#is it because i modeled them after dean winchester? maybe a little

[possiblyawesometmblr]

malcetheus mythosandmagic lives in my brain as a constant ongoing thirst trap

[1000roughdrafts]

hey! if you take requests, i’m just wondering if you’d consider a sister winchester one? maybe her at 18? i love your writing so much, and i’d really love something like a hurt reader/dying reader?? something super angsty ahaha

Oh, for sure! Angst is my favorite! (as I'm sure you can tell by the word count lol) sorry it’s taken me like 3 years to get to this 😞

A/N: this was meant to post 2/28/24 because I wanted to ease into coming back with an every other week posting schedule BUT I’m just too excited and antsy for that lol also it’s set in Season 1, Episode 1

Thank you by the way!

Title: Please Wake Up

Warnings: swearing, graphic description of injury and illness, blood angst, hurt/dying reader, depiction of medical procedures, takes place in season 1 episode 1 :)

Word Count: 5.8k

Being third born after two boys, Y/N always felt like she had big shoes to fill. Despite her best efforts to impress the man, she never really formed a bond with John. Her next role model was Dean, who became more of a father to her than John ever was or could be.

Until her eleventh birthday, Dean did her hair into pigtails every day, partly because he hadn't learned to do any other hairstyle but mostly because he thought it was the cutest on her. He'd pack her and Sam's lunch with snacks he'd bought from vending machines and even pretend to take her on hunts because he knew she wanted to be exactly like him.

When she wasn't learning about monsters and guns with Dean, she spent time with Sam. He'd help her with her homework or play board and card games. They have as much in common as Y/N and Dean. Neither Sam nor Y/N got along with John, and neither remember their mothers. 

Y/N's mother was a woman John met in Nebraska three years after the boy's mom died. The affair only lasted a night, but to his surprise, he heard from her again six months later with the news that they had a baby girl on the way. John was shocked and heartbroken. He couldn't bear the thought of bringing another child into the life of hunting.

John kept his distance, adamant that Y/N would be better off without him, and when another three months of silence went by, he figured that Y/N's mother came around to see it his way. Unfortunately, her pregnancy was complicated, as was the birth, and it turned out that having Y/N is what killed her. 

When John got the call, he had half a mind to let the state take custody of little Y/N. Indeed, they would provide her with a better life than he could. John decided to meet her at least, and when he laid eyes on her perfect little face, he couldn't bring himself to abandon her. 

Y/N was barely sixteen when Sam left for college. While she was proud of him for putting himself first, it broke her heart for him to go the way he did. She missed him more and more every day, often keeping Dean up at night with her sniffling and crying. After a while, he would get into bed next to her when the tears started and sing Hey Jude while playing with her hair to help her fall asleep. That went on for another six months before she finally started to fall asleep without crying. 

For her seventeenth birthday, Dean came across a necklace he'd wanted to get for her since Sam left. From his wallet, he took out the only picture he had of the sibling trio, representing the single moment of their life where John treated them like regular kids, and using his pocket knife, he carved around their heads and bodies to match the exact size of the locket, smiling proudly at himself when it fit perfectly. 

Now at eighteen, she stands next to the Impala while Dean lugs their bags out, drops them into the trunk, and slams it shut. He heads for the driver's door but stops when he realizes Y/N hasn't opened hers yet. Eyebrows raised, he twirls a finger in the air as if to say, 'Let's get a move on.'

"Are you ever gonna teach me how to drive, Dean?" she asks. "I mean, you've got to, you know?" 

"No, I don't. Get in," Dean says. She does so with a huff. Dean checks the mirrors before backing out of their parking spot. Turning to Y/N, he says, "Besides, as long as I'm around, you don't need to," but softens his face into a smile when he looks at her. "Cause there's no way in Hell I'll ever let you drive my car." 

Y/N lets out a soft chuckle. "It doesn't have to be this car, Dean!" She rolls the window down, letting the cool breeze hit her face. "What happens if we get separated and I'm being chased by… I don't know, something that has super speed, and my only way back to you is to steal a car and -" 

"Stop. First of all, you should know that I'd never put you in that kind of danger," Dean says, disgusted by the mere thought. He lets out a long sigh. "I'll teach you," he says, looking at her gleaming smile. He tries his damnedest to see her for the adult she's becoming, but he only sees the happy baby in pull-ups he used to feed marshmallows and jello to on a motel room floor. "Just… not yet, okay?" 

She scoffs, "Most people learn to drive when they're only fifteen. I mean, you took me to freaking Vegas with a fake ID for my birthday, for fuck's sake!" 

"I said not yet, Y/N!" he says, shooting her the 'dad look' he's been perfecting since she was four. 

"Fine," she grumbles. She clasps her hands, "So I was looking through news articles, and there seem to be vamps in the next town. Should we be on that?" 

Dean clears his throat and needlessly adjusts the rear-view mirror. "Actually, kiddo, we're on something else right now." He keeps his head straight but glances at her out of the corner of his eyes. Whispering, he says, "We're gonna go get Sammy." 

Y/N's eyes widen as her head whips to look at him. "What?" 

He keeps his eyes on the road, "yeah, uh, with Dad missing... we could use the help," he says, gripping the steering wheel tighter. 

"But Sam's at college!" Y/N scoffs, "he wanted out!" 

"He abandoned us!" he shouts, shaking his head at himself when he notices her shoulders tense. Her eyes peer into her lap, where her hands lie folded. “Look Y/N/N, I just… I can't shake this awful feeling that something is wrong." He waits for a response from her, but she only nods with thin lips. She tunes him out and focuses on the wind hitting the window. "I gotta make sure they're okay," he says softly. 

Over the years, Y/N has learned to trust Dean's intuition, but right now, it just feels like he's being selfish. She opts to stay quiet, even if it makes a long drive longer.

Y/N jolts awake at the sound of the trunk slamming shut. She takes a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. She doesn't see Dean next to her, so she scans her surroundings through squinted eyes, hoping for a clue about her whereabouts. She finds a gas station receipt in her lap and flips it over to see the scribbles of Dean's handwriting telling her to 'stay put or else.' She rolls her eyes, crumpling it into a ball to throw it into the backseat.

She hears the voices of two familiar men, one of whom she hasn't heard in two years. Her heart races, and she fumbles with the seat belt, trying to unhook it with shaky hands. She jumps out of the car and turns in time to see Dean leaning on the back of the Impala.

"It's a law school interview," Sam says, "and it's my whole future on a plate," he glares.

"Law school?" Dean asks with a smirk. Y/N walks over to stand next to Dean. He shoots a quick, acknowledging glance her way. Sam's eyes shift between Dean and Y/N, softening when they land on Y/N, "so we got a deal or not?" he asks flatly.

Dean says nothing but lightly nods his head. Y/N runs towards Sam, nearly knocking him over with a hug.

"Y/N/N," he smiles. Pulling her even closer to him, he wraps his arms tightly around her back and kisses the top of her head. "I missed you," he whispers.

"I missed you, too," she says, her eyes welling up with tears. Sam looks at Dean just in time to see him press his lips together with an 'I told you so' in his eyes. Sam shakes his head, squinting at Dean just before he lets go of Y/N.

"Kay, I gotta put a bag together," he sighs, "I'll be right back."

He turns to head for the door, and Y/N doesn't take her eyes off him until he disappears into the building. She blinks her eyes and turns to face Dean. He pushes himself off the back of the car and silently heads for the driver seat.

Sam and Y/N sit in the car at a gas station while Dean heads for snacks. Sam opens his door but quickly looks over his shoulder to check on Y/N. This is when he notices the box of tapes sitting next to her. Intrigued, he shifts in the chair and asks her to hand them to him. Y/N is hesitant because it's hard to say how Dean would react, and she's always hated being in the middle of their fights but does so anyway. Sam rests his tongue between his lips as he takes the box from Y/N. Stretching his legs out of the car, he rests the box in his lap to filter through them.

"Hey," Dean says from behind the Impala, his mouth wrapped around a candy bar, "either of you want breakfast?" he asks, holding a soda and a bag of chips.

Y/N waits for Sam to answer first. "No, thanks," he says, glancing Dean's way momentarily.

"I do," Y/N smiles.

"So how'd you pay for that stuff? Three of you still running credit card scams?" Sam says, going back to looking through the cassettes.

"Yeah, well, hunting ain't exactly a pro ball career," Dean says, putting the gas nozzle back into the pump.

Y/N chimes in, "Besides, all we do is apply," she shrugs, "it's not our fault they send us the cards."

"Yeah? And what names did you write on the applications this time?" he asks, swinging his legs back inside the car and closing the door behind him.

"Uh, Burt Aframian," Y/N answers. Dean gets into the seat, handing Y/N the drink and chips. "Thank you," she chirps.

"And his son Hector," Dean adds, "scored two cards out of the deal."

"Sounds about right. I swear, man. You've gotta update your cassette tape collection."

Dean frowns, nearly offended. "Why?"

"Well, for one, they're cassette tapes, and two," Sam holds one up, "Black Sabbath? Motorhead?" he says, dropping them to grab another, "Metallica?" he laughs, "It's the greatest hits of mullet rock," he says as Dean rips the Metallica tape from his hand with a glare.

"Well, house rules, Sammy." Dean pops the tape into the player with a tight smile, "driver picks the music, shotgun shuts their cake-hole," he says, dropping the empty case into the box. "Isn't that right, Y/N?" he smirks into the rear-view mirror and smiles when he sees her roll her eyes.

"You know, Sammy is a chubby twelve-year-old," Sam scolds, "it's Sam, okay?"

Turning the volume up, Dean cocks his head to the side, "sorry. I can't hear you. The music's too loud," he says with a slight chuckle.

Crashing a crime scene where police are still investigating is just another Saturday with Dean for Y/N, but seeing Sam's eyes widen at the box of Dean's fake IDs calls attention to how out of the norm this life is. Dean makes wise-ass comments to the cops, as usual, and Sam stomps on Dean's foot. Dean responds by smacking Sam's head as they bicker on the way back to the car, but Y/N can't help but grin from ear to ear.

Even when her brothers are arguing, Y/N couldn't possibly be happier. Today is her first hunt with both of her brothers and the first time in far too long since the three of them had been together for any reason.

They make their way to find Amy, who they learn is the girlfriend of the victim from listening to the cops on the bridge. They stop her while she's putting up missing posters, and after lying about being distant relatives of her boyfriend, they ask if she'd be willing to answer some questions to find him.

… "It's kind of this local legend," Amy's friend says after a few minutes of chatting. Massaging her thumb with her other hand, she continues, "This one girl? She got murdered out on Centennial, like decades ago." Dean glances over at Sam and Y/N, who listen intently, "Well, supposedly, she's still out there. She hitchhikes, and whoever picks her up? Well, they disappear forever."

At a local library, Dean searches the archive page for any murders on Centennial Highway with no results. Sam shoves Dean's chair, and when it rolls back, he scoots his chair to the computer to take over, earning him a slap from Dean. After replacing 'murder' with 'suicide,' a news article pops up.

"This was 1981. Constance Welch, twenty-four years old, jumps off Sylvania Bridge, drowns in the river," Sam reads.

"Does it say why she did it?" Y/N asks, scooting her chair closer to Sam to try and read the screen.

"Yeah," Sam says.

"What?" Dean says with raised eyebrows.

"An hour before they found her, she calls 911. Apparently, her two little kids are in the bathtub. She leaves them alone for a minute, and when she comes back, they aren't breathing." Sam lets out a breath, "both die," he says in a whisper.

The air grows thick around them, and Y/N frowns. "That's terrible," she says, shaking her head.

"'Our babies were gone,'" Sam reads, "'and Constance just couldn't bear it,' said husband Joseph Welch."

"Hmm," Dean points to the picture on the screen, "that bridge look familiar to you?"

They hit the bridge at nightfall. Crickets sing to water drumming against the rocks as it rushes under their feet. The clouds hang low in the sky, giving the air around them a haze.

"So," Dean says, peering over the bridge at the water, "this is where Constance took the swan dive," he says, leaning against the rail next to Y/N. 

"So you think Dad would have been here?" Sam asks in disbelief, looking over at Dean. 

"Well, he's chasing the same story, and we're chasing him," Dean shrugs, turning to walk down the bridge. 

Sam turns to follow. "Okay, so now what?" he says, forcing a breath through his nose. Y/N walks right next to him, still scared to let him out of her sight. 

"Now we keep digging until we find him. Might take a while," Dean grumbles. 

Sam stops walking, "Dean," he says, raising his hands before dropping them. "I told you. I've gotta be back by Monday." 

"Monday," Dean says, pivoting to make grueling eye contact with Sam, but only turns his body enough that he's still facing the bridge's railing. "Right," he says, shaking a finger, "the interview." The bridge creaks under him as he turns the rest of the way. 

"Yeah," Sam nods. 

"Yeah, I forgot. You're really serious about this, aren't you?" Dean says, shifting his weight between his feet. "You think you're just going to become some lawyer? Marry your girl?" Dean asks, the animosity growing with each word. 

Sam shrugs, "maybe. Why not?" 

Dean's voice roughens, "Does Jessica know the truth about you? I mean, does she know the things you've done?" 

Sam takes a few threatening steps toward Dean, "No, and she's not ever going to know," he scowls. 

"Well, that's healthy," Dean sneers. "You can pretend all you want, Sammy, but sooner or later, you're going to have to face up to who you really are," he says, turning around to continue walking. 

Sam huffs, "Who's that?" 

"You're one of us," Dean shrugs, a hand gesturing towards Y/N. 

"Hey! Leave me out of this," Y/N grumbles from ahead. 

"No," Sam says, speed walking towards Dean, "I'm not like you," he says, turning around as he stops in front of Dean. "This is not going to be my life."

Dean keeps his jaw tight. "Well, you have a responsibility to..." 

Y/N feels the tension rising and tries to plead with them to stop arguing, but they ignore her. "Guys!" she shouts again. 

"To Dad? And his crusade?" Sam scoffs. "If it weren't for pictures, I wouldn't even know what Mom looks like! And what difference would it make? Even if we do find the thing that killed her," he shakes his head, "Mom's gone. And she isn't coming back." 

Dean grips Sam's shirt and swings him around and against the bridge's railing with a clunk at Sam's weight against it. 

Y/N flips around and runs to their side, "Dean, what are you doing? Are you crazy?" She panics. But Dean continues to ignore her as he glares at Sam. 

After a long, breathless pause, Y/N shouts again, "Dean!" 

The misty air is still between them, and even the wind seems too frightened to move. It's as if the world is put on pause.

Dean's eyebrows raise, and he keeps a firm grip on Sam's shirt. Under his breath, he says, "Don't talk about her like that." 

He throws Sam's jacket from his hands and takes a few stabilizing steps backward in one movement. Y/N runs to check on Sam, who shakes her off with an "I'm fine" that sounds muffled compared to the pounding of her heart. A few tears escape her when she looks over at Dean walking away from them, but she doesn't realize she's crying until the taste of salt hits her lips. 

Her eyes return to Sam, shaking her head in disgust that Dean would treat him like that. She knew it had been rough for Dean since Sam left for college, but hell, it's been hard on her, too, and she's not throwing anyone against the side of a bridge!

Dean halts, “Sam. Y/N!” he calls. Y/N turns with a full-body glare, but her eyes widen when she sees a woman in a long, white dress standing on the bridge's railing. The woman looks over at them, and Y/N can see the resemblance to the picture of Constance. The woman's hair and dress sway in the wind, and she keeps her eyes on them as she allows herself to drop from the ledge. 

With a grunt, Sam rushes to the railing to look over it for her, Dean and Y/N not far behind him. 

"Where'd she go?" Dean barks. 

Breathless, Sam pushes out an "I don't know." 

The roar of the Impala's engine turning on startles them, their bodies whipping around just in time to see the headlights flick on. 

"What the-," Dean says. 

"Who's driving your car?" Y/N asks. 

Without taking his eyes off of the car, Dean pulls his keys from his pocket and jingles them, stealing Sam and Y/N's attention to them in unison. The engine revs, drawing back their wide eyes to the Impala. The tires squeal as the car begins to speed towards them. 

"Y/N, go! Go!" Dean says with a hand on each of his siblings, spinning them around to run in the opposite direction. Dean presses his hand firmly on Y/N's back as they run, keeping himself between her and the car. They run as fast as they can until Dean can feel the Impala's breath on his ankles, and he guides them towards the bridge's railing. 

Y/N's heart feels like a brick in her chest, weighing her down at the thought of jumping over. "I can't," she says in a breath, and all in a split second, she feels like her feet are cemented into the bridge's planks as Sam jumps over. "No!" she screams as Dean grips onto her arm, pulling them both over the bridge. 

Sam hangs from the ledge of the bridge, shouting for Y/N as her screams are washed out with a big splash. "Y/N!" he calls again from the back of his throat, climbing up the bridge to get on his knees. He looks over the bridge, scanning for Y/N and Dean, calling out when he sees his brother, "Dean! You alright?" 

"I'm super," Dean grumbles with an outstretched thumbs up. Lying on his back, half submerged in the muddy water. 

"I can't see Y/N! Where's Y/N?" Sam panics, and when the words hit Dean's ears, he springs to his feet in a second. He whirls around in a circle as he searches for her. 

"Y/N!" Dean shouts, wiping mud from his face. He paces around, "Y/N, where are you?" he yells, half-expecting her to pop out from behind a bush to scare him. 

The world spins around him for a moment, utterly void of sound aside from a ringing in his ears as Dean tries to comprehend what is happening. He closes his eyes tight, shaking his head to clear away the fog that covers him. They open onto the water, catching the moon's glimmer reflecting off something. He runs towards it, hopping from rock to rock until he finds Y/N's broken locket stuck in algae. Dean picks it up with shaky hands, recalling how her face lit up when he first gave it to her. She'd be devastated to see its state now. Fear spills down him in an icy chill.

His head swivels around in search of her. Tears, that he refuses to let fall, poke at his eyes when he sees her lying face down in the water, a bloody rock next to her.

“Y/N!” He shouts, rushing to her. He kneels to pull her out of the water by her shoulder, turning her over so that her back rests against his knee. "Y/N!" he yells again, and when she doesn't respond, he grabs her by the waist and hoists her over his shoulder. He grunts, shifting his weight before jogging for the shore. "Sam! I got her!" 

"Dean! Is she okay?" He calls out as he sprints down the side of the hill to catch up to them. The brothers reach the shore simultaneously, and Dean drops to his knees to gently set Y/N on the ground in front of him, Sam following suit. 

"Come on, be okay, be okay, be okay, be okay," Dean pleads softly, placing two fingers on her neck. His heart is beating so hard that he can't tell if it's her pulse he's feeling or his own. "Sam, I can't feel anything," he says. Dropping an ear to her mouth, he adds, "And I don't think she's breathing." 

"Call 911," Sam demands, ripping his jacket off to tie around Y/N's bleeding head wound. He quickly inspects the rest of her body for any bleeding before placing a hand on her chest. Looking up at Dean, who stands frozen, Sam puts his free hand on Dean's shoulder, "now, Dean!" he shouts, shoving him. 

Sam tilts Y/N's head back, checking again for a pulse, a breath, a twitch, a shudder, anything that meant he wouldn't have to perform CPR on his baby sister. He places his hands on her chest, one over the other, pausing in case her heart miraculously started again, but all he feels under his palms is the stillness of Y/N's wet and cold chest. 

Sam begins chest compressions, and the tears he'd been holding back rush out uncontrollably when he feels her ribs break under his palms. It makes him want to pull away, but he forces himself to continue. Dean watches in wide-eyed horror as he gives the 911 operator their location when asked, keeping his free hand pressed against his forehead. 

"Anything?" he shakily shouts at Sam after what feels like hours. Sam ignores him, counting out loud until he hits thirty again. He stops compressions to blow a shuddering breath into Y/N's mouth, watching her chest rise and fall before delivering another. "Hello! Is anybody on the way? My sister is dying here!" Dean shouts into the phone, but all that meets his ears is static. 

"Dean," Sam says with a heavy breath, beginning compressions again. "You gotta take over," he says between breaths. 

Without question, Dean drops his phone to the ground as he falls to his knees next to her, "come on, Y/N," he pleads, ignoring the burning in his knees as he places his hands together on top of Sam's. Sam leaves his hands under Dean's for just one compression before pulling away. 

"Okay, that's ten. You've got twenty more before breaths," Sam says before they count out loud together with every push into Y/N's chest. 

Dean is growing tired by his third round of compressions, but the sirens in the distance electrify him, giving him the energy he needs to continue. 

His face scrunches up as he musters the emotional and physical strength to keep going. Sam hurries to his feet, "don't stop, Dean, you're doing great!" he says with a palm at him. 

"Don't stop," Dean repeats mindlessly, "don't stop." 

Sprinting towards the paramedics, Sam waves his arms, shouting, "Down here! We're down here!" before he knows it, a group of professionals sprint down the hill, the gurney in tow. One takes a story from Sam as one tries to pull Dean away so the other two can take over caring for Y/N. 

"No, I can't stop!" he cries, which grabs Sam's attention, "don't stop," he nearly whispers, hands pumping into Y/N's chest. 

Sam rushes over and lowers himself to Dean's level. "Dean, let go. It's okay, they'll take it from here," he says, grabbing onto Dean's hands to pull him off of Y/N. They watch the paramedics in shock as they cut the shirt, bra, and pants off of Y/N, inspecting her skin. The first responders put what look like stickers with wires attached to them onto her chest and pull out the AED, telling everyone to stand clear before delivering a shock with a beep. Then, there was a pause and the silence that follows is deafening. Nothing. They check for a pulse and call clear again, shocking her. Then, nothing. Again. 

In the hospital's hallway, Dean tries to tune out the surround sound of constant beeping. His elbows rest on his scraped and bloody knees with his head held in his hands. He rocks back and forth, battling with himself. He sheds tears both out of fear for his sister's well-being and of guilt that he did the very thing he promised her he wouldn't: put her in danger.

The clacking of Sam's shoes pulls Dean from his homemade mental Hell. Dean lifts his head, quickly wiping his eyes before grabbing the cafeteria coffee. Sam's familiar smell of motel soap and deodorant washes away the torturous smell of hand sanitizer.

"Thanks," Dean mutters, taking a sip of the coffee before placing it next to him on the cold tile floor. 

Sam's eyes are red and puffy. Dean struggles to comprehend how Sam doesn't even try to hide the tears coming down. He often admires his brothers ability to wear his heart on his sleeve, though he'd never admit it. He wonders who he's being 'strong' for in this moment because it's certainly not himself.

Clearing his throat, Sam pulls his pants up slightly at the thighs before sitting on the bench next to Dean. He glances up at the ceiling momentarily, waiting for the announcement to end before asking, "Any news yet?"

