#i just love dean a whole lot okay

[crowcoven]

someone end my suffering I’m thinking of a braime/lannister fam supernatural au and it went from a silly little idea to me eyeing a google doc because the idea is GROWING

[em-ontv]

Get a room.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x lover!fem!reader

Summary: After a particularly bad hunt, you were patching Dean up in the motel room, but he said he needed to be healed up the right way.

Content: fluff(?), kisses, Sam kind of being the third-wheel, no use of y/n, mentions of injury

English isn’t my first language, mistakes should be present, sorry!

Word count: 698

You and Dean had just stumbled back to the bunker after a long, exhausting hunt. It was one of those hunts where everything that could go wrong, did. Dean had taken a hit from some nasty vamp, even after you told him to be careful, but Dean? Nah, that word wasn't in his vocabulary. And while he made no big deal of the gash, you knew it was serious enough to need a little patching up.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, shirt off, grimacing slightly as you cleaned up the deep cut on his shoulder.

"Ow—! Careful," Dean grimaced, shooting you a mocking glare. "You trying to finish me off, sweetheart?"

"Quit being a baby," you shook your head. "You're lucky this didn't go deeper."

“I’m always lucky,” Dean responded, a smirk spreading across his face despite his slight wince when you dabbed the cloth on his wound again.

"Uh-huh. I should just leave you to bleed out next time, it would save me a whole lot of trouble." you muttered, beginning to bandage him up, nodding in approval of your work once you secured it.

Dean shifted, sighed, then flashed you a lopsided grin. "I think you missed a step, sweetheart."

"What step?" you raised an eyebrow, confused.

“For me to fully heal… there’s only one thing that’ll work.”

“What?" you almost rolled your eyes. "Lemme guess, whiskey and pie?”

He grinned wider. “Nope. Kisses. Specifically, from you. On my face. All over. Only way this wound’s gonna close up right.”

You snorted. “Right. Because that's definitely how medical science works.”

Dean winced dramatically. “You don’t believe me? It’s a foolproof healing method. I swear it.”

"C'mon, don't leave me hanging here—this is life or death." He added for good measure, tapping a finger to his cheek.

Despite yourself, you laughed. “You are so full of it, Winchester.”

“One kiss. Or like… fifty. But who's counting?” He shrugged.

You sighed, fully aware you were playing into his game but too tired to fight it. You leaned down and pressed a light kiss to his cheek, where his finger tapped relentlessly until you gave in.

“There you go,” Dean said, clearly pleased. “But you missed a spot—” He pointed to another area, so you kissed it too. “And there—” Another kiss. “And the forehead—” You kissed his forehead. “And—”

“Okay, Dean, that’s enough."

"Not enough. I can still feel the pain." He let out an over-the-top groan.

You sighed in exasperation, considering to either just punch him across the face or keep giving into him—you chose the latter.

Just as you were placing more kisses onto his face—the grin on his lips made him look like a love-drunk idiot—the door swung open.

Sam walked in with some takeout bags, he froze in the doorway, eyes widening as he took in the scene: you, practically sitting on Dean’s lap, showering his face with kisses, while Dean looked way too proud of himself.

“What did I just walk into?” Sam groaned, immediately making a beeline to the table to avoid getting another glance at the two of you.

"Hey, it's a part of the healing process, Sammy." Dean smirked, looking over to his brother.

Sam blinked, then made a face like he just swallowed something sour. “Gross. Seriously, guys, get a room.”

“We’re technically in a room, you know.” you said, getting off of Dean who seemed too reluctant to let you go.

"A room that you walked into." Dean added, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

Sam set the food down, still shaking his head in disbelief. "Yeah, well, next time, maybe give me a warning first so I know not to come in while you guys are having a whole smooch-fest."

"You're just jealous."

"You two are impossible."

"Buzzkill."

Sam just groaned in annoyance again, starting to unpack the food.

You couldn't help but let out a soft laugh, feeling a bit guilty—though not that guilty. You glanced at Dean, who tugged on your hand with a happy expression.

"Next time, we're giving you painkillers." you said, lifting your hand up and running your finger through his hair.

"Not a chance." Dean smiled.

[wendichester]

Cute Dean request with a bit of smug Dean

Based on the truth episode loosely, the whole time on the mission Dean’s been trying to get you to admit you’d “hit that” with him in his cocky smug flirtation, so when Dean realises he’s cursed with people telling him the truth, he decides to prove to you both that you want to sleep with him except he gets more than he bargains for when you actually admit feelings and your view on him (the whole “you think so little of yourself but you’re a good guy” spiel) that hits him to his core

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ loose lips,

summary. being cursed isn't always bad, right?

pairing. dean winchester x reader

wordcount. 687.

notes. i just love writing dean throw off guard. suits the hell out of him 😮‍💨

Dean has been insufferable the entire case.

“You’d totally hit this,” he says, leaning against the Impala with that cocky smirk that you both love and loathe.

You roll your eyes for what feels like the hundredth time. “In your dreams, Winchester.”

“Oh, come on,” he teases, striding closer. “You’re not fooling anyone, sweetheart. Just admit it. You think I’m irresistible.”

“Dean, you’re irresistible to waitresses, maybe,” you shoot back, grinning when his smirk falters for half a second.

He’s been relentless since the case started—a strange series of deaths linked to a cursed item that forces people to tell the truth. Dean, being Dean, has been using the situation to dig at everyone’s secrets. But then, you got hit with the curse, and everything that falls from your pretty lips is nothing more, nothing less than the brutal truth.

Back at the motel, the conversation spirals once again. Dean perches himself on the edge of the table, legs spread in that way that commands attention.

“So,” he says, voice dropping into a teasing lilt, “guess now’s your chance to prove yourself.”

You sigh, shooting him a sharp look. “Prove myself about what, exactly?”

“You’re cursed,” he points out, blatantly smug. As you glare at him, he takes it as his cue to continue. “That you’re not dying to jump me,” he says, his grin widening. “Because I’ve got to tell you, sweetheart, all signs point to yes.”

This conversation is about to get a whole lot more dangerous. “Fine, Dean. You want the truth?”

“Let’s test it,” he says, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Do you think I’m hot?”

You hesitate, your face heating.

“Yes,” you blurt, immediately slapping a hand over your mouth.

Dean’s grin stretches even wider. “Knew it!”

You groan, turning away from him. “This is so unfair.”

“Unfair?” he teases, stepping closer. “Come on, sweetheart, just admit it. You’ve thought about it. Us. Together.”

You clench your jaw, trying to resist, but the words spill out anyway. “Yes, okay? I’ve thought about it.” You cross the room, arms crossed, standing close enough to wipe the smug look off his face. “But not for the reasons you think.”

That gets his attention. The playful glint in his eyes dims, and his smirk falters. “What do you mean?”

“You think it’s just about your stupid good looks or your dumb one-liners?” You take a steadying breath. “Dean, you’re one of the best men I’ve ever known. You’d die for the people you care about. You’re brave, loyal, and selfless, even when you don’t think you’re worth a damn. You think I haven’t noticed?”

Dean blinks, his jaw tightening as he processes your words. The room feels heavy with the weight of your confession.

“And the worst part,” you continue, “is you don’t see it. You don’t even believe you deserve to be loved.”

For a moment, Dean looks completely unguarded, the mask he wears every day slipping just enough for you to see the vulnerability beneath. “You really see me like that?” he asks, his voice quiet, almost unsure.

“I do,” you say simply, the truth settling between you like some sort of fragile truce.

He lets out a soft, humorless chuckle, running a hand over his face. “Well, I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Yeah, well,” you say, offering a small smile, “maybe you should stop fishing for answers if you’re not ready to hear them.”

Dean stands up, stepping closer, his green eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your breath hitch. “Maybe I needed to hear it,” he murmurs.

You don’t move as he reaches up, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. His touch is surprisingly soft, and when he speaks again, his voice is steady. “You deserve the truth too, you know. You mean more to me than I’ve ever let on.”

Your chest tightens as the honesty in his words hits you. It isn’t cocky, isn’t flirtatious—it’s just Dean, stripped of his usual bravado.

The curse might force the truth out of you, but for once, it doesn’t feel like a burden—it feels like freedom.

want be part of the taglist.ᐣ ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ⋆ @deans-daydream ⋆ @ariasong11 ⋆ @ambiguous-avery ⋆ @krabog ⋆ @itsdearapril ⋆ @nymphet-quenn

[destiel-wings]

Dean Winchester & hug dynamic analysis

I was thinking about how whenever Dean hugs someone he's almost always the one hugging the other and how this links to his psychological trauma of always being the caretaker of people, making himself bigger to protect them.

Because that's how Dean sees himself, as a shield for others, and then I thought about how Cas actually is the shield, and he's HIS SHIELD, specifically, the only one who's really there to protect HIM, which is why it hits so much when we see this:

The way Cas wraps his arms around him, trying to protect him with his whole body--that he'd use as a shield and give up in a second if he could spare him from any pain and save him.

(for context: Dean was about to go use the soul bomb on Amara there, it was a suicide mission)

Bobby is another one that hits, he hugs him as the big hugger because he's his father, he loves him and he's actually here to protect him (and Dean LETS him -barely, but he lets him *and Cas* - in a way that he doesn't let Sam)

I watched a compilation of Sam & Dean hugs to check if i was right about it, but it's almost always Dean the big hugger with Sam, except when he's about to die or Sam sees him alive again after losing him.

Even then, Dean mostly tries to hug Sam as the big hugger anyway, with at least one arm, like a way to comfort him, making him feel protected, like his body language is saying "I'm here, I'm okay, I'm still strong, i can still protect you" (because their real father failed and Dean thinks it's his job).

He rarely lets himself be the little one hugged with Sam, unless he's barely conscious. Which is why it kills me so much more now that in this moment (s14, when Dean was going to lock himself in the Ma'lak box cause he was possessed by Michael) and Sam has a desperate breakdown and punches him (to stop him) he forcefully hugs him as the little hugger, the way Dean always kept him, like a way of saying "I still need you to protect me, please don't do this to yourself".

In the scene below he gives Sam his blessing to do a dangerous (possibly suicidal) mission, and one of his arms is down, but the other one tries to stay up--he's forcing himself to do it and he struggles because he still wants to protect him, but (as the seasons progress) he slowly becomes more prone to let go.

So in this view the hug dynamic becomes an indicator of how Dean sees Sam (and himself) and his protector role, how adult and self sufficient he considers Sam, and how much he lets people around him take care of him, lowering his walls and letting himself be hugged.

This is also why i think hugs from characters like Garth or Charlie are so special, because they're just like us: they see Dean and they just know that he needs to be hugged a lot, and that he's not used to it, so they just go for it-- and it's so normal and kind and spontaneous that Dean's just not used to it-- he doesn't know how to respond (especially with Garth, at the beginning, but as the seasons progress, he learns to, and he even initiates the hug eventually).

I love the hugs where they're 50/50 (one arm up, one arm down both), feels like they're equals, both taking care of each other. I feel like with Sam and Dean, this indicates a healthier dynamic, because Dean lets go a little of the role that was imposed to him and manages to see Sam as the strong individual that he is. But the same applies to 50/50 hugs with other characters, like with Cas, where I feel like it testifies how equals they feel in terms of being fighters, there's a show of respect of each other's strength that transpires by the gesture (which is even more astounding considering that Cas is literally a powerful angel).

And just to end on a destiel note, I'd like to note the possessiveness and protectiveness of Dean (rightfully so) whenever he finds Cas after he thought he had lost him, and how that translates into his body/hug language:

[supernaturalistthings]

Earlier

Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Summary: Dean flirts with another girl to make you jealous.

