical Violence, Non-Graphic Violence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Prompt Fill, WinterNatural Challenge 2023 (Supernatural & Supernatural RPF) read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/umn3Bl2

[fictionkinfessions]

I'm the eldest (trans) son of my family, and raised my younger -extremely tall- sister when we were young, when my dad was off to work. Our mother didn't die but they did split up and we left the family home where absolutely awful things happened, and my dad lived in a few different places with a few different people. I was the favorite of our father (despite the abuse), and I always did what he said because all I wanted was his approval, and to keep the family safe/happy. I was emotionally constipated for years (not anymore! Big win!) and feared being vulnerable would make me weak. My luck is still unbelievably horrible, and hasn't changed in its intensity nor its consistency. My sister... she's so different from me. We have our highs and our lows, and as she gets older we both become more aware of the dynamics we were forced into, and I'm enjoying spending time with her. She isn't afraid to disagree with our parents and stand her ground, even when my initial reaction is to get her to act the way I did/do.

I was Dean Winchester then, and I'm pretty sure I'm some weird "Modern AU Dean Winchester" right now lmfao /hj. Where's my author and how can I fight them.

But uh. Yeah. Jokes aside, not much has changed, and I'm convinced this is how my life would've turned out back then if monsters weren't real. If hunting was just for animals and not the supernatural. Though I did always have a fascination for that stuff so, guess old habits die hard. I miss Sammy, and my sister reminds me so much of him it hurts. But I love them both so much, and I continue to do everything I can for them. I do everything for her that I couldn't for him, including trying to make sure she has a normal, average life. Sometimes I wonder if she's him, especially when she makes jokes that I'm me, but even if she wasn't id treat her no differently. She's a stubborn pain in my ass, but it's my job to look after her. It always has been. And this time, I'm going to make sure she gets to enjoy this normal dystopian hell we're living in.

I thought it was hard to have your current life and a past life be so different, but when I'm in this shift... I'd honestly prefer that over this. It's way too similar. The only monsters here are the people, and that's always been so much worse. People are fucking crazy- at least creatures and spirits have rules and reasons and stuff. Hell, even demons! At least you have a general idea what you're going into. But people? Yeah, no. There's definitely a lot of good out there, but I'd prefer if there was a bit more separation between the good and the evil.

- Dean (Supernatural)

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