Dean shakes his head. "No," he says in a raspy voice, forcing his eyes to look up and down the hall. "Excuse me," he says, standing to interrupt a nurse before she can enter a different room. "Would you mind helping us find whoever we need to talk to for an update on room 221?" he asks, gesturing to the door he hasn't been able to even look at since arriving.

Her eyes flutter to Sam, then the door, and back to Dean before she somberly nods. "Of course," she says, setting her pen back onto the clipboard as she turns to head in the direction she came.

Dean wants to return to his seat, but his body feels like an anchor. He sucks in a sharp breath. His shoulders tighten into his neck and with weak arms his hands fall to his hips. He hangs his head, clenching his teeth and pulling his face to suppress the tears. Sam jumps up to Stand with Dean, placing a hand tightly on his shoulder.

"She'll be alright," Sam says, not fully believing himself, "she's a Winchester; she has to be." 

Dean quickly straightens himself out because damn it, he's the one that's supposed to be taking care of his younger siblings - not the other way around.

"Sam and Dean Winchester?" a deep voice echoes the hall and they whirl around to greet the doctor. Dean quickly slaps the tears from his face. "I'm Dr. Ferguson," he says, holding his arm up to shake hands with Sam, then Dean. "Let's go somewhere more private to talk."

"We're good here," Dean spits. 

"Very well," the doctor sighs, looking down the hall behind him. He shuffles them closer to the wall and out of the traffic flow. "Well, while we were able to restart her heart, I'm afraid your sister has sustained a substantial injury to the head," he says, "the trauma caused the tissue around her brain to swell quite rapidly, and well, we have her on a ventilator, but," he lets out a breath, "we haven't seen as much progress as we were hoping for. She's technically in a coma right now, but we hope to see her come out of it in the coming weeks." 

"Weeks?" Dean bellows.

"Yes, I'm afraid that's standard recovery time for an injury of this magnitude. Although, we'd be having an entirely different conversation if not for your quick thinking in the field," he says with a tight-lipped smile, eyes jumping from Dean's to Sam's, "it's a long road to recovery, but this is a good start." 

"And what happens if she doesn't wake up?" Sam asks. 

"We will do everything in our power to ensure that doesn't happen," the doctor nods. 

"Thanks, doc," Sam croaks. "Can - can we see her?" he stutters. 

"Of course," he says, pushing the door open with his fingertips, "go on in," he says.  

Sam immediately notices Dean's hesitancy when they exchange a glance, so he nods before taking a few steps into the room. He covers his mouth to stifle a sob when he sees his little sister with a tube down her throat and one in her nose. When he's close enough, he reaches for her hand and sits in the chair beside her, startled by the sound of the door shutting. Dean slowly enters the room, but keeps his distance.

Dean feels like the air is void of oxygen and tells himself to pull it together enough to stand by her bed. "Hey kiddo," Dean says to Y/N with a shaky breath. "God, please be okay," he says, forcing a smile as he grips onto her hand.

The two sit with Y/N for days, only leaving for bathroom trips and snack runs, but when one goes, the other stays, and when one is napping, the other is awake. Dean has grown slightly more self-composed but is still anxious as they stay by her side, even when the nurses come to deliver medications, chart vitals, or empty her catheter.

"Hey, Dean," Sam says, clearing his throat. 

"Yeah," he replies, keeping his eyes on Y/N. 

Sam looks down into his hands, "about my interview-" 

"Wait, what?" Dean says, cutting him off, "you're still gonna leave after all this?" he shouts through a clenched jaw. The chair scoots back in a screech as he quickly brings himself to his feet, "you don't wanna be here when she wakes up?" he asks, aggressively gesturing at Y/N. 

"Dean, we don't even know if she'll wake up," Sam quivers. 

"Man, you are a piece of work," Dean shouts, shaking his head. 

"If you would've let me finish," Sam growls with narrow eyes, "I was going to say that I called earlier… to reschedule it," he sighs, looking back at Y/N, "they were very understanding of the situation." 

"Oh," Dean says, turning on his heels to face away from Sam. He swipes a hand down his face, shaking his head when his eyes open to the white walls of the hospital's room. "Look, man, I'm sorry," he says, palms open and facing Sam. "This just has me on edge." 

Taking a few steps towards him, Sam holds back the urge to get nasty with Dean, telling him he's not the only one feeling 'on edge' about their sister's condition. Instead, he raises his palms and softens his face, "Me too. Believe me." 

By Thursday, Y/N had graduated from a ventilator to an oxygen mask. Though still needing the feeding tube, she's shown glimpses here and there of the Y/N they know and love, but overall, she struggles to remain conscious. The doctors are calling it a 'Minimally Conscious State' and "completely normal with this type of recovery."

On Saturday, Sam heads out for food from a local restaurant at Dean's request - something about them having good pies - but Sam has a sneaking suspicion that Dean needs some time alone with Y/N, and Sam could use the fresh air anyway.

Sitting in the chair beside her bed, Dean holds one of Y/N's hands in both of his, bringing it up to his lips and kissing the back of her hand. "I'm so sorry I failed you, Y/N," he cries. "I should have been protecting you," he whispers, letting the tears fall freely now, "but instead of doing that, I got you into this mess."

Looking up at Y/N's face, he swears he sees a tear slip down her cheek. Despite being convinced he's imagining it, he reflexively draws his hand to wipe her tear away, gasping when it comes back wet. His heart races as he gently stands to get beside her in the bed. "Shh," he coos, wrapping his arm around her.

His eyes fall shut, and he's transported back in time to the almost seven-month period where she would only fall asleep if Dean were right there in bed next to her. Through tears and voice cracks, he sings Hey Jude in a whisper, occasionally reaching over to wipe her tears away.