Warnings: +18 contains smut

You watch from across the bar as Dean shamelessly flirts with the bartender before him. She’s loving it and leaning into every word he says. Your hold on your short glass tightens as Sam mindlessly sips his beer while seated at the table with you. He looks over to you and does a double take then follows your eyes and sighs

“Okay, this is torture” Sam says while tapping his hands on the table

“What?” you snap your head in his direction questioningly

“This..” he gestures his hands at you and Dean, frustrated with the situation before you both. He continues “He's doing this to make you jealous, you know?”

“What?” you say again without taking your eyes off Dean

“He devised this whole plan i wasnt supposed to tell you about …to get your attention… but this is just torture”

“You're lying… trying to be nice” you say, sneaking a quick glance at the younger Winchester trying to get a sense of his sincerity. Ultimately your attention gets laser focused back on the “happy couple”

“I'm not, I swear” he says laughing, putting his hands up in surrender. Truthfully it sounds exactly like something Dean would do, but what was in front of your eyes clouds all sense of rationale or logic. “You know i've always rooted for you guys” he continues

“There's no “you guys”, there’s absolutely nothing between us” you say with an eye roll as you start gathering your jacket and bag from the back of the chair.

“You’re right, this is torture. i’m turning in have a good night sam” he shakes his head and waves you off as you start making your way through the crowded bar. You look back only once at Dean and the bartender and find them in the same exact form they had been previously. She could care less about the aggravated bar patrons looking for drinks and refills, she only wants Dean. He looks over just in time to catch your gaze and his smile falters. You snap your eyes back towards the exit but he continues to watch as you make your way through the bar when the next thing he sees is the exit door closing behind you. He abruptly ends the conversation with the overly flirty bartender and scans the bar looking for his brother. He finally finds Sam who is already waving to get his attention and makes his way over drink in hand.

“You struck out?” Sam says pointing in the direction dean just came from

“I'm not interested” Dean retorts, setting his drink on the table “Where’d she go?” he continues

“Ah you mean the real reason you didn’t take that bartender back to the room? She got sick of your show and went back to the motel” Sam replies, taking a swig of his beer.

Dean's eyes fall to the drink in his hand while contemplating whether or not this will be the night. The night he rushes to your side and confesses how he really feels, how he has felt for a while now. How you’re the only one who can bring him to knees and lift him up at the same time. How he can’t actually be with anyone else without being utterly consumed by the thought of you. All of a sudden The music in this bar seems too loud, too many people are way too drunk, nothing good is on any of the TVs. All of a sudden it seems to be too much for Dean and he realizes this is the night, he can’t take this anymore. He’s yours and he wants you to know it, to give him the chance to have you too.

He says nothing and simply smiles, grabs Sam's shoulder, and laughs and disbelief at what he was about to do. He stands and starts hastily making his way towards the exit and to his car. The engine roars to life and he peels out of the parking lot and starts the short drive to the motel. The rundown and very reasonably priced place enters his vision and he finds a parking spot nearest your room.

He throws open his car door and nearly runs to your room to knock repeatedly, until you answer. You slightly open the door and make eye contact with a smiling and breathless Dean. You immediately groan and go to shut the door in one swift motion, he jams his boot between the door and its frame preventing you from shutting him out.

“Well hello to you too” he says still breathless and with a smile as he shoves himself through the opening and past you so he’s safely in the room and it’s not likely you could force him out

You sigh and shut the door behind you, latching it, and then turn to face the man you had fallen for. Who had no idea. The man you were trying your hardest to stay annoyed at. You cross your arms over your chest and plainly ask

“What are you doing here Dean? You looked plenty occupied last time i saw you”

“I was trying to get under your skin..” he retorts

“Well congratulations Dean. you succeeded. You can get back to whatever or whoever you were doi-“

“Will you stop talking and listen to me? i’m not going anywhere until you do” he interjects leaving you agape. His bluntness has always stirred something inside you. It makes you shift on your feet. You’re nervous for what he’s about to say but still give him a look that grants him permission to continue.

“I've cared about you for a long time…” he says, taking a few steps forward until you're face to face. He continues, “and I'm tired of pretending that I don't… I'm tired of pretending like your laugh isn't my favorite sound, like i don't want to run my hands through your hair everytime you look at me, like you talking to other guys doesnt send me into a damn spiral… and most of all i'm tired of pretending that i want anyone other than you”

You're in shock and silence fills the room. Your arms are now uncrossed and the intense eye contact that's happening right now is making you feel like you could pass out. You don't know if you've ever seen his eyes look this green. You try to muster any of the million thoughts that are racing through your head but the shock has completely taken over your ability to actually speak them. All you can say is

“But earlier..”

“I was just trying to get your attention…” he brushes some hair out of your face, and gathers your face in both hands. He holds you in that moment like you might break. He looks desperately into your eyes for some sort of answer, some future. “I'm sorry..” he continues while leaning in even further so his lips feel like a whisper against yours. All of a sudden you could care less about earlier and can only think of what his lips would feel like moving against yours. You slowly bring your arms up and wrap them around his neck. You're looking deeply into his eyes while he scans your face for any signs of doubt. There isn't any.

You both lean in and seal your lips together. Your mouths move slowly and hesitantly, wanting to savor every second. It feels like you're both breathing for the first time in years, it comes easy to you both, natural even. He pulls back slowly and almost painfully as his eyes flutter open and meet yours.

“I've waited so long..” you say while keeping his gaze. He softly smiles and readjusts his hands on the sides of your face before sealing your lips once again, but this time it's different. This kiss is passionate, possessive even. You're his and he's yours, and he wants you to know that without a doubt. Every single second with his lips on yours reinforces that. His hands travel down to the sides of your waist and he pulls you flush against him. Your hands trail to his broad chest and every touch from him is electrifying your body. You desperately need to feel him, all of him. But you can't help but to think

“Are we moving too fast?...” you say breathlessly between kisses

“Probably…” he whispers back into the kiss “should we stop?” he continues still without breaking the kiss

You pull back in shock and look at him with a smile “absolutely not” His lips turn into a jackpot grin of his own and you both collide again.

HIs hands tighten on your waist and he effortlessly pulls you up to wrap your legs around him. His hands move over your rear to the back of your thighs and without breaking the kiss he walks you over to the bed. He leans himself forward and lays you gently on the bed. He steadies himself over you and says “I've waited for this for so long too” while looking deeply and passionately into your eyes.

You can't help but roll the both of you over so you're straddling him beneath you. You take the sides of his face into your hands and say “You have no idea” before taking your top off over your head, you swear you could have seen literal hearts in his eyes from the way he was looking at you. He relishes this moment and runs his hands up your half naked torso until he reaches the bra clasp on your back. He expertly undoes it and slides your bra off your shoulders he runs his hands over your now bare breasts and starts breathing heavier at the touch. “Even damn better than I'd imagined.”

He leans himself forward and puts a hand on the back of your neck to reconnect your kiss. It only breaks for a second while you pull his shirt over his head. It joins yours on the floor and your hands move down his toned chest to the button on his jeans. At the friction of pulling his zipper down he takes your bottom lip in between his teeth and pulls possessively. Its taking everything within himself to restrain himself from taking you and fucking you dirty. He wants this to be perfect, he never wants you to think about another man but him ever again.

He flips the both of you so once again you’re beneath him and he gazes down at you like you're the only woman on earth. Like you’re a dream that's about to come true. He starts slowly taking your pants off and your panties with them and as soon as he gets them past your ankles he throws them to join the rest of your clothes on the ground. He's staring again but this time you are completely bared in front of him, he can't help himself really. You're way more beautiful than any dream he's had. He stays there for a second and you don't know whether to feel self conscious or not, he notices and softly grabs your thighs.

“You're so beautiful…”. You smile in return and lace your fingers through his. Your hands fit perfectly together. You pull him down onto you and whisper against his lips

“You know this is starting to feel a little unfair” you say as you flick your eyes down to his jeans and then back up to those beautiful green eyes. He smiles brightly and kisses you while bringing one hand to push his jeans and boxers down while you help them the rest of the way down and he kicks them off. Your lips reconnect and you're both smiling into the kiss.

Your hands are all over each other's bodies and you're moving yours down to where he wants you most. He's already fully hard and is shaking at any form of contact. He's big, bigger than you've ever had and this only pools the wetness between your thighs. The room is filled with both of your moans and praises. You're pumping him steadily and he's loving every second. His breathing is starting to get labored when he says

“If i'm not inside you soon this is going to get really embarrassing, really quickly…” It comes out as a whisper against the nape of your neck. You throw your head back in laughter. You can see his cheeks flush as he smiles sheepishly. You kiss him once again and help him align himself with your entrance. He thrusts deeply and it has you gasping into his mouth and clawing at his shoulders. He buries his head into your shoulder and breathes deeply to steady himself.

“Fuck this feels so good” he groans out. He starts moving slowly, all the way out and all the way in. This lasts for a few minutes until he begins fucking you feverishly. He's absolutely ravishing you. It feels euphoric and you can't stop screaming his name while he kisses your neck. You wrap your legs tightly around him and he starts thrusting deeper and harder if that's even possible. He's looking directly into your eyes and moaning over your lips. His hand is running all along your thigh.

“Are you close?” he grunts out

All you can manage is a enthusiastic nod and a string of reassuring moans and pants. You’re hanging onto his shoulders for dear life when you finally feel him spilling out of you which is enough to send you over the edge. You cum hard and fast around him, your walls tightening around his long member.

He kisses you quickly and then pulls back and says

“How could you think I would ever want anyone else other than you?” You both smile simultaneously at his words and you lean up to place a loving kiss on his lips. A kiss that held years of unspoken words and missed conversations and Dean feels it, every syllable.

[bloodydeanwinchester]

god dean's reaction to meeting gay people will never fail to amaze me. he's so surprised but also genuinely curious and you just get the feeling that he hasn't had the chance to be around queer people much in his life which makes me so sad but also so happy for future dean who will surround himself with queer friends and family.

i just watched 5x09 the real ghostbusters and the scenes with dean at the end just really got to me. like here he is when he finds out the guys they've been working with are a couple:

and then the next time we see him in this episode he's leaning against the impala with the absolute cutest smile. like.... seeing someone, dressed as him, be openly gay made him smile like this!

and finally sam shows up and asks if he's okay and there isn't really a whole lot to explain his answer except that he just found out that the guys who helped them on the hunt, guys who idolize the characters sam and dean, are gay and in love.

i just think everything about this is really so cute

[via-l0ve]

Hey-hey!! I'm so glad I came across your posts on SPN!!

Let's imagine that the reader has severe menstrual pain. I'd like to see the boys take care of her during "those days". If possible, add Gabriel, I love him soooo much.

Period Pains (SPN pref!)🩷

a/n: hi honey!!! i absolutely adore this request. from someone with terrible periods, im sending you hugs and kisses

warnings: periods/menstrual cycle, mention of pain, cramps and things like that!!

Dean:

dean is scared

idk at first he thought you were gonna die

he was so scared when you curled yourself up in a little ball

he learned to just go with whatever you wanted

cuddles? always. stay the fuck away from you? gladly

literally ask him for anything he will be out and grabbing it for you within two minutes.

he’s always stocked with products for you

he also always has heating pads and medicine for you. he’s so worried about your health

he wants to make sure you’re comfortable

he makes you stay in bed and no hunts until the bleeding stops

he gets you presents

—

Sam:

sam has a whole bag for you

emergency pads, tampons, extra underwear, medicine

he gets nervous

is ALWAYS right by your side

floods you with compliments and worries

“are you going to be okay?” “yes sam. just like every other month.”

