#jealous dean is my favourite

[unsurprisinglyren]

Happy Wincest Wednesday, lovely <3 Have any headcanons about Dean during Sam's Stanford years? Him yearning, spying, spiraling out. etc.?

Happy Wincest Wednesday to you too, lovely!!

Yes 🙌🏻 Stanford era is top tier for me! And stalker!Dean is a deliciousness I can never resist!!

I imagine he tries to call Sam a few times, in the very early days of Sam leaving. But the number doesn’t work. Whatever. If Sam wants to cut him and dad off, what’s it matter. Right? Wrong.

He can’t sleep, can’t focus on the hunts, on anything other than what Sam is up to. Studying. Sure. But what else?

So he visits. Telling himself he’ll just get a glimpse and if Sam is all good, he’d leave and not bother him.

He tracks him easily. Watches him for the entire day, skulking. He goes unnoticed and it’s a heady victory. But it doesn’t end there. It keeps happening. He knows more about Sam than ever before. He sees him at 4am going for a walk to clear his head, and he knows Sam doesn’t go back to bed. He stays awake with copious cups of coffee and his head buried in his stupidly large textbooks. Studying. Distracting, just like he used to when they hunted. Always seeking a way out of reality.

He sees him make easy friends, Sam’s handsome and friendly and who wouldn’t gravitate towards him? And he sees Sam build up his facade and block out the other side of himself. Persistent and taciturn. He refuses to acknowledge it ever existed. Which pisses Dean off.

I think Dean would have been tirelessly working to keep his head on the job, the next hunt, dad’s orders, but in vain. Because all he could think about was Sammy. Hence the stalking. Knowing Sam’s every move. Checking out who he’s hanging out with. The works. His protective big brother instincts kicked up a notch, because Sam is his. He shouldn’t have left in the first place. Shouldn’t have strayed from Dean. So Dean digs his heels in, refuses to fully give Sam his space, his autonomy. He watches and keeps tabs and drinks more and more often on the nights he’s not there to survey.

I think he realises at some point that it’s gone beyond the bounds of brotherly by a long shot. But by then he doesn’t care. He’s determined to get Sammy back and have him all to himself.

(Jealous-stalker Dean drabble)->

The beer is sitting heavy in the bottom of his stomach. A slosh of fizz and yeasty sweetness and Dean swallows hard. His attention is zeroed in across the bar. Unwavering. Unnerving, probably. But he doesn’t care. He’s beyond it. Beyond the insistent, persistent, unrelenting, unyielding loneliness.

The bar is quiet. It’s a Monday evening, after all. But he’s not here for the oblivion of an alcohol induced stupor. He’s here for his little brother.

Not that Sam is aware of his presence. He’s three sheets to the wind, cheeks flushed and teeth showing as he grins at something the pretty blonde beside him whispers. And ah. Yeah. Nah. Dean frowns hard, sparing his beer a glare. A glance. Before his eyes are once again on the far side of the bar, the secluded little corner where Sam and the blonde girl had sequestered themselves away in. Obscure.

She’s new. Though, he’s seen her around the campus before, seen her flitter her way over to Sam on occasions, never hovering long, but clearly she’s decided to change that.

Dean doesn’t like it. He likes it even less when Sam jokes back, quick-witted, a trait dad used to say he got from mom. And the blonde laughs, her head tipped back, golden hair falling down her back, between her shoulder blades. Then she’s leaning in. And Dean finds his beer sitting very badly. A churning maelstrom in the confines of his gut.

He stands. A jerky, uncoordinated movement, knocking the edge of the table and just about spilling his half-finished beer. Not because he’s sloshed. He’s barely had enough to feel the languidness of tipsy let alone be drunk. It’s wholly because of the way Sam leans in too. The way his hair falls into his eyes, messy. Just like it had been when Sam was young. Boyish. And something about the way Sam tucks his chin, hiding his crooked smile from the girl has Dean’s stomach clawing itself up his throat, raw-edged, sharp and painfully ruthless.

It feels a little like anger. Hot under the collar of his leather jacket. A stain flushing across the bridge of his nose and cheeks. It feels a lot like stark jealousy. Bold. Unhindered. Untethered by the attention of the blonde, eye-lashes fluttering at his little brother, and unbound by the beer in his stomach.

He can name it. Call it out. He’s not beyond such self-introspection. He knows why he’s at some out of the way bar frequented by university students. He knows why he lingers outside Sam’s dorm, watching the window until the blinds are pulled shut and he can see nothing but the muted light shining through the fabric of the curtains.

He knows. Yet the vehemency in which his breath is ripped out of him by the proximity - the closeness Sam is willingly allowing - is discomforting.

He wants to hit something. Someone.

He wants to storm over and interfere. Interrupt.

He wants his baby brother all to himself.

[samdeancrimespree]

what if dean started calling sam baby before he was even born, and just never shook the habit. when sam is first learning words, he responds to “sammy” and “baby” equally. when sam is starting school, after john starts to be openly disapproving, dean stops using it so much. it stays in the house, between them, just like it was before. once sam starts middle school, he realizes it weird and gets so embarrassed by it that dean drops the name altogether. which doesn’t stop him from thinking baby every time he sees sam. maybe it’s the sort of thing most brothers would tease each other with, but for him it feels sacred. dean finds the loophole of “baby brother,” which will still get him an eyeroll in most cases, but sometimes sam lets it slide. there are only a couple times that dean calls him baby (not that sam’s keeping track..), when sam gets injured and dean is panicking, not thinking about it. sam’s whole body goes warm, melted by those two syllables that dean saves just for him, before the shame hits him like a wave. one day, jess calls sam baby, and he looks confused, then pleased, then mildly horrified. she doesn’t call him baby after that. adds it to the list of things sam is weird about that she can’t ask about yet. it’s only after sam leaves with his brother, that she recognizes the expression he had when she walked into the room with the two of them. the same one from years ago, caught in the same overwhelming storm of emotion, but somehow reassured by it.