"I love you so much," he whispers. "I don't know how to live without you," he says, his tears turning into sobs. "Please wake up," he cries, arm wrapped tightly around her, "I promise I'll teach you how to drive if you just please wake up."

~~~~ If you liked my story, please remember to heart, comment or reblog. Or if you'd like, you can add yourself to a tag list here if you wish :) Thank you for reading!! :)

Everything Tags <3

@wayardblueshun @81mysteriouslyme @drakelover78 @soab1967 @shutupandfeedmethings @pollywantacracker666 @sonnierae26 @obsessed5sosfreak @tlovescoffee @noodledoodlebug @hobby27 @cluz1babe @emptycanvasposts @suckmyapplejacks @signrunsavestheday @flamencodiva @roseblue373

Dean <;3 @akshi8278 @squirrelnotsam @laxe-from-outer-space @ellewritesfix05 @cluz1babe @lyarr24 @mrspeacem1nusone @idksupernaturl @fandom-princess-forevermore @stoneyggirl @chaospossum @nachofriess

Sam <3 (not including the tags already above :) ) @fangirlxwritesx67 @immafangirlmess @sizekinkshawty

[smolcuriouskitten]

🚩🚩🚩 {soft vs hard blocking, people who selectively reply to one or two mutuals ~usually their hardcore ships~ and make others wait aeons, your least favourite fandom or oc type}

SOFT BLOCKING IS STUPID. Heres my thing with blocking in general, unless you are harassing me, making my space unsafe or uncomfortable, I block. Any other case, I unfollow. If you feel as if a mun, soft blocking is necessary because you dont want to interact with a blog feels a little silly? Like I only see popular muses who get endless interactions complain about having to soft block people when most people are interested in reading their writing/material. In those cases, its stupid because some abuse the power of blocking people. If you feel the need to do so, use hard blocks as a means to an end, soft blocking can cause alot of confusion to people who want to admire your material.

SELECTIVE DOESNT MEAN ONLY RESPOND TO 2 PEOPLE. This bothers the hell out of me. Me personally, if I go through the trouble of making a blog, making this my space, making tidbits and character information, maybe even a few verses if I am feeling spicy, I do it to be able to widen my audience. WHY WOULD YOU MAKE THE BLOG IF YOU ONLY RESPOND TO 2 PEOPLE?! Just roleplay on discord or privately at that point, theres no need to even keep the damn blog active since you dont use it! I dont want to invalidate anyone who does this but we can tell when you only respond to your favorite ship/person. This doesnt apply to blogs who run on a queue system or even those who only have muse for specific threads, I mean those who make the blog and scope out 2 people and no pass go after that. And not to mention your other mutuals can tell you dont give a shit about them due to not responding as quickly to them as you do your fav! And when you call them out on it, 'oH i LoVe OuR iNtErAcTiOnS!' Oh fuck off.

ANDROIDS AND SUPERHEROS NO. My least favorite fandom roleplay wise is both Marvel and Detroit Becoming Human. Those two fandoms in my experience have been allergic to roleplaying outside of their fandom/circle and its exhausting! Like I understand most people are used to their same friend group of roleplay buddies but they are the same ones that complain about lack of interactions! You can only do so many scenarios with the same few characters and after that it becomes monotonous! Venture out! Explore! Dont even get me started on the DBH fandom because they were full of literal assholes when I got into the fandom. Between them ignoring anyone who didnt play an android or being involved with drama or not being understanding of people JUST getting into the fandom, they can kick ROCKS. For the record, I met some pleasant people from both fandoms but I ran into more assholes than ever.

OCS CANNOT BE MARY SUES. Okay as a person who always roleplayed as an oc, theres plenty of takes I can have. I hate OC's that are played as mysterious but they are that way because of their creator refuses to write down their information. I hate OC's with a backstory that copies a canon characters to a T. Taking elements from them is different, for me, I take Rocky's origin story from superman, mannerisms taken from Rarity and early feminine culture, etc etc. Most OC creators dont know the difference between inspired and copied. I hate OC's that are perfect. Oh combat roleplays end quickly because they kill your muse in one shot. You hit them and it doesnt work. They attract everyone because they are perfect and beautiful and have no flaws! I hate OC's that use the same 5 faces as if their arent billions upon billions of faces in the world to use. Im one to talk since I use Instagram models but I am so SICK of people just using actors from a popular show because they know it would get clicks, its lazy and we can see through your laziness. I hate OC's that are children of a canon but dont respect the canon at all. "oh Dean Winchesters my dad but he hunts with me all of the time and takes me gun shopping and lets me drive baby and lets me-" THATS NOT DEAN AS A CHARACTER AT ALL! You can argue 'wElL hE mIgHt HaVe ChAnGeD sInCe ThE bAbY!' BULLSHIT. Dean wouldnt let Sam drive or take care of Baby at first, what in the hell makes you think his KID is exempt from that rule?! AND FARTHER MORE, THAT MAN HAS BEEN THROUGH HELL AND BACK AT THE EXPENSE OF BEING A KID WHOSE DAD HUNTED. WHY WOULD HE PUT HIS KIDS IN THE SAME SITUATION?!

Bonus tidbit. My hatred of DBH muses came from this one RK800 muse. Their blog was beautiful and I was new to Tumblr. I didnt know anything about the mutual system or how they would have their rules shown. They were the first blog that caught my eye so I began to interact with them. On one of the asks, they sent me a screenshot of their rules and called me an asshole for interacting with them since they were mutuals only. Wattpad didnt have a system like that so needless to say, that single interaction has haunted me. I dont like interacting with new blogs first most of the time due to that one sour experience. This screenshot is about 4 years old now and this one interaction STILL haunts me.

[roonyxx]

Upon a Hill: Chapter 6

Summary: What happens when the new hot guy, Dean Winchester, shows interest in you?

Warnings:  smut, shy reader, virgin reader, lanuage, tension, fluff, p in v!

Pairings: high school: Teen!Dean x plus!sized!reader

Wordcount: 2800

My Masterlist

Upon a Hill Masterlist

Part 6

Several days had passed and you and Dean only grew closer to each other.

You went back to school two days after your first date with Dean. He got detention of course, but just one evening, which was not that much considering he did punch Zack in the hospital. 

Your uncle, and apparently many other parents, had called the school to complain about Zack’s unacceptable behavior. The school promised he would never set foot on the property again. 

An immense relief for you.

So here you were, in your room, doubting if you should wear your beanie with your dress or not. You had your second date tonight, he asked you out for real this time. Even asked your uncle if it was okay?!

He said to wear something nice and comfortable.

Your black dress floated to just above your knees. The dress had a little bit of a cleavage, it really made your boobs look nice, but because you don’t like to feel so open, the cleavage part was made of a black sheer. You liked this dress, but you were never confident enough to wear it. Your sleeves were lose and also had some sheer in it.

You finished your cat eye make-up and decided to wear your beanie, you could always take it off later. You pulled on your converses and went down the stairs.

“Oh wow Y/n, you look pretty.” Your uncle said from the couch.

You gave him a sweet smile “Thanks Uncle Joe.” You sat down next to him, fiddling with your hands.

Fuck you were nervous, what if he didn’t like the dress? Maybe you looked foolish. Oh no what if you’re overdressed ?

“Uhm Y/n we have to talk.” your uncle said as he sat up.

“Yeah ?” you turned to him, a little glad to distract your mind.

“Uhm,” he cleared his throat “I know that you’re old enough and all, but I also know what that means.”

You frowned, “What what means ?”

He took a deep sigh, “When a boy and a girl like each other they tend to do… activities together…”

“Activiti- OOH, oh no… this isn’t THE talk right ?” uncle Joe was the last person you wanted to talk about that!

“You need to be careful, even if he doesn’t want to use a con-“

You cut him off before it became too awkward “WOAH okay” an awkward chuckle left your mouth as you stood up.

“Please stop, you don’t have to tell me, I know. Please, before you scar me for life.”

He exhaled “Oh God, good. I’m sorry kiddo, I just want you to be careful okay ?”

You nodded, “Don’t worry I always am.” Your eyes widened as he tilted his head, “I-I mean not that I had to be before, I just mean that I’m not stupid! I just am always careful as I am with everything in life.” You were rambling but the doorbell saved you.

“Oh thank god… Bye Joe!” you rushed to the door to open it and saw Dean Winchester before you, wearing a slightly too big suit and some flowers. He looked so handsome.

“Oh woah Y/n…” he looked you up and down, biting his lip, “You look absolutely gorgeous…”

Your cheeks heated up, “You’re one to say look at you, you’re like a damn model.” you smiled as you saw the blush creep over his face, he looked adorable.

He handed you the flowers. “Thank you De, let me put them in some water and then we can go.”

You took the flowers to the kitchen as Dean waited in your hall.

“Evening Dean.” You heard your uncle say.

“Evening sir.” Dean shook his hand. “Thank you for letting me take Y/n out tonight.”

Your uncle just hummed, “Dean, come with me for a second.” He planted his hand on Dean’s shoulder and walked to the other room with him. Oh no this couldn’t be good. You hid behind the corner to listen in.

“Dean, I like you, really I do. But if you hurt my Y/n… I will hurt you.” You rolled your eyes at his words, it’s really none of his business! And you were about to tell him but his next words stopped you.

“She has been through so much already…” you could hear the sorrow in his voice, he shouldn’t have said that. It’s not his story to tell.

“I won’t sir, I promise.” Dean said.

You cleared your throat and rounded the corner.

“Everything okay here ?” you asked the men.

“Yeah, everything’s good. Have fun kids.” Joe said as Dean stepped towards you and took your hand to lead you out the door and to his car.

“Bye Joe!” you yelled just before you got in.

Dean waved at him as you two drove off. Dean put his hand on your thigh and you slid closer, intertwining your hand with his.

“Where are we going De ?”

“To our spot.” He said with a wide smile. “I arranged something special.”

The butterflies in your stomach were raging. You wondered if he felt it too…

Arriving at your hill you could see little lights lighted the way up.

You sat up, “Oh Dean…”

He opened your door and held his hand out for you. “Come on.”

You took his hand and followed the fairy lights up.

There was a big blanket on the ground and many pillows, it looks so comfortable. He had made some kind of roof with four sticks and a white sheet stretched between them. Fairy lights clung to the structure.

“Dean… did you do all of this ?”

He scratched the back of his head, “Sammy helped a little too.”

Your arms flew around his neck as you crashed your lips onto his.

“You like it ?” he whispered against your lips.

“I love it Dean. Thank you.”

You both sat down in the pillow fort, he reached down behind himself and pulled out a box.

“I brought you some raspberries, I know you love them. I wanted to buy strawberries first but I remember you absolutely hate them.” He chuckled and opened the box, your mouth watered.

“Oh God Dean, you’re the best! Strawberries are way too overrated anyway.”

He also brought some beef jerky, popcorn, twizzlers and some soda.

“This is amazing Dean, when did you do all of this?!”

He shrugged, “It wasn’t that much work, and with Sam’s help it was fixed in no time.”

“Thank you so much, no one’s ever done this for me.”

“You’re welcome sweetheart, you deserve it.” He said as he sweetly pecked your lips.

“Oh I almost forgot, I have  something else for you too.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out a little black sachet. You frowned.

“What is it ?”

He handed it to you, “Open up and you’ll see.”

Untying the little string at the top, you reached your fingers in to take it out. It was a thin black rope and attached to it was a golden circle that read ’10 GA – MADE IN U.S.A’ you frowned with a laugh.

“You got me a shotgun shell necklace ?” You liked it.

“Y-yeah I made it, you know, uhm… Winchester as in the gun, shotgun shell… sorry it’s stupid I-“

“What no! Dean, I love it.” You said as you pulled the sting over your head. “You made it, I love it, I really do. Thank you Dean.” You cupped his face and kissed him. “You’re something Winchester, you keep surprising me.”

“Oh do I now ?” a smirk crossed his face as he tackled you to the floor. Hovering over you as he bit his lip. He looked deep into your eyes as he leaned down to kiss you.

Your hand moved up to tunnel your fingers through his hair. Opening your mouth more when you felt him lick at your bottom lip.

Kissing with Dean was like floating on a cloud, your mind went completely blank as you only focused on him, his scent, his taste, his touch.

He moved to lay between your legs, the kiss growing more heated with every passing second.

You couldn’t contain the sounds he pulled from you. Your hips pushing up against his made him groan.

“Dean…”

He licked at your neck, nibbling on your skin. “Yeah sweetheart ?”

“I want you.” You breathed out.

His head snapped up, searching your face. “Are you sure Y/n ? Really I can wait, if you’re not ready.”

You fisted his hair, sucking at his neck. “I’m sure. I want you.”

The smile that crossed his face said it all. You were still nervous but you trusted Dean.

He looked up and around. “Here ?”

Biting your bottom lip you nodded at him, no one came here anyway.

“Okay sweetheart but you’ll have to tell me when it becomes too much okay ?”

“Yes.” You exhaled a shaky breath, he kissed you again.

“Relax baby, I’ll take it slow, I’ll make you feel good.” His lips were mapping out your neck as his hands slowly pushed your dress up. You arched your neck, tugging at his hair in anticipation.

He moved down, kissing up your legs as he pushed your dress higher. Your hands went to his shoulders, pushing his jacket off. Unbuttoning his shirt as he kissed your thighs.

He sat up and took his jacket and shirt off, his freckled chest bare for you.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful, Dean.” Your hands carefully roamed his chest. As he unbuckled his pants and pushed them down. You swallowed hard, he was big…

He frowned and looked down, “What ?”

“Y-You’re uhm… big.”

“Oh… you think I will fit ?” he asked, a little worried.

You shrugged, how were you supposed to know, you knew your fingers fitted, but that was it.

“Just, take it slow okay ?”

“Of course baby. Can I ?” he tugged at your dress.

You sat up, this was it… your self conscious thoughts resurfacing again. What if he doesn’t like what he sees ? What if it turned him off ? You weren’t like the other girls he dated…

“Hey baby” he could see the wheels turning in your head. “You’re beautiful, you only do what you are comfortable with, okay ?”

You nodded “I want too.”  You pulled on the zipper on the side of your dress to loosen it enough so you could pull it over your head.

You heard Dean gasp, “Y/n fuck…” 

You pulled your head free and saw Dean, his eyes black with lust as he palmed himself through his underwear.

You couldn’t believe the effect you had on him. His eyes raked over your strapless black bra and matching soft cotton panties. If you knew this would happen, you would have worn something a little more sexy.

“You’re… gorgeous…” he bent down to kiss your neck, you could feel how he parted his lips as he rolled his tongue against your soft skin, sucking it in his mouth as he let it pop back. He kissed down your body as you felt his finger dip into your waist band of your panties. Just tracing underneath the edge, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

You wrapped your arms around him, your hands feeling his muscles move underneath his skin.

His hand dipped deeper, his middle finger at your entrance as his thumb pushed down on your clit, sending electricity through your body.

“Oh baby…” he groaned “You’re already so wet, is that all for me ?”

You arched your back, rolling your hips so the tip of his finger slid inside you, “Y-yes Dean, p-please.”

He pushed his middle finger in, his mouth forming an ‘o’ at how wet and tight you are.

“F-fuck Y/n, you feel so good, I’m never gonna last.” He chuckled in your ear, biting at your earlobe.

Your nails dig in his skin. “Dean m-more please.” He kissed you neck as he pushed another finger inside you, your eyes rolling into the back of your skull. A deep groan leaving your mouth as he slowly started to pump them.

“Like that baby ?” he asked you.

“Y-Yes Dean, f-fuck yes.” You rolled your hips in motion with his moves.

You could feel him smirk against your skin. “Or maybe like this ?”

He curled his fingers, his tips brushing your sweet spot inside you, making you gasp “FUCK”. Your hips jerking up.

“There it is.” He chuckled, his fingers moving faster as his lips met yours in a passionate kiss.

You were panting in his mouth, holding onto his shoulders for dear life, “D-Dean I’m c-close.”

He put his forehead on yours, “Come for me baby.” His thumb pushing a little harder down on your clit is what made the coil inside you snap. Thighs trembling as you clenched around his fingers, moaning his name.

“DEAN YES!”

His movement slowed down, his hand retreating from you to lick his fingers clean. Groaning at your taste.

Panting you lay beneath him, your hand cupping his neck, “Take me Dean. I want you, now.”

You took of the remaining of your clothes as he pushed his underwear down.

You could feel yourself dripping at the sight of him, on your drawing you underestimated his size…

His hands took a hold of his pants, his hands digging in his pockets to pull out a condom.

“Oh you’re prepared.” You remarked.

His cheeks turned red, “I- uhm… I always have it, I mean not that I always have sex, not that I-“

You chuckled, “You’re cute all flustered and rambling. I’m glad you have one.” You bit your lip. His smile returning as he ripped the package open with his teeth.

“C-Can I put it on ?” you asked as you took the rubber ring from him, he nodded.

“Like this, right ?” you weren’t really sure, but if you remember S.E. correct you had to pinch the tip and then roll it down. Fuck he felt good and so big…

“Y-yes like that sweetheart, j-just like that.” His head fell back as you gave him a few pumps.

You scooted closer to him, your legs spreading as you lay on your back. All spread for him.

He wrapped his hand around his hard cock, sliding it through your folds a few times, rubbing your clit in the most delicious way.

“D-Dean please.” You whimpered.

He hovered over you, kissing you as he slowly pushed inside you. Inch by delicious inch.

You felt a burning sensation as he stretched you out. You’re eyes clamping shut, hissing.

He stopped, kissing your jaw, cheeks, nose, forehead to end up on yours lips. “F-Fuck you’re s-so tight… Does it hurt baby ?”

You nodded, “Y-yeah, kinda burns.”

“Do I need to stop ?” he was panting in your neck.

“No! J-just give me a sec.”

He littered you skin with little pecks, his tongue darting down to lick around your nipple. Your hand went to his hair to tug at it. The burn faded turning into a wave of arousal, your walls finally relaxing around him.

“M-move Dean.”

He did as he was told, pushing in all the way, until his pelvis grinded into you.

“Fuuuuck Y/n, you f-feel s-so good. ‘m not gonna last long…”

You wrapped your legs around him, “Mmhh that’s okay baby, please move, take me Dean.”

He pulled all the way out, leaving just his tip in, to push slowly back in. His forehead rested on yours as he kept a slow but deep pace. You could feel every inch, every curve and vein on his cock. Rubbing in all  the right places. He whispered sweet nothings against your lips, telling you how good you felt and how beautiful you are.

You could see when his eyes turned back in his head, felt his hips crushing into yours, heard him groan loud as he spilled himself in the condom. You following him quick into climax, your walls clamping down around him as you groaned with him.

He fell next to you panting “F-fuck Y/n that was…”

“Amazing.” You finished his sentence, laughing.

He turned to you and gave you a kiss that made you dizzy. He parted from you and took the condom off. Quickly ran to the garbage bin at the edge of the hill, you giggled at seeing him running across the field butt-naked.

When he came back he held you in his arm and pulled a blanket over the two of you.

“I don’t want you to leave.” He whispered against your temple.

“I can stay the night.” You said.

“But your uncle ?”

“Oh I texted him, it’s fine Dean, really I can stay.” You stated with a smile.

“Perfect.” he whispered.

Part 7

[dothwrites]

13 and 20

13. and 20.--Detective AU and Teacher AU

---

Castiel represses a sigh as he stands up straight. His spine pops as he subtly stretches out the kinks in his aching body.

He'd thought that he was a reasonably fit man, but bending over and scrubbing at filthy floors and tables every day is playing hell with his lower back.

The bell rings, and Castiel curses under his breath as he moves back against the wall. Less than thirty seconds later, all of the doors near him burst open and a flood of teenagers courses into the hallway.

Castiel's had a lot of unpleasant assignments in his life, but going undercover at Carver Edlund High School is among the worst. He thought that he'd seen some of the worst that humanity had to offer: murderers who cared nothing for the pain of their victims, kidnappers who plunged families into turmoil for years, robbers who were willing to kill just in order to get a few quick bucks. But upon seeing the horror show of the cafeteria after a group of freshmen finished lunch, Castiel has to start reevaluating his list of atrocities.

The tardy bell rings, and Castiel sighs as he steps out in the hall. He rolls his eyes at the debris that the students have left behind and grabs his push broom to start clearing it away.

Going undercover at Carver Edlund wasn't Castiel's first choice of assignments, but with several students ending up in the hospital due to drug overdoses, something drastic had to be done. Castiel's job is simple: gather as much intelligence as he can about where the drugs are coming from. If possible, he's to find the dealer and shut the whole production down.

In theory, it's a good assignment. Success here would mean a potential commendation, maybe a promotion if the operation is big enough. But the reality of the situation is much different. Castiel's been masquerading as a member of the maintenance team for a little over a week, and he's no closer to finding the source of the drugs than he was when he started.

His captain had ultimately decided to send him in as a member of the janitorial staff for access reasons: as a janitor, he has keys to every door. Not even lockers are safe from him. There's no place in the school off-limits to him. Unfortunately, it also means that his opportunities for questioning potential suspects are limited: no high school student wants to have long conversations with the janitor. He's reduced to sweeping around gaggles of kids, hoping that they'll just so happen to let something slip.

His plan hasn't worked. So far, he's learned about the latest TikTok challenge, who's rumored to have slept with who, and who on the football team is getting suspended, but drugs? Either these kids are savvier than he gives them credit for, or they don't know anything.

"Oh, sorry, 'scue me... Oh. Hi, Steve."

It takes Castiel just a second too long to respond to the name. Part of that is because he's still not used to answering to his cover name, and part of that is because he's still not sure how to act around Dean Smith.

He braces himself before he turns around, but that still doesn't prepare him for the sight of Dean Smith leaning against the wall. Looking at him is like looking into the sun, if the sun was in a dingy hallway with flickering florescent lights and questionable stains on the floor. Even with those inauspicious surroundings, however, Dean Smith, with his sandy hair, vibrant eyes, freckles, and bright, crooked grin, stands out.

"Hello, Dean." Castiel allows the hint of a smile to cross his face. He'd called Dean 'Mr. Smith' exactly once before Dean had put a stop to it.

"Oh, no," he said, grimacing in distaste, "I get enough of that from the kids. Just Dean, man." Castiel hadn't argued, and the slightly stuffy Mr. Smith became Dean.

"Another beautiful day cleaning up the debris of the world?" Dean gestures towards the small pile of dirt and dust that Castiel has managed to collect.

"It's a dirty job, but someone's got to do it," Castiel answers.

No doubt his superiors would be screaming if they could see him right now. Zachariah, his Captain, would sneer, You're there to catch drug dealers, Novak, not to play nice with pretty boy teachers, but Zachariah isn't here right now. Plus, it's not like Castiel's making any headway on the drug dealers, so he might as well indulge his crush with a guy who's miles out of his league.

Dean is the kind of good-looking that gets noticed by modeling companies in the line at the cafe. Castiel has found himself wondering, more than once, what a guy like him is doing substitute teaching. It's obvious that Dean is smart, and he doesn't doubt that he could have a job doing whatever he wanted. Still, Dean's being a substitute teacher works out well for him, so he doesn't complain. Not if it means that he can be just a little closer to him.

Maybe if Castiel wasn't undercover and wearing an unflattering jumpsuit with the name 'Steve' stitched across the front pocket. Maybe if he were dressed in his customary suit and had a badge and gun to flash around. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

"Don't talk to me about dirty jobs," Dean says, his voice entirely too low and insinuating for the circumstances. Heat blooms underneath Castiel's collar.

"Well, I'm not sure what else to talk to you about," he confesses. He resents the broom handle in his hands.

Dean shrugs. His smile is still carefree, but there's something else in his eyes when he says, "What about any books that you've read lately? TV shows that you've watched?" His eyes flash to Castiel's, and his tongue flirts with his lower lip as he asks, "Restaurants that you'd like to go to?"

Castiel's heart stutters. For a second, it sounded like... But that can't be right. Dean can't be inviting him out. Guys like Castiel don't go out with guys like Dean. That's just the way the world works. Maybe if he was Detective Castiel Novak, but now when he's Janitor Steve.

He takes a second too long to answer. By the time that he's managed to figure out that Dean is serious, Dean's expression has shuttered. He flashes a painfully fake smile at Castiel. "Hey, man, don't worry about it. I'll catch you later, okay?"

He's turning to go, and fear grabs at Castiel. He knows that if he lets Dean walk away, then everything will change between them. No more jokes, no more stolen conversations in the hallways. They'll become nothing more than vague, uneasy colleagues, at least until Castiel's assignment ends and he disappears forever from Dean's life.

The indignity of his assignment and the frustration of his ineptitude rises in Castiel, and bursts out of him in a quick call. "Dean!"

Dean turns around. Hope flickers in his eyes before he hides it. "Yeah?" he asks. The carefully blank tone in his voice is like a knife twisting in Castiel's chest.

"I like Italian food," Castiel answers. He offers a hesitant smile towards Dean, hoping against hope that Dean will accept his overture.

After a second, Dean's smile spreads slowly across his face, as bright as the sunrise. "Yeah," he says, nodding slowly, "yeah, I think we could do that."

---

Dean's heart dances in his chest as he walks away from Steve.

He did it. After weeks of ogling and tentatively flirting, he finally asked out the hot janitor.

Steve is a lot more than a pair of pretty blue eyes and a five o'clock shadow that makes Dean's lip yearn for stubble burn, though. (Though Steve does fill out a jumpsuit better than anyone Dean's ever seen. One day, he was lifting a desk onto the dolly so that it could be moved, and Dean thought his eyes were about to pop out of his skull. Between the thick thighs attempting to pop the seams on his pants, and the biceps rippling, Dean hadn't known where to look.) Steve has a wicked sense of humor, an innate sense of kindness, and he's caught every single one of Dean's literary references (the pop culture ones, not so much. Seriously, who's never seen Indiana Jones?). There's more to Steve than meets the eye, and Dean's itching to peel back the dozens of layers.

He ignores the tiny voice in the back of his head (which sounds like an alarming mix of Sam and Bobby) saying Don't get too involved. This is a temporary thing. Dean frowns and tries to tell the voice to shut the fuck up.

He's only here for as long as it takes him to figure out who's bringing drugs into the school. At the first viable lead, he'll be yanked out, and Dean Smith, substitute teacher, will die, to be replaced by Agent Dean Winchester of the DEA.