“you’re so pretty, y/n.”

just. ugh. i love him

he will go out and buy you pads or tampons or cups or whatever the fuck you use with no shame

he tries to not make you mad or overwhelm you

he always takes off hunts to be with you

what a cute boy <3

he just wants the best for you

—

Castiel:

first of all, cas is horrified that you have to go through this

when you explain in detail why you get cramps, he swears he almost passes out

poor boy is so worried about his love

he tracks it on his phone

just so he can stock up on products for you

he writes you love letters and buys you candy

he also will watch all of your silly little movies with you

you don’t ever have to ask

—

Gabe:

Gabe is always tryna make you laugh

he’s very ill prepared and he dosent know what to do

he annoys you accidentally a lot and then gets scared when you yell/cry/other emotions

he buys you flowers for every day of your period

he also learned somewhere that orgasms help lessen the pain of period cramps so..

aaaaaanyways

he watches your movies with you and cooks food you for constantly

he cried with you at bambi

“the mom dies????”

“Y/N WHY WOULD YOU MAKE ME WATCH THIS?”

[dotthings]

Okay yeah I am really really tired of this. So I'm just going to say outright that what spn did with 15.18, with Cas's confession, that was a whole lot of people at spn showing their love and support. Writers, Jensen and Misha, the director, and anyone else who cared--which was a good number of people who worked at spn. It was the show full on validating fan lens and the deliberate crafted work of writers that had to queer code Destiel for years due to network censorship.

Crew members were in tears watching that Dean and Cas scene get filmed.

No, Cas's love for Dean wasn't last minute added.

No, it didn't come out of nowhere.

It was a 12 season arc payoff.

It was many seasons, who knows how many years, of writers weaving it into the text.

Who even knows when the deliberation to try to push it into text decision was made. I usually think Carver era, but then Ben Edlund said some things and...who knows.

No, spn was not gaslighting and mocking Destiel shippers.

The original plan for the finale at the time 15.18 was filmed had Cas be there for the ending. They made 15.18 in good faith believing they'd be able to follow through on Destiel, as much as they could get away with it.

15.18 was filmed in March 2020 and the pandemic production shutdown hit a few days into filming 15.19. Production shutdown gave some higher ups too much time to think, and too much of an opening and an excuse to strip back 15.20.

Without the network support the most spn could do on Destiel anway was thread the needle to get as much into the text as they could, even if they couldn't make it open. But they tried to make it anyway within those parameters. They deserve credit for that and they didn't know how 15.20 was going to be stripped back when they filmed 15.18.

So tired of seeing malice assigned to the effort of the creatives who did it. Who told that story within a restrictive system.

Cas's confession wasn't even queer coded. That was the moment it switched to loud and blatant. Misha even said he was astonished they were allowed to film it at all. Lack of network support and PR erasure set in afterwards.

No, it wasn't fanservice. It was integral to the plot!!!! The major giant stakes save the world endgame plot!!!!!!!!!!!!

15.18 was respectful.

15.18 was showing the love!!!!

[prentissluvr]

OKAY HERE ARE SOME SAM THOUGHTS BEFORE I CLEAN MY ROOM (some platonic but mostly romantic)

loves getting his hair played with (romantically and platonically)

main love language is quality time

could have this giant on his knees if you compliment constantly (his looks or his personality) (mainly his personality) (he knows and is aware of how conventionally attractive he is but isn’t cocky about it) (like another winchester LOL)

runs warmer than the average human being so he’s your personal heater in the winter

but in the summer you make sure he stays far away from you bc man sweats A LOT in his sleep 😭😭

I HAVE MORE BUT I GOTTA CLEAN MY ROOM

ILL BE BACK LATER WITH DEAN AND MORE SAM 🤭🤭

djhJHFSKDJ SAMMMMM AAA okay okay bear with me while i go absolutely insane LMAO. like this is long LOL so i am gonna add a cw for anyone who stumbles upon our time of feeding each others delusions <3 i got carried away ahahahaha hehehehehe i'm normal about him tho!

wc: 1.6K. cw: kissing, a bit of swearing, brief mention of things trying to kill you bc that's the life lol, unedited

⟢ playing with his hair : do NOT get me started on sam's hair <3 it's always so pretty, and you have to make that known! sure, you do it out loud, but we'll get to the complimenting in a bit hehe. your favorite way of making it known (and definitely his) is by playing with it. constantly. and he can never get enough. sure, he gets embarrassed or picky about it around dean, like he does with just about anything romantic or sweet (mostly because dean won't ever let that sort of thing go un-teased). but he just loves so much to lay his head in your lap and let you thread your fingers through that pretty brown hair <33 it makes him feel so relaxed, and cared for in a way that doesn't feel overbearing or overly obvious.

and he loves it especially it because he knows that you do. he can feel you physically relax from under him when you sweetly run your hands through his hair, gently pulling apart any small knots and taking your time to take care of that gorgeous head of hair. he will also certainly melt and try to hide the pink tint to his cheeks when you reach for his hair unexpectedly, like when you lean in to fix a fly-away strand or full on card your hands through his hair when he's in the middle of research and didn't notice you approach.

also!! put your hands in his hair when he's kissing you!!! please!!! he's begging on his knees!!! god, he loves that so so much and he gets a secret ego boost because, once again, he can physically feel how much you love it too. he'll always kiss you harder when your hands move to tangle themselves in his hair.

gets embarrassed if you put little braids in his hair, especially as he grows older and it grows longer, but he can't resist how much it makes you smile, so he lets you get away with it if dean isn't around. and just imagine putting pretty clips in his hair LOL he pouts and asks you to take them out immediately, but not before kissing the smug grin off of your lips. will die and try his hardest to delete them if you ever get pictures of him like that, but you keep your blackmail well protected hehe.

as for platonically, that is facts! he thinks its very sweet if you're his best friend or sibling! it's not as big a thing as it would be in a romantic relationship, but he'll love to have his hair played with by anyone willing <33

⟢ love language; quality time : this is like almost sad and especially sweet at the same time because the poor boy has no time to spend much quality time with you. but again, this kind of makes this whole thing sweeter because that means each moment is just that much more precious. obviously, he'd love to be spending quality time with you by going on dates in the park, taking you to a nice restaurant that's not too stuffy, or something even as simple as taking you to the movies. but those things are hard to do, so to him, any time spent with you without the presence of something trying to kill you can be turned into that precious quality time.

for him, it's about sitting on the couch with your legs strewn over him or his head on your lap or yours on his shoulder (really any sort of thing keeping him connected to you) as you pour over lore books. it's about the seamless exchange when the two of you figure out how to kill your monster or save the world together. it's about posing as fbi to get answers and slipping his hand into yours when no one's looking or grabbing a decent breakfast together before the start of a busy day. all he cares about, the things he treasures, are you falling asleep on him in the back of the impala because he gave up shotgun to sit next to you, taking months, maybe longer to get through one season of a tv show together, and always taking even just a small moment out of a busy day to be together.

⟢ complimenting him : it's true that he needs less assurance about his looks because he certainly is aware that he is fine as fuck. but let's definitely establish that he adores to hear praise about his looks specifically from you because duh! he's in love with you and you're the only one he cares about!!

but yeah, when you compliment his personality, his sweet, loving, courageous hot sometimes completely idiotic and frustrating self?? oh he's done for. he's honestly far less used to that. when you're half asleep, and you murmur into his chest that you think he's so smart, kind, funny, loving, and brave and that you couldn't be more proud to be his? he's complete mush in your arms, he can't believe it.

"that's all you, baby," he'll refute, and you'll certainly grow bashful under his compliment, but you want him to accept it, at least a little bit. "i mean it, sammy, i really do." your voice is all soft and sleepy, and oh so earnest that he can't help the aching of his heart. "i know you do," he'll whisper, suddenly emotional and not wanting you to hear it. "i'm just glad you think so. i'll always do my best to be those things for you," and that's the kind of thing he only admits when the sole light in the room comes from a dim, clouded over moon and your head is tucked under his chin so you can't see his face. he means it, of course, but he's not used to such vulnerability and blatant adoration.

he'll clench his jaw when you tell him you know that, but that it's true that he's all those things and more for so many people, the few close ones, and all the ones he passes by and does his best to save. he doesn't fully believe you, he's got a lot of guilt built up in that sweet mind of his. and it's true he's not perfect, but you never said that. all you're trying to tell him is that you love who he is, so much, and he can never thank you enough for that.

bonus, he really really loves when you tell him you think he's funny. it's definitely an ego booster, plus he loves loves loves to know that he can always make you smile and laugh.

⟢ your personal heater : this is literally sooo true. he's so big with so much body mass that he'd have so much body heat to give off. but i so agree that on top of that, he'd also totally be on the warmer side. if you're naturally warm as well, then you two are an unstoppable force in the winter time (the both of you are lulled to sleep by the other's body heat in a matter of minutes). either way, he'll always envelope you in hugs when it gets cold because he knows it'll warm you up right away. he doesn't have to ask to know when you're cold, because you'll always press yourself to him, maybe grabbing his arm and pulling it around yourself before even saying a thing to him.

"you cold?" he'll ask sweetly, and after feeling your nod and hearing your muffled "mhmm," he's quick to wrap his other arm around you too and pull you closer.

for the folks with cold hands like me, he's always trying to warm them up with his own. whether you've slipped your hand in to his just to be near and they're particularly chilly, or he can see you trying to warm your hands up yourself, he's quick to take up both of your hands in his to warm them up. when he grabs up both of your hands, he'll pull them to his chest and hold them there until he's satisfied they're warm. he'll look into your eyes and talk about something completely unrelated, all casual as if he's not making you flustered. other times, he'll warm up one hand at a time, encasing it in both of his own, rubbing it and blowing warm air on it before gently slipping it into his warm, warm pockets and moving on to the other.

also, if he finds out your face is cold, he'll cup your cheeks with his large, furnace hands or full on just pull your face into his head or neck to warm you up that way.

but yeah😭😭 summer can be a lot less pleasant. if you manage to have cold hands even in the summer (i could never i wish), he'll try to steal the coolness from your hands and you'll be like oh my god please stop i'll die LOL.

and you're like nooo babe of course i want to sleep with you, you just have to stay as far away as possible and never touch me because it might burn me to death. if he's tired and touch-starved younger sam will pout at you and tell you he just wants to cuddle. later seasons sam just won't take no for an answer and will just pull you to him until he gets too hot himself lmao. he'll make sure there's a fan on you first and a glass of ice water on your bedside. basically he loves that he's warm in the winter because it brings you closer to him, then gets pissed about it in the summer because you don't want him too close unless there's sufficient a/c or some other form of ventilation to make it cooler lol.

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Long-Distance Call | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Warnings: lots of arguing, angst, everyone's saying things they don't mean, canon violence, canon gore

Word Count: 5056

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For hours most nights recently, you watched Dean sleep. In the dim light coming in through the cheap curtains in motel rooms, you would make out the details of his face and trace your eyes along them. He was just so beautiful, and you considered yourself incredibly lucky for every day you got to spend with him; despite the fact that those days were coming to an end. 

Dean knew you hadn’t been sleeping, but you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him why. 

Sam was driving himself crazy talking to witch doctors, professors, and demonologists trying to wrap his head around a way to break Dean’s deal. You didn’t get involved, though; you knew it was futile to do so. 

You weren’t sure if feeling helpless and knowing the situation was helpless was better than feeling helpless and trying to gain control of the situation, but you knew Sam probably felt as horribly as you did. 

“Y’know, someday, if we ever get a house— it could happen!” you assured Dean off his skeptical look. “We should get a couch. It’d be better for our backs than sitting on Baby or these shitty mattresses.”

You sat up facing Dean who lounged on the headboard in your shared motel room. Tension had been high between the brothers recently, and you decided it was best for the three of you to bunk separately. 

“You are annoyingly optimistic, you know that?” he replied. 

“I like to think of myself as more of a realist,” you returned. “But I’m trying to be more like you lately.”

“What do you mean?” Dean asked. His eyes held such an intensity when he looked at you. 