[worstwolverinesbf]

harley quinns fav winchester is dean. end tweet

[papercorgiworld]

Apologies and love confessions

The Slytherins guy’s are jealous because you have a date. When your date flops, they show up: to make up or make out, or both…

General story introduction and then you pick your favourite Slytherin. Or all of them, I won’t judge.

Theo, Blaise, Enzo, Draco and Mattheo.

Warning: a little bit of smut bc of Enzo and Mattheo ofc.

Not proofread, so if a sentence hurts your brain, my apologies. Let me know and safe an innocent reader.

After months of not writing, I present you… whatever this is.

You took one last look in the mirror and turned to your friends, Pansy and Hermione. “Acceptable?” You asked sheepishly. “More than acceptable.” Hermione smiled. “Hot.” Pansy bluntly stated.

It was a late Saturday afternoon as you made your way to the great hall to meet your date. A few days ago, Neal - a Ravenclaw one year older than you - had asked you out. You hadn’t talked much but all of your friends liked him and he wasn’t bad looking. As you almost reached the great hall you ran into the notorious Slytherin boys. When you spotted them you wanted to turn on your heels, but Enzo already called for you. “Y/n, you’re looking fine.” He slurred the last word a bit as he looked you up and down. Your cheeks went red as all the guys stared. “Ah, your date’s today, right?” Blaise asked nonchalantly. You nodded, getting a little nervous. “What was his name again? Dirk… Dean?” Draco asked with his usual voice filled with arrogance and annoyance. His eyebrows went up and down as he leaned against a wall with his arms crossed. “Neal. And I should be going.” You blurted. Theodore was slow to move aside and you passed him, his eyes never leaving you. As you walked away you could hear Mattheo snicker and your heart sank.

Up until recently you had gotten along with them just fine. You were Pansy’s friend and by association also theirs. Just like you were Ron and Harry’s friend because of your friendship with Hermoine. However, there was a difference. You always wanted to be liked by the Slytherin guys, or just by one. Unfortunately, ever since you mentioned you were going on a date they had collectively decided to ridicule your every move. Making you feel terribly insecure.

***

Your date flopped. Neal was a great guy. Accept for the fact that he was obviously still hung up on his ex-girlfriend. When you entered the Three Broomsticks and chose a table near a window, he told you his ex liked to sit by the window too. When you ordered drinks, Neal told you his ex didn’t like your choice of drink. When he mentioned her for a third time, you fell silent and gave him a tight lipped smile. Oh Merlin. This was the worst.

After a little over an hour you said your awkward goodbyes. You started to walk back to Hogwarts, dreading the idea of telling your friends about your date or worse all those other gossiping people finding out.

As you arrived at the courtyard the ones you wanted to avoid most were there. You tried to subtly speed walk past them. This time it was Mattheo who was first to speak. “Y/n! You’re back early.” You simply sighed and Mattheo smirked. “How long were you gone? Didn’t even last two hours.” Mattheo turned to Theodore who let out a short laugh. Pansy who sat next to Enzo shot up and started yelling. “Oi, shut it!” Your friend took your arm to guide you away from them, towards the castle. “Pay up, Blaisy-boy. Not even two hours, so I win.” You heard Riddle say and you shot one last look at them, seeing how Blaise grimaced and reached inside his pockets to pay up. You were nothing more than a joke to them.

Pansy held onto your arm while you walked towards your common room. Hermoine spotted you from afar and pushed Ron and Harry aside to get to you. “So how was i…” Hermoine’s question was cut of my Pansy aggressive signal to shut up. “So, should we hex him?” Hermoine suggested as she saw that your eyes were welling up with tears. “No, it’s not him. I mean it was a bad date. But, so what. No biggie. But those, those, those… twats! They, they are the worst!” You yell, attracting the attention of students nearby. Hermoine looks over to Pansy with a confused look. “Will hex all five of them.” Pansy said and Hermoine caught on, she knew exactly which five morons you were talking about.

You nodded and sighed. “I need a moment alone. I’m going up to the astronomy tower for some quiet time.” Your friends were understanding and you left.

Theodore

“This is my hang-out.” Theodore says, pulling you out of your train of thoughts. “This is the spot people go to when they’re sad. If this is your hang-out, then that says a lot about you.” Theo halts for a moment, feeling a little exposed by your analysis, but joins you nevertheless, his arms resting on the railing. You notice how he plays with a cigarette between his fingers. “I won’t light it. I know you don’t like it when I smoke.” You raise your eyebrows. “I also don’t like it when you ridicule me, but that’s never stopped you or your merrie band of delinquents from mocking me.” Now, it was his turn to raise an eyebrow.

He’s about to open his mouth and give you some lame excuse for his behavior, but you stare at him with unimpressed eyes. So, he closes his mouth and lets out a nervous laugh. He takes a step back from the railing and throws his hands up in surrender. “I’ll admit, I’ve not been on my best behavior the past week.” Now, he has your full attention. You wanna hear what he has to say. “But neither have you.” He points to you and you scoff, no longer wanting to listen. “Going on a date with… what’s his name again. Of course everyone’s laughing.” You let out a laugh of disbelief. “Unbelievable.” You sigh.