Because of the environment, there are multiple law enforcement agencies working on this case. There's state police, the DEA, and maybe even a few FBI agents sniffing around. It's naive to believe that there aren't other agents working in the school, but he hasn't come across any yet that he knows of. He's not entirely sure; he lets Bobby deal with all of the inter-agency bullshit. He has his mission and his cover, and Bobby, as his handler, can navigate every other pitfall.

Beyond small talk and leading conversations, Dean hasn't tried to get close with anyone. Every smiling face could conceal an undercover agent or a dealer. With suspicion everywhere, it's best not to succumb to temptation.

Which makes his attraction to Steve all the more intriguing.

Just thinking of the other man sets off a series of fireworks in the pit of Dean's belly.

This is probably a terrible idea, doomed to failure, but Dean is going to enjoy the ride while it lasts.

Whistling, he goes back to the classroom and prepares for his next class.

[bi-bard]

Please Say That You're Joking (Pt.1) - Chuck Shurley Imagine (Supernatural)

Title: Please Say You're Joking (Pt. 1) [You can read part 2 by clicking here!]

Pairing: Chuck Shurley X Winchester!Reader

Requested: Nope

Word Count: 2,930 words

Warning(s): mentions of sex, threats of violence

Summary: (Season 4; Season 11) (Y/n) had a single one-night stand while coping with loss in a not healthy way... if only they had a clue about the weight of their actions.

Author's Note: I was recently going back through some of the "lighter" episodes of Supernatural because I wanted to watch something I could chuckle at. That's where this came from.

This might be the most crackheaded thing I've written in a while.

Also, the amount of things I had to bullshit my way through this is actually ridiculous.

Hey! I did a rewrite of the ending of Supernatural. It took a really long time to complete, so it would mean a lot to me if you check it out. Here’s a link! (it’s on my personal account)

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Sam, Dean, and I walked into the motel room. We were all confused and slightly scared.

We had gone to a comic book shop to do some work on a case. However, we were then called fans.

Fans of what?

Well, fans of a series of books about our lives.

I was the middle Winchester child. Two years younger than Dean, two years older than Sam. I was beyond confused when I saw some weird, romanticized version of me on the cover of a book.

"This is so weird," I mumbled, plopping onto one of the beds in the room.

Sam jumped onto his laptop and started researching. Dean was holding one of the books, reading through it. I didn't even want to touch it.

"I don't like how he describes (Y/n)," Dean commented. "It's weird. It's like he's in love. Listen to this..."

Dean dramatically clears his throat and starts to read in an even more dramatic voice, "'Even after a hard hunt, (Y/n) could easily be seen as the most beautiful of the siblings. They mimicked the beauty of their mother more than their brothers. There's no bruise or cut that could take the loveliness away from the natural curves of (Y/n)'s face. If only they could see how everyone else would stare-"

"Okay, ew," I muttered, walking to the table. "What'd you find?"

"Well, it seems like Carver Edlund is a pen name," Sam shrugged. "And the fans are intense."

"As in," Dean asked, closing the book and joining the two of us at the table.

"Well," Sam handed me the laptop so Dean and I could look at it, "there's fanfiction. About all of us."

"What's this, 'Sam/Dean'," I asked.

"It's... me and Dean... together."

"They just don't care that we're related," Dean asked. Sam nodded.

"God, this is so weird."

"So, how do we find this guy," I asked.

--time skip--

We managed to find the publisher of the novels and found her house.

"So, you published the 'Supernatural' books," I asked as we walked in.

"Yep," she nodded. "Yeah, gosh. These books... they never really got the attention that they deserved. All anybody wants to read anymore is that romance crap."

"Could not agree with you more," I said. "We're hoping that our article can shine a light on an underappreciated series."

"Yeah, because, you know, if we got a little bit of good press, then maybe we can start publishing again," she replied excitedly.

"No, no, no," Dean immediately shut her down. "I mean, why... why would you want to do that? It's such a complete series with Dean going to hell and all."

"Oh my god, that was one of my favorite ones," she rambled. "Dean was so strong and sad and brave. And Sam... I mean... the best ones are when they cry... like in 'Heart' when Sam had to kill Madison; the first woman since Jessica he'd really loved. When Dean had to call John in 'Home' and ask him for help. Or when (Y/n) went back to the motel room after getting kidnapped and just had to sit in their own head and had to truly process not only the death of their mother but now their father. The mixed feelings were amazing."

"You're a really big fan," I noted. She nodded.

"Gosh, if only real men were that open about their emotions."

"Real men," Dean asked.

"I mean, no offense," she replied. "How often do you cry like that?"

"Well, right now I'm crying on the inside," he muttered.

"Is that supposed to be funny?"

"Lady, this whole thing is funny."

"How am I supposed to know this is legit?"

"Oh, trust me," Dean mumbled. "We're legit."

"Well, I don't want some smart-ass article making fun of my boys," she snapped as she sat in her chair.

"Oh, never," I replied quickly. "We actually are big fans."

"You read the books?"

"Cover to cover," I promised.

"What's the year and model of the car?"

"1967 Chevy Impala," Dean smiled proudly.

"What's May 2nd?"

"That's my- uh... Sam's birthday," Sam replied.

"Sam's score on the LSAT?"

"Umm... 174," Sam said nervously.

"(Y/n)'s first hunt?"

"Vampire in Washington," I answered. "Dean was at the motel sick and (Y/n) almost chopped John's head off when he scared them."

"(Y/n)'s favorite memory that's not related to hunting?"

I smiled, "Helping Sam get ready for a date when he was a teenager because Sam didn't trust what Dean had told him."

"Dean's favorite song?"

"It's a tie," Dean replied. "Between Zep's 'Ramble On' and 'Traveling Riverside Blues.'"

She finally laughed and smiled again, "Okay, okay. What do you wanna know?"

"What's Carver Edlund's real name," Sam asked.

"Oh, no. I can't," she shook her head.

"We just wanna talk to him," Sam continued. "You know, get the 'Supernatural' story in his own words."

"He's very private," she shrugged. "Like Salinger."

"Please," Sam tried again. "Like I said, we're um... big fans."

Sam unbuttoned his shirt enough to show his anti-possession tattoo. Dean pulled his shirt to the side to do the same. I rolled my eyes and yanked the arm of my jacket down and pulled up the sleeve of my t-shirt. I don't wear as many layers as them and I had opted to put the tattoo on my upper arm because I thought it looked nicer.

"Awesome," the lady mumbled before standing up. "Y'know what?"

I looked away as she pulled her pants down.

"I got one too."

"Wow, you are a fan," I slapped Dean's arm. The lady fixed her clothing before grabbing a pen and paper.

"Okay," she said. "His name's Chuck Shurley-"

And I stopped listening after that. I knew that name... why did I know that name... oh... oh no. I'm gonna kill him. We're going to meet this man and I am going to end up killing him.

I followed Sam and Dean as they started walking out of the woman's house.

"Excuse me," she called as we reached the door. We looked back at her. "I'm sorry, but you look exactly like how I picture (Y/n) when I read the books."

I chuckled, "Thanks."

"He describes (Y/n) with so much detail," she smiled. "You could play them in a movie."

"Thank you," I waved as we walked out.

"'You could play them in a movie,'" Dean teased.

"I know who Chuck is," I said, ignoring him.

"What," he asked. I nodded. "How?"

I pointed to get into the car. I got in the back seat and Sam and Dean sat upfront. Dean started driving to the address the lady gave us before I started speaking.

"Okay, when you went to hell, Sam's not the only one who ran off," I explained. "I wasn't gone for four months... just two weeks. In those two weeks, I got involved in a single one-night stand. The name he gave me was Chuck Shurley."

"You screwed the man who wrote books about us," Dean asked, sounding angry.

"Do you think I knew he was writing books based on our lives?"

"He had to have known who you are," Sam added. "This isn't an accident. He has to get visions or something."

"Yeah, I know," I nodded. "He made money off of my name and then screwed me."

"Damn," Dean mumbled. "I missed a hell of a lot."

I rolled my eyes.

--time skip--

I knocked on the door loudly. Sam grabbed my arm, shaking his head at me. The door was opened and I smiled obnoxiously as Chuck. He was in a robe, his boxers, and an old white shirt. He looked tired and like he hadn't had a goodnight's sleep in days.

"Chuck Shurley," Dean asked.

"Chuck Shurley that wrote the Supernatural books," Sam added.

"Nice to meet you," I said. "This is Sam... Dean... and I'm (Y/n)... the ones you've written books about."

Chuck sighed and went to shut the door. I stepped in, stopping it with my foot.

"Listen, I appreciate the enthusiasm, I really do and I remember you," he motioned at me, awkwardly grinning before seeming to shake the memories out of his head. I almost slapped him right then. "But please... go get a life."

"You see," Dean followed me, helping to force our way inside. Sam made sure the door shut behind us. "We have a life... and you're selling books about it."

"Okay, this isn't funny," Chuck mumbled.

"You're right," I said. "We just wanna know how you're doing it?"

"I'm just a writer, I'm not doing anything."

"Then why do you know so much about demons and tulpas and changelings?"

"Is this some kind of 'Misery' thing? Ah, it is, isn't it? It's a 'Misery' thing!"

"No, it's not," I shook my head. "Believe me, we're not fans."

"What do you want then," he asked.

"I'm Sam... and that's Dean and (Y/n)," Sam tried again.

"Those are fictional characters," Chuck yelled. "They aren't real!"

Dean grabbed him and pulled him outside.

"Wait, wait-"

"We aren't kidnapping you, calm down," I rolled my eyes. Dean opened the hidden compartment in the impala's trunk.

"Are those real guns?"

"Yes," I nodded. "And real rock salt, real fake IDs."

Chuck let out a laugh at it, "Well, I gotta hand it to you guys. You really are my number-one fans. That... That's awesome. So, I-I think I've got some poster in the house."

"Chuck, stop," I rolled my eyes, grabbing his arm as he went to walk away.

"Please don't hurt me," he begged.

"How much do you know," Sam asked. "Do you know about the angels? Or Lilith breaking the seals?"

"How do you know about that?"

"Have you not been listening," I asked. "The real question is how do you?"

"Because I wrote it," he explained.

"You kept writing?"

"The books never came out because the publisher went bankrupt," he furrowed his eyebrows.

I stepped back, letting go of his arms.

"Okay, wait a minute," Chuck crossed his arms. "This is some kind of joke, right? Did Phil put you up to this?"

"Oh my god," I muttered, pinching the bridge of my nose. I grabbed his robe. "I'm sorry but I'm really tired. Nice to meet you. I'm (Y/n) Winchester, these are my brothers, Sam and Dean Winchester. You wrote and published books about us, probably knew who I was, and then you still slept with me."

He stared at me in shock.

"What," I asked.

"The last names were never in the books," he mumbled. "I never told anyone about that. I never even wrote that down."

"Then I guess we have a lot to talk about," I let go of his robe.

The three of us followed him inside.

--time skip--

"I got a visit from Cas," Dean explained as he walked in. "I've some important information."

After talking to Chuck and getting a draft of what was supposed to happen, we were all panicking. Dean told us to wait here. Lilith was going to come for Sam and we both thought it'd be harder if there was more than one of us here at all times.

Now, Dean was coming back from seeing Chuck.

"And that important information is...," Sam trailed off.

"He's a prophet of the lord," Dean said, smirking at me.

I shut my eyes, letting my head fall forward.

"Please say you're joking," I mumbled.

"Nope," Dean replied.

Sam looked over at me. He only started chuckling after his brother broke.

Dean was laughing his head off within seconds, "You screwed a prophet!"

"Shut up," I groaned. "I'm gonna kill him!"

"Archangel will kill you."

"I'll happily pay that price," I muttered. "I slept with a prophet."

"At least that means he didn't write himself to sleep with you," Sam tried to comfort me.

"Yeah, God just decided I was supposed to sleep with the guy publishing books about my life," I replied sarcastically. "That makes me feel so much better."

"Come on, it could be worst-"

"Sam, love you, but don't finish that sentence if you even kind of value your life," I muttered.

I was desperate for this conversation to just end.

--time skip--

After all was said and done, and Chuck accidentally helped us chase Lilith away for a while, we gave Chuck a lift back to his place.

I followed him up to his door, offering to look around and make sure that he's safe. He shook his head.

"I have an archangel protecting me," he reminded me. "Can't get any safer than that."

I nodded.

"I'm sorry, by the way," he said. "About us. I didn't recognize you until after... it all... and I didn't say anything because I didn't really know how to explain it. The whole event makes me feel all scummy."

"It's alright," I replied with a chuckle. "It's fine, I promise."

He offered me a nervous smile, "Y'know, in all of my visions, you're the most vivid thing."

With a grin, I leaned over and kissed his cheek gently. I stepped back and headed back toward the impala. I made sure to take note of his nervous and flustered face.

"See you around, Chuck!"

"You... You too," he called after me. I got in the backseat and got comfortable.

"So... screwing the prophet wasn't that bad," Dean asked.

I just rolled my eyes, waving through the window at Chuck as Dean pulled away from the curb. Leave it to a Winchester to end up in a situation like that.

--time skip (season 11)--

Sam and I followed Dean with our guns ready. Dean was following the amulet that he had owned for a long time without even knowing it could show us where God was.

Everyone had been infected by Amara only minutes ago but now it was okay and Dean's amulet was glowing.

"Holy shit," I mumbled, seeing who was walking over to us.

Chuck.

He was supposed to be dead. That's why Kevin's prophet powers had been activated.

"No way," Dean said.

"Hey," Chuck... or God said. "We need to talk."

Despite our understandable hesitation, Chuck reached forward, teleporting all of us back to the bunker. I stepped away from him, slightly overwhelmed.

"(Y/n)," Chuck walked over and tried to grab my arm. I instinctually slapped him. I was nothing but confusion and anger. "I deserved that. Just, please?"

I stepped away again.

From behind Chuck stepped Kevin's ghost. My breath caught in my throat. The poor boy had been through so much shit because of us.

Kevin told us about how we looked stressed and that we should listen to Chuck.

Then, Chuck waved his hand. Kevin turned into a ball of white and blue light before ascending beyond the bunker.

"Where'd he go," I asked.

"Heaven, where he deserves," Chuck promised. I nodded.

I listened to the rant about how Chuck had abandoned us all and how awful things were. Then, the conversation turned to the plan to stop Amara. The boys talked about needing Lucifer and Chuck got incredibly upset. In a fit, he went to leave. I stepped in front of him.

"No," I said bluntly. "Even if you want to avoid the subject of your estranged son, you can't just leave."

"(Y/n)-"

"Sam, Dean," I looked at them. "Give us a minute?"

They both nodded, glaring at Chuck on their way out. I tried to ignore the instincts that were telling me that Chuck was just selfish.

"(Y/n)," Chuck mumbled.

"Just answer my questions," I said. "Then we can discuss what to do with Amara without you storming away recklessly. Okay?"

He nodded.

"Have you been God the whole time," I asked.

He nodded.

"You wrote all of our stories?"

Another nod.

"Did you write that I was going to sleep with you?"

I felt manipulated and angry. I was desperate for an answer. I knew that this could've made me feel like dirt, but I needed to know.

"No," Chuck said. I clenched my jaw, ready to call him a liar. "I told you. I had been pretty much hands-off for a long time. Did I know who were? Absolutely. I'm sorry I lied to you about that. But I didn't plan anything between us. We weren't some divine plan."

I nodded, looking down.

"You know how Dean and Amara are connected," he asked. I nodded, looking back at him. "We're like them."

"And that's not a divine plan-"

"I'm not doing a good job explaining this," Chuck shook his head. "It feels like we're like them. Like there's this bond that just happened as soon as we met."

"You lied to me, for years," I said. "Saying we have some bond isn't gonna fix that."

"I know."

We both fell silent. Slowly, I started laughing. Chuck furrowed his eyebrows, "My only one-night stand... and it was God."

Chuck started laughing with me while I really processed what I had done.

I slowly stopped laughing.

I didn't notice until it was too late that Chuck had slowly gotten closer to me. As soon as his lips brushed mine, I pushed him back. Not hard, but enough to get him to step away.

"No," I mumbled. "Not that, no."

Chuck nodded, "Got it."

"Now," I sighed, "we need to actually plan to stop Amara, and if we need Luci-"

"We don't," he said bluntly. "We can do something else. We don't need him. Okay?"

I nodded. In my gut, I trusted him. Maybe that was me being an idiot but I did trust him. For now at least.

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[i-make-fun-of-spn-characters]

I feel like you've given most spn related things some lil spice but I always love the spice on this : hot spicy take on the "Dean is the most horrible character and ruins everyone's life and Sam and Cas are poor little meow meows who only do bad things sometimes because tyran Dean farted in their direction" takes that are not really only said by anti-Dean peeps ? Obsessed with that incredible thesis and would love the added spice ❤

SPICY HOT HOT GHOST PEPPERS CAROLINA REAPERS HELP I'M BURNING

I really try to respect other people’s opinions, and I believe there are a wealth of ways to interpret a story, and I think that’s a deeply beautiful thing. This applies to interpretations I don't agree with and outright dislike as well. That said, some opinions are simply and objectively bad, dishonest, and/or demonstrably false, and I truly do not believe you can sit down and honestly watch through the show with an open mind about all the characters, truly pay attention to what they do, say, and believe, and come to the conclusion that this show is about an evil manipulative abusive man terrorizing his pure and sinless brother and friend. It is an interpretation built from cherry picking facts to suit an ugly, miserable theory, making Mount Everest out of a bunch of the tiny mole hills, making the worst possible presumptions of feelings and intentions, and holding characters to completely different standards in order to neatly divide them into "abused" and "abuser" in a way that, frankly, fetishizes the abused person. I despise this interpretation of the story with every fiber of my being, and I have absolutely no respect for the opinion of anyone who peddles it, regardless of who they cast as villain/victim (because people have also done this with the others—it’s just more “popular” to do it with Dean... I mean... does anyone else remember how people were shitting on Sam after his emotional reaction in 14.12? Calling him an evil abuser? Because I do).

The thing that always gets me about this take isn't just how dishonest, unfair, mean-spirited, and compassionless it is in its treatment of Dean’s feelings, circumstances, and intentions... but how deeply reductive and offensive it is toward Sam and Castiel, sucking away their identities to turn them into effigies to mourn for their sad, Stockholm syndrome-esque attachment to their "abuser". Further, it grips the heart of the show—the relationship between Sam and Dean, and then the relationship among TFW as a whole—in a tight, uncompromising fist and pulverizes it. It literally rips out the heart of the show (the RELATIONSHIPS) and replaces it with something unprepossessing of any merit: A miserable, 15 years long story about a malicious abuser getting away with terrorizing those closest to him for his entire life, while his poor abuse victims suffer through until they die for him/happy to be reunited with him because they “don’t know any better” and never ever learned better, I guess. What a stupid, sad sack of a story.

Castiel is a thousands of years old celestial being who has literally beaten Dean into the pavement under no form of mind control, and has shown over and over again that he will do whatever the hell he wants, regardless of whatever Dean thinks about being sidelined. If he thinks whatever he is doing is in Dean's best interest, he literally does not care how Dean feels about it. He will nod and smile and then fly off and swallow thousands of souls with Dean begging him not to, shove Dean out of the way to attack the big bad, leave Dean alone in Purgatory, refuse to come out of Purgatory so he can self-flagellate, fly off with the angel tablet, help Sam with the Book of the Damned, let Lucifer possess him without anyone's knowledge or agreement, come into Dean's room under the guise of apologizing for ghosting him so that he can steal The Colt out from under his pillow and murder someone, decide not to murder that person and still prevent Sam and Dean from helping by knocking them both unconscious, get himself killed, make a deal to trade his life for Jack's and never tell anyone, hide information and worries and ignore phone calls, ghost Sam and Dean, and bicker and fight with Dean as if they are a married couple. Love sickness and feelings of worthlessness (which Cas has a wealth of reasons to feel—many of which aren’t even related to Dean but to his heavenly family) are reinterpreted as the result of some sort of constant, terrorizing emotional abuse. Power and authority that Dean does not actually have is forced into his hands by these fans. Maybe listen when Cas says, “Hey—not everything is your fault.” Maybe listen when he says “I loved the whole world because of you”, calls Dean a role model, says he enjoys their conversations, offers to die with him and dies for him multiple times. Maybe treat these feelings as genuine and valid and HIS and not as the delusions of some poor manipulated baby. 

Sam is framed this way even more often than Cas, and it's a damn shame, because what I typically see is this: Sam’s development into a mediator and peacemaker is twisted and reinterpreted as coming from a place of weakness and/or fear. Rationality, maturity, wisdom, and compassion are not the traits of a scared, powerless child. They are the traits of a mature adult, who has been beaten down by life, and fought and raged against his circumstances, and somehow come out of it with more kindness and understanding and strength instead of less. He has made his own decisions whenever it was possible, within the set of circumstances doled out to him. From telling his dad to go fuck himself and going to college, to getting back into hunting to avenge Jess (NOT because of Dean—Dean took him home without complaint at the end of the woman in white case), to continuing to hunt after their father died because he wanted to feel close to him (Dean was actually weirded out and sort of disgusted by this), raging and fighting to save Dean from his deal against Dean’s wishes, continuing to hunt and working with Ruby (directly against Dean’s dying wish), drinking demon blood, jumping in the cage, leaving hunting to go be with Amelia, coming back to hunting to save Kevin, fighting with Dean over what he had with Amelia and threatening to leave if Dean didn't shut his mouth, leaving Amelia to go back to hunting (Dean ultimately suggests he go back to her—Sam chooses to stay), trying to kill Benny, demanding to be the one to do The Trials and saying he is going to SURVIVE them—that being the ENTIRE POINT, losing that resolve in a fit of depression but choosing to drop the knife, demanding space from Dean (and being given it), fighting to save Demon Dean who didn’t want to be found or saved, using the Book of the Damned against Dean’s wishes, telling Charlie that this is what he wants—that he used to want normal but now all he wants is to hunt with Dean and that he doesn’t know what he’ll do if he can’t have that, unleashing the Darkness in his desperation to keep Dean with him and even saying, “I would do it again” in the aftermath, saving the town being destroyed by Amara, getting into The Cage with Lucifer, leading a team against the British Men of Letters, nurturing Jack, punching Dean in the face when he was going to sacrifice himself, leading more hunters, wielding a gun against Chuck... and that’s just some highlights. Sam Fucking Winchester does not need your bullshit about him being some sad, scared, helpless baby lorded over by mean old Dean who has never let him do anything he wants. 

Yes, in the text itself, there is jealousy and resentment at times, and there is legitimate and righteous anger on Sam’s part on a few occasions. There is blame cast on Dean by Sam for some of these choices/circumstances. Some of those moments where Dean is blamed are legitimate, and some of them... frankly, are not. Within the framework of the fucked up dynamics of the way they were raised, Sam and some fans bristle when they feel Dean is casting himself as the parent he is not, but Sam also has been guilty in the past of trying to reframe himself as Dean’s child when things got tough. Neither of them is responsible for the origin of that dynamic, but they BOTH have responsibility to change it, and they both, ultimately, succeed in doing so. For Sam, his part comes in recognizing and learning to fully own his own choices. Recognizing that he is not a child, and he is certainly not Dean’s child, and it isn’t just “Mummy—loosen the grip”, but Sam has to too—not claim independence only to blame Dean for his choices when his own decisions have an ultimate outcome he is unhappy with. That is a legitimate arc that Sam goes through imo, but he comes out the other side of it, and he and Dean relate to each other much better as peers from then on—and I’d like to note that throughout the entire series, when they don’t relate as perfect peers and teammates, it isn’t always Dean “bossing Sam around”, but Sam also trying to sideline Dean and yes—boss him around. And when they lied and hurt each other and yes, even manipulated each other, Dean most certainly wasn't always the one doing the lying and hurting and manipulating. Always, always, ALWAYS, they both had an understandable point of view, and it was complex, and you could understand why they made the choices they did, even if you thought of those choices as being wrong ones. 

I also would like to point out (because this is basically what I see all of the time) that Dean being hurt by someone or simply voicing his feelings or opinion is in no way abusive or manipulative. Dean is certainly charismatic and loved and his returning love and respect is often deeply desired, but he is not an actual siren, who bends people to his will simply by speaking or being. People are, in fact, able to tell him “no”, and frequently FREQUENTLY do. Further more, no one is owed his affection, his unwavering loyalty, or his trust. He has a right to his boundaries, regardless of if it makes some poor sad sap feel deprived of the “wellspring of coveted love” while he works through things. He can be hurt and angry, and he can wear his heart on his sleeve at times, and he can be flawed, and broken. [Insert Castiel's speech from 15.18 here]. So can Sam. So can Cas. None of them are manipulating each other by virtue of getting angry, feeling hurt, being traumatized, needing space, or having differing opinions or feelings. Sam didn’t punch Dean in the face in 14.12 because he's a cruel, manipulative abuser trying to force Dean under his thumb. He didn’t work behind Dean’s back with Ruby, insist on doing The Trials, beg Dean to use Doc Benton’s alchemy, use the Book of the Damned to cure Dean, pump him full of blood to cure him of being a demon despite the fact that it might kill him, or scream at him and fight him for wanting to get in the Ma’lak box because he “doesn’t respect his autonomy” and “wants to control him” and “doesn’t respect his right to his own body”. He did it because he loves him desperately, and Dean could stand to fucking hate himself less, and he fiercely wanted Dean to live even when Dean didn’t want to or couldn’t picture what that could be like. He didn’t force Dean to do anything simply by opening his mouth to voice disagreement and swaying Dean when he did so. Now reverse that. 

Cas didn't beat Dean into the ground in season 5 because he wanted to terrorize him into never going against Castiel ever again. He didn’t go behind his back dozens of times, sideline him, go MIA, all because he wanted to manipulate and control Dean and punish him. He didn’t throw sassy remarks at him to shatter his self-esteem. Now reverse that. 

*Breathes*

Anyway, fuck "X is abusive” interpretations. 

[postmodernmulticoloredcloak]

The room where it happened. 10x03 and 15x18