In vulnerable moments like these, you couldn’t bear to look back at him. You opted for looking down at the mattress or, really, anywhere other than his face. “I mean, your whole thing is being annoyingly biting and sarcastic and— I mean, you just have the most amazing sense of humor— even when things suck major ass. And I don’t know how you do it. But… it’s admirable.” When your eyes returned to his face, he was looking at you with such pride and admiration. 

“What?” you asked.

“I just love you,” he said. 

You grinned widely and reached for his hand. You held it for just a moment before speaking again. “When are you gonna tell Sam?”

“What?”

“That we can’t save you.”

He sighed. “(Y/N)—”

“No, Dean, he deserves to know.” You shifted to your knees from your cross-legged position. “He’s on a wild goose chase instead of enjoying the time he has with you.”

“He’s a grown man, he can make his own choices,” Dean insisted, hand retreating from yours. He crossed his arms over his chest.

You gave him a look. “And maybe he’d make different choices if he had all the information about the situation available to him.”

“Alright, professor, no need to lecture me,” he grumbled, getting out of bed.

“Dean—! Don’t get mean just because you’re pissed at yourself and this whole situation,” you said, standing to face him. “Look, I’m only saying something because I don’t want the last few weeks of your life to be spent fighting with your brother.”

“Way to put that in perspective, (Y/N), thank you,” Dean spat. 

“See, this is when your attitude pisses me off beyond belief,” you argued. “I’m trying to have a conversation with you, and you’re being a complete dick. This didn’t have to turn into a fight, and I’m not understanding why it did!”

“Because you’re my girlfriend, not my fucking therapist,” he responded. “I don’t need you to tell me how to live my life.”

“Okay, this clearly isn’t about me.” You shook your head, turning away from him to grab your shorts and shoes. 

“Then, what’s it about, (Y/N)?” 

You turned back to him. “Clearly, this is about your deal.” “Oh, my god,” Dean scoffed.

“You’re runnin’ out of time. You’re scared, and you’re lashing out. It’s crap. I only wanna help you because I love you,” you told him. “And I’m not gonna tolerate you getting mean with me just because I told you something you didn’t wanna hear.”

“Where are you going?” Dean asked, seeing you stomp toward the door. 

“Out,” you replied. “Don’t follow me.”

***

That night, after yet another argument, you convinced Dean to let you sleep in his car and have him take the bed because you knew you wouldn’t get much sleep anyway. You were hurt and angry, but you missed holding Dean. You missed memorizing his features while he slept and finally seeing him at peace. 

And the next morning, the situation was no better. Now, instead of Dean and Sam fighting, it was you, Dean, and Sam fighting. 

Sam had gone to talk to another person about how to potentially break Dean’s deal. “So, the professor doesn't know crap.”

“Shocking,” Dean commented. “Pack your panties, guys, we're hitting the road.”

“What? What's up?” Sam asked. 

“That was Bobby.” He gestured to the phone he’d just hung up. “Some banker guy blew his head off in Ohio, and he thinks there's a spirit involved.”

“So, you two were talking a case?” 

“No, we were actually talking about our feelings. And then our favorite boy bands,” Dean replied dryly. “Yeah, we were talking a case!”

“Dean, stop being an ass,” you scolded. 

“Well, get Sam to stop asking stupid questions.” Sam huffed. “So, a spirit? What?”

“Yeah, the banker was talking about some sort of electrical problems at his pad for like a week. Phone was going haywire, computer was flipping on and off,” Dean explained. “This is not ringing your bell?” He pressed when Sam looked at him skeptically. 

“Well, sure, yeah. But, Dean, we're already on a case,” the younger one replied. 

“Whose?” Dean asked. 

“Yours!”

“Right. Yeah. Well, you coulda fooled me,” the older scoffed. 

“What the hell else have we been doing lately other than trying to break your deal?” Sam protested. 

“Chasing our tails, that's what. Sam, we've talked to every professor, witch, soothsayer and two-bit carny act in the lower forty-eight. Nobody knows squat! And we can't find Bela, we can't find the Colt. So until we actually find something, I'd like to do my job.”

“We should summon Ruby,” Sam suggested. 

“I'm not gonna have this fight with you.” Dean shook his head. 

Sam continued anyway. “She said she knows how to save you.”

“About that, Dean has something he wants to tell you.” You turned to your partner expectantly with your arms folded. 

“What?” Sam asked, looking between the two of you. 

Dean was giving you a glare which you returned. 

“Dean, what?” Sam asked again. 

“She can’t save me,” Dean answered finally, still holding your glare. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Sam turn back to you. “(Y/N)—?”

“She told us she can’t save him, Sam,” you admitted. 

Sam turned his anger toward you. “Whoa, so you’ve known this whole time and haven’t told me?” 

“It wasn’t mine to tell, Sam!”

“Yeah, but the both of you still kept a secret from me,” he responded. 

“You really wanna talk about who's keeping secrets from who?” Dean snapped. 

You turned to the car. 

“Where are you going?” Dean called after you. 

“Guess we’re going to Ohio.”

***

You were silent for the entirety of the ride to the deceased’s house. Dean and Sam only spoke to make a snarky remark directed at each other or at you, but you refused to respond. 

You asked the woman what happened to her husband, and she reluctantly told you that he kept talking to a woman named Linda on the phone. However, there was no one on the other line when she would pick it up to check. 

Curious about who this woman could have been, you and the brothers returned to the motel to research. 

“Linda's a babe. Or, was,” Dean commented. 

Your heart dropped. You knew he was kidding, but now was so not the time to make jokes like that. “Don’t say shit like that, please.”

“She’s dead, (Y/N),” he replied dryly. “Don’t be jealous.”

“I just think it’s in really poor taste to say that right now considering the state our relationship’s in,” you told him, trying to remain as calm as possible. 

He slammed his laptop shut. “Are you seriously picking a fight with me over this? Right now?”

Sam interrupted before you could respond. “Oh-kay! That’s enough. Who’s Linda?”

“Linda Bateman.” Dean turned his eyes away from you. “She and Ben Waters were high school sweethearts.”

“So what happened?” Sam asked. 

“Drunk driver hit them head on. Ben walked away.”

“So, what then? Dead flame calls to chat?” Sam wondered aloud.

“You would think, but Linda was cremated. So why's she still floating around?”

“You got me,” Sam shrugged. 

“What about that, uh, caller I.D?” Dean asked his brother, referring to the number he’d found on Ben’s phone. 

“Turns out, it's a phone number,” Sam replied. “It's about a century old, back from when phones had cranks.”

“So, why use that number to reach out and touch someone?” Dean returned. 

“Got me there too, but we should put a trace on it.”

“Well how the hell are we going to put a trace on something that's over one-hundred years old?”

Sam suggested that the three of you should head to Ben’s phone company’s local office posing as representatives of their headquarters. 

“You guys go ahead without me,” you said. 

“Oh, c’mon, (Y/N)—”

You cut Dean off. “No. Both of us need space before we kill each other. So, please. Go.”

“Whatever,” Dean grumbled and stormed out of the room.

Sam stayed behind with you for a moment. “I’m sorry about him,” he said.

You sniffled, wiping away tears that threatened to spill from your eyes. “It’s okay. Just a rough patch, I guess. Call me when y’all have something.”

He nodded and pulled you into a hug. Sam placed a quick kiss on the crown of your head before following his brother out of the door. 

***

Sam called to inform you that the number had called over a dozen people multiple times over the last week. So, you and the Winchesters split up to investigate. Without a car, you stayed in the motel room and called the numbers Sam had forwarded to you posing as a representative of the phone company. One of the people you’d spoken to said that he’d been hearing his deceased brother calling him to reconcile the broken relationship they’d had when his brother passed away. 

Just as you hung up the phone with him, Dean burst into the room and immediately started pacing. 

“What’s wrong?” you asked. 

Dean didn’t answer. 

Sam sat at the table in the room. “He said our dad called him.”

“No fucking way,” you breathed out. “You really think it was him?”

“I don't know, maybe,” Dean grunted. 

“Well, what did he sound like?” Sam asked. 

“Like Oprah!” the older brother snapped. “Like Dad; he sounded like Dad, what do you think?”

“What did he say?” you questioned. 

“My name,” Dean replied. 

“That’s it?” Sam pressed. 

“Call dropped out.”

You shook your head and folded your arms, sitting cross-legged on Sam’s bed. After the recent fights with Dean, you’d decided to get a room separate from the two brothers and had been hanging out in their room all day. “Why would he even call in the first place, Dean?”

“I don't know, (Y/N)! I’m not a fucking psychic,” he snarked. “Why are ghosts calling anybody in this town? But I mean, other people are hearing from their loved ones, why can't we? It's at least a possibility, right?”

You wanted to chew him out for snapping at you like that, but you truly had no energy to put up another fight. 

“Yeah, I guess?” Sam replied in your place. 

“Okay, so what if....” Dean trailed off, only looking at his brother. “What if it really is Dad? What happens if he calls back? What do I say?”

“Hello,” you suggested. 

“Hello?” he scoffed. 

You shook your head and rolled your eyes. 

“That's what you come back with. Hello?” Dean continued. 

“Fuck off, Dean,” you sneered. 

Dean huffed, grabbed his jacket, and headed for the door. 

Sam shot you a puppy-dog-eyed look and turned to the door to stare after his brother. 

You sighed and buried your face in your hands. 

“(Y/N)?” 

You picked your head up. 

“What’s happening to you guys?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, tearing up. “We started fighting ‘cause I told him to tell you about the whole ‘Ruby’ thing, and I said some mean shit, and he said some mean shit, and it’s just a mess now.”

Sam gave you another puppy-dog-eyed look. 

“It’ll be fine, though. I’m sure it’ll blow over.”

If it was even possible, Sam’s face dropped even further. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” you smiled lopsidedly, knowing he just didn’t know how to help. “Can we talk about something other than my boy drama?”

Sam nodded. “Sure.” 

***

For the next few hours, you scoured the internet for information on the “SHA33” number that was calling these poor people. 

Dean returned with caustic remarks to spare. “Find anything?” he asked Sam while pretty much blatantly ignoring you. 

“After three hours, I’ve found no reason why anything supernatural would be going on here,” Sam sighed, shutting his laptop. 

“Me neither, Dean, thanks for asking,” you said. 

“Well, you know, you think a Stanford education and a high school hook up rate of zero-point-zero would produce better results than that,” Dean scoffed at Sam.

“Hilarious,” you deadpanned, hoping to elicit some sort of a response from Dean. 

He shot you a glare, but other than that, he said nothing. Dean reached into his pocket and pulled out a packet. “Motel pamphlet rack.” He dropped it on the coffee table along with a few books. “Milan, Ohio. Birthplace of Thomas Edison.”

“So what?” you asked. 

Sam grabbed a book and leafed through it. 

Dean just raised his eyebrows at you as Sam looked up from the book. 

“You're kidding,” he said. 

Dean smirked as his brother. 

***

Well, a huge waste of time was the only thing Dean’s suggestion led to. The tour you went on at a museum showed the invention Thomas Edison believed could communicate with spirits and informed you that he was a devout occultist. However, the “spirit phone” didn’t set off the EMF detector. 

Sleep refused to claim you. Your anxiety kept your mind racing through the long hours of the night. You sat at the table in your room staring at the door just waiting for Dean to knock. However, despite it being three in the morning, he hadn’t come yet. Your fights had all been stupid and petty, but both of you were too stubborn to be the first to admit fault. 

And with each passing night, you could feel the clock ticking. You knew Dean was running out of time, and you just wanted him to hold you again. As the sun rose, your heart sank knowing he hadn’t come to make things right with you. 

You stayed in your room upset until Sam called you to come over to theirs. 

“What’s up?” you asked upon entering. 