“How about you go out with me? No one will laugh.” When you didn’t immediately respond he tried to sell the idea a little. “I’ll tell Matt and the others to behave. No more mocking.” You tilt your head in amusement to his suggestion. This guy, unbelievable. “You can do that, tell them to behave?” Theo takes a step closer towards you, leaving no space between you two. “Uhu.” He absentmindedly breathes while his hand softly caresses your face, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “And will you behave?” You ask, subtly taunting him. “I’ll be good.” He says softly and licks his lip.

“I’ll think about it.” You say taking a step and putting some distance between you two. But Theo quickly reaches for your arm, pulling you back towards him. “Don’t play with me.” As soon as you look into his eyes, his lips are on yours. The kiss is filled with longing, his thumb brushing your cheek as he pulls you in. Theo pushes you against the railing, never breaking the kiss. Your hand finds their way to his messy hair. The more you tug on one another and push into each other, the sloppier the kiss gets. He squeezes your ass and as a reflex you gently buck your hips into him. “Fuck.” He growls. You smile at his reaction and seize the moment to push him away.

Walking past him, you never take your eyes off the confused man. “I’m looking forward to that date.”

Blaise

“I lost a bet because of you.” Blaise says with a loud voice while he’s still on the stairs almost at the top, but still out of sight. You turn towards the stairs waiting for him to arrive. “I mean really, not even two hours.” “No.” You cross your arms in annoyance. “I mean you're annoying sometimes, but-“ You shove his shoulder. “I was not annoying! I AM never annoying. I’m a blessing to be around.” He raises his eyebrows, but you ignore him and continue your rant. “You! You on the other hand are frankly unbelievably childish!” You poke his chest, being more than a little shocked at how muscular he is, but you push that thought aside. “Betting on my misery, have you no shame!”

He spreads his arms in defense. “Well, that was Mattheo’s idea. No morals, that guy.” You raise an eyebrow in response. Just Mattheo. Think not. All of you, you’re a bunch of demon children. “You joined in.” You throw at him, like a lawyer making their case. “And lost.” Blaise says sheepishly. “Don’t be mad at me. I lost money, my day is already bad enough.” You turn on your heels, away from him. “Well what about my shitty day.”

“Ah, about that, your shitty day, I can make it better.” In a split second you’re facing him again, eyes shining with curiosity. “This better be good, Zabini.” He simply grinned. “There’s this guy, who’s been into you for months now. Incredibly hot. Sixpack and everything. Really into quidditch, a bit of a jock, but also really likes wizard chess and magic history. And has a soft side, secretly loves to watch muggle-movies. That’s some boyfriend material, uh?” You’ve been nodding along searching for the catch.

“What’s the catch, Zabini, no dude’s that good. Definitely not one that happens to have a thing for me.” He smiles as takes a step closer. “He would like to ask you out. So.. what do y’say?” You drop your head and shake no. “I’m not going out with him until you tell me what the catch is.” “Fineee, the catch is… he’s me.” You frown in confusion. “You, Blaise Zabini, want to go out with me?” A nervous and adorable smile appears on his face. “Yeah, and I would like it to last longer than two hours.” You give his shoulder a little push. “Depends, are you going to talk about your ex the entire time?” “What? That’s how Dirk ruined your date? What a git.” His name was Neal, but whatever. I got a new and better date.

Enzo

Enzo has his back against the railing. His eyes trace your face. “Didn’t go well did it?” Your eyes meet his and he sees your forehead wrinkle at his stupid question. “Well, look on the bright side. You’re back on the market.” You shift yourself so you’re leaning against the railing with your side and facing Enzo. “I was never off the market. I went on one date.” He also shifted so he’s facing you. “Yeah, you’re right. I was overreacting. I shouldn’t have worried so much.” You look confused at him, but he doesn’t immediately explain. “Why were you worried?”

“Well, uhm, you know, maybe you would’ve liked him.” He tried his best to sound casual, but you could tell he was a little nervous. You took a small step towards him. “Why would that be a bad thing?” He huffed like the answer was obvious. “Because it’s wrong to ask out a girl who's dating.” You frown. “You’ve lost me, Enzo, I don’t follow.”

“Wait, wait. This will clear it up.” He closes the space between you two and cups your cheek. What followed was the softest kiss ever. After a moment you both opened your eyes, but didn’t move away from each other. “See, I couldn’t have done that if you were dating Neal.” You nodded. “I follow.” You brushed your lips over his. A cheeky smile covered his face. “You know, if you’re interested… there are a lot of things we can do now that it’s just you and me.” “Care to give an example.”

“My pleasure.” Is all he says before his hands find their way to your hips lifting you up. Your legs tangle around him as he pushes you against a wall. The cold stone makes you arch into him. His mouth nips on the flesh of your neck. “You and I should go on a date.” Enzo breathes in between kisses. “You two need to find a room.” You're both startled by Neville’s sudden appearance. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” Enzo says, looking at you with lust. “Mine or yours?” You ask as you lick your bottom lip.

Draco

You sighed, letting the view and silence calm you. Suddenly you hear footsteps and when you look up Draco’s walking towards you with his usual flair. “What a tool, that Neal-guy. Taking you to the Three Broomsticks.” You roll your eyes and look away from him. “You should’ve known, a guy like him is no good.” Before he opens his mouth again you whip your head around towards him, eyes ready to kill. “He’s no good? Neal’s not the problem. You are! You’re no good, with you mocking and ridiculing. You’ve been acting like a total ass the last few days! So get lost, Malfoy!”