(Sorry for the title, I had to.)

No one afaik has said anything about it yet but I have been mentally screaming about it since I saw the episode and you all need to scream with me about the room where the scene happened.

And also how the scene was filmed. At the beginning, while Dean says that he ruined everything because he’s full of anger and the only thing he knows is to kill, the chair is positioned between the two of them. In fact, it’s filmed in a way so that the chair is clearly visible and oddly (well, oddly only if you don’t know what it means) emphasized by the direction and how Jensen touches it and leans on it.

After Dean makes his hopeless speech, Dean walks in front of the chair (again, Jensen’s acting emphasizes the movement in relation to the chair)

so, when Cas confesses his feelings, the chair is no longer between them. Nothing is between them.

Many things happened in that room and multiple characters sat on that chair, but the most iconic and emotionally heavy thing that happened in that room, well, we all know it.

The chair represents Demon Dean and what that represented. The chair represents the trauma and the fear and the anger. The obstacles. It’s not a coincidence that when Dean expresses his feelings of self-loathing and hopelessness the chair stands between them, and when Cas tells Dean how he sees him and how he feels for him the chair isn’t between them anymore. Of course it’s not complete yet, but they have progressed, Dean has finally heard something he needed so badly to hear. The very thing he needed to hear. They’re on the path to healing.

The chair is there, of course, in the middle of the room. The elephant in the room except it’s not an elephant but a chair, I guess. But it’s empty and Dean is able to step in front of it and get closer to Cas and hear what Cas has to say.

The trauma is there, but it’s an empty chair. And it’s possible to step around it and get closer to love.

But I want to say something more about 10x03 and 15x18.

Compare these moments.

This isn’t even the real you I’m talking to.

Oh, it’s the real me, all right. The new real me - the me that sees things for what they really are. Winchesters. Do-gooders. Fighting the natural order. Let me tell you something - guys like me, we are the natural order. It’s the way it was set up.

It’s you, Dean. It’s always been you. Death-defying, rule-breaking. You are everything I lived to set right. To put down. To tame. You are human disorder incarnate.

It’s almost like someone wrote the script for 15x18 with 10x03 open on his desk, right? Let’s continue.

There’s no point in trying to bring your brother back now.

Oh, I will bring him back.

In fact, your uh... guilt-ridden, weight-of-the-world bro has been MIA for quite some time now. But I’m loving the new model: lean, mean, Dean.

Right.

You notice I tried to get as far away from you as possible? Away from your whining, your complaining. I chose the King of Hell over you! Maybe I was just... tired of babysitting you. Or always having to yank your lame ass out of the fire since... [Dean laughs.] Forever. Or maybe... Maybe it was the fact that my mother would still be alive if it wasn’t for you. That your very existence sucked the life out of my life!

This isn’t my brother talking.

You never had a brother! Just an excuse for not manning up. But guess what: I quit.

No. No, you don’t. You don’t get to quit. We don’t get to quit in this family! This family is all we have ever had!

Well, then, we got nothin’.

Would you say that to Dad?

Dad? Oh, there’s a prize. There’s a man who brainwashed us into wasting our lives fighting his losing battle!

and

I know. I know how you see yourself, Dean. You see yourself the same way our enemies see you. You’re destructive and you’re angry and you’re broken. You’re-you’re “daddy’s blunt instrument”."And you think that hate and anger, that’s-that’s what drives you. That’s who you are. It’s not. And everyone who knows you sees it. Everything you have ever done, the good and the bad you have done for love. You raised your little brother for love. You fought for this whole world for love. That is who you are. You’re the most caring man on Earth. You are the most selfless, loving human being I will ever know.

Let’s also look at Cas in the episode

You say you’re fine, but you don’t... look fine.

It’s what the humans do. They say they’re fine. And even if I-I don’t look it, you say I look well, and that way, we avoid talking about something we can do nothing about.

Oh boi, we’ve gone so far from “we don’t speak about things we can’t do anything about”. (Well, he thinks he can’t do anything about his feelings for Dean, but still.)

Look at this line from Hannah

What about helping your friend? And sending the rogue angels back to Heaven? Your preference to die for your principles, it’s very noble, but it is meaningless.

Thank you, it hurts! It was never about principles. It was about love. And love is never meaningless. It’s the only thing that is not meaningless. It’s the only thing that really matters, and, in fact, the only thing that is truly real in the universe.

And of course the most important line in the episode:

What the hell are we doing to him, Cas? I mean, even after I gave him all that blood, he still said he didn’t want to be cured, that he didn’t want to be human.

Well... I see his point. You know, only humans can feel real joy, but... also such profound pain. This is easier.

Only humans can feel real joy, but also profound pain.

I always wondered since I took that burden, that curse, what it could be. What my true happiness could even look like. I never found an answer. Because the one thing I want... it’s something I know I can’t have. But I think I know... I think I know now. Happiness isn’t in the having. It’s in just being... it’s in just saying it.

[...]

You know, ever since we met, ever since I pulled you out of hell, knowing you has changed me. Because you cared, I cared. I cared about you. I cared about Sam. I cared about Jack. I cared about the whole world because of you. You changed me, Dean.

I’m fine.

To conclude this - of course, 10x03 was also one step of the big misunderstanding between Dean and Cas. Cas eventually leaves saying something vague about a famale companion that makes Dean think he’s leaving him for a woman that is more important than he is.

While one of the scenes with Crowley in hell subtly drops the other side of the misunderstanding - a demon tries to get in Crowley’s good graces by offering to be Dean’s replacement for him with these words:

I, too, love to party. And I do love the ladies. And the classic rock-and-roll. Most importantly, I could debauch by your side without being a personal embarrassment. 

That was to emphasize how those weren’t the relevant things about Dean that Crowley, or anyone, cared about. Thus, those aren’t the relevant things about Dean. Those are some things that are true about Dean, but that’s not Dean.

It’s been a very long journey, and we’re seeing the fruits of a very long work.

[maxineswritingcenter]

Maybe in Another Life - Dean x fem!reader part 4

In this universe, Chuck had won, Dean, Sam, and (Y/N) were the only ones left. They must find another reality to live so they can find a way to bring back their own. But after getting separated, (Y/N) must find her Dean while working with this universe’s hunters.

Also Season 15 spoilers

----------

2005

(Y/N) was a young hunter down on her luck. She was on her last twenty bucks and her last tank of gas. She wanted to get this hunt done so she could go down to Vegas to hustle a couple old men out of a couple hundred bucks. Selling pictures of her body wasn’t honest work, but it was work. 

For right now, hunting was more of a duty than a pay bill, her parents had been killed by a vampire clan with (Y/N) narrowly escaping. So when she heard that the vampires who killed her parents were back in town, she wanted revenge. The only problem was that she had to team up with John Winchester. The guy was a complete hardass, military-like instructions. He had little to no respect for anyone, including his own kid.  

After the hunt and telling Mr. Winchester the place on her body that he could place his dusty, crusty lips on, she was walking back to her car or as she liked to call it, the mansion. Behind her, she could hear a car pull up and John Winchester saying he would be back soon. She looked over her shoulder, seeing John getting in a car and his son, Dean watching the car leave. 

His eyes then landed on her. Dean started jogging towards her car. This outta be good. The guy was a flirt... A good flirt, but a flirt nonetheless. But something told her that behind shell was a heart of gold and so much trauma, it reminded her a lot of herself. Alone in a dark world that kept getting darker. 

“What’s wrong? Daddy dearest kick you out?” She asked as she opened the door and threw her bag into the passenger seat. 

“Uh no, he went out on his own for a hunt.” He looked at the ground awkwardly, “I wanna apologize about him. He’s kind of-” 

“An asshole?” She finished the sentence.

Dean slipped his hands into his pockets, “I was gonna say rough around the edges.” 

“If by rough you mean sandpaper.” She looked at him, “Sure.” 

Dean smiled, his bright green eyes sparkling, “I guess. Uh, where you headed?”

She sighed and looked at him, “I dunno. Wherever I can earn my next dollar.” She got into her car and closed the door, turning the key. And turning the key. The key, turning. Car not starting. 

“Son of a bitch!” She slammed her hand against the wheel. Dean gave her a innocent looked, leaning down into her window. 

“Did you know this model is notorious for just not working?” 

She looked back at him, “I am well aware.” She rested her head against the steering wheel, “It was all I could afford at the time. And now I’m screwed.” 

“Well...” He opened her door, “You could hitch a ride with me.” She turned her head, narrowing her eyes at him.

“What’s the catch? Because this.” She motioned to her body, “Aint free.” 

Dean backed off quickly, holding his hands up in surrender, “Woah woah, sweetheart. I ain’t that kinda guy. Not that you’re not...” He looked her up in down, “Incredibly beautiful. But I feel like you deserve it after my dad said what he said.”

“You mean when he told me that the reason the vampires killed my parents was because I wasn’t strong enough at the ripe age of ten?” She got out of the car, grabbing her bag. 

“Yeah, pretty much.” He smirked, “I also wanted to apologize for that over a slice of pie at that diner we passed on the way into town.” She hummed, tapping her chin as she walked to the back of her car, hitting it just right so that the trunk opened. 

“I don’t have any money.” She said, “So I can’t pay you back until later.” 

“I don’t have money either.” He shrugged, reaching into the trunk and grabbing a suitcase of all her worldly possessions, “I’m just really good at shooting pool.” 

-

“Hey dad, it’s Dean again... Why aren’t you answering your phone? And what the hell was that voicemail you left me?” (Y/N) watched Dean grip onto the payphone tightly. They were sitting outside an apartment near Stanford university where Dean was going to talk his brother into trying to find their dad on a hunt that he hadn’t come back and hadn’t answered his phone. In the days since Dean and (Y/N) had been driving, they had actually gotten to know each other very well, they were becoming close friends. 

After the line went dead, Dean got back into the Impala and cursed, gripping onto the steering wheel. 

“Look, you don’t have to be apart of this if you don’t want to.” Dean looked at (Y/N). 

She shook her head, “You’re not getting rid of me that easy, Dean-Bean.” She reached into her bag of cherry twizzlers, taking a bite, “Plus.” She said around the candy, “He may be an asshole, but he probably needs help.” 

Dean chuckled, leaning over and taking a bite of the twizzler in her hand, “I appreciate it, sweetheart.” He winked.

“Awh.” She pouted dramatically, “I don’t get a fun nickname?” 

“How about snookums?” 

“Oh absolutely not.” She laughed. 

“Honeybunches?” 

“No.” 

“Sugar booger?” 

“The Spanish word for no is no.” 

Dean shook his head, “Alright, alright. How about sweetheart when you’re sweet, and sweet-tart when you’re a little crabby?” 

“I do not get crabby.” She narrowed her eyes at him.

“Really?”  He raised his eyebrows at her. 

She rolled her eyes, reaching down on the floor of the car in front of her and pulling a burger out of the bag, “Shut up and eat.” 

- 

2006

After the semi truck crashed into them, John, Sam, and (Y/N) were left with minor injuries while Dean was left in critical condition. He was in a coma, hooked up to a wall of machinery and a breathing tube in his throat. 

(Y/N) had been confined to her room with a broken ankle, kept in touch by Sam who would come in to explain what was happening. Dean was in the space between life and death and John was going to summon the demon he had been searching for to get revenge against him for... well, for everything.

As she lay in her bed, tears in her eyes, she spoke to no one, but hoped he was listening.

“I don’t know if you’re hear right now, Dean. But...” She inhaled deeply, “But I want you to know that I love you.” She chuckled, “And I know you’re probably thinking that I’m only saying this because you’re having your out of body experience moment and you could die. The reality is that I love you. You put up that flirty, whore persona, but I know who you really are. Those nights when we’re alone and we talk about our lives together and depression backstories. I’ve never trusted anyone more. And I love you. So...” She looked around, “So please, don’t die on me. I don’t know if I can do this without you.” 

Finally, (Y/N) had managed to get into a wheel chair in the night, the night that Dean woke up. The night John died in the basement of the hospital, giving his life for Dean’s. 

Sam was passed out asleep in a chair next to Dean’s bed while Dean was wide awake, staring out the window. 

“Hey...” She said softly, rolling up to the side of his bed. He glanced at her, a small smile pulled at his lips. 

“How’s it goin’, hot wheels?” 

She sighed, “You were literally in limbo this morning, but now we’re laughs?” 

“Gotta get through the pain somehow.” He looked back towards the window. She reached out and took his hand, giving it a slight squeeze. 

“I’m sorry about your dad.” She said, “My last words weren’t kind to him. If I would have known...” 

Dean shook his head, “Nah, you had every right to talk to him like that. Especially after the last few days.” He looked down at her, “I heard you by the way.” 

Her eyes widened, “No, you didn’t.” 

“Yeah, I did.” 

“No, no, you didn’t.” 

“You called me a whore.” He spoke in a hushed voice, taking a small glance at Sam before looking back at (Y/N). 

“Well, you are.” She shrugged, “Kinda.” 

Dean rolled his eyes and sighed, “Look... My point is... The feelings are mutual.” Her eyes widened. 

“I was on death’s door, I’m not gonna deny what I’m feeling anymore.” He brought her hand up to his lips and pressed a soft kiss on her knuckles, “I love you.”

-

As they started searching around the town, Sam was finally able to get ahold of Dean. 

“Dean? Dean, is everything alright?” Sam asked into the phone. Jack and (Y/N) head’s snapped back towards Sam on the phone. Her heart felt a little less heavy then. Dean was alive and that meant she hadn’t lost everything. 

“Okay, we’re in downtown Hastings, we really need to plan out our next move.” Sam said. After a moment, Sam looked up at her, “Yeah, she’s still here.” 

That was the other thing that made her heart feel heavy, call it survivors guilt. She came from a dead universe, just like all those hunters had, and she was still there. 

- 

It was scary being on an empty planet. You never realize how much noise the world made until the world had gone silent. Everyone in Hastings was gone. Everyone in Minnesota was gone. The whole world. They were all that was left. They made to an intersection on an empty street. Cars stopped or crashed where they were last operated. The soft puttering of the Impala made them pause. Dean parked it on the street corner, getting out and looking around the abandoned town. 

Dean walked over to the group, closest to (Y/N), reaching down and holding her hand. She welcomed this touch, knowing it well. He was devastated, he needed something to ground to the world. He was shaking slightly, not enough to be detected by the human eye. 

“Everyone's gone.” Sam said, “You see anybody on the way here?”

“No.” Dean answered, sounding like he didn’t believe it himself. 

“I couldn't save anybody. Billie-”

“It wasn't Billie. It was Chuck.” Dean said. 

“What?” Sam and (Y/N) asked together. 

“Where's Cas?” Jack asked. It was only then that she realized that Cas was no where to be found. And when Jack said his name, Dean’s hand clenched down on hers. 

“Dean?” Sam asked hesitantly. 

Dean looked everywhere but the Nephilim, “He saved me. Billie was coming after us, and Cas summoned the Empty. It took her. And it took him. Cas is gone.” Jack looked like his whole world had fallen apart, and it had. His father was gone. 

“This can't be happening.” Sam shook his head. Maybe in a state of shock. 

“It is, Sam. I think everyone's gone.” Sam shook his head, bringing his phone out and making a call. 

Dean dropped her hand, walking to the young boy, “Jack, I'm sorry.” (Y/N) stayed in his position in the street, looking around. 

This was impossible. They had no option. No plan. It all seemed so hopeless. Maybe she couldn’t save them... She couldn’t save this world. How could she save a world that was already gone?

-

They made their way to a diner in town and made their way inside to regroup. The diner looked like everyone had dropped what they were doing - eating- and disappeared. Food was still on the table, the fryer was still crackling in the kitchen. On the television was what was supposed to be a football game, but all the screen showed was an empty stadium and an empty field. 

“Hey,” Dean motioned to the TV, “It brings a whole new meaning to the term "sudden death." He turned the bar’s tap off so the stream of beer coming from the stout ceased. 

“Do you think we're it?” Sam asked, “All that's left?”

Dean chuckled darkly, “Yeah. You, me, her, Jack.” He looked out to the window where Jack was sitting on a large cement planter. He asked for space to come to terms with the fact that Castiel was gone. He needed it. Honestly, they all needed it. She had lost Cas before, but losing him again was twice as hard. Dean had poured himself a pint. Alcohol had always been his vice. 

Soon enough though, Jack made his way inside, staring at the hunters, “Hey. So, um, what now?”

“I did this.” Sam spoke up, “We could have just given Chuck what he wanted, you know, his grand finale. But I resisted. I pulled the thread. I thought we could beat this game, do it better. We tried to rewrite him, and the whole world paid the price.” Sam looked at (Y/N), “I’m sorry. But you’re mission to save us... I ruined it.”

“Sam, we can-” 

“We can what?” Sam interrupted his brother, “There's nothing left, Dean. No one left to save. Everybody's gone.”

“You can't just give up.” Jack spoke up. 

“What other choice do we have?” Sam snapped back. 

-

Sam and Dean decided to hash it out with Chuck, agree to his ending of brother against brother. If it meant that they could get things back to the way it was, maybe they could try something new. They had dropped (Y/N) and Jack off at the bunker before leaving. 

The two were left at the bunker, hoping the plan would work, but frankly their nerves were shot that hope seemed like a fever dream. (Y/N) had made food but both of them were too emotionally devastated to really eat. 

As (Y/N) was cleaning up dishes, Jack walked into the kitchen silently. 

“(Y/N)?” He asked. 

She turned and gave him a soft smile, “Yeah?” 

Jack came around, grabbing a dish towel and slowly drying off a bowl, “I was just wondering what I was like in your world.” 

She hummed, “You’re pretty much the same. I think you ate a little more nougat though.” 

“I feel like I was happier.” He said, drying a cup. 

“Why’s that?” 

Jack paused his drying and looked up at her, “Because I would have had you since the beginning. You have been so kind and warm to me. Even after all the things I’ve done.” 

She looked at him, handing him a plate, “Jack-a-bug, you have powers that angels have had millennia to master.” She looked at him, “You’re still learning. When you’re learning sometimes you do things you didn’t mean to and you feel awful. But for how long you’ve been with us, with how much you’ve learned, I think you’re doing great.” 

Jack nodded and then looked at her with a head tilt that reminded her so much of her friend in the trench coat, “Jack-a-bug?” He asked. 

She let out a small laugh, “Oh yeah.” She shook her head, “That’s what I called my Jack. I had a lot of nicknames for you. Sweet boy, Dean two, Jack-a-bug. I’m pretty sure he hated it though.” 

“No.” He said, “I like them. They make me feel... Special.” 

She smiled, cupping his cheek, “That’s because you are. Not because you’re a Nephilim. Because you’re ours.” He smiled weakly, then excused himself to bed. 

(Y/N) was sitting at the world map table, waiting for the brothers to get home. When they did, she stood up from the table, look expectantly. Sam only shook his head and went straight to his room. Dean however stood in the entrance of the room. 

“What’d he say?” She asked. She had an idea of the answer, but she needed to hear it. 

“Uh, he wants us to rot here.” He said casually. He walked into the room, cupping her cheeks in his hands, “So what do you say me and you play catch-up over some whiskey?” 

“Dean-” She said, holding his wrists to take them off her cheeks. 

“Sweet-tart.” He sighed, looking down at her, “There’s nothing we can do right now. Or maybe at all. Please.” He rested his forehead on hers, “Can we please just... Let’s just have tonight. No universe difference, no your Dean my (Y/N). Just be mine for tonight.”

“Okay.” She said softly, giving his hands a squeeze, “But if you call me sweet-tart again, I’m gonna drink your good whiskey that you hide in garage.” 

He narrowed his eyes, a sly smile on his face, “How do you know where I hid that?"

She hummed and leaned up, rubbing her nose on his, "Who do you think put it there in the first place."

He chuckled, dropping his hands from her face to her hands, pulling her towards the garage.

-------------

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[nobodiesheartlessshitblog45]

My headcanons For Gojo Satoru

This Dingus right here is a huge movie fan. Loves pretty much anything, the old classics black and white movies, foreign films, main stream movies and so bad that it’s good movies. He loves TV shows, he’s big Supernatural fanboy. Loves Dean  Winchester and strong shipper of Deancel, Walking Dead fan all the way. Both the comics, Tv show and games. (He only played the first season and balled his eyes out for a weeks, and refuses to play rest of the games) Dose have a soft spot of horror movies, Like The Screams, Halloween, The Saw  franchise, classic monster movies of course. Gotta respect the classics.

His favorite movies of all time are  Beetlejuice (Satoru’s roll model) Corpse Bride, Frankenweenie, Edward scissors hand The Princess Bride , all the old George Romero zombie movies, again classic monster movies, The Lord Of The Rings and Hobbit  franchise. He’s a big Bruce Campbell fan, and loves, loves all the Evil Dead movies and show. Loves Deadpool and has a huge man crush Ran Reynolds. Loves all Marvel Movies. Big Spider Man fanboy.

His favorite Disney movies are Princess and the frog, disney’s Atlantis, Tangrled, 101 Dalmatians, Emperors new groove, Hercules, Toy Story, but he can’t watch the 3rd because he will cry for ours.

He wasn’t a sorcerer, he would have loved to be an actor or  film Director.

Dose play videos games, Pretty much played all the telltale games, Loves Red Dead redemption games The second one is his favorite, and loves Arthur Morgan. He’s only played Season 1 of the Walking Dead and still not over Lee’s death. Loves Stardew Valley, Pokemon and Animal Crossing.

Our boy loves his sweets, but hates eating his veggies. Trying to get this grown ass man to eat veggies is like a small fish trying fight a great white shark. It’s fight everyone is going to lose.

His favorite Tv shows’s are the Walking Dead, Game of Throwns, The Office both American and British, Big Big Doctor Who fan, loves the 10th Doctor (David Tennen is his boy) Watched Pokémon Anime that has come out the years, knows the lore like that back of his hand.

This man loves to crossdress, love to wear fancy ballgown dress, sundress and  skirts. He can walk around in high heels with easy. He owns a lot high heels shoes.

Drinks a lot of coffee, 5-8 cups a day. Cannot stand the bitterness plane coffee. He adds 12 spoonful of sugar and milk to each cup. Hell is coffee isn’t really coffee pure sugar and milk or as Nanami dubs a cup of diabetes and tooth decay.

This man has the maturity of a 6 year old. He still think fart jokes are hilarious, it you say the word ‘booger’ this man child will start laughing uncontrollably, and he makes a lot dick jokes whenever he can and innuendos. He will even go into random empty classrooms and draw a lot of stupid doodles of random shit, like you would see in kids notebook if they were bored in class, and he draws lot of that penises. For some reason he draw dicks all over the chock bored. He’s been doing this since meddle and high school, he still thinks it funny. No body else dose. ... possibly Yuji.

He will out no where will start singing show toons. He just dose. Weather he’s in a meeting, doing a mission, teaching a class or singing in the shower, he will hum or sing out right of no where. Disney songs he knows by heart, themes of anime he’s into or watching. It helps him to relax... Or annoyed the shit of the others. 

He dose not care spots but he dose enjoy baseball.

Gojo Satour’s ideal s/o

This man is a huge tease and jokester. He need someone who can match or almost his Energy.  Humor is a very important thing to him, help deal with some shit that he had to go through. Someone with a good sence of humor is one attraction to him.

He’s a patien guy, and understands that it some people take getting out their shells, and he’s very excepting, but as long as you don’t try to kill or hurt is students things should be fine.

He is very overprotective lover. His s/o could very powerful sorcerer, capable of handling themselves in battle with curses or evil sorcerers, still doesn’t change that this man will worry and will step in if things will get hairy for liking. But al the same time of s/o a very strong sorcerer and knows how to care of themselves in n a battle it dose put Satoru’a mind at ease in away, still hate the idea of being away from his lover is something to them or they get hurt. If his s/o got badly injured or his s/o was about the brink of dying. HELL. HAVE. NO. FURY. TO. THIS. MAN’S. ANGER. He kill without think twice. No mercy, no secret changes, just death. He’ll rushed over to help his S/o and take them to Dr. Shoko, and will not leave until they are taken care and healed.

He’s his overprotective of his s/o and students so don’t fuck with any of them and no has to die. This man kill with thinking twice about it.

This man is loaded. As cash, and would give Yuji, Megumi and Nobara some money to enjoy themselves with. But this man dose love to spoil his s/o when he could. Somethings he will go overboard and his s/o tells him but it’s not necessarily to spend all this money on them. Which makes him love them even more because they not love him for his money. However Gojo being, well, Gojo will randomly get bouquets of flowers for his lovely s/o I will bring it to them randomly. It doesn’t matter if they’re teaching a class or and a very important meeting with Yaga-San, he’ll ust pop out of nowhere with a big goofy grin on his face and give his s/o the flowers kiss them and disappears, there is an awkward and annoying silence from from the students or the principal. And his s/o mildly embarrassed, but flattered shall go on as if nothing happened. And it becomes has become a running joke around in the school.

Hugs, Kissses and Cuddles are a must.  Again Satour doesn’t give a shit there is a meeting or A class being taught when this man wants affection, he’s going to get affection. He’ll come from behind and rest his head on his s/o’s chin on his s/o’s head. (Because the guy’s freakishly tall) And will just annoyin the shit out of then until he gets what he wants. Then he will leave them alone, maybe not. He’s Hot mess of chaotic energy after all. Plus he thinks it’s adorable When they get a little annoyed with him.

Being Married To Gojo Satoru or just have a  domestic life with him

This man never really saw himself getting married. It’s something that he was rather against for a while, until he meets his s/o. Nothings really changed in their relationship after they got married, did a few years and they just try to not have nowhere Most of everyone at the school cannot believe that someone would actually marry this maniac. Either his s/o is as as patient as a saint, just as bad shit crazy as Gojo Satour himself.

He dose everything in his power too make this work, and so dose his s/o. The two of them being power for sorcerers is basically a couple goal, The ultimate couple. At least Satour says. That being said working as a Jujutsu Sorcerer is both a mental, emotional and sometimes a physical strain on people. When things get too much for S/O, this man will stop what he’s doing, and will will be there his s/o, and his will be there for him when he the most. Having someone being there each is the most important thing in a relationships.