“That girl Lanie—” Sam was referring to the victim he’d spoken to— “her Mom's ghost spooked her out pretty bad last night.”

“That sucks,” said Dean, typing furiously on his laptop. 

“What… are you doing, Dean?” you asked hesitantly. 

He looked at you briefly; the expression on his face confusing. He looked back down at his computer. “I think my dad’s right. I think the demon is here. Check it out.” He handed you some papers and dug around in his bag. 

“What is this, weather reports?” you asked, leafing through the papers.

“Omens. Demonic omens,” he responded. “Electrical storms everywhere we've been for the past two weeks.”

Trepidatiously, you said, “I don't remember any lightning storms.”

“Well, I don't remember you studying meteorology, either,” he snapped.

‘So much for us being civil,’ you thought. 

“But I'm telling you, that bastard's been tailing me; wearing some poor dude's meat,” Dean finished. 

Sam took some of the pressure off you. “And it’s following you because…?” he asked. 

“I guess I'm big game, y’know? My ass is too sweet to let outta sight.” Dean threw a wink at you, and you were getting incredibly thrown off by his changing attitude. 

“Okay. Sure,” Sam snorted.

Dean snatched the papers back from you. “Don't get too excited, Sammy. Might pull something.” He stood from the bed and moved away from you and his brother.

“Dean, look, I wanna believe this man, I really do…”

Dean cut his brother off. “Then believe it! if we get this sucker, it's Miller Time.”

“Yeah, that's another thing. Dad rattles off an exorcism that can kill a demon? I mean, not just send it back to hell, but kill it?” Dean’s eyes lit up. “I've checked it out. This is heavy duty Dark Ages. Fifteenth century.”

“Dean,” you said softly. “I checked on it, too. So did Sam. So did Bobby.”

“Okay, and?” he scoffed. 

Sam jumped in. “Look, it definitely is an exorcism, okay, there's just no evidence it can kill a demon.”

“No evidence it can't,” he rebutted. 

“Dean…” you trailed off, not wanting to start a bigger fight. 

“Hey, as far as I'm aware the only one of us who has actually been to Hell is my dad. And maybe he picked up a couple of tricks down there, like which exorcisms work,” he snapped. 

“Maybe!” you replied. “I hope so; for your sake. But we gotta be sure.”

“Why aren't we sure?” he asked. 

“’Cause I don't know what's going on around here, Dean!” you cried. “I mean, some guy blows his brains out, a little girl is scared out of her wits—”

“Wow, a couple of civvies are freaked out by some ghosts. News flash, (Y/N), people are supposed to be freaked out by ghosts!” he shot back. 

You held his stare venomously. Dean eventually dropped his head in frustration. 

“Dad tell you where to find the demon?” Sam asked carefully. 

“I'm waiting on the call!” he shouted. 

The tension in the room was thick, and you had no idea what to say.

Sam sighed deeply and tried to change the subject. “I told Lanie I'd stop by.”

Dean scoffed. “Oh, good, yeah. No, you go hang out with jailbait. Just, uh, watch out for Chris Hansen. Meanwhile I'll be here getting ready to, y’know, save my life.”

Sam shook his head and turned to the door. You just stared at the floor. 

“You two are unbelievable, y’know that?” Dean shouted. “I mean, for months, we’ve been tryin’ to break this demon deal. Now, Dad’s about to give us the fuckin’ address, and you blink? The man is dead, and you’re still butting heads with the guy?!” He turned his attention to you. “And you? What happened to us? What happened to your ‘unconditional support’?”

“Dean, you still have it!” you replied. “That was never in question! What I’m questioning is where your fuckin’ head’s at. Because this is not you.”

“Oh, god.” He rolled his eyes and began to pace. 

“I’m not gonna mince my words,” you began, anger boiling to the surface. “This is fuckin’ crazy. I mean, there is no proof. At all. All you’re acting on is blind faith.”

“Yeah, well, maybe!” He shouted back. “Y’know, maybe that's all I got, okay?”

You held his stare, the anger melting out of you at his words. When you could see tears forming in his eyes, he looked at the floor. 

Sam piped up. “Please. Just please don't go anywhere until I get back. Okay, Dean? Please.” 

Dean stayed silent. 

“C’mon, (Y/N),” Sam urged you. 

You looked up at Dean. For the first time that week, he offered you a kind word. “Go. It’s okay.”

You nodded. As you turned to go, you stared over your shoulder back at Dean. 

***

At Lanie’s house, the young girl got you up to speed on what happened to her the night before. 

“Have you told your father about any of this?” Sam asked her.

“And bother him at work?” she replied. “No. He wouldn't believe me anyway, he'd just chuck me into therapy.”

“So what did your mother say?” you asked. 

“She wanted to see me. So at first I thought I was supposed to go to the cemetery,” she sniffled. 

“Did you?” Sam prompted. 

Lanie nodded meekly. “Nothing happened. But then she started asking me to do other things.”

“What sort of things?”

She almost seemed embarrassed to say. “Bad things.”

You crouched down and looked up at her, breaking her gaze from the floor. “Lanie, please. Can you tell me what happened? It’s very important.”

She teared up, young eyes swimming in fear and sadness. “Mom told me to go to Dad's medicine cabinet.”

You waited patiently for her to continue. 

“She wanted me to take his sleeping pills.” She stopped for a minute to gather her courage. “Take all of his sleeping pills.”

“She wanted you to kill yourself?” Sam couldn’t help himself from saying. 

She nodded, crying harder. “Why would my Mom want me to do that?”

You shook your head. “I don’t know.”

“She just kept saying, ‘come to me,’ like, a million times,” she hiccuped. 

Your eyes widened. “Oh, sweet girl, that's not your mother.” You stood from the ground. 

Sam told Lanie, “Listen to me. Don't answer the phone. Don't use the computer. Don't do anything unless I say to, alright?”

You started down the stairs and listened carefully; just one set of footsteps was following you. You turned back to see Lanie still at the top of the stairs. “You okay?”

Her breathing was quick. “Where's Simon?”

“Simon?” you asked. 

“My little brother,” she responded. 

The next thing you knew, you were watching Sam shove the little boy out of the way of a speeding truck from the porch of Lanie’s house. 

Immediately, you called Dean. “Dean, it’s not your dad,” you rushed out. 

“Then what is it, (Y/N)?” he asked flippantly. 

“A crocotta,” you answered. 

“What is that, a sandwich?” he scoffed. 

“They typically live in filth. Mimic loved ones. Whisper, ‘Come to me,’ then lure you into the dark and swallow your soul,” you stated. 

Sam motioned for you to head to his rental car as soon as he delivered Simon to his sister safely. You followed quickly. 

“A crocotta, right, damn, that makes sense,” he snarkily replied. 

“Dean, c’mon, babe—”

He cut you off. “Hey, don't these things live in filth?”

“Yeah,” you replied. 

“Oh, god, at the phone company there were these flies. Pretty much as soon as we got down to the basement where this guy Stewie was hangin’ out,” he rushed out. 

“Okay, uh, okay,” you nodded. “Meet us there.”

You brought Sam up to speed on the conversation you’d had with Dean, and as night fell, he sped to the phone company. 

***

Despite calling Dean several times, you and Sam had to keep moving forward with the case. You watched as the man Sam described to you as Stewie unlocked his car. Silently, you rushed him with a metal spike. You shoved him down onto the car and held a metal spike to the back of his neck.

Stewie grunted. “What the hell?!”

“I know what you are,” you spat. “And I know how to kill you.”

“Wait, wait— Please! If we're overcharging you for the call waiting or something I- I can fix that. I am your friend!” he stammered. 

Confusion overtook you, and you turned to an equally confused Sam. You suddenly noticed a man standing behind him with a bat. “Sam, look out!” you cried. 

But it was too late. He was hit over the head with a bat, and you released the man in front of you. You threw your spike at him, but he caught it just before it hit him. He stalked toward you, and the man smiled widely. The man you’d been holding down shoved you to the ground from behind, and you were knocked out, too.

***

When you next came to, your wrists and feet were bound; that was the first thing you felt. Your head pounded, and your wrists ached from how tight the bindings were. When you opened your eyes, you turned your head to see Stewie was dead and bleeding profusely from his chest. 

You shrieked in horror, and then, the man who’d knocked you out appeared in front of you. “The fuck is wrong with you?!” you snarled.

He just laughed mockingly as he stalked between you and Sam. 

You realized something. “My last call with Dean. That was you. You led us here.”

“Some calls I make, some calls I take, but you have to admit, I had you fooled for a while. All that Edison phone crap,” he chuckled. He moved over to a telephone exchange cabinet and sighed in ecstasy. 

“What are you doing?” Sam asked. 

“I’m killing your brother,” he smiled. “Or maybe I'm killing another guy. We'll just have to see how it goes.”

***

The creature removed the knife from the chest of the man beside you. You grimaced at the wet squelching sound it made as he did. 

“Y’know, mimicking Dean's one thing. But my Dad?” Sam complimented mockingly. “That's a hell of a trick.”

“Well, once I made you two as hunters, it was easy. I found Dean's number, then your number, then your father's numbers. Then, emails, voicemails, everything. You see, people think that stuff just gets erased, but it doesn't. You'd be surprised how much of yourself is just floating out there, waiting to be plucked,” the creature grinned. 

“Dean’s not an idiot,” you stated sharply. “He’s not gonna kill that guy.”

“Then the guy kills him,” he shrugged. “And I kill you two. And here I thought I was only getting one hunter.” He stalked toward you, and you struggled harder. “Now, I’ve got another. And a pretty one, at that.”

You reared back and spat in his face. Almost like a reflex, he immediately backslapped you. 

Unfazed, your head returned to a neutral position and you just glared at him. 

“I’m gonna enjoy this,” he said, tracing the knife down your cheek. “Technology. Makes life so much easier. Used to be, I'd hide in the woods for days, weeks, whispering to people, trying to draw them out into the night. But they had community, they all looked out for each other, I'd be lucky to eat one or two souls a year. Now when I'm hungry, I simply make a phone call. You're all so connected. But you've never been so alone.”

Just as the man’s jaw unhinged like a snake to reveal rows of teeth, Sam came up behind him and wrapped his arms around his neck in a chokehold. You sat patiently while Sam and the crocatta struggled for the knife. You watched both men slam each other into various surfaces until they disappeared from view. 

You couldn’t do anything to help yourself, and you anxiously waited for— hopefully— Sam’s return into the room. 

Much to your relief, Sam stumbled back in minutes later. You grinned up at him happily.

***

You were the one to drive Sam’s rental car back to the motel seeing as he was injured and sore from his fight with the monster. You went at least twenty miles-an-hour over the speed limit for the entirety of the drive. 

You burst into Sam and Dean’s room, and you began to panic when you didn’t see him there. 

Then, you checked your room, breathing out in relief when you saw Dean holding a wash cloth to his eye. “Dean!” You ran to him, kneeling down in front of him.

He looked up at you, and you immediately kissed him passionately. He returned your kiss eagerly. When you broke away from him, you took the cloth from Dean’s hands gently to help him clean the wound.

“Sweetheart,” he said. “I— I’m so sorry.”

You placed your free hand on his knee. “We’ll talk in a minute, alright? Let me clean you up first.”

He nodded. 

***

“There,” you told him having placed the final bandage on his assortment of cuts. “That guy kicked the shit out of you.” Although Dean would normally laugh at jokes like that, his countenance was completely serious. “I’m so sorry,” he repeated. 

“I know,” you said softly. “I am, too.”

“I just— I lashed out, and that wasn’t fair to you. You were right,” Dean admitted. “It scares me how well you can fuckin’ read me. And with everything going on, I just—”

“I get it,” you cut him off. “I’m sorry, too. I was being petty. I got mean, too.” You paused for a moment. “I’m sorry it wasn’t really your dad.”