Draco remains quiet for a moment. The frown on his face grows as he realizes his jealousy might have taken the upper hand these past few days. Falling back in his normal composure, his hands reach for the cold railing as he comes to stand next to you. “I just didn’t think it was a good idea. You, going out with him. You need someone who buys you a dress and takes you to a fancy place.” When you look up at him in confusion, he continues staring in front of him. “I think you deserve better.” You huff, indulging his lame excuse for his behavior. “Know any guy like that?” You blurt out thinking back to your miserable date.

Draco inspects the rings on his fingers as he searches for the courage to say what he so badly wanted to say these last couple of days. “Me.” He says so quietly you almost didn’t hear, but you did and you look up at him with wide eyes. Where is this going? “I would like to take you somewhere fancy. Spoil you.” You let out a laugh and he immediately snaps at you. “No, need to laugh. A simple ‘no thanks’ would have sufficed.” You press your lips together and take a step towards him. The scowl on his face falls when your hand reaches for his tie, gently playing with it. “I think I’m going to take you up on that offer, Malfoy.” Your face inches towards him and his lips brush yours.

The kiss immediately becomes more passionate and his hand tangles in your hair holding you in place. His other hand snakes to the small of your back pulling you close. You whimper softly at the feeling of your bodies against one another. This gives him the perfect opportunity to deepen the kiss even more. You break apart to catch your breath, but you stay close. “You were jealous, weren’t you?” Draco scoffs. “Not. It’s simply a matter of principle. Classy women belong with classy men.” You roll your eyes. “Draco, kiss more, talk less.” He huffs in annoyance, but obliges.

Mattheo

“I told you so.” Mattheo’s voice sang as he approached you. You didn’t turn around, instead you just rolled your eyes. “That guy just wasn’t for you. Don’t be so upset about it.” You shook your head. What’s he even doing here? Shouldn’t he be laughing behind your back with friends? When you stayed quiet Mattheo got worried and his tone softened. “He didn’t hurt you or anything? ‘Caus I’ll deal with him. He’ll never bother you again.” Okay that’s it, Riddle. You angrily grab onto the railing you were leaning on before turning around fuming. “He didn’t hurt me. He was just boring. But you on the other hand, you hurt me with your constant mockery. So why don’t you punch yourself in the face and stop bothering me.” Mattheo looked away from you for a moment, making you think he actually felt bad. But when he looked back up, he was back to being his cocky self. “Can’t punch this pretty face.” He said, pointing at himself, grinning.

You turned away from him, hoping that he would leave. You couldn’t see it but his face fell again, really feeling bad about hurting you with his stupid jokes. “I just knew he wasn’t the guy for you.” No reaction from you. “Look, we can split my win from the bet with Blaise.” You let your head fall, looking at him from the corner of your eyes. The audacity. He came to stand next to you and also rested his arms on the railing. “I know, I can be an ass sometimes. So, just tell me, love, how do I make this right.” Your eyes meet his, you’re surprised by his gesture. “I guess it’s alright. I’m a forgiving soul.” He turns away from the view, towards you and lays a hand on the small of your back. “No, don’t be forgiving. I’ll do anything to make this right.”

He uses his body language to make it clear that he’s willing to do anything to make it up to you, shuffling closer, leaning into you and licking his lips suggestively. “Are you really trying to seduce me into forgiving you?” You ask not believing that that’s the best he can come up with. “Well no, love, I’m going to fuck you into forgiving me.” This man. Who does he think he is… well, the dark lord’ son, but still. Unbelievable. Mattheo falls to his knees, his hands moving from your back, sliding over your ass to your legs. He looks up at you with soft eyes before gently pushing your skirt up. This man… should be my future husband. Mattheo places soft kisses on your thight, slowly getting closer to your panties.

You close your eyes and let out a soft moan as he gently tugs down your panties. “If we get caught up here. I’m never going to forgive you.” He places a featherlight kiss between your legs and you instinctively reach for his curls. “Are you sure? Because I think I’m really excelling at apologizing, don’t you think so, love?” Damn you, Riddle. You’re good, and you know it.

[bohemianblasphemy]

things dean Winchester would do bc i said so ✨

N/SFW

as always, if you have any requests for blurbs/headcanons, feel free to send an ask!! i hope you enjoy lovelies ✨

SFW

- oh my cutie pie dean. he would be such a great boyfriend.

- i think he would find it hard to open up to you. he feels that if he talks about his trauma and issues that it would drive you away - as your relationship progresses he feels that he can be more vulnerable with you, and you reassure him that you’re not going anywhere and that you love him the way he is.

- pet names. he would call you sweetheart, babe, baby, sweet cheeks- he loves cheesy names.

- stage 5 clinger. will never leave you alone and is always touching you in some way, the hunger he has for touch can never be stopped. he is very much the jealous type and will make sure everyone knows that you are his.

- has made a playlist of songs that remind him of you. he will listen to it on repeat during hunts because he misses you so much.

- will take you on long drives in baby. screaming classic rock songs at the top of your lungs, sudden glances towards each other, his hand on your thigh…

- he loves kissing. he has his lips on you alwaysss and lives for make out sessions on the couch and in the shower (plus have you seen his lips? literal perfection)

- loves to watch you fall asleep in his arms.

NSFW

- he is a switch. no arguments. he is such a cocky tease when he’s dominating you. he will not let you cum but will bring you so so close to the edge, only to pull away and watch you squirm.