His clan was very against their relationship from the beginning. But Satour did not care, he loves who he loves so his clan/family can suck it.

His favorite nicknames for s/o are Sweetness, cutiepie, pumpkin, sugar, sweetheart, honeybuns and to get cringy Pookie. So weird one’s like Mochi cheeks, and beautiful or handsome. 

His favorite nickname that his s/o calls sweetie, honey, goofball, goober and  whackadoodle, knucklehead and dingus

When s/o are going away for a mission for a few a few days or few month, or Vice versa they would text, FaceTime pretty everyday. They talk about they day, and talk about the missions that had. Satour would have his students in the background who would say hello, and he and Yuji would make stupid jokes, and Nobara would laugh a bit and Megumi would roll his eyes in the background. And when his s/o get back from a mission this man is a very clingy little shit, he will hug the hell out his s/o when they get back. And would pout and whin if you have to a meeting or don’t have to see him. He’s a big a baby like that.

Over all this man is just big goofball, sure he’s annoying as fuck sometimes, but he dose cares about other’s. He’s a hot chaotic mess of a man, by God we love him for it.

[nonagesimus]

(Fic) if you think it’s love (it is) - Sastiel ~2.5k

(AO3 Link)

Sam decides it’s time Cas finally gets that date. Happy Valentine’s Day, sastielers!

It was three days after the grace-extracting experiment. They had been quiet. Researching, looking for cases. Sam had calmed after the spell failed - for about a day. Since then Castiel had caught him staring in quiet moments, hovering over books with his gaze in middle distance instead of on the pages, chewing his fingernails. When he’d asked was was bothering him, Sam had said nothing. So, he waited. If Sam wanted to tell him something, he would. Eventually. Apparently three days was that eventually.

“I- I’m sorry if this is weird,” was an auspicious start, as he stepped into the library, but Castiel just waited for him to continue. “Dean told me - just mentioned, really - that while you were human you had kind of a… date that wasn’t.”

Which, yes, it probably was a little weird. Castiel was still unsure of what social cues he’d missed or ignored in that particular situation. But none of that was Sam’s fault. “I did,” he confirmed, neutrally.

“So, did you ever get a date?” Sam seemed to be very focused on carefully placing his coffee mug on the table without spilling anything. “A real one?”

“No,” Castiel said. “I think I’m ok without one, though.”

“No!” Sam’s voice came out a little strangled. “No, you- let me take you out.”

Castiel took his attention completely off the book he’d been scanning to fix his gaze to Sam, who at least had looked up at him now. Wide-eyed and a little paler than normal. “You want to take me on a date?”

That made Sam’s gaze skitter back to the table. “I just feel like you should have one.”

Castiel’s instinct was to push. Past the nerves, and the averted eyes, and the skip he could hear in Sam’s heartbeat. If he pushed, he thought, that might make Sam back off. “Ok,” he said, instead.

“Ok?” The word seemed like it rushed out of Sam’s chest involuntarily, breathy and relieved. “Ok. Great. Would- uh. How about the day after tomorrow?”

It wasn’t like Castiel had plans.

If he had, he would’ve cancelled them.

“How do I know you know what you’re talking about?” he asked Sam the next day, while he was watching him eat breakfast. “What’s the best date you’ve ever been on?”

Sam, to his surprise, flushed a little. “Ok, uh. There was this date I went on at Stanford. And- so you gotta understand it’s like a six hour drive from Palo Alto to LA,” he said, smile already curling the corners of his lips. “And Jess said she wanted to make a trip down, and I wasn’t sure. Twelve hours in a car is a long time, unless we wanted to get a motel or somewhere down there, but she was really into the idea, so… We go. We’d been together, like. Six months? I think.” His eyes had softened, looking into his memories. “Turns out she wanted to drag me to this bookstore she’d gone to with her family. They’d visited her Freshman year, taken a trip down to see the sights and…” He trailed off.

“And?” Castiel prompted.

“It’s called The Last Bookstore,” Sam said, focusing in on Castiel again. “It’s this huge place downtown. Bottoms floor is new books, top floor is all secondhand. Themed rooms, art features, the lot.”

“Sounds like your kind of place,” Castiel said.

“It was,” Sam said. His smile went distant again. “It took me an hour to realise that Jess liked it, sure, she thought it was a great bookstore. But it wasn’t six-hour-drive worth it to her. She just knew it would be to me.”

Castiel nodded, considering it. “That does sound nice.”

“We were so tired driving back I almost crashed the car,” Sam said. “But yeah.”

The next day, to Castiel’s surprise, they started early. Sam drove, did not tell Castiel where they were going. He’d packed a backpack, and didn’t protest when Castiel inspected it - it contained food. sandwiches, fruit, and carrot sticks, a thermos of coffee. Enough for Sam for the day.

“I’m guessing we’ll be out for a while,” he said, zipping it back up.

“Yeah,” Sam said. “Unless- if you’re not having a good time just tell me. We can always go back.”

“You’re the one who wanted to take me out, Sam,” Castiel said, calmly. “I’m trusting you to do it.”

But Sam was nervous. Clear in the tension of his hands on the steering wheel, the set of his jaw. That, more than anything else, contributed to a quiet drive. Not uncomfortably - Sam had spent enough of his life on long car rides, and Castiel had certainly learned to bear them since he lost his wings. Sam took occasional sips from the thermos, they listened to local radio stations fade in and out, and watched the Kansas greenery go by. Until, a little before ten in the morning, Sam guided him into a small museum surrounded by short hiking trails.

And it was guided - Sam kept opening doors for him, kept hovering his hand near Castiel’s lower back, watching him out of the corner of his eye. They made it through three rooms - full of life-size dioramas, and informative placards, and really big rocks - before they spoke.

It wasn’t that it wasn’t interesting. A level of information the hovered in-between the levels that Castiel did know -  the macro of heaven and the extreme micro of the world he now lived in with the Winchesters. As well as the displays, he watched Sam out of the corner of his eye. He had wondered if he’d linger close the whole time, that hand near the small of his back, a steady presence at his side. But, no, Sam orbits. Sometimes looking at the same displays as Castiel, sometimes across the room. Always aware of him, it seemed.

“So,” Castiel said the next time they felt themselves side by side, looking at a series of miniature log cabins, each in different stages of completion. “If this is supposed to be a bookshop moment, like Jess gave you, why here?”

Sam worried at his lip, cheeks a little flushed. “I don’t know if this is that special, but - and do correct me if I’m wrong, but I hope I’m not - you’ve experienced so much of history from the outside. Just through heaven’s point of view. And then you came down, and you fought with us, and you stayed with us. It made me think you might be a little interested in seeing more things from our perspective.”

“Oh.” Because of course models and dioramas were not just models and dioramas.

“Besides,” Sam said, with a little more confidence. “After the whole molecules discussion it was pretty obvious dinner was a bad idea.” He flashed a quick grin.

Castiel wished he’d brought a flower, like he had when he’d been wrong about it. For some reason it felt like it might’ve jinxed it. Was that a holdover from being human or just from spending so much time with the humans he was with? The same result either way.

Two hours had gone by, spent in equal contemplation of the exhibits and the man who had brought him to see them, when Sam suggested they head back to the car.

“The museum is open until five,” Castiel pointed out.

“We’ve got a location two,” Sam said, “And they close at five as well. We leave now we’ll have a couple of hours once we get there.”

Another three-ish hour drive then. “Using all your ideas on one day?” Castiel asked, moving with Sam towards the exit regardless. “There’s time.”

Sam laughed. “When have you known us to have this many days off in a row?”

It was true. Not just in the always-an-impending-catastrophe way, either. Castiel had been able to tell there was energy building up in Sam when they were in the bunker. That he was healing, but that also meant that a growing part of him was yearning to work again. Maybe planning this had partially been a way to burn off some of that.

Sam pulled open the passenger side door for him.

The set out again. Sam ate some of the food he’d packed for himself one handed - Castiel busied himself helping open and close containers, pouring from the thermos. Watching Sam drive. A shorter drive, but only slightly.

“This is,” Sam said, guiding Castiel towards the entrance, “The Cosmosphere.”

This one - this one Castiel liked better. There was something endearing, something comforting, something familiar about how hard humans strived for flight. And he understood, now, the lack of it. This was something that was too often missed, in heaven. They’d watched humanity grow, obviously, but they ignored how much of it had been under their own power. That the ‘hairless apes’ had taken stone, and steel, and fire, and built themselves wings.

He was staring up an a model of Saturn V when he noticed how closely Sam was watching him.

There was anxiety in his eyes, but also a fondness. A warmth.

Castiel’s chest was warm, too.

They lingered right up until closing time, walking so close as they left that it was easy for Castiel to brush their shoulders together, watch Sam duck his head and smile.

And he’d known. He’d known, as soon as he heard the way Sam’s heart skipped when he’d asked if he could take him out, at every door he’d opened, how he’d been watching Castiel closer than any of the exhibits. Sam opened the door of the car for him again, and Castiel stopped to grip his arm, feel it solid and warm under his palm.

“Thank you for this, Sam,” he said.

Sam’s answering smile was bright, and open, and felt a little like sunshine. “There’s, uh. There’s one more thing. If you want to do it.”

Castiel tilted his head. “Oh?”

“Suns gonna be down in about an hour,” Sam said. “I thought… If you wanted to I thought we could stop and stargaze for a while.”

It sounded romantic.

It was cold, in the December air, but Sam had managed to stow blankets in the car without Castiel noticing. He draped one over the hood, and piled the others on top of them. He didn’t feel the cold, not like Sam did, but the blankets were an excuse to sit closer that completely necessary. Shoulders pressed in together. One ankle thrown over one of Sam’s. They talked, a little. Mostly they stared up at the sky. Sam finished the lukewarm coffee left in the thermos. Castiel listened to him breath, to the beat of his heart.

After a long time, Sam made a slightly apologetic noise, sliding off the hood of the car. “This isn’t great date talk, he said, “but we should get going, and I really need to take a leak before we drive home.” Then he tramped off into the undergrowth off the side of the road.

There weren’t any roses nearby, but Castiel could smell wildflowers still somehow hanging on in the cold. Quietly, he made his way into the dark to pick one, carefully selecting a bloom that had no crushed petals, wasn’t too close to wilting. A brief thought to Dean’s advice, and he removed his tie, opened an extra button on his shirt.

It felt a little ridiculous but when they got inside the car, and the interior light turned on, Sam’s eyes flickered down to the newly exposed skin.

Castiel held out the flower towards him.

Sam took it, hand soft and reverant, grin blooming on his face. “What’s this?”

“For you,” Castiel said. “You took me out, the least I could do is get flowers.”

Sam flushed, gently tucked the flower into one of the buttonholes in his shirt. “Thanks,” he said, so soft it was almost whispered.

They drove.

Sam was clearly exhausted by the time they got back to the bunker, yawning so wide his jaw cracked and then looking shame-faced. “Sorry,” he said.

“Hm,” Castiel said. “Maybe next time it could be one trip out per date, not a marathon.”

He cracked a grin at that. And, after all this time, it was nice to see an exhaustion that felt pleased. Satisfied, not just harrowed. “I’ll keep that in mind, Cas.”

“So.” Castiel paused at the corridor that lead towards the bedrooms, turned to face Sam. Wondered if he should be pushing this far. “There’s a proper way to end a good date, correct?”

Sam’s eyes flickered instantly to Castiel’s lips, which made him feel unaccountably pleased. “That’s ok, Cas,” he said, instead of leaning in. “That’s- that’s more for proper dates, not. This.”

So there was the line. Driving a total of nine hours across Kansas, carefully selected locations that he’d thought Cas would like, sitting shoulders pressed together on the hood of the car. Standing right up against it, but Sam had drawn a line, and this was it.

“This meant something to you,” Castiel said, stepping one foot over. “More than just doing something nice for me.”

“Cas,” Sam said, shaking his head, gaze down, self-deprecating smile. “You don’t have to-“

“I would like it,” Castiel interrupted, stepping closer, second foot over the line, and taking Sam’s hand, “If you let it mean something to me too.”

Sam’s eyes met his, expression disbelieving, almost scared. But he didn’t pull away, didn’t shift as Cas leaned closer. Not all the way. He was sure, he was so sure but- but if he was wrong.

He wasn’t wrong. Sam, breath unsteady, hand tightening around Castiel’s, closed the last of the distance. As kisses went it was gentle. Chaste. All too brief. As Sam drew back a noise of protest slipped out of Castiel’s throat involuntarily; he shifted with him. Sam’s free hand moved to his jaw, guided him into a second kiss, slower and deeper, and that, that was what Castiel wanted. He let his hand splay at Sam’s lower back, drew him in closer, opened his mouth so they could taste each other.

They broke apart eventually, Sam’s thumb stroking up and down the side of Castiel’s hand.

“So,” Castiel said, “Next time, I’m taking you out. Give me some time to plan it.”

Sam ducked his head, but not far enough Castiel couldn’t see his smile. “Ok.”

“I’m going to kiss you again,” he said. “If that’s alright.”

Sam’s smile brightened, and leaned in to meet him.

[americancowgirl19]

You’re the One that I Want

Summary: Dean steps out of his comfort zone to show Y/n that he truly wants to be with her.

Warnings: Fluffiness

Reader: Female Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Word Count: 1,078

A/n: This is based off the song ‘You’re the One that I Want’ from the movie Grease.

Masterlist

“I don’t know much about them, maybe Cas knows,” Sam shrugs walking with you towards the library hoping to find some information on this new monster.

“Cas has been busy lately, we shouldn’t bother him unless we absolutely-” Your voice slowly dissipates as you both enter the library seeing Dean standing in the middle of the room. Sam comes to a stop beside you giving Dean an arched eyebrow.

“Dean, what are you doing?” I ask, slowly. The oldest Winchester is standing in a few feet in front of you in a black muscle shirt and tight black pants. He had aviation sunglasses on with his hair styled. 

“I’m showing you that I want to be with you,” Dean states. This time it’s you raising an eyebrow at him.

“And wearing tight black clothes is how you’re going to do it?” You ask. 

You and Dean have always flirted with each other but over the past few months, Dean’s been getting serious. It started when you almost died during a hunt. Had it not been for Cas, you would have croaked. The who situation startled all of you, especially Dean. Since then, Dean’s kept you closer and looked after you even more.

A couple of weeks after the incident, you noticed Dean starting to change. He didn’t flirt with girls nearly as often and he practically went cold turkey on picking chicks up. He turned his attention and efforts on you. It was flattering but you didn’t know what to think about it. 

Of course you liked Dean, you always have, but you two always had an understanding. In this life, you couldn’t afford getting romantic. Neither of you crossed the line for years but now Dean’s been trying too. You couldn’t tell if he seriously wanted a relationship or if this was another way to keep you close. All you could think about was that Dean didn’t really want this, he’s just acting like this because he’s scared about the fact that he almost lost you. You had convinced yourself that this was just some phase of his and he would go back to ‘normal’ soon.

“I think I look good,” Dean says taking a minute to model for you. You could help but to grin. You watched as his muscles flexed and the pants shift around his perfect ass. You wouldn’t deny it, Dean looked incredibly sexy.

“You look like a dork,” You tell him, trying to control the shit eating grin on your face. Dean smirks.

“You’re the dork,” He says pointing towards you. You cross your arms giving him an expectant look. He takes off his sunglasses and tosses them on the table. He looks down and sighs deeply. “I cannot believe I’m doing this,” He mutters. You share a look with Sam, who shrugs not knowing his brother’s plan. “I got chills, they’re multiplying...” He sings quietly.

You jaw instantly drops. For as long as you can remember, Grease has been one of your favorite movies. You watch it all the time, especially after a long and/or bad hunt. The brothers can’t remember how many times you’ve made them watch it with you. Of course, whenever you watch it you just have to sing. Sometimes you sing nicely and other times it’s completely obnoxious. Either way, you always have a good time and manage to lift spirits.

“And I’m losing control,” Dean says slowly lifting his head to meet your gaze. “Cause the power, you’re supplying,” His voice grows a little more confident. “It’s electrifying!” He shouts falling to his knees like John Travolta.

You cover your mouth to suppress your giggles. Even Sam is grinning widely as he moves off to the side but staying in the library. He wanted to watch his brother make a fool of himself to win your affections but also wanted to stay out of the way so that you two could have your moment.

You watch as Dean continues to kneel on the ground. He sits back on his ankles and looks at you with puppy dog eyes that could rival Sam’s. You’re heart is pounding in your chest and the blush on your cheeks is practically permanent by now. You sigh as you give in.

“You better shape up,” You sing. Dean’s face begins to lift. “Cause I need a man,” You walk towards Dean. “And my heart is set on you,” You hold your hand out to him. “You better shape up, you better understand,” He grabs your hand and stands back on his feet. “To my heart I must be true. Nothing left, nothing left for me to do,” You dramatically drop his hand and began to move around the library. Dean follows you with a love struck grin on his lips.

“You’re the one that I want, You are the one I want” You and Dean sing the course together. “Ho, ho, ho, honey. You’re the one that I want, You are the one I want. Ho, ho, ho the one that I need. Oh yes indeed!” Sam laughs loudly as you and Dean jump on the tables dancing and singing completely off key.

“If you’re filled with affection, you’re too shy to convey,” You sing as seductively yet playfully as you can. Dean smirks keeping his eyes glued on you. “Meditate in my direction, feel your way,” Dean dramatically jumps off of the table. He grabs your hips and lifts you off the table, spins you around before setting you back down.

“I better shape up, cause you need a man,” 

“I need a man who can keep me satisfied,” 

“I better shape up, if I’m gonna prove,”

“You better prove that my faith is justified,” You bellow placing your hand in Dean’s. He lifts them and spins you around. You laugh falling into his chest.

“Are you sure?” Dean sings but you can see the trepidation in his eyes.

“Yes I’m sure down deep inside,” You sing, grazing your fingers along his jaw line. “You’re the one that I want,” You whisper, staying against his chest. Dean grins widely. His hand wraps about the back of your head and pulls your lips to his. You grin and drape your arms around his neck. “You are the cheesiest, dorkiest, son of a bitch I know,” You whisper to him. Dean laughs a bit.

“The things I do for you,” He grumbles playfully. You laugh again and reconnect your lips to his.

@akshi8278​

[smol-and-grumpy]

Legally Yours - Ch. 01 (Prologue)

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester tops the list of hottest entrepreneurs 2020 and yet, there’s still something he wants but can’t have because, in order to get that, he would have to settle down and get married. She agrees too quickly because she wants to secure a more comfortable life for her and her daughter. Will she be able to help Dean get what he wants without losing herself in the fake story they spin up to deceive his father and the world?

Chapter Warnings: None. Maybe the end will get your heart racing.

WC: 1796

Beta’d by: @deanwanddamons​ <3

Series Masterlist ~ SPN Masterlist

Buy me a coffee

Y/N’s sitting at her desk as she types an answer to the inquiry from a customer, when her friend Donna practically slams a glamour magazine over her keyboard. 

“Have you seen this?” The blond woman asks. 

“Jesus, Donna! I haven’t saved that document yet! God!” She picks the magazine up and tosses it to the side as she continues to finish the document on her screen. 

Donna’s still waiting, staring at her and she wonders if that woman has nothing else to do. Y/N’s sure Donna has plenty to do, they always have a lot of work and that’s why she gets home so late and sometimes, Liv would already be asleep. Sometimes, when she’s lucky, Liv was awake and she’d read her a bedtime story of princesses who are rescued by a heroic prince.

As soon as Y/N is finished, she turns around in her chair, to see her friend still staring at her instead of doing her own work. 

“What is it?” She asked with that added annoyed nuance to her tone of voice.

“Look!” Donna lifts her chin to point towards the magazine she slammed in front of Y/N just a moment before, “Have you seen it?”

Turning back around to her desk, she picks it up, “Donna, I’m not reading those mags, so no, I haven’t seen it. Why?”

Instead of answering her, Donna only grins. The grin that shows her dimples. The wicked one, “Page twenty-six,” 

With raised eyebrows and that little spark of curiosity which Donna had added to her interest, Y/N rifles through the pages until she reaches page twenty-six. 

There’s a picture of a man who stares right at her. He’s wearing a perfect suit. His one hand fakes the adjusting of his cufflink on his wrist. It’s a total male model pose. Well, he looks like one, so she can’t really say that anything’s out of the ordinary. 

At a second glance, though, she realizes that he looks familiar. His face is a little scruffy, but that makes him look edgier, makes him look more handsome. He’s smiling bright, showing his perfect white teeth. There are crinkles around his emerald eyes, seven on his right side, and she knows she shouldn’t even be counting them, so she ignores his left side. And she definitely can’t help but notice the freckles across his face. 

Oh, she thinks.

Oooohhhh.

“Is that..?” She asks with a frown that gets deeper between her eyebrows because she’s just not sure? She hasn’t seen the man that many times in real life. 

“Ya! Our fucking boss! The icy King!” Donna shouts, “Isn’t he dreamy? My god, I wanna eat him up! And he doesn’t look as icy and distant like he always does,”

“Donna!”

“What? Only telling the truth here! Read what the headline says!”

Her friend is right, though, Mr. Winchester’s normal aloof and cold persona isn’t captured in the picture. He’s known to be the icy King in the company. Instead, he looks kind of welcoming and warm. Y/N eyes go to the top of the page, and she can’t lie, it’s hard to concentrate on the writing when there’s a good looking man staring her down.

The headline is in all caps.

 DEAN WINCHESTER, HOTTEST ENTREPRENEUR 2020

 She frowns, as her eyes leave the magazine to look back at her friend, “That’s what you wanted to show me?” 

“Duh! There’s also a whole article about him being the center of attention everywhere he goes,”

“Well, that’s not really surprising, is it? Looking like that?”

“It also says that he has a fiancée.”

“That’s also not surprising,” Y/N shrugs, “I mean, seriously, look at him. Who wouldn’t want to marry that?” She didn't. At least not when they say that he’s cold-hearted. But again, she’s not the norm here because every female is gushing about him. 

She closes the magazine loudly, deciding that she shouldn’t waste more time. She wants to get home on time today. Liv went on a field trip with her school and she wants to hear her little girl telling her about how exciting it was. Y/N still has a lot of work to do and also a meeting with her supervisor later. The sleazebag.

“So, can I go back to work?” She turns to Donna, “I have a meeting with Raphael in about twenty minutes.”

“Ew,” Donna cringes her nose.

Y/N rolls her eyes, “Exactly,”

“Will you tell him off?”

“I already did,” She sighs, “Multiple times,”

“Why don’t you just go to HR?”

Donna knows what happens. What always happens when she has a meeting with Raphael. He’s always trying things with her. Accidentally brushes his hand against her breast or her ass. He once told her to sit in his lap as he was showing her the numbers of her performance. It wasn’t the first time he suggested it, and she doubts that it will be the last time either. He tried to kiss her more than once, but knowing that they are in an office environment, he didn’t dare to force her too much. He also offers to drive her home almost every week, and she’s slowly getting tired of it, not to mention creeped out.

At their last meeting, he made her hang up a picture frame in his office. His hand rested on her hips to supposedly support her, but they traveled further down until he kneaded her ass in his palms. She immediately got down from there, and left the room wordlessly. 

She knows another secret about Raphael, though. One she could use against him, but she just doesn’t know how just yet. Y/N knows and has got proof that he’s been skimming money. He takes it out of the customer’s account. Not a lot, a small sum that customers wouldn’t notice is missing, but in the end, it’s probably a whole lot when he does it to all the customers he’s supposed to look after. 

Again, she can’t really bring that up because she’s sure that he’ll spin it around and Raphael is good at that. With a push on the button of his keyboard, he could reverse everything and she knows that. 

“I can’t go to HR,” Y/N lowers her head and mumbles to her friend, “Because they won’t believe me,”

And that’s the truth too. The Head of HR is Duma, a woman who occasionally fucks Raphael. They have a friend with benefits thing going on, even if she’s married with children. Duma will never believe her because Y/N’s sure that Raphael can spin this perfectly to fit his narrative. 

Besides, what can she possibly tell? It’s her against him. It’s like a mouse against an elephant. She’s only an accountant and is replaceable, whereas Raphael is a member of the leadership team. And who will be let go? She doesn’t think it’s going to be him and she needs the job to survive. 

Y/N watches as Donna’s lips start to curl up, the white teeth of the woman are visible, as she drums her fingers annoyingly on her own desk.

With a frown, she asks her friend, “What?”

“I have an idea,” Donna says and pulls up her outlook calendar. 

She types in something, and then a calendar appears with a lot of colorful blocks. 

Oh no. She has quite the idea of who’s calendar it is even if she can’t read the name from where she’s sitting, which is too far away because she doesn’t want to give the impression that she’s not working. And it’s stupid that they can do that. They have quite an open calendar policy at the office. Everyone can send and block meetings for everyone, even for the icy King. 

“Donna, no!”

“Why, Donna, yes!” Her friend grins, “He has an open window right now. The meeting in the boardroom is in ten minutes. You should go tell him what you know. If someone can change anything, it’s him, right?”

Donna’s not wrong, she isn’t. But Mr. Winchester is what? At least four tiers above her if not five. Why should he care what a simple worker in his company is thinking? Why should he care what the hell she goes through every day while he earns enough profit to fuel his expensive and glamorous lifestyle?

“He wouldn’t believe me,” She shakes her head.

“You can tell him about the money skimming, I bet he won’t be happy to hear that.”

“Ugh,”

Donna stands up and walks over to her, braces her hands on the chair Y/N’s sitting on, “What’s the worst that could happen, huh?”

“That I get fired?”

“Meh,” Donna squeaked, “I doubt that. You’re doing a great job. Your records are great. And besides, if they do that, you can go and file a lawsuit against them. Besides, who knows, if you go to HR, Raphael will fire you before the icy King does.”

True, but still. 

“Now go get your ass up to the executive floor. Maybe take him a coffee, I heard he likes it black,”

“Oh, just like his heart?”