Dean looked down at the ground. “Naw, I gave you a hell of a time on this one.” He huffed. “I wanted to believe so badly that there was a way outta this. I mean, I'm staring down the barrel at this thing. You know, Hell. For real, forever, and I just…” he trailed off, unable to finish. 

Your eyebrows scrunched sadly, and your eyelashes flickered. 

“I’m scared, sweetheart. I’m… I’m really scared.” As tears pooled in his eyes, he couldn’t seem to meet yours. 

You nodded, tearing up as well. “I know.”

“I guess I was willing to believe anything. You know, the last act of a desperate man,” he tried to joke through his stifled cries. 

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but there’s nothing wrong with having hope, Dee,” you told him gently. 

“Hope doesn't get you jack squat,” he scoffed. “I can't expect Dad to show up with some miracle at the last minute. I can't expect anybody to, y’know? I mean, the only person that can get me out of this thing is me.”

“And I’m right there with you,” you told him. “Every step of the way. To Hell and back.”

Dean offered a lopsided smile. “To Hell and back.”

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

[sammyluvr]

love you again — sam winchester

cw :gn!reader, hurt/comfort, fluff, implied exes to lovers, canon typical injury and blood, hospitals, pet names (honey, sweetheart), 2K words. requested !

summary : you and sam have a past that’s rekindled during the panicked moments where he finds you bleeding out on a hunt.

sam was thinking about you yesterday, again. he’s been wondering how you are, wondering if you’d hate a text from him, wondering if you’d pick up a call. he’s been wondering a whole lot, and it’s mostly about you. some about himself. he wonders how to apologize for growing distant, he wonders if he’d be better for you if you gave him the chance. he wonders if you blame him and hopes that you don’t because he doesn’t blame you. it was his fault for letting things start to fade out first, but for a while it stung that you never tried to bring him back to you.

back then, it was what he needed. someone that would hold his hand tighter were he to loosen his own grip. and he supposes you needed someone who was already sure of things, who wouldn’t pull away in the first place. so, he doesn’t blame you.

sam also wonders about silly little things. like how you might’ve reacted to your favorite west coast family diner shutting down. he was disappointed when he found out, but he was downright sad for you. he wonders about what kind of hunts you’re going on and he wonders if you still carry that little old silver blade that desperately needs replacing.

and since he was thinking about you yesterday, that means he thought about you this morning, in the hazy moments between waking and getting up and going. since then it’s been all research and interviews and cracking the case the second day in town. before you cross his mind again, he and dean are in the impala on the way to take out a nest of vampires.

but of all the many times that sam has thought of you since you parted, not once did he envision finding you like this.

sprawled out on the dirty ground in a pool of blood.

certainly, he’s thought about you dying and how completely horrifying that would be. how sad and heartbreaking. all of the things he’d never get to say to you. but he always thought he’d hear through a mutual hunter friend, never that he’d be the one to find you bleeding out.

the moment he realizes the body on the floor is yours, all of the blood drains from his face. he gasps out your name and tuckes his machete away as he drops to your side. your eyes are still open, and your breath comes out with a horrid, shuddering sound.

“hey, hey, hey, it’s okay,” he assures you, immediately locating the wound on your neck and pressing a steady hand against it to slow the blood. your eyes are already fluttering, and you look like you’ll pass out any moment now. “stay with me, honey,” he says, voice both stern and soft. the sweet pet name slips out on instinct. you’re his honey, even now. maybe especially now.

“suh-sam?” you rasp out, fighting for breath. you can’t even figure out if he’s real. maybe you’re delirious as you bleed out pathetically. you killed all the vamps except the one that got to you. that one fled when car headlights filtered through the drawn blinds of the room, before it could fully sink its fangs into your neck. if it had gotten to your artery, you’d probably be dead already, and that’s the only thing that gives you hope. plus, you realize that the headlights of the car must have been sam, and most likely dean too. that means it must really be him, after all this time.

“it’s me,” sam assures you. “i got you. just keep your eyes open, okay?”

you let out a shuddering breath in response. “th-there’s j-just one more,” you grunt out, “h-he r-ran.”

“shh, shh, it’s okay. dean’s got it,” sam hushes you swiftly, confused for a moment before realizing that you’re talking about the vamps. “don’t worry about talking, alright, honey?” he won’t be able to stop calling you that, not when he could lose you, in a far worse way this time. “just keep those eyes open for me, and you’ll be alright.”

while you almost want to protest, to say something to him, anything, you stop trying to talk. it’s taking far too much effort. you really wish you could comfort him, tell him that you’ll be alright. but in this state, you have to opt for bringing your shaking hand up and wrapping it loosely around his wrist. you give it a small squeeze to show him that you’re there, you’re trying so hard to stay awake just for him.

his heart aches as he feels your weak hold around his wrist and understands its meaning. sometimes he forgets how well he knows you, and right now, it sends a pang of desperation through him.

“i really need you to stay with me,” he says, mantaining that soft and steady tone to keep you grounded. you want to stay with him too, you really do. you want to keep looking at his face, even though it’s blurry and frowning. though, while you do prefer his smile, you’ve always thought that he looks beautiful no matter what. it’s probably cruel of you to find his distressed expression attractive right now, but it’s also true that you’re a little delirious and maybe bleeding out, so you don’t suppose you can be blamed.

it really bothers you that you can’t talk. more than anything, you want to reassure him. you also want to tell him that he’s been sorely missed, that his hair looks very nice like this, and that you really don’t want to die because that means you won’t have the chance to kiss him ever again. maybe you should just say that you’d like the chance to kiss him again. or that you don’t want to die. you’re not really sure.

“dean!” sam yells suddenly, voice gruff and loud and tinged with panic. if you weren’t slipping away, you’d have flinched. things begin to blur then; sam picks you up and practically cradles you in his arms. he’s so soft and he’d be shaky if he could afford to be. but he absolutely can’t, so he’s unwavering instead.

“jesus,” mutters another worried voice, distant, but assumed to be dean’s. you try to focus on the feeling of your head on sam’s shoulder. he’s so solid and broad and that might be the only thing keeping you from just floating away.

everything fades in and out. sam’s big, encompassing hand pressed against your neck. so big that it overflows and his thumb pushes into the flesh of your cheek. your head’s still on his shoulder, but you’re in the car now, slumped against familiar leather seats. the sound of the rumbling engine fills your ears and then you’re glad to hear sam again.

“we’re almost to the hospital, sweetheart,” he tells you gently. you grunt out in acknowledgment, soft and quiet. you can’t remember ever hearing his voice like this before. all panicked and sweet and tender. when dean gets hurt, his voice gets all gruff. with you, it’s this never ending gentleness, edged with sharp fear.

in your position, sam or dean probably would’ve made it to the hospital without passing out. but you’re not good with blood loss, even when it could’ve been far worse. you’re scared of dying, as always, but when your eyes flutter closed and your consciousness tilts into darkness, you feel so secure in sam’s arms that you figure you’ll be okay. it’s a strange feeling, and you likely won’t recall it when you wake up.

sam himself is far less calm than you when your head lolls forward.

“hey, hey, hey. honey, please don’t,” he urges, helpless at this point. his plea falls on deaf ears, of course. dean steps on the gas, driving far faster than is safe. it’s late though, and the roads are mostly clear.

sam keeps you close. sam has trouble parting from you at the hospital, but the doctor needs to treat you. everything’s a bit better when he’s told that you’ll be just fine after proper bandaging, rest, and a blood transfusion and iv. everything’s a lot better when he’s back by your side and holding your hand in his.

looking at your face now, cleaned of blood splatter and relaxed in sleep, he’s able to really take in the ways you’ve changed physically. you do look different, but not by too much. he’s mostly just enthralled with how beautiful you are.

there’s also the feeling of the jacket you were wearing, folded nicely across his lap. he’s not really sure why he put it there, instead of leaving it on the bottom of the bed where it was first laid out. but he picked it up, for some reason or another, and felt a lump in the pocket. he knows he probably shouldn’t have looked at your things, but he felt like he had to. sliding his hand into the worn fabric sends a rush through him. once, you held hands in your pocket when it was cold outside. he always runs warm, so you had decided to tuck his hand into your pocket like your own personal hand warmer.

in the pocket, he finds that old silver blade that he thinks about sometimes. it’s even more worn now, and he shakes his head at you softly, affectionately. he bought a new silver knife recently, and if you let him, he’s going to give it to you. then he sits in the chair by your side, placing the jacket in his lap before he takes your hand in his.

the first thing that you feel is a big hand wrapped around yours. and as you draw in a long breath, you know that it’s sam’s. that means that when you get your eyes to open—it’s a little hard right now—you’ll get to see him. another deep breath, and your eyes flutter open.

sam’s grip on your hand tightens a little.

“hey,” he murmurs, eyes scanning your form, looking for discomfort or a way to give you his love. your own gaze settles on his face; his worried brows and small frown and pretty eyes.

“hi,” you whisper, voice hoarse and tired. you squeeze his hand back lightly.

“how you feeling?” he asks softly.

“i’m okay,” you offer, giving him a small smile. you’ve been far worse in the past, you’re just groggy and a little sore. honestly, it’s rare to be this well cared for after getting injured on a hunt, and with sam by your side, it’s sort of nice, even.

sam, of course, considers asking how you really are. but with the way you’re looking at him, all soft and… well, how you used to when things were uncomplicated, he accepts your answer. 

“good. you need anything? water?” he still needs to take care of you somehow.

you can’t help but smile at him again. “water would be nice,” you admit, knowing that it’ll make him feel better to be able to do something for you. that, and your throat really does burn with how dry it is. the gruffness of your voice reflects that. it’s oddly intimate when sam opens the water bottle at your bedside and brings it to your lips, ever careful when he tilts it and lets a bit of water flow into your softly opened lips. it’s intimate enough to make your face all warm with rushing blood.

you still love him. you really do. or maybe you love him again; you can feel that he’s different, and you know that you are, and somehow it feels like his hand fits in yours better tonight… or maybe it just feels more right now.

the time apart was needed, the way it happened still stings a little, and the way that you found each other again was less than ideal. well, sam certainly hates how it happened much more than you do. he had to do all the worrying, all the saving. you got to feel him holding you and hear him calling you honey and see him caring about you so much. so now, you’re just glad for the chance to kiss him again, because it’s that easy to tell that you have it.

[chasingwhitebunnies]

I feel a bit silly writing this because I’m sure other people must have but I’ve not seen anything about it

(SPOILERS - I’ll also tag)

I really love how we see Coriolanus’s character descent into who he becomes through each of his kills

His first kill is Bobbin. It was self-defence, kill-or-be-killed. If he hadn’t done it, he probably would have been killed himself, but this sticks with him. Coriolanus is horrified when he realises he took someone’s life. He thinks about it for a long time.