“god sweetheart youre absolutely trembling around me…you really wanna cum don’t ya? you’re just gonna have to wait baby…”

-that changes tho when he’s subbing. he is such a whiny whimpering mess who will beg for you to touch him/have him touch you.

“please baby please make me cum… please i’ll be good please i need it, i need you…”

- he’d love mutual masturbation.

- has a praise kink.

- having sex in the impala. also enough said.

- his favourite positions include doggy and reverse cowgirl. he is an ass man, loves to watch your ass ride his cock and leaving bruises on your hips.

- he loves to fuck your mouth. pulling your hair as he slides himself in and out of your pretty mouth… it’s one of his favourite sights.

- he’s the king of oral. he can be sloppy but oh god does it feel good, he knows what his mouth can do and does it so fucking well.

- he is so loving with aftercare. if it’s a night where he’s taken control, he will hold you and whisper sweet words to you- if you were in control, he’s the one to be held and praised.

[envythemouse]

I'm back to reading Sam/Dean fics again and I gotta say my favourite ship in the fandom is Sam Winchester/apocalyptic Dean even though it's not something a lot of people have written about.

Endverse Dean knows what it's like to live (if you can call it living) in a world without Sammy and has gotten the time to realize and regret all the mistakes he made with Sam.

All the things he said/did and can't take back.

And then he time-travels to season 5 and gets to make everything right again with Sam, even though his past-alternate self keeps fucking everything up.

Clingy Dean who had to live without his soulmate for years/clingy sam who thinks his brother hates him makes for the perfect hurt/comfort fic, honestly.

Meanwhile, you've got Dean from the original timeline being jealous (because hey, that's his Sammy!) and not understanding how his other self is so open about his love for Sam.

Endverse Dean probably regrets turning down all the chick flick moments from before and regrets not having held Sam when he still had the chance... now that he finally has his little brother back? He's going to do everything right this time. Even if this Sammy already has a Dean, even if quitting hunting is what makes Sam happy.

Endverse Dean watching his alternate self still having a little brother and neglecting him:

Quick Endverse Dean/Sam Winchester rec:

Another Go Round by KassandraScarlett

[julesthequirky]

The Choice: Chapter Thirteen

All my work is purely aimed at those 18+ so minors kindly, DNI.

Summary: You find three of your favourite characters in your home. It shouldn’t be possible, but there they are. In the flesh. How the hell did they get there? And surely there’s a way to get them back? But as you get close to each one, the thought of sending them back proves difficult to comprehend.

Characters: Fem!Reader, Dean, Beau, Soldier Boy/Ben.

Warnings: Female masturbation, female fantasy, language, typical Soldier Boy behaviour, cheesy euphemisms.

W/C: 1,596

A/N: I can only apologise for how long it took me to get this chapter out. I don't really have any excuses, except for the fact that I had a bit of a break, wrote some other ideas knocking around, and then had another break. I wish I could keep a schedule, but they don't work for me. I struggled with this chapter, struggled to push the story forward to get to where it needed to be.

A/N 2: I can't believe it's only day three! As a writer, I, too, forget the concept of time within the story. And it's not until I read past chapters that I realised how slowly time goes by.

The hot water splashed down, and you leaned your head back, getting a face full of the spray.

Was Ben right? Was Dean jealous? Or perhaps he had just been mad. He slept in the next room. A wall was shared, after all. He had to have heard everything. But Dean had no reason to be jealous. He hadn’t shown any inkling that he wanted anything more than platonicness.

Ben knew how you felt about Dean. About Beau. He’d seen all your interactions with the hunter and nearly bitten your head off in Walmart when he found them ‘impersonating’ him. Ben was an enigma. One moment he was flirty and casual, bantering with you, and the next, he was aggressive and damn near violent, threatening anyone that gets on the wrong side of him. And it was him you had fooled around with first. Not Dean. Not that you initially intended to mess around with any of them.

Water ran down your body in rivulets, and your hands followed the flow. Again, Dean, in complete ecstasy, slipped into your mind. Would he grip the shaft tightly? Would he squeeze to feel the intensity of pleasure? Would he stroke his thumb across the slit, rubbing pre-cum across the mushroomy head of his cock?

Below, you throbbed, and again, your mind turned to comparisons. Would Dean be as wide? Would the head of his cock feel so pillowy against your entrance? Would it pulse as strongly? Would he feel as heavy and as thick as Ben?

You shuddered, arousal burning through your body as you tried to wipe those thoughts from your mind. It didn’t feel fair. Dean was his own person. But…Jensen…Jensen was the man who played them all.

Your hand reached for the shower head. It unhooked from the wall attachment, and you changed the head settings. The water sprayed out powerfully in a more concentrated manner.

You gripped the shower head and the shower bar with your other hand. And before you could think yourself out of it, you turned the shower head upside down.

You gasped. A sharp inhale of air. Your hand tightened, gripping the shower bar. The jet of water shooting up from the shower head pelted your clit with intensity.

You bowed your head, hair dripping into the shower floor, pulse spiking as Dean masturbating occupied your mind.

You changed the angle of the shower head, and your knees almost buckled. Your toes curled, and you shook as you fought to contain yourself.

Your pussy clenched.

Your eyes squeezed shut. Dean, touching himself, left your mind, and Ben replaced him. You shook your head, trying to get Dean back. But Ben stayed. And he stood in all his glory, shameless, hand wrapped around his cock and giving lazy strokes, wearing that damn smirk.