“Ya, maybe I wouldn’t tell him that?” Donna chuckles.

 *

 Y/N’s on her way to the elevators. She can’t believe that she’s really doing it. But Donna’s right. She can’t go on and live like that. It’s already hard to part from her child every morning and to get bullied at her job and being sexually harassed should not be the norm. She just fucking wants to earn enough money to keep her kid and herself above water.

God, she’s really doing it! 

Fuck.

There are six elevators lined up in the foyer. Three on each side. Only one goes up to the executive floor and also one is reserved for Mr. Winchester’s penthouse on the top floor. Everybody knows that. 

To get the elevator to run up to the executive floor, Y/N would need to have a card with a chip, which she doesn’t, and she feels stupid to have just realized it. And now she’s standing here, lost, with a hot black coffee in a lidless plastic cup that almost burns her fingers off.

Ugh. 

She’s so fucking stupid.

Well, she could still try, couldn’t she? She jumped over her own fear and has come this far. She definitely shouldn’t give up now. 

Her finger hovers over the buttons. Closing her eyes and exhaling loudly, she gives the button a push. Standing back, she waits, her heart is drumming loudly against her ribcage.

And she doesn’t even have to wait long because not even thirty seconds later, the elevator dings and opens up to reveal a man in a nice suit staring back at her.

It’s him.

Ch. 02

Please share your thoughts with me, I’d love to hear your feedback.

[janicho88]

Fire, Fur & Mistletoe Chapter 5

Pairing- Eventual Dean x Female Reader.

Word Count- 2,497

Warning- Mentions of car accidents, fires, and alcohol.  Possible swearing. Fluff.

Summary- A rewrite of the Nine Lives of Christmas, Hallmark movie. AU, Dean is a firefighter who doesn’t do commitment, the Holiday’s don’t mean much to him.  Coming home after a shift he finds a dog in trouble.  The reader is a veterinary student who works in a coffee shop trying to make it to graduation, until someone causes problems there for her.  She isn’t interested in finding anyone other than her own dog until after she finishes school.  Do their four legged friends have other plans?

A/N- This series is written for @spnchristmasbingo​.  The square filled for this chapter is the free space, Christmas cookies.  The first two chapters will stay closer to the movie than the rest will.   This has its own tag list and it is open.  That way I am not tagging anyone who doesn’t want to be tagged in Christmas stories.   This story is unbeta’d.

Header by the amazing @winchest09

Divider from freepngimg.com

Series Masterlist

Dean went in for a shift the next day taking Miracle with him and you went back out job and apartment hunting.  Still no luck on either front.  Heading home to Dakota you got out a few more Christmas decorations you had in boxes and added some in the kitchen, and up the wood staircase, being careful none of Dean's hard work got scratched. 

You were heading upstairs to your apartment when the front door opened. Turning around quickly you saw a blond woman walking in who seemed almost as surprised to see you as you were to see her.  Maybe Dean had found another girl to go out with and was keeping it a secret. 

“Hello.” You greeted her.

“I thought Sam was joking, if I had known he wasn't I would have knocked instead of using the emergency key.”

Not entirely sure what was going on you kept quiet.

"I'm sorry I didn't catch what Sam said your name was. Like I said, I thought he was joking about Dean's girlfriend moving in." 

That got your mouth semi working. "Not Dean's girlfriend, just friend. Just sleeping together. No, not sleeping, living, I mean staying. I’m staying in the apartment. I'm Y/N."

"Nice to meet you Dean's not girlfriend, I'm Jess."

"Oh your Sam's girlfriend."

"Yeah, actual girlfriend. We live and sleep together too." She says with a teasing smile. 

"It's nice to meet you, Dean's told me a little about you."  You told her about your eviction and Dean offering you a place to stay and the brothers moving you out.

She was extremely nice and had a very bubbly personality.  She was someone who would be friends with everyone. 

"I came over to look at something for Dean's Christmas present, but I don’t want to bother you.”

“No, your fine.  I just put a few more Christmas decorations out, I was going back to the apartment.  Do you need any help?”

“Do you know where Dean’s tools are?  He was telling Sam he broke something and we were going to get him a new part for Christmas.  I just need the model number.”

“Yeah, I can show you.”  As you led her past the living room she froze looking inside.

“I can’t believe there is an actual tree in here, with presents underneath.  In the years I’ve known Dean he doesn’t do much for Christmas at all.”

“I asked if we could, I’ve always enjoyed having a Christmas tree.”

She looks over at you.  “You’re good for him, girlfriend or not I think he really needs someone like you in his life.”

You weren’t sure how to respond so you just smiled and led her down the hall.

The first half of Dean’s shift kept the guys moving.  One small restaurant fire, then car accident to a residential oven fire.  When things finally calmed down and it seemed like they might get a few minutes peace Dean headed to the bunks to try and get a some sleep with Miracle following along behind him.  After Dean layed down he was soon joined by his faithful companion. The boys managed to get a few hours before the alarm went off again.  Coming back this time they headed to the kitchen to find some food. Bobby would sneak Miracle some scraps when no one else was looking. Sitting around the table Sam turns to Dean.

“Get all your Christmas shopping done?”

“Yep, done and wrapped.”

Cas looks between the brothers, “I think I missed something, Dean went shopping?”

“Yep, Y/N got him to go to the mall with her.”

“Does this mean no gift cards this year?” Cas wanted to know.

“They sell gift cards at the mall.”

“I would laugh at that, but knowing you that’s exactly what you bought,”  Sam stared at his brother.

“Have to find out when you open it.”

“Oh yeah, that’s definitely what he did.”  Benny injected.

“Alright you idjits” Bobby starts talking as he walks back in.  “Don’t forget the fundraiser party is in a few days.  Winchesters, you both are on deserts, aka Christmas cookies.  Benny and Cas have drinks, preferably not alcohol.”

“Hey Chief, why am I on desserts this year?”  Sam wanted to know.

“Do you remember last year's party?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you remember last year’s egg nog at the party?”

Sam’s smile gets bigger, “Yeah.”

“That’s why.  Most of these people are driving home, we don’t need them buzzed before they finish their first drink.  The list the other shifts are bringing is on the bulletin board by my office.”  He starts to walk away, “Oh and Dean.”

“Yes Bobby.”

“An edible dessert would be nice this year.”

“Hey, at least they looked good last year!”

Bobby left the room muttering about being surrounded by idjits on his way out. 

Dean arrives home to find you going through the cupboard, “Hey, how’s it going?”

“Alright, I was just making a grocery list.  Is there anything you need?”

“Yeah I actually need to pick something up, I’ll come with you.”

Getting the dogs settled the two of you are off to the grocery store.  Going through the bakery section Dean stops and looks at the premade desserts.  “

Holding up a package of frosted sugar cookies and one of cupcakes he turns to you. 

“Do you think either of these are edible?”

“I would hope so since that is what the store is selling them for.”

“Well do you think they are any good, that they taste alright.”

“Probably, yeah.  If you want one, just get it.  I thought you were more of a pie lover though?”

“Oh I am, these aren’t for me.  We have a fundraiser party for the station and I’m on desserts.  I’m supposed to bring Christmas cookies.”

“And you want to take those with you.”

“Yeah.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

He looks down at the cookies with such disappointment.  “Okay then one of those packs instead.”

“Dean, you aren’t going to buy a pack of cookies to pass off as Christmas cookies.  You need to make those.”

“Not a hundred percent sure they would be edible then.  Bobby said they had to be edible this year.” 

“I’ll help you don’t worry.  It’s another Christmas activity for you.”

“I really think buying those on the table would be easier.” 

Finishing the rest of the shopping you take Dean down the baking aisle.  “So what kind of Christmas cookies were you thinking.”

“I don’t know, I was thinking whatever kind I could buy in the store.”

“Alright.  How about Sugar cookies to start with.  How many do you need?” 

“There is usually a good number of people there.  Both Sam and I are bringing them.  Probably need a hundred each, maybe a few more.”

“What is this for exactly?”

“It’s a fundraiser we have down at the station.  People donate toys, and other needed items.  Santa is there for the kids.”

“Okay a big group of people take peanut butter out, don’t want to risk an allergy.”  You thought through your mental list of Christmas goodies.  “You could do the cranberry bliss bars I used to make at work, those are always a hit, and I have a recipe for white chocolate ginger cookie that’s really good.  If any of those interest you?”

“You would really help me bake all that?”

“Yeah, I like baking and I have nothing else to do.  Plus you are still letting me stay with you and won’t take my money when I try to pay you.”

“I’ll accept your payment in cookies.”

“Great.”

The two of you grab what you need from the aisle before heading to the checkout.

After arriving home the groceries you don’t need right now are put away.  The Cranberry bar is made first, so that it can cook while you roll out the sugar cookies.  He was chopping the dried cranberries into little pieces for the cake, and having way too much fun with the knife.  Miracle and Dakota joined you in the kitchen hoping to catch anything that fell. 

“I think the cranberries are small enough Dean.”

“Are you sure?”

“Um, yeah.  Any smaller and they are just going to be red dots.”

Your plan was to keep it simple and just do round sugar cookies, but someone had other ideas.

“Where are the shape thingies?”

“What thingies?”

“You know the things that make snowmen, Santa and stockings.”  Dean’s hand was going up and down in the air, almost miming cutting out cookies.

“You mean cookie cutters?  I can go see if I can find mine.”  Heading to the apartment you looked through the boxes to see if you could find any.  Luck was on your side, finding a bag of cookie cutters and a rolling pin you made your way back to the kitchen. 

He rolled it out the first time and got it so thin you swore the cookies would have burnt the moment you put them in the oven.  Getting it all back in a pile you showed him how thick he wanted it to be before you started cutting out cookies.   He went through the bag of cookie cutters finding the ones he wanted to use.  Grabbing out a stocking, snowman, tree, and a dog bone.  To his disappointment you didn’t have Santa.

“Guess, I’ll have to get one for next year.”

You watched him do a few, “Okay I have to ask, what is with the dog bone cookies, how are they Christmassy?”

“Those are in honor of Miracle. We can decorate them red and green.”

“Okay.”

When the bliss bar came out of the oven Dean came and looked it over.  “Do you think it’s edible?”

“Do you mean right this minute, because it needs to cool first then it gets frosting.”

“I mean in general.”

“Yes, it’s edible.  I made these at the coffee shop all the time.  Why do you keep asking if things are going to be edible?”

“Bobby, the Chief, told me I needed an edible dessert this year.”

You looked at him a moment,  “Okay I have to ask, what did you take before for a desert that wasn’t edible?”

“Last year I went to the store and saw this container with what looked like cutout sugar cookies.  Some had frosting, some were decorated with just sprinkles.  They looked really nice.”

“Uh huh.  How did they taste?”

“Like bitter disappointment mixed with the tears of children.”

“Oh my.”

“They were so hard you couldn’t even bite into them and if you managed to break off a piece to eat, it had a sour taste to it. Guess that’s why they were on the sale rack.”

“That sounds,” You were trying to control your laughter. “Sounds very delightful.  I’m sorry I wasn’t here to try them.”

“Yeah yeah, laugh all you want. They looked good at least.”

“You are trusted with cookies again this year?  Aren’t they afraid of a repeat?”

“Apparently not as much as they were with Sam and the eggnog.  He dumped a whole bottle of rum in it last year.  He was moved to cookies this year.”

“Getting the guests drunk to be able to eat the food, sounds like the Winchester brothers put together an interesting Christmas party.”

Dean just laughs “Yeah we can get a little crazy now and then.”  

“What do your Christmas plans usually include?”

“It’s just my sister, her husband and I.  Donna is the under sheriff and some years she has to work part of the day.  This year she works in the morning, and I’m volunteering at a pet adoption day in the park.   Then we are having dinner at their house.

While the sugar cookies were in the oven the two of you worked on the batter for the ginger cookies.

“I’ll be honest,” Dean started to say.  “I don’t like gingerbread cookies.”

“Me neither.”

“Then why are we making them?”

“We aren’t.  These are ginger cookies, slightly different.  I promise they are good.  They will also be edible.”

Dean gave you a hard look before going back to the mixing bowl grumbling.  “They smell like gingerbread cookies.”

“They smell like ginger.  But if you don’t like them, you don’t have to eat them.”

While the last of the cookies were in the oven you started on the frosting for the cranberry bar.  Dean kept trying to stick a finger in the bowl.  

“Stop it, what are you five?  You can have the bowl when the bar is done.”

“This doesn’t take like regular frosting what’s in it, cream cheese, butter, vanilla, powdered sugar, orange juice, and white chocolate.  It’s the last two that make it a little different.”

“It’s actually really good.”  You glared at him.  “Not that I was doubting your baking abilities at all. Mine 100% doubtable, but you’re great.”

Finishing that you two moved on to the sugar cookie frosting Dean poured a little too much powdered sugar in to mix and ended up with it all over the counter and on the dogs laying at his feet.  He snuck them each a cookie to make up for it.  Adding some red and green food coloring to two bowls then getting sprinkles out the two of you went to town.  

The last job of the night was dipping the ginger cookies in white chocolate.  When one had hardened up you gave it to Dean to try.

“I’m not sure I want that, I would rather have pie.”

“Just a bite, if you don’t like it you don’t have to eat it.”

“Fine.”  Taking a bite he chews for a minute.  “Actually they aren’t bad, the chocolate tames some of the flavor.”

As the two of you worked together to clean up the kitchen, Dean suggested ordering dinner so you wouldn't have to clean up another mess tonight.  

“Sure, that’s fine with me.”

While he was gone to grab dinner you took out a few other items you bought at the store.  Quickly whipping up a pie crust you grabbed the cans of filling.  Just not enough time tonight to make some.  Putting some crumble topping on, the pie was in the oven before Dean made it back. 

When he walked in a short time later he came in the kitchen with his nose in the air.  

“The cookies make it smell really good in here, I didn’t notice that earlier.”

“That’s not all the cookies, I may have a cherry pie in the oven for you.”

Oh his eyes go so big.  “Really?”

“Yeah, you’ve been talking about one lately.”

“Man, you are amazing.”

Finishing dinner you took the pie out to cool.  That lasted about five minutes before Dean cut himself a giant slice.

Trying to get some work on the house done the two of worked together painting one of the spare bedrooms before the four of you headed to the living room to watch tv.  

Thank you for reading!

Chapter 6

Tags- @winchest09​  @waywardbeanie @whatareyousearchingfordean​  @flamencodiva​ @deanwanddamons​ @jensengirl83 @abuavnee​ @lunarmoon8​ @amyzombie1013 @akshi8278​ @that-one-gay-girl​ @mandalou29​  @igotmadskills​  @440mxs-wife​ @paryl​ @supernatural-love14​ @krazykelly​ @anotherspnfanfic​ @bobbie3939​ @deanwinchestersnightmoves​ @winchestergirl2​ @thoughts-and-funnies​

[feathersandblue]

Dean Winchester, Character Death, and Frodo’s Return to the Shire

This will be a LOOONG post that has been stuck in my head for a while in bits and pieces - about Dean’s death, what it was and what it wasn’t, and incidentally, the Lord of the Rings has found its way in here too.

It’s pretty clear that Dabb always meant for Dean to die.

And while I strongly disagree with that, on so many levels, I think it might have been more palatable if framed in a different way, and so I’ve been trying to figure out what the ending might have looked like in a world that wasn’t quite as shitty as ours. Still shitty, but marginally less so.

Dean is notoriously bad at letting bad things happen if he can prevent them. I find it difficult to believe that Dean would ever quit hunting entirely, and for as long as he kept hunting, the danger of dying would always be present. It’s not unrealistic at all for him to die on a routine hunt. Life is unpredictable; life as a hunter, even more so. I understand that the writers might want to make that point. And it might have been valid if – and that’s the real problem – Dean’s death hadn’t otherwise been devoid of meaning.

The thing about character death – any sort of character death – is that it needs to have purpose.

And there are different ways that it can have purpose, but it depends on what sort of character we’re talking about.

Minor, often unnamed characters – the redshirts in every narrative – die to illustrate injustice or to highlight evil. Their death is a catalyst or a consequence of the events as they unfold, part of the conflict the heros have to solve. An army led into battle by a tyrant. Refugees in a camp dying of malnutrition. Murder victims of a serial killer. In all these cases, death fuels the plot but has little meaning beyond that.

There are minor characters whose death both fuels the plot and gives the hero a more personal motive to act. Supernatural is full of these. Mary and Jessica burning at the ceiling; Charlie dumped in a bathtub. Minor characters can have their own arcs, but ultimately their deaths are only important for the impact they have on the main characters.

The death of a protagonist is markedly different. Protagonists need to have agency even in death to maintain their status.

Their death has to be the reflection of their character development up to that point but it also has to tell us something about them that we did not already know – show us how they make a final decision or draw a final conclusion that marks the end of an inner conflict – which is what all storytelling is about. Character death has to serve a purpose to have meaning, and for a protagonist, the purpose must be personal.

And If it fails to do that, then that’s either a sign that we’re no longer dealing with a protagonist, or that something weng very, very wrong in the writers’ room. There is no inherent value in tragedy. In storytelling, tragedy is justified when it achieves something, otherwise, it’s just capriciousness.

Buffy’s death at the end of season 5 of BTVS is a classic example for the death of a protagonist. Harry’s decision to go and face Voldemort in the forbidden forest, even though it doesn’t ultimately kill him, is another. When Sam jumps into the abyss in Swan Song, that is his heroic sacrifice, but if he’d permanently died in season 2, that would have been bizarre and nonsensical because it was entirely beyond his control – it did not reflect his decisions, gave him no agency, and reduced him from a protagonist to a side character. In that moment, his death was something that happened to Dean. It worked because his death didn’t stick – he regained his agency after resurrection. But as an ending to his hero’s journey, it would have been singularly unsatisfying.

Dean is our protagonist, and he has been for 15 seasons. What does his death tell us about him that we didn’t know – what decisions did he make, what inner struggle got resolved, what meaning did his death have for him, personally, and then, in extension, for us?

The problem is that the finale, as is so often the case in Supernatural, tells two stories at once.

Whe the episode starts, it appears that Dean moves on with his life just fine, a well-adjusted model citizen. He’s ready to get a job, seems to be moderately happy. He even has dog. The decision to keep hunting is his, and death just accidentally happens, which of course is not unrealistic in his line of work. On the forefront, his death is brought about by the fact that he exercises free will. It tells us that he is a hunter and will always be one, that he keeps protecting people because that’s just who he is.

None of that, however, is new. It is just more of the same. All of Dean’s decisions in the finale tell us nothing about him that we did not already know. He’s trying to move on from the death of the people closest to him, as he’s always done. He chooses the hamster wheel, as he has always done. He follows in his father’s footsteps, as he has always done.

As he gets impaled, he has no choices left to make. There is no agency in his death, no inner struggle. His death furthers neither his character development nor the plot. That Dean simply accepts his death is as unsurprising as the fact that his final moments are spent reassuring Sam and telling him that he has to keep fighting.

The conclusion? Dean ceases to be a protagonist.

He dies not as the hero of his story. His death just happens to him.

After Sam and Dean had presumably freed themselves from the constraints of Chuck’s narrative, the final episode should have emphasized their agency, their freedom of choice, through change. But in the end, it only led them both to making the same choices as always, the unsurprising ones. And even the choices that did indicate a change (like Dean’s job application) were not shown to bear fruits.

What meaning does free will have when it doesn’t change the outcome? All the finale does is tell a bleak story about humanity and how we are incapable of making meaningful, consequential changes in our lives.

It’s almost like Lucifer is talking to us all the way from the Endverse of 5.04: “Whatever you do, you will always end up here. Whatever choices you make, whatever details you alter, we will always end up – here.”

Devastating as that is, there is another interpretation of the finale that is arguably worse, a different reading strongly suggested by both text and subtext.

Dean, as mentioned before, is trying to move on with his life but ultimately fails. The situation is different from the way he behaved when he lost Cas and Mary in season 13 where he was outright suicidal – his desperation is more quiet but also more profound. He seems determined to honor Cas’ and Jack’s sacrifice. But determination is not enough. Dean only goes through the motions, and it shows. He clings to the dog in the morning; the dog sticks to him closely throughout the day as dogs tend to do when they feel that their owner is in distress, almost like a therapy dog. His room looks messy, he makes an attempt to fix it but then abandons it as it requires too muh effort. Ultimately, he can’t be bothered. There are alcohol bottles standing around, a sign that he’s drinking, though not as heavily as in the past. All the while, he sems very laid-back, presumably relaxed and at peace and coping well with the loss but also weirdly detached.

When Sam mentions Cas and Jack at the pie festival, he says, “Yeah, I’m thinking about them too. You know that pain’s not going to go away. Right? But if we don’t keep living, then all that … sacrifice is gonna be for nothing.”

He feels an obligation. And he’s trying. It’s just not working very well.

He barely reacts when Sams pies him in the face.

When impaled on the rebar, Dean actively prevents Sam from calling for help. He tells Sam not to bring him back. And in the end, he asks Sam to tell him it’s okay to go. Which isn’t something he would do if he was simply dying – it strongly indicates that he wants to be allowed to die.

Prompting the conclusion that Dean is giving up on life the first opportunity he gets, not even knowing whether he’ll end up in heaven.

In this reading, Dean does have a little bit of agency. He makes a decision, sort of. His death marks the resolution of an inner struggle: He gives up.

He dies as a protagonist.

In the worst way possible.

In all honesty, I can’t decide which interpretation I hate more.

But what could the writers have done differently, if Dean was meant to die all along?

Back when the SPN finale had freshly aired, I was describing it like this:

Imagine that the One Ring is destroyed. But Merry died in the battle and Pippin went missing and was never found again. Frodo and Sam return to the Shire; Pippin and Merry are mentioned once in passing. Upon their arrival, Frodo is attacked by Wormtongue and slowly bleeds out over the span of thirty pages. Sam marries someone else than Rosie; Rosie is never mentioned again. Somehow, both Frodo and Sam are teleported to Valinor, where we are told that the real fun begins.

At the time, I only used this as an example to illustrate what a mess the finale had been. But in the weeks that have passed since, then, I’ve started thinking about the LOTR comparison some more, and it got me thinking about Dean’s death in a different way.

And it has everything to do with the difference between running from and walking toward.

As mentioned before, it’s not unrealistic that Dean would die on a random hunt. Would the Dean Winchester we know ever stop hunting? Maybe. We might want him to. Then again, would be still be Dean Winchester if he did? We know that Dean can’t help but feel responsible. He is someone who is incapable of staying hands-off.

Dean, as we see him in the finale, is trying to honor Cas’s and Jack’s memory by living, although he’s not very good at it – not outright suicidal but worn-out. Exhausted. And still he makes the decisions to keep hunting because he can do nothing else.

When Frodo and Sam returned to the Shire in LOTR, they had earned their happy ending. But Frodo, who had carried such a heavy burden that he was permanently altered by it, could no longer find happiness in Middleearth, and ultimately decided to depart for Valinor along with Gandalf and Bilbo with the promise of later being reunited with Sam. The journey had changed both of them, but it had changed Frodo to a greater degree, his responsibility had been greater, the weight on his shoulders heavier.

And I started to wonder whether the intention had initially been to show Dean in much the same state – and to frame his death as a decision to move on, the same way that LOTR has Frodo move on to the West.

Imagine the following: Cas is pulled into the Empty. His happiness and love change the Empty; he merges with it or otherwise changes it so that it’s now a more demon-friendly environment. Everyone there is at peace. Cas, in whatever form, moves on to Heaven – or maybe his soul does as it’s now mostly human.

Dean goes on a hunt and dies. Jack, or some other entity, shows up where you would expect the curiously absent reaper in order to give him a choice. Learning that Cas is in Heaven, and knowing that he will never be able to stop hunting if he remains on earth, Dean makes the conscious decision to move on. For the first time, Dean prioritizes his own happiness over his perceived duty. His death is no longer suicide by proxy, and neither is its sole purpose to illustrate the inherent meaningless of free will by turning him into a hamster-by-choice. Instead, it becomes a decision because he’s given back agency. He resolves an inner conflict and there’s even a final bit of character development as he breaks the chain of mutual co-dependency that ties him to Sam and allows himself to be with Cas. He remains a protagonist throughout the end.

And because he acknowledges his love for Cas and decides to be with him, he no longer just runs from, he walks toward.

The parallels to The Lord of the Rings get even more obvious when you take Sam into the equation because much like Samwise, Sam remains on earth in order to have a life that, for him, still holds meaning and the chance of happiness – whereas Dean can no longer be happy on earth as long as Cas isn’t there.

To be completely clear: I’d still think that such an ending would suck because it puts too much emphasis on an afterlife, and it would still send the message that characters like Dean could only find peace in death, and unless some adjustments were made to Sam’s arc as well, the ending would still suck for him.

But seeing as SPN plays in a universe where an afterlife exists, I could probably learn to live with Dean’s death if it had any sort of meaning, for him, besides dying and waiting for Sam to arrive, if it allowed for that final bit of character development. If he got to choose.

While I’ll never be able to see the finale that we actually got as anything but a complete atrocity.

[red-hood-vigilante]

more hbo spn rambles, thoughts, drabbles etc. long long post.

part 1 here

there’s some things i’ve omitted here bc others have already posted about those things, certain headcanons and characterizations and stuff. those posts are in my likes somewhere (and i’ll reblog them someday), and there’s some posts i’ve read but not liked, which i now can only vaguely remember, which is why some ideas/thoughts are similar