His next kill is Mayfair Lipp, the mayor’s daughter. It’s not self-defence, but he sees it that way. In a way, he’s got a point. She would have reported him, and he would have been hanged. So would Lucy Gray, so he shot her. This time, however, he had a choice. Maybe not much choice, but it was there. He chose to shoot her, but it doesn’t affect him anywhere near as much as Bobbin’s death

The third is the hardest. He doesn’t pull the trigger or tie the noose, but he might as well have. He betrays Sejanus. Sejanus who loves him like a brother. Sejanus who he has known since they were children. He made the decision in a moment and he questions himself afterwards, but he still made that choice. He reasons to himself internally that it was necessary and Sejanus was bound to get himself in trouble, anyway, right? Right? So it’s okay. But it’s not okay. The blood is on his hands and he keeps thinking of the moments they spent together before the betrayal. He benefits from his death and is rewarded for his loyalty. How ironic

Next is Lucy Gray. Possibly. For argument’s sake, let’s say he did kill her. He calls out for her, his gun slung over his shoulder. He realises how she might be scared, the gun sending the wrong message… but he doesn’t put it back. He brings it with him, not to use it, he tells himself. He would never use it, definitely not. He just… wants to talk some sense into her. As soon as the snake bites him, he abandons all pretence. Even though he admitted moments ago he understood why she would be scared, now she’s the enemy. Now she has to pay. How dare she. Not even an hour ago, he had plans to run away with her. He claimed he loved her. They were going to be together. Now, he’s chasing her through the trees with a gun in his hands and he’s screaming for her to show herself. He shoots a lot. When he thinks he finally got her, he’s pleased. It was her own fault, he tells himself, for the snake trick. Even afterwards, when he finds out that the snake wasn’t venomous - which Lucy Gray definitely would have known and therefore was only intended to slow him down - he doesn’t have a single moment of regret. The only thing he regrets is falling for her in the first place and he swears he’ll never do it again. His heart is stone. Frozen like snow.

Finally, his last kill (before the ones that take place once this book ends) is Dean Highbottom. This is the first kill that is not made in a split-second. This is premeditated. He carefully adds just enough rat poison to the morphling, sure to wear gloves, and sets his plan in motion. He has every opportunity to change his mind, to not resort to violent means. Not only does he not regret it, he feels proud. Excited, even. He hopes Dean Highbottom will know it was him that killed him

By the epilogue, Snow has gotten over (or buried deep enough) what guilt he had over Sejanus enough to use the Plinths’ grief to his advantage without any conflicting feelings. He’s convinced himself Lucy Gray was the villain who played him, when she was just a sixteen-year-old girl who was forced into a terrible situation. As we know, he goes on to directly and indirectly kill thousands between TBOSAS and THG, too many. I doubt he remembers most of them, just nameless, faceless children. He doesn’t care anymore, not like he did the first time

The whole world is his Arena. Snow lands on top until it melts

[scoobydoodean]

I know you said you had a lot of asks, but do you have any thoughts on why the fandom hates the idea of Dean being seen as a dad to Jack? I don't even know how to put it into words, but I feel like it just rubs me the wrong way the way that certain segments oversimplify all the stuff with Jack and make fatherhood a competition. Sorry to take up your time and you don't have to answer.

It's totally okay to send me asks. I've had a backlog for a long time that slowly increases in size for one reason or another (no time to answer then forgetting, left half answered in drafts and forgotten, wanting to circle back later with a fresh perspective, not having a strong opinion on something, it's about disk horse I've addressed as much as I'd like, etc). I do answer the vast majority of the asks I get as I get them and try to catch things that won't take me much time.

I think a lot of people really resent that Dean didn't automatically slot himself into a nurturing, parental role with Jack in early season 13. Dean was grieving Cas, Mary, and Crowley, he did not trust Jack because of "The Future" and because Dean was full of utter despair. He was suicidally depressed (13.05) and in absolutely no state to nurture/guide Jack or anyone else. Sam was disassociating from his own grief and because of that, would not stop trying to convince Dean that his grief was not real, and that exacerbated the situation and caused Dean and Jack to be pushed together when they needed space the most. Dean explicitly rejected being Jack's "mother", two episodes after telling his own mother in tears that he had to be Sam's mother and father when he was incapable of filling those roles, and that wasn't fair (12.22). 12.23 then replayed Dean's defining childhood trauma, "killing" his mother in front of him, and shouldering him with a "child" that was not his, who he was not equipped to parent but was expected to begin parenting. He was overwhelmed, utterly lost, and wanted to die, and Jack was not his child, and Dean trying to set boundaries was immediately and thoroughly dismissed by his brother.

Fandom prefers to ignore all of this and be angry at Dean for not setting aside his grief because Dean is the narrative heart—the hearth of the house. His love and care is expected and anticipated. In Supernatural, the idea of being loved/belonging/accepted tends to orbit around Dean, so his rejection of Jack in those early stages is built into a denial of Jack's right to be loved at all by anyone or be part of the family. Jack himself almost immediately starts seeking ways to please Dean, and his well-meaning, good-hearted attempts aren't taken to immediately and that angers fans. If it was Sam or Cas who didn't immediately take to Jack, their rejection would hardly register/quickly be forgotten, because their love and acceptance just doesn't carry the narrative significance that Dean's does (though the idea that Sam immediately accepted Jack is also tenuous at best—this is something Jack confronts Sam over in 13.03).

"Jack In The Box" and "Moriah" reignite people's indignation and bring them back to the anger they felt in early season 13, even though Jack was murdering and torturing people, Sam also tricked Jack into the box, Cas went behind all their backs to see about getting him put in The Cage, and the whole point of Moriah was Chuck trying to emotionally destabilize Dean specifically to the point he would kill Jack because Chuck is obsessed with a familycide ending where Dean is the bringer of judgement and his heart is ripped in two. The entire plot of season 15 starts from Chuck being enraged that despite all his manipulations and painstakingly laid plans, and despite the carrot and the stick (it was also literally a suicide play btw) Dean would not kill his son for the "greater good". No one wants to actually look at any of it because it doesn't support their unbelievably dull narratives about Dean... to the point they'll harass you for months over polls of canonical facts that they find inconvenient. People have become obsessed with this silly nonsense about cYcLeS while fundamentally misunderstanding what is happening because they don't actually remember the show. But they sure love to try and talk down to you about tHe CyClEs and how "interesting" and "fundamental" it is that Dean does nothing more that repeat generational patterns (among the Winchesters and the angels) when the entire goddamn show is about Dean Not Doing That and telling God (who has a canonical pervy obsession with him) to go fuck himself for a decade and a half instead, culminating in god unleashing his wrath on them for not repeating tHe CYcLEs he wanted them to repeat.

All that said, I myself don't think Dean wanted to be a father to Jack early on. I think he accepted that role eventually, but he made it very clear that it wasn't what he wanted like... day one. And there's literally nothing wrong with that. Dean becomes the "parent" who treats Jack more like an adult (which Jack appreciates, because he isn't a baby and hates being treated like one). Jack seeks Dean's council on more serious topics like nightmares from traumatic experiences, guilt, and sex. Dean teaches Jack how to drive, he encourages Cas to give Jack space when he's upset, he encourages Jack to go out and have a good day when he's dying when Sam and Cas want Jack to be on bed rest. I think some fans also look down on this, wanting Jack to be treated like a child and seeing Dean's actions as a rejection of Jack's alleged "child" status.

[tuesdaykiss]

“touching toes”

rafe cameron social media au

“he’s over more and more, had to give him a whole drawer. to be honest, kinda like seeing his trainers by the door.” — olivia dean, ‘touching toes’.

synopsis: after finishing her fashion studies at college in nyc, y/n moves to outerbanks to live with her grandparents. she worries about the loneliness that comes with being in a new place, knowing only her cousin topper and other relatives… that is until she is acquainted with a certain cameron.

part - 21 | 22 | 23

masterlist

the next day, the three of you set off home. the journey back to outerbanks a quiet blur, as you basked in the tranquility that your company brought.

when you arrived, the sun was setting over the marsh, casting golden hues over the water, as you huddled in the back of the car — rafe’s hand planted on your thigh. your life suddenly a complete juxtaposition to your days in la — media frenzies, the fashion show, and the unexpected ease that came with spending a night in rafe’s arms. outerbanks was still the same calming home it had grown to be; your time away a distant whirlwind. it felt good to be back.

pulling you from your thoughts, rafe squeezed your knee, “you’re quiet,” he said, concern etched on his face.

“just thinking,” you smiled, resting your head on his shoulder as you stared out of the window mindlessly, “this all feels quite real now…”

worry invaded your body, as you couldn’t ignore the weight of what was to come: navigating the reactions of the island, to yours and rafe’s relationship.

“it is real,” rafe said firmly, “but you’re not alone, y/n.”

you gave him a small, grateful smile, but your stomach twisted slightly as the familiar sight of your grandparents’ home came into view. it wasn’t their react that was truly worrying you, though.

yourusername

liked by sarahcameron, rafecam and 5,273 others

yourusername don’t worry internet, the cameron siblings are home safely @/sarahcameron @/rafecam

view comments

kiaracarrera missed you and sarah so bad

itscleo lit having withdrawals

johnbr i’ll be stealing sarah now, thank you

rafecam great trip 😉

user i should’ve been there

ilovesarah yk what she’s funny, i like her

user2 fr if not me with rafe, i’m happy it’s her

sarahfan101 pls can you just tell us!

your grandmother was in the kitchen, humming softly as she stirred something on the stove, the familiar scent of her cooking filling the house. your grandfather resides in his usual armchair in the living room, reclined with a newspaper on his lap as he attempted to complete the crosswords.

“sweetheart, you’re home!” your grandmother exclaimed, turning with a warm smile as you walked in. her eyes shifted to rafe, as he stood behind you, her smile widening, “and rafe! it’s lovely to see you back here, again.”

she looked between the two of you, almost expectantly. you could feel the faint drumming of your heart in your chest as you exchanged a look with rafe, “nan, there’s something i — we gotta tell you.”

she clasped her hands together in delight before pulling you both into a hug, “i knew it, i knew it, i knew it, i knew it!” her eyes lit up as she smiled wider than you’d ever seen her before, “oh, bill! our baby has gotten herself a boyfriend!”

her excitement was uncontainable, you didn’t even get the chance to tell your grandfather… she’d done that for you.

your grandfather lowered his newspaper and raised an eyebrow as he looked at rafe, “boyfriend, huh?” he said gruffly, almost not warming to the idea of his beloved granddaughter flying from the nest, “you’ve got some explaining to do, kid.”

“pops!” you groaned, but rafe chuckled behind you.

“it’s okay,” rafe said to you, stepping forward to shake your grandfather’s hand.

pop’s kept a tight grip on rafe’s hand as he studied him, “alright cameron, let’s hear it. what makes you good enough for my granddaughter, eh?”

your cheeks flushed, but rafe didn’t miss a beat. “honestly, she’s too good for me,” he said with sincerity, “but i care an awful lot about her, and i’ll do whatever it takes to make her happy.”

your grandmother beamed, her excitement almost becoming too much, and your grandfather cracked a smile while rafe looked back to shoot you a wink. “alrighty then,” he spoke, gesturing to the couch, “shot the kettle on, mabel, we’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

johnbr

liked by jjmaybank, kiaracarrera and 27 others

johnbr sarah’s home! ❤️

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jjmaybank where’s my invite?!

itscleo you just gonna third wheel them?

jjmaybank i’m a key part of this relationship

heywardpope pogue meet up when?

kiaracarrera rn?

heywardpope @/jjmaybank @/itscleo @/sarahcameron @/johnbr @/yourusername you game?

your phone

you couldn’t tell the pogues… not yet. not over the phone. right now, your priority was telling your cousin, before he found out himself.

that’s why, later that evening, you found yourself in the passenger seat of rafe’s truck as you drive to the thornton residence. your nerves returned to you in full force, softened by the way rafe’s large palm clutched your thigh as his other effortlessly steered the vehicle.

a/n: i fear you can tell i’m british by the way i write the grandparents pls

anyways i was gonna include topper’s reaction here but i wouldn’t get it out in time.

taglist: @my-name-is-baby @yesshewrites1 @urbrunettebombshell @leather-n-velvet @fruitcakerafe @littlefreak-liz @wdwbts101 @akobx @lossfairy @marleymarleymarleymarley @jjmaybankmylovee @mbella607 @scream4mami @mrsdrewstarkeyy @honeyluvsatj @rafegetinmybed @hypnotizedstarkey

[soft-pine]

spn20rewatch: 2.20 what is and what should never be

this has got to be in my top ten episodes of all time! there is so much i love about it! it has my favorite favorite scene and then my other FAVORITE FAVORITE SCENE!!!

but before we get there it has some wonderful dean character moments.

dean's confused, withdrawn, performative kiss with carmen!

this whole scene watching his face go from performance to confusion and worry and back and forth! he is so funny and i love him so much!

but this is also a cruel foreshadowing that the next two kisses dean has are him specifically sacrificing himself and his body as a means to an end.

but we're not there yet so let's just bask in THIS!