Then, his words from yesterday came to mind.

“Would you suck me off as prettily as you suck my fingers?”

And in your mind’s eye, you were on your knees, pleasing Ben, wrapping your lips around his cock. You saw yourself sucking, could feel the weight of him on your tongue, could taste the saltiness of him.

In your mind, you watched as the rapture completely took over Ben. His head leant back, eyes closed, and his fingers fisting your hair. He cursed under his breath as you slowly dragged the man’s soul from him.

Would Dean react the same way? Or would he watch?

Heat swamped your gut at the thought of Dean watching you suck him off. Your body shook, edging closer to that inevitable brink.

You’d please him. Who? All of them.

Ben.

Dean.

Beau.

Beau. With his cheeks tinted pink, and looking at you hungrily sent you hurtling over the edge and crying out, your legs almost buckling from the strength of your orgasm.

The shower head clattered to the floor, continuing to spray upwards. You leant against the steamed-up shower wall.

You hadn’t done that in a while. Not with a showerhead.

*

The TV played in the background. Some football game Ben had put on that Beau was absorbed in. With three men living with you, sports were perpetually on.

After breakfast, Dean excused himself and headed upstairs with a coffee, claiming he needed to decipher the language on the frame’s box, reinforcing the idea that maybe he was mad at you. He’d asked to use your laptop to aid him in his research, and you were compliant, handing him the device and the cable. You had written the password on his hand, desperately trying to ignore the sparks rushing up your arm.

Trying to read with Ben glancing at you occasionally was nigh-on impossible. All you wanted was to relax with a steamy romance between a Rugby player and a sassy fan. At least this one wouldn’t come to life.

Ben nudged you from where he was sitting beside you. You glared at him as he rudely pulled you out of the world where fans have hot instances with insanely built Rugby men.

“What?”

He leaned his head closer.

“If you needed help installing a pipe in your bathroom, you could have come to me.”

What the shit?

You tilted your head in confusion. What the Hell was he going on about?

“You know….”

He kept his voice low so as not to capture Beau’s attention. This was something he wanted to keep between you both.

“I’m just saying you could have come to me.”

You shook your head.

I shake my head and try to get back into my book.

“You need installations in your bathroom? Y’know I’m a dab hand at DIY.” Beau asked, finally turning away from the TV.

“What, no.”

Ben snorted and shook his head.

“Ya hear that, Y/N? Beau is a dab hand at installing pipes in a bathroom.”

Ben’s tone was a little sarcastic for your liking. And whatever he was alluding to, you just weren’t getting. Ben wasn’t one to mince his words, so why was he being so elusive? It didn’t make sense.

You sighed, closing the book you’d barely read anything of.  You placed it down and stood up.

“Ben, could I see you in the kitchen, please?”

You saw Beau’s quirk of his eyebrows in your peripheral vision as you started walking out of the living room.

 Ben followed you into the kitchen. He closed the door behind him, a smirk on his face. You stood there, leaning on one hip, arms folded against your chest.

“I don’t know what you’re playing at, but it’s gotta stop.”

Ben’s smirk grew wider as he stepped closer.

“Aw, c’mon. I’m only messing. Besides, maybe next time you have a solo flick fest in the bathroom, you should remember that some ears are far more acute than others.”

You stood stock still. Shit. He’d heard everything. That’s why he was teasing the Hell outta you.

“So, c’mon, what prompted this solo session?”

Your cheeks burned. Could you tell him? Probably should. He was only gonna bug you otherwise.

“It was what you said about Dean…”

He grinned wickedly.

“Doll, if a man beating his meat has you wetter than the Pacific Ocean, then baby, I don’t mind doing a little corn shucking just for you.”

You blushed. You actually blushed. Maybe it was the cheesy euphemisms, but Hell, they made you redder than a tomato.

“You gunna listen to him?”

You scratched the back of your neck, unsure. Honestly, you didn’t know what you were gonna do. The thing was, Dean wasn’t the only one concerned. Beau was, too. That meant that Beau thought the same as Dean. Or similar. Beau had mentioned intentions, and it was such a dad thing to say.

“Because, if you did, it’d be real shitty of you.”

Fuck. This was all you needed. Ben would hold a grudge. You knew that. But Dean. Dean had your heart. It was stupid. And yeah, you wanted to make him happy. But the real question was: what would make you happy? And that you didn’t know.

Sighing and easing yourself in a seat, you rested your head in your hands. Your phone buzzed. You slipped the gadget from your pocket. Your brow furrowed upon seeing a message. It was from your mother. Wondering what she wanted, you clicked it open.

Mom: Dear Y/N, Mark mentioned to your father and me that he saw you in Walmart with a man. He thinks it's your boyfriend. Is he? Why haven’t you said anything to me? I’m your mother. Your father and I insist on your presence at dinner tonight, 7:30 PM. Don’t be late. Dinner will be at 8. Your father said texting you was more likely to get your attention. He also said to bring your man. Sincerely, Mom.

Fuuuuuuuuck. You didn’t need this right now. You groaned, letting the phone clatter to the table.

Fucking Hell.

“She can fuck off.” You muttered.

Ben snorted, taking a seat beside you.

“Problem?”

Yeah. At this moment in time, you had too many problems. You were not bringing Ben around your mother and her partner. However, it made you smile at the thought of her clutching her pearls when Ben cussed like a sailor as he spoke with his mouth full. Then it faltered. Ben, behaving as he does, would double down her efforts to get you with Cole. No. It would be best to pick someone else. But who? And would Ben understand? Probably not.