ALSO most of these follow the model i talked about in part one: how s1-5 will stay more or less how they are but s6-10 is changed (some things are cut out entirely, some things are tweaked and some characters + arcs are more fleshed out. more focus on sam’s trauma and post-cage adaptation to the real world as well as dean letting his rage and control issues consume him and how he’d recover and redeem himself)

as i typed these paragraphs, i realized i really have 10 seasons mapped out and ready to go. hbo hire me!!

alright go:

sam and dean get wearier as the show progresses (second half), and eventually they stop putting so much care and thought in the people they save. like...hm how do i say this, like as long as a victim/victims are saved, they don’t care about how that happens or how those people suffer potential consequences, like if the victims lose a limb or have their homes burned down because of the monster, then sam and dean don’t really care. they saved your life, now they’ll leave you with your life in potential shambles and not care because all that matters is that they saved your life, not how it is afterwards. they still care about saving that one person, but eventually it pales a little in comparison to a war between heaven and hell, being the vessels etc. ---> saving people becomes less about making sure they’re actually alright and healing from horrific events and more about just making sure they have a pulse before they move on

when angels lose their wings they are either burned off in the actual fall or ripped off of them in their vessels, which leaves pretty nasty scars on the vessel

ed and harry are so young and bright eyed about the whole hunting thing; sam and dean as kids, idolizing it, finding it exciting and intriguing when they shouldn’t. sam and dean try to get them out of the business before they too are too traumatized and desensitized to do anything but hunt. neither sam or dean will say it but they are jealous of ed and harry and their freedom to leave, and hate them for choosing this voluntarily instead of being dragged into it by tragedy

hbo spn is a slow burn. there’s a lot more shots of sam and dean in silence just sitting together after a hunt, exhausted and too tired to move yet. they’re covered in blood and guts on the side of the road after killing or covered with dirt in a graveyard after burning bones, sitting next to the fire, just watching it. the times they park the car and watch the stars? we get to see it. 

dean wears rings and the amulet all the time in the beginning, for the first five seasons. the rings vary; first they’re some of john’s old ones and stuff he finds in thrift stores. then later on he begins wearing rings from people they’ve saved/haven’t saved as a keepsakes etc. when he begins his descent to the holy murderer in s6-10 he wears less and less rings. they don’t matter anymore -> symbolically shedding who he was and what mattered to him

the only accessories sam has is a rosary/cross around his neck. he has jess’ engagement ring in his pocket/wallet. after the cage he vaguely remembers why the ring was there and who jessica was (more on this further down)

the four horsemen are manifestations of different aspects of human nature at its most grotesque and strongest, can’t be killed as long as humans live. war is conflict, famine is desire, pestilence is physical and mental illnesses.

(the seven sins are like the horsemen, tulpas of human nature instead of demons)

death isn’t a concentration of an existing aspect of humans as much as it is the end of life, the antithesis of life. death the oldest of the horsemen and has existed since the beginning of any life, organism, cell and atom. the opposite of life and light, the other half of god (as i’m typing this i’m confused as to why  amara was the opposite of god instead of death). death isn’t evil or good, remains 100% objective. doesn’t care for sam or dean at all, but has a begrudging respect for their stubbornness and entertainment they provide due to their flat out refusal to do as they’re told by celestial bodies when anyone else would crumble

by including death i feel like it very naturally begs questions of who decides when someone dies, when someone lives, why would death follow these guides instead of reaping whomever whenever, what happens if a life isn’t reaped at the right time etc. the reader in me adore the idea of death having a library with books and records of everyone who has ever lived and died and how they died - but then, who writes these books and why? do they decide, and if in that case, how? these questions are above my paygrade but you know what i mean? like there has to be some sort of system right, god created everything, death executes to maintain order, some third party deity writes the laws and the books. the three branches of government. ok but it’s hbo so again, i think we shouldn’t dive this deep into things, like as much as these topics intrigue me i don’t want to stray too much from the dirt road trip aesthetic

shapeshifters are extremely rare because they don’t require any kind of human blood or organs/sacrifice to live

i want more exploration of how magic is like science, like it just needs the right ingredients and right conditions. sam thinks of magic as an obscure branch of science; it just requires research and knowledge and clear intentions because science can be controlled and do a lot of good when used responsibly. dean doesn’t like it. he doesn’t trust the unpredictable elements and he’s seen enough to know it never goes well. magic is a force that can’t be controlled by anyone.

sam and dean have full on fist fights regularly. to practice and keeping each other sharp, but also because they’re siblings. they’re feral, insane and unhinged with each other and they get on each other’s nerves A LOT. it’s petty and childish and sometimes it can get a lil ugly but it becomes their way of family therapy. after a fight the next scene cuts to sam and dean with ruffled clothes, nosebleeds and swollen lips at a diner eating silently after beating each other up. either they sit in silence because they’re tired or both are harping on the other’s openings and weaknesses

sometimes they’ll fight a little dirty but they do so in different ways; dean will pull the old ‘look!’ and point to something and then tackle sam when he turns to look while sam will just cry out in fake pain which makes dean stop dead in his tracks before sam headbutts him or kicks him in the groin

we, the audience get used to these fights, they’re sometimes funny and for comic relief, sometimes for narrative purposes (like tricking a monster they’re fighting each other when they’re really not) BUT. then comes the times when sam and dean are actually fighting without holding back and we see how much they are capable of hurting each other or how heartbreaking and difficult it can be to watch when of them are incapable of fighting back/doesn’t defend himself -> swan song when dean doesn’t fight back against possessed sam, or when dean beats soulless sam unconscious

sam and dean also just verbally bully each other constantly but they do have their odd ways of expressing affection and care. they get the other person their fave snack whenever they go grocery shopping without being asked to and are the only other one they truly trust to have their back in hunts. have a cup of coffee ready before the other asks for one. brothers and each other’s best friend. nightmare duo but in a sweet way. the cooperation of ‘the usual suspects’ when they’re in different interrogation rooms but still has the cover story down to a t. code words and code names and cover stories, they know it all

when sam and dean fight together against a common enemy they’re a damn nightmare - because they know each others weaknesses and habits, they cover each other perfectly and in complete silence. they’ve been at it together since they were kids and read each other’s nonverbal cues like a picture book

to build off of what i said in part 1; the winchesters are pretty hated in the hunter’s community. even the people sam and dean frequently work with (bobby, ellen, jo, ash, rufus, bela, kevin, charlie, castiel etc) roasts them all the time and don’t hesitate with calling them out on their self-pitying crap when it get’s too much (spn was just objectively better when characters weren’t afraid of dragging sam and dean through the mud for being selfish and stupid) and this WILL persist in hbo spn. the only reason people continue working with sam and dean is because they know deep down a lot of the things that happens aren’t sam and dean’s fault - but they still blame them for it. doesn’t make it easier how sam or dean sometimes start crap on purpose to save the other

the winchesters are terrifying and people for sure tell stories about them, but not like ‘they’re heroes’, more like ‘they’re insane and dangerous. stay the fuck away from them’. some stories are true, like how they’ve worked with demons, but some are just game of telephone. (dean has apparently a ghost he is frequently possessed by while sam is actually a mutant vampire). hunters hate and are scared of the winchesters. sam and dean are never invited to hunter stuff (burials, memorials etc) but crash them nonetheless even though the hunters do NOT want them there.

you know what drives me insane when i think about it? how some characters in spn already are their hbo spn counterparts; john. mary. adam. maybe kevin?

other things that already are their hbo spn counterparts: dean throwing away the amulet right in front of sam. eyes burning when angels are seen. how ghosts are just tragedies, stuck in a loop they can’t leave. how a lot of the monsters they meet are just victims or their circumstances or the first victim of a curse. the impala being sam and dean’s home. dean not knowing how to comfort sam when he’s upset other than trying to do things for sam that usually brings dean comfort (driving the impala, listening to rock music etc). the roadhouse. heaven being an eternal version of the memories that made you the happiest even though it’s not real. sam wanting independence and freedom but never fully having it. dean fearing being alone more than anything else and that’s where he always ends up. sam has an eating disorder after the demon blood and dean has an alcohol problem he refuses to see as a problem. dean saying “i’d do it again” without an ounce of regret and pouring himself a drink when sam tells him it was fucked up to lie to him about gadreel

the demon/angel hybrid: THIS could be sooo interesting to explore. an angel and demon hybrid are you kidding me?? not to toot my own horn too much but i’m so clever. i should write this story myself. SO. does this creature have parents who fucked in their vessels or was this an experiment by god (yes i love the ‘mad scientist’ idea, that really should’ve been played up way more) or did a pre-existing creature (human or otherwise) drink demon blood and angel grace at the same time so that it created itself? so much potential for some really intriguing storytelling and character exploration - not only the creature itself and what they would be like, but also for the people around; sam, dean, castiel, jack etc. how would they react to this thing that is the very definition of defying heaven and hell and all the natural laws? does it exist before the show starts or will we see its birth?

the powers of the demon/angel hybrid would be tricky; a mix of holy and defiant, grotesque and beautiful. unconsciously forces people to tell the truth when talking to them. poisons whatever they touch. eyes of a demon, wings of an angel. can smite but skin will burn when touching iron. can do deals but will require a sacrifice in return, not a soul, usually a body part taken then and there (the hybrid eats it. it favours eyeballs and the liver - angels like raw meat). lights always flicker. makes things explode when angry (esp people and cars). can manipulate feelings, thoughts and memories. can travel to both heaven and hell, not welcome in either places. + standard stuff like telekinesis, teleportation, mind reading, super strength etc. 

sam and dean’s wardrobe are pretty much the same; whatever’s cheap and not covered in blood. however, they do have stylistic differences. sam thinks graphic tees are funny, dean uses whatever’s black combined with john’s leather jacket. their wardrobe melds as they stop thinking of themselves as individuals and more of “me and my brother,”. their clothes are tattered and torn to shreds all the time. hand me downs, hand me ups. when they stray off their “path” and do things that are the crux of a storyline/character arc, this would reflect in their clothes. when sam is with ruby and becomes more and more “evil” he wears more and more red, a colour he has stated in the past he doesn’t really like. when dean is dead, sam starts to wear his rings and john’s and dean’s leather jacket. when dean decides he’s going to say yes to michael he dresses in white, when sam is dead dean takes off every piece of jewelry except the amulet. he holds it clenched in his fists when he’s whispering what comes close to a prayer

logically the amulet should have a backstory but you know what? i love that it’s hinted to be just a piece of cheap jewelry sam found in a thrift store he decided to give to dean. but narratively it should be explained so... idk. what could be logical solution as to why it would react to GOD himself? maybe god wore it once cuz he thought it was neat but he sold it for three dollars because he wanted coffee and then sam found it a week later

i would prefer it if god didn’t show up at all (absent father number one) but if he DID he’s not all powerful just a true neutral (like death, 100% objective) who created a thing that just took a life of its own, much like a parent and a child - the parent helps the child but can’t control it. the times he did intervene or tried to do something it didn’t really have any real long lasting effect so he gave up on trying a while ago. 

@spneveryseason talked about this, how the storyline of sam being possessed by gadreel would be horrifying if we saw everything from sam’s perspective instead of dean’s (her fic is wonderful). in the ‘dean slowly descends into a righteous murderer to become holy’ idea i have this tracks so damn well because again, if dean believes something is right, it is right, no questions about it. everyone around him is like “that’s really fucked up and you should make amends” but dean doesn’t see any reasons for why - sam is alive isn’t he? and seeing it from sam’s pov would really underline how horrifying, dehumanizing and belittling that experience was

john and mary are adam and eve. sam and dean are cain and abel are michael and lucifer. time is a flat circle. history never stops repeating itself. 

sam is the villain of s4. he is manipulated and key information is withheld from him but in the end... would it made a difference? it crossed his mind, that he could be tricked because ruby is a demon after all, but maybe he likes the power, the feeling of freedom, that he wasn’t just the baby, the one who always needs permission to do things. if he has to drain possessed people to get that power... so be it. and it’s for a good purpose, until it isn’t. he’s hungry for more, to be feared and respected. he’s enticed by lucifer’s sweet words, the potential of all that power and the idea of ruling two out of three realms. dean manages to pull him back from the brink because sam decides he doesn’t want to be what john thought he was and fail dean and himself like that.

dean is the villain in s9. he is controlling, the mark of cain without the mark. what he says goes - it’s not a democracy, it’s a dictatorship. he doesn’t see how much pain, doubt and fear he causes the people around him. if some victims or civilians die on his watch that doesn’t matter - just some collateral damage. sam can’t make dean listen to him because dean is the older one, the one who’s always called the shots. dean is the angelic one, heaven’s chosen warrior, he is untouchable and unkillable. he’s is an excellent killer, filling the void with blood and rage which is better than the crippling fear of loneliness carved into his bones. 'i butcher for love, to protect,’ he tells himself. ‘why shouldn’t i exterminate, regardless of the cost? i’ve followed the rules, i’ve always sacrificed. now i call the shots. it’s my right.’

sam’s hell trauma is never magically removed. he’s stuck with the memories and the nightmares and the occasional hallucinations. castiel can’t do anything but offers to wipe his memory completely, but sam says no, he is still doing penance. 

after dean comes back from hell he starts calling himself old man and jokes a lot about he’s 40 years older now (after he’s more comfortable about speaking about hell) 

when sam comes back he feels ancient (he’s over 900 years old at least but he lost count), weary, tired and so so so out of place in this world. he’s forgotten how to put gas in a car, how to drive, how to use a credit card, all the song lyrics he and dean used to yell together, the faces of people he knew before he fell, the softness of a bed, the schools he went to, most of the hunts he and dean, how john died, who mary is, the initials carved into the impala, the taste of food that isn’t raw meat. it’s so much he’s forgotten that he has to relearn. he prefers figuring things out with castiel instead of dean because castiel doesn’t silently resent him for everything he’s forgotten

sam doesn’t laugh anymore. despite dean’s many and castiel’s few awkward attempts, it’s more like quick smile and a quiet “hmm”. on some days he recoils when he sees blood and guts, on other days he’s so apathetic it’s unnerving

sam sympathizes with the brought back mary and castiel more than ever. dean tries to get sam to remember things he’s forgotten from his childhood but sam can’t connect with it anymore. he stopped being that sam a long time ago. dean doesn’t know what else to do than try to force this connection to be revitalized and he fails. sam isn’t that person anymore and this wedge in their relationship becomes a central factor in dean’s s6-10 desperation and isolation. sam is here and safe but it’s not really sam, not the sam dean grew up with

while sam has forgotten how to make coffee, he now knows everything about angels, effective torture tricks, a bunch of lore + biblical history, how to navigate hell, the most powerful and influential demons, rare and powerful spells as well as perfect enochian (he will speak enochian without realizing and it feels more natural than english). lucifer and michael were surprisingly talkative (raging about the unfairness) when taking their anger and hatred out on sam and adam and each other. sam had access to all of lucifer’s memories and knowledge for the time he was the one in control. walking library and encyclopedia of biblical lore.

he still has some muscle memory from hunting and sparring, but sam is ghostly thin and very rusty. even though he’s an expert on lore, he’s not fit to go on hunts anymore and he knows it. 

sam remembers adam and swears he’ll try to get him out, but he can’t. just thinking about the cage makes him vomit. he can’t talk about it, much less go near it. after a while sam thinks it might be better to let adam stay down there than let him come back up and feel this crushing emptiness and loss of direction

sam’s trials take place in s9 instead of 8; coinciding with dean’s villain arc. for sam the trials are a chance to redeem himself again, this time for good by closing hellgates forever. they’re scrubbing him clean of the demon blood and his sins and they give him a sense of purpose again now that he can’t join hunts anymore. it doesn’t matter if he dies because of it. it would be nice with a permanent and peaceful death that did something good. dean is taken aback by sam’s devotion to repent for something that happened years ago and for something sam has already paid for a thousand times over. dean realizes how messed up he himself has become and how he’s helped put sam here, on the cusp of self sacrifice again because of sickening guilt and self hatred. dean begs sam to not complete the trials at the cost of his own life and swears he’ll better himself, be a friend and a brother, not a jailer, dictator or a murderer. ‘if you won’t give yourself or life another chance, please give me one.’ ---> s10 pacifist dean learning to let go of the control, the violent tendencies and the rage

oh wait what if gadreel still possessed sam after the trials to heal him but sam is the one who invites the angel in? he’ll keep his promise to dean about staying alive, as well as heal from the inside and have breaks from the world when he doesn’t want to be present, like he and gadreel will alternate being the one in control. he keeps it a secret from dean and helps gadreel imitate him so dean won’t notice. it’s not so bad, being possessed by this angel - sam can say no anytime and gadreel is a nice guy. since they alternate on who’s present they can access each other’s memories, which is terrifying and embarrassing at first, but since gadreel and sam have been tricked and used by lucifer and been punished for it for far too long, they understand each other. now another creature knows their trauma and terrors without the need for verbal explanation. also having an angel residing in his body makes sam feel like he can hunt properly again because gadreel can heal him and take over in situations sam’s overpowered. this could show how messed up sam has come to view himself and his body. 

dean is conflicted when he finds out; sam lied but gadreel does help sam heal, sam’s traumatized and his self-worth is fucked up and dean has contributed to that. dean convinces sam to push gadreel out, that sam is still valuable, loved and a good person who shouldn’t be in a place where he views his body and mind like a property to be occupied. sam’s faith begins to come back bit by bit, not in god, but in himself, his brother, in the good things in life. they build their little family; sam, dean, castiel, the hybrids, whomever of their allies that are alive at this point.

castiel can heal sam and dean’s wounds but they are never completely gone; they leave scars and phantom pains. the brothers have SO many scars over the years. dean flaunts them to impress people because he likes the questions and the fearful admiration, the attention and the nods of approval. sam hides them.

when dean is in a bad mood or needs to get his mind off of things, sam just drops something like ‘i don’t get the deal with led zeppelin. one of the most overrated bands of all time’ and dean will go OFF every single time about the entire led zeppelin history, their discography and how they’ve shaped rock music. this will go on for hours and sam will zone out after 1 minute. but dean rants nonsensically the entire drive and it does get him to think about something else for a little bit. they stop at a motel and dean is STILL ranting while brushing his teeth. stops when going to sleep but without fail picks up where he left off the morning after and is so into it he doesn’t notice sam not paying attention at all. we could see this once in s1 when they’re searching for john, another in s3 when dean is anxious about his deal coming to an end and then again in a later season, when sam doesn’t remember to ask/doesn’t have the patience or mental capability, so they’ll sit there in tense silence, showing how much they’ve changed.

---> i can see this SO clearly in my head, how they’ll get in the car and we, the audience, will recognize the camera angle, the same lines and dean’s grumpy mood, and we’ll anticipate what comes next. but sam isn’t that kid anymore and he’s not peeking at dean to gauge what his mood is and how much of a shit eating grin he should wear when being an annoying little brother to cheer dean up. now he’s looking out the window, leaned back, they’re not looking at each other. this shot is a minute or two long, uninterrupted. dean turns on music but neither are singing along or doing anything to lighten the mood. 

s1-5: sam gets hooked on demon blood, dean has an alcohol problem. when sam goes through withdrawals, dean decides to quit drinking and joins him because he wants to be supportive, and he realizes that when he drinks two beers for breakfast there’s a problem

s6-10: sam takes painkillers, anti depressants and anti psyhosis meds to numb himself from the phantom pains and reduce post-cage effects. dean started drinking again after sam jumped and still does, but started smoking in addition because he still drives a lot and doesn’t want to die in something as pathetic as a car crash. 

there a scene in an episode in the first half of s8, when sam has decided to stay with dean instead of amelia, and dean has rejected benny in favor of sam, and then the brothers sit in a couch watching tv while drinking beer and neither of them look particularly happy about it - that’s how their relationship is a lot of the time. they know they’re fucked up and neither of them will ever be truly happy when the other’s around, but they owe each other so much and they don’t have to explain themselves to each other the way they do to others. they know each other so well, each other’s traumas and the things they’ve done, it feels fake and exhausting to try to be something other than the veteran hunters they are. misery loves company; they are miserable together but would be far more miserable apart and living a normal life. they do love each other, but neither of them are particularly happy as the show progresses. family is hell and so is the lack of it. 

OK OK i mentioned it in part one, how i had my own very specific idea about how jack should come to be and here it is. long winded but (might just write a damn fic): 

after lucifer was cast back into the cage, he is stronger than he has been in a long time (being in his true vessel helped him stretched muscles he forgot he had. and fresh air.) sam is pulled out of the cage and it leaves a rift in the magic and chains - the binding is weaker and lucifer must act fast to get out before it heals. the cage is still strong enough to hold two archangels, so lucifer has to become weaker somehow to slip out through the cracks. he can’t get out of the cage, but souls can come in. demons bring themselves and human souls as tools for lucifer to use. there’s not much he can do here - consuming them, eating them, touching them, dissecting them doesn’t give him what he wants

eventually lucifer realizes he must do like azazel and create something new of two halves, like when he created demons. he begins melding his archangel grace with a human soul. he tries with demons, but his archangel grace automatically purifies them and leaves them too weak. he must try with a human soul who is good. he finds the soul of kelly kline, who sold her soul to save a loved one. with her, the merging, works. 

he has another self, a twin, a son, who’s half human and half archangel. half lucifer. the old lucifer will die but that’s ok, his desires, presence and self will live on in his new creation. the new lucifer barely makes it out of the cage, only able to due to its human side. on earth it creates a body for itself and takes shape, no longer a form of pure power and energy akin to the sun itself but now a person, reminiscent of kelly kline on earth and lucifer in heaven. they name themselves jack. jack searches for familiarity and finds it in sam, their old self’s perfect tool and another hybrid. jack finds a mentor in castiel, a younger brother and fellow angel with human elements. they do not find anything in dean, the key to his former self’s doom.

jack’s powers: their powers are like and unlike the angels because he is half archangel. jack has wings but sometimes they don’t work, or they’ll end up somewhere else entirely. their body is their own, not a vessel, so jack can’t possess people. doesn’t talk but people “know” what they’re saying or want because jack emits their emotions and thoughts to people they’re talking to like a radio tower. jack can also have this empathic connection and communication with animals. his mood affects the weather. immortal. reads minds. can remove a soul from a body and send it to heaven/hell by touching it, with practice they don’t need to touch a body. 

other stuff about jack: the human/archangel nature means jack only need sleep and food once a week or so. eats only nougat and raw meat. because jack is a kid they nap a lot. levitates when sleeping. never blinks, stares intensely at everything. their eye colour changes based on their mood. eyes glow in the dark. normal humans who look at jack for too long experience memory loss, fainting spells or migraines and eye contact for more than 10 seconds give vivid hallucinations of their worst nightmares. always barefoot, often floats like 10 cm off the ground because they find it more enjoyable than walking. wears the wildest clothes they can find, nothing matches and nothing is weather appropriate

i have a very specific image of jack in my mind; they look like delirium from the sandman comics with the hair that looks like it’s underwater and the fishes floating around their head, here and here are examples. in live action this would look not good or maybe even ridiculous for sure but in animation... endless potential for angels and monsters to have super interesting designs sigh

castiel’s arc should end with him going from blind soldier, to the unwilling ruler of heaven, finding a place on earth with sam and dean, becoming closer with humanity and eventually a father of three (the hybrids).