DEAN: Well, who'd'a thought, baby. We're civilians.

or THIIISSSSS!!!

DEAN Dad's dead? And the thing that killed him was a... MARY A stroke. He died in his sleep. You know that. DEAN That's great.

or the way dean is so fucking happy to see jess and it's heartbreakingly sweet!

there is also so much that can be said about how even in dean's "dream world," he's the family fuck-up. he's never really thought much about his own future or himself but the best thing he can picture is his family (or most of them, HA!) alive and happy and safe. and i think there's a component of this where he has to remove himself (and John) in order to imagine it being possible. gutting honestly.

season two opens with dean yelling at john (though john can't hear him) and ends with dean crying at john's grave. i'm interested in the shared threads between these two iterations.

2.01

DEAN: I've done everything you have ever asked me. Everything. I have given everything I've ever had.

2.20

DEAN: Course I know what you'd say. Well, not the you that played softball but... "So go hunt the Djinn. He put you here, it can put you back. Your happiness for all those people's lives, no contest. Right?" But why? Why is it my job to save these people? Why do I have to be some kind of hero?

the speech in 2.20 is actually one of the very best explanations i feel we ever get for dean's relationship with john. because the issue is not only that john forced dean into hunting, it's that hunting saves people. like dean can rail against john and against his childhood that was stolen and against his future that will be stolen and against all the cruelty and harshness and ways he was parentified and it was subtly reinforced that his life literally mattered less than sam's or than strangers. but hunting does save people, goddammit and dean both cares so deeply about that on his own that many of these sacrifices would be freely chosen and he cannot fully hate or distance himself from his father because so much of what john did was actually just straightforwardly good.

abuse is messy. i think john winchester's characterization is perfect, actually.

dean can much more easily put to rest a father who played softball than a father who "got a bum rap around every turn. But you know what? He kept going. And in the end, he did a hell of a lot more good than he did bad." (8.12)

like dean has to remove himself and john from their family's lives to picture their family getting a happy life. but for it to feel easy, he also has to make this father one who just worked at a body shop (i'm extrapolating) and played softball.

so yes, okay this episode is a nonstop thrill ride of beautiful, cute, wonderful dean moments and utter heartbreak. so of course, the next thing i have to say is THAT THIS SCENE IS SO FUCKING CUTE!!!!! i can't stand it! (rip to the "I know how it sounds" that i didn't squeeze in because it was too long. because that line just kills me !!!!!)

but look look look!!!! he's so smooth and cunty AHHH

so it follows that what comes next is heartbreak. dean wants a future where mary is alive, where jess is alive, where sam is happy and safe and in college and alive. and it's not real and he can't have it and it will kill him but he wants to stay. so he stabs himself in the heart.

and in the next episode sam dies anyway.

... well here we are, this is already so long and i haven't even talked about my actual favorite scene. which also, i think, happens to be my favorite scene in all of supernatural....

Dean realizing one of the other of the djinn's victims is still alive and catching her as sam cuts her free.

DEAN: I gotcha. I gotcha. We're gonna get you out of here, OK? I gotcha. I got you.

the way the fact that he's in pain and weak and drained is layered throughout the desperate care in his voice here.... besties i don't have words...

all hail 2.20

[kaleldobrev]

Stupidest Person Alive

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Summary: After a near death experience in which you almost lost Dean, you tell him that you can’t risk losing him again.

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: Cursing (9x), Fluff, Soft!Dean, Parent!Dean

Authors Note: I refuse to accept the canon ending of Supernatural after all these years | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

You don’t know the exact amount of time you’ve been sitting in this uncomfortable hospital chair, curled up, huddled underneath a random flannel of Dean’s that was in a duffel bag in the trunk of Baby. You rubbed your eyes, trying to get rid of the sleepiness; surprised that you even managed to get a wink of sleep.

The last few days have honestly been some of the worst days of your life, as you were told by doctor after doctor that Dean’s condition didn’t seem to be getting any better. It stayed the same, which was a good and bad thing. He was in and out of consciousness, barely awake long enough to have a conversation. His eyes would just flutter open and he would briefly look at you. And you would smile at him, and he would do the same. His lips always looking like he was about to say something but he never did as his eyes just shut again. Each and every time his eyes shut, a part of you hoped that it wouldn’t be the last time.

The last few days have given you a lot of time to reflect, reflect about your time as a hunter; thinking about all of the good you have done, but also thinking about all of the times you’ve nearly died or have actually died. In the words of Dorothy, “you’re not a real hunter unless you’ve come back from the dead.” And you, Sam, and Dean have come back from the dead more times than you could count at this point, but you’re pretty sure Dean had the highest death count.

“Not awake yet?” Sam asked, two Styrofoam cups of coffee in hand.

“No,” you answered as he handed you one of the cups, “Thanks.”

“I’m surprised you fell asleep,” he said, taking a spot in the chair next to yours.

“How long was I out for?” You asked, taking a sip from your coffee. You hated the taste of hospital coffee, but the caffeine it contained had to do for now.

“Only half an hour,” he stated.

“You get any?” He shook his head. “You really need to get at least a little rest. We’re no help to Dean tired.”

Sam couldn’t help but agree, but he had the same mind set as you; he wanted to be awake when Dean woke up. “I’ll sleep when I know he’s okay,” he said, stubborn as he usually was.

When Dean finally woke, he didn’t really know where he was. But all he knew was that the lights were too bright for him. He struggled to keep his eyes open as he squinted, trying to adjust. “Fuck these lights are bright,” he said weakly.

You almost had wanted to laugh, hearing Dean say these words. The man had been out for the last few days and the first thing he had to comment on was the fucking brightness of the lights. But if you were being honest, it was pretty on brand for him. “Hey Sleepy Head,” you said, getting up from the hospital chair.

“Hey there Sweetheart,” he smiled. “Sam with you?”

“Yeah, just talking to one of the doctors,” you said. You took his hand and held it in yours, and all Dean could do was just stare at your face, admiring it like he was just seeing you for the first time.

“How long was I out?” He asked. “My head and stomach are fucking killing me.”

"A few days," you replied. "To be fair, you've been on pain killers pretty much the whole time and not a lot of actual food in your stomach."

"When we get out of here, can we go get a couple of cheeseburgers?" He asked, grinning at you.

"Of course we can," you smiled.

"So, I really fucked my body up bad this time uh?" He asked, letting out a small chuckle.

“If you call nearly killing yourself fucking up your body than yes,” you said, no humor in your voice. He could tell that you were pissed. “You know Dean, I love you, but you’re honestly the stupidest fucking person alive.”

“Love you too Sweetheart,” he grinned.

“I’m serious. I thought I fucking lost you for good this time. Me and Sam…” you took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down. There was no point in getting upset, no point in being mad at Dean. “We thought you were dead, dead this time.”

Dean looked at your face, hearing the sound of your voice, and it started to break his heart. He didn’t realize how much pain his actions had caused you and Sam over the course of the last few days. When he killed that vamp the way that he did, he wasn’t thinking about himself in that moment, wasn’t thinking about you or Sam. All he could think about was killing that vamp with the items that he had surrounding him. Being resourceful was one of his most useful and best qualities (at least he seemed to think so). “I’m sorry I scared you…and Sam.”

“It’s not your fault Dean I’m just…I was so fucking scared,” you felt yourself about to cry, but you didn’t want to tear up. “You and Sam are all I have left.”

“You’re not going to lose me,” he tried reassuring you, but he knew his words weren’t going to stick.

“But I almost did. And I can’t…I can’t have that again,” you said, your voice slightly shaking. “I can’t do this anymore.”

“Can’t do what?” He was afraid to ask, hoping this wasn’t you cutting and running. But he wouldn’t blame you if you did. You deserved a far better life than what he could give you. And despite him loving you, he wanted you to be happy, even if it wasn’t with him.

“Hunting.” A wave of relief washed over Dean. “We’ve died so many fucking times. More than, more than anyone. And, I know as hunters we save people, save people from all the monsters in the world but, I’m tired. I’m tired of the constant moving. The constant fighting. The constant looking over my shoulder.” Like the Winchesters, hunting was the only life you had ever known, but having a life away from the monsters and demons was something that you had dreamed of. And it was a dream that you had pictured doing with Dean; it was something the two of you often talked about.

“Okay,” was all Dean said to your speech. He agreed with all of it, and you knew that he did, as having a life away from hunting was something you two often talked about. But neither of you ever thought that it would be possible for you, as this was really the only life either of you really knew. “As soon as I get out of here, we’re done. And done for good this time.”

Five Years Later…

The aroma of your homemade chicken noodle soup filled the air as you did another few stirs in the pot on the stove. You heard the front door open and close, and you smiled, quickly wiping your hands on your kitchen towel. “Honey we’re home!” Dean yelled, his voice cheerful as always.

“Mommy, mommy, mommy!” Your daughter yelled, her voice equally as joyful as her fathers as she ran to meet you in the kitchen.

Her arms opened up wide as you went down on your knees to greet her at her level, the two of you embracing each other. “Hi baby,” you smiled, kissing her on the top of the head.

“Hold me?” She asked, giving similar looking puppy dog eyes to that of her Uncle Sam’s.

“Always,” you said, picking her up in your arms. “How did you do at the doctors?”

“I was very brave,” she answered. She pointed to a sparkly strawberry sticker on her shirt. “The doctor gave me this because I did a really good job,” she said and then looked over at Dean. “Right daddy?”

“Bravest kid there,” he smiled. “Doctor even told her she’s her favorite patient.”

“Favorite patient uh?” You smiled. “Now that’s really something,” you said, giving her another kiss on her temple.

“Mom, after dinner can you and daddy tell me some more of those spooky stories?” Your daughter asked. You smiled, and so did Dean. The spooky stories that she was referencing were all of the hunts that you and Dean had been on throughout the years, but it was something that you never straight out told her (not yet at least, the both of you wanted to keep her as naive as long as possible). You never used either of your names, or Sam’s, you always changed the names, but these were stories that she had grown to love, and always expected a new one every single time. Thankfully, but not too thankfully, you and Dean were always able to tell her something new as the two of you had decades worth of hunts between you.

“Of course, what do you wanna hear about today?” Dean asked.

Your daughter thought for a moment, putting her thinking cap on until a lightbulb in her little head appeared; the biggest grin on her face. “Ghosts!”

You and Dean exchanged looks, almost thankful that she picked an easy topic for todays story. “How would you like to hear about the Van Ness House?” You asked her.

“It sounds spooky already!” She beamed.

Five years you and Dean, along with Sam and Eileen have been living the domestic life, none of you have hunted for the last five years. In all honesty, you were surprised that you and Dean had managed not to hunt, as hunting was something that the two of you had only known. When Dean told you five years ago that he was done with hunting for good because you said you were done, there was a part of you that didn’t believe him, as the last time he said he was done he got roped back in (which meant you got roped back in), when the both of you found out that Sam had returned from the pit.

But these last five years have been life changing for the both of you, as not only did the two of you have a beautiful daughter together, but you were happily married in addition to that — two things that neither of you ever thought would happen nor would ever be possible.

Tag List: @roseblue373 @beansproutmafia @queenie32 @deanwanddamons @missy420-0 @jackles010378 @mrsjenniferwinchester @syrma-sensei @k-slla @justletmereadfanfic @deans-daydream If you'd like to be added to a tag list, let me know!