You faced him.

“Yeah. My mother’s invited me to dinner and wants to bring my so-called boyfriend.”

Tags: @yvonneeeee, @curlycarley, @angelbabyyy99, @sassy-pelican, @k-slla, @deans-spinster-witch, @ashdoctor, @eretsupremacy89, @fanfic-n-tabulous, @deans-number-one-fan, @afro-hispwriter, @tiredstrangerr, @zemosdarling228, @justjensenandhisalteregos, @ladysparkles78, @nescavaneck, @winharry, @stellasfictionalworld, @mishkatelwarriorgoddess, @freefallthoughts, @realityshifter111, @slvtforhotchner, @hobby27, @grxyveins, @emily-roberts, @jamerlynn, @mimaria420, @kr804573, @just-levyy, @leigh70, @eexphoria

If for some reason you aren't tagged, or I've missed you as I went through to update my tags, lemme know. And A, we'll grumble about Tumblr together, or B, I'll chide myself and update the tagsheet.

[fellshish]

just felt like letting you know im makin my way through your spn bookmarks on ao3 and its saving my life 💚 do you have an ultimate-nothing-compares destiel faves from the bunch?

YES omg these are the fics that rewired my brain changed my life etc:

And this your living kiss (M, 56k): au where dean is a self deprecating former poet who used to write anonymously under the pen name jack allen. Now he’s finding his way back to loving poetry by taking a class at a college taught by professor novak… only he doesn’t know professor novak happens to be the number one jack allen scholar in the country. Amazing. Inspiring. I’ve reread it several times and it’s probably my favourite fic of all time

The cheapest room in the house (E, 89k): one of those fics whose writing i’m jealous of, it’s mind bogglingly good. And hot. The destiel grindr fic — cas downloads grindr and dean helps him. The rituals are SO intricate. But really, nothing i could say could do justice to how good this is.

Fenario (E, 47k): cas empty rescue fic. Certain paragraphs and scenes are just seared into my brain, amazing writing. I still think about “Cas’s legs give out and he pitches forward, falling the rest of the way into Dean’s lap in a mockery of a pieta” — that’s the point where i knew this fic was gonna become a fave

Right where you left me (E, 93k): cas comes back from the empty but it’s years later. He rings the doorbell and finds dean married. This fic was an event while it was still updating. Supremely well written and with an emotional maturity needed for the theme

Am I a man or am I a muppet (G, 7k): one of the funniest fics i’ve ever read. Dean wakes up as a muppet. Just roll with it! It’s crack, sure, but so good?? This inspired a scene in one of my gomens fics even

Burn this into your brains forever (E, 10k): to me this is an underrated fic for how funny it is. Fake dating between dean and garth but don’t worry, it’s a destiel fic

Half empty (M, 37k): more of a dean study. Reads like you’re dreaming and nothing makes sense. Dean is confused about everything. Kind of a mysterious vibe, excellent writing

There is rest for the wicked (G, 14k): sleepy, domestic dean. The destiel happens so…. Idk. Naturally. It’s a fic that really stays with you for a long time

Ninety one whiskey (E, 401k): one of thee destiel fics of all time. It’s famously a must-read and for good reason. A war fic, so quite heavy and not for everyone. But an absolute experience. I read the last few chapters in bed middle of the night tears streaming down my face. Simply iconic

A winter’s tale (T, 64k): this fic forever changed the way i see cas’ human arc on the show. Not super destiel-y but can be read that way. Again quite heavy. Northernsparrow is an excellent writer.

The dean winchester beat sheet (E, 144k): au where dean is in college and in complete and utter denial about his sexuality. So supremely funny. I will say this dean is not for everyone. But to me he is iconic and i think about certain scenes still. Forever changed the song i want to break free for me.

What has eight tentacles and isn’t allowed to eat pie? (T, 16k): basically uhhhh dean gets turned into an octopus. HEAR ME OUT. This fic will change you fundamentally as a person. It’s funny but also smart. A classic!

Maybe it really is the end (M, 2k): it’s short but there’s not a word out of place. Basically, belphegor taunts dean and cas while in the body of jack. It’s so good and so underrated. I think about it all the time

How a grocer watches dean pull his head out of his ass in seven days (E, 51k): destiel written from an outsider pov, a christian lady who’s easily scandalised and whose narrative voice is SO hilarious. One of the funniest fics i’ve ever read. Fake dating too!

[rubyvhs]

samcas fic recs ! (if the rating is m or higher, it will be added in the notes in bold, please look for that)

— a name for everything : Sam calls Castiel on the phone to talk about what had happened to him that day.

this is so cute & i reread it like twice after finishing it!

— my favourite winchester : Sam’s been a brat to Dean and Castiel all day, in the motel alone he’s thinking a bit too much on Castiel and summons the angel on accident, Castiel makes it up to Sam by showing him that he’s his favorite Winchester.

rated m!!

— find a love up on a higher level : When sam and castiel wake up Saturday morning, hungover and wearing matching rings with no memory of how they got there, Sam only hopes he can lift Castiel back up and give him a better reason to keep flying.

au where sam's graduated stanford and cas is an accountant. easy read thats super fun!

— jokes on you : “Hey, have you ever told like stupid little jokes to Cas?” Sam says.

Dean looks at him funny. “Why would I tell Cas any type of joke? First of all, he won’t get it, it’ll just fly over his head and then it wouldn’t exactly be funny cause I’d have to explain it, so just why?”

i need this to be canon so bad you don’t even understand, i love cas and sam being silly together and dean looking at them like he wants to commit murder.

— shooting stars watch me fall apart : “If he had to go, then he had to go. Except there was this grossly sobbing former angel hovering over him that was making it really had to do so.”

i’m not crying you are wtf why

— naked below the words : After Castiel's death, Sam tries to forget about him, but he feels like he's still around--somewhere. Sam starts writing him letters.

rated e!! i’m feeling so many things. the angst is unreal but we still get to see them be together and sam holding back ughh love them to death & 2012 fics always hit.

— tangled up in blue : A depressed Sam finds comfort in Cas, who's more than happy to be needed.  As their friendship deepens and things start to change, Dean is forced to confront his own feelings or lose everything.

rated e!! i cried a couple of times and read this in less than ten hours… i loved jealous!dean and dean’s narcissism but also his selflessness with sam, most complicated character reading ever that they got so perfectly right. i genuinely hope one day i can write this well.

these are my all time fav but if i read anymore i really enjoy i’ll add them, happy reading💌

[heartthrobin]

and i serve the fairy queen, to dew her orbs upon the green (3)

sam winchester x fairy!reader

wc: 6.7k

warnings: soulmate!au (partners share scars), fem!reader, hella pining, tooth-rotting fluff, destiel is canon, some jealous sammy, implied age gap (reader is early 20's), town (still!) being mean to reader, some shaky goblin lore, references to thick reader (everyone cheered) but can be ignored, dean being dean, canon-typical warnings (child kidnapping, violence ect.)

an: part 3 of my little fairy series! i'm sorry it took so long, uni is fighting me with both hands at the moment. but i promise the last part won't take as long :3 enjoyyyyy. remember to comment and repost to support your favourite writers :)

summary: you thought about Sam Winchester in a way that couldn't possibly be normal. but who did he think he was, walking around buying you crocodiles and sending you his jacket and looking so damn handsome all the time?

part one part two part four

Four thirty-five. Long hand brushing over the seven, short hand stretching just past the four.

You wondered if the clock was actually ticking. You could still hear it somewhere around the time the little hand was knocking up against the one, but now it was quiet.

Had your mind drowned it out or was the clock even working? It was actually only half visible against the wall of the corridor past the bars of your cell, so maybe--

There was a booming crack from somewhere down the corridor, like someone had thrown a hefty stack of papers down on a desk.

You sunk deeper into the suit jacket. It was warm, smelt of cologne, and at some point around two o' clock the smell had coaxed you off to sleep against the concrete wall.

There was a long stretch of time where you wondered if those kids out there felt the same. If their little heads were pressed against a cold hard wall, convincing themselves to sleep even if just for a while.

You wondered if they were together. You hoped they were together.

There was a tiny window in the cell. When it was still daylight you could see a tree shivering in the wind, now you could only hear it rustling.

It was an easy escape, you knew that. You could have yourself out of the cold, grey room before the long hand found the eight but ... alas. Maybe it was just better to wait it out.

Chlorokinesis. A neat little trick, but one that would have you behind bars again at another time, or tied to a wooden stake and burnt.

The latter sounded mildly more interesting than staring at the quiet clock against the wall.

But you couldn't. If not for the exposure of yourself and the risk on your livelihood, for the look on Sam's face when you proved him and his brother's doubts true. When you tore through the bar cells, whipped officers aside like chess pieces on a shaky board and proved yourself the monster at the end of town. The witch.

You sighed loudly into the cell, your hands found your face. The sleeves on the jacket were far too long for your arms and the smell of Sam surrounded you again.

God, you couldn't catch a break.

Beyond the town's cold shoulder and the unplanned arrest: Sam Winchester's face had been plaguing you since the moment you found him and his brother on your doorstep.

It was like you could feel when he grew near.

Your palms would warm, as if pressed around a warm mug, heart-rate quickening like a hare through the brush and your wings would shiver in and out of sight: quick enough to avoid the accusatory gazes of humans. They never noticed anything further than the tip of their noses anyway.

He didn't make things any better, mind you.

With his tall figure, leaving you frantically lost in his shadow, and buying you crocodiles and sending you his jacket.

The officer hadn't mentioned it was him, but you knew. If not by it's size, by it's warmth and it's smell and the way your wings pressed happily against the silky inner-stitching.

It had occurred to you that they probably still had the intention of killing you before leaving town, as the Winchester name suggested. They killed monsters, it was part of the gig.

The thought hadn't made the dips and slopes of Sam's face any easier to digest. Hadn't made the raging urge to tug him in by his collar against your lips any less.

It was so pathetic, the whole thing!

Your mother had promised you a handsome elf, or maybe a brawny satyr. That your arms would gleam with the shine of sword-swung wounds and the bites of arrows.

But you were bruised and torn with bullet holes and kitchen blades and sharp teeth.

Patience, patience, patience.

That's what they preached, humans and fairy-folk alike.

Everyone just had to wait. To be patient. They'll come along when you least expect them.

It was easy to jump, to imagine that every kind glance across the room or brush of an arm in a crowded coffee shop was the one. It was suffocating, the entire affair!

So you pulled your sleeves from your face, turning to lean your head back against the crumbly stone wall as far away as your nose could turn from the scent. Sam's scent.

You stupidly pushed Sam from your brain, like you'd done time and time before when the winter crept colder and colder each year and the yearning for a warmth crept stronger and stronger.

Instead, you pondered on your animals, in a cold room just behind your own. You could hear their yipping and whining sometimes through the wall. Your chest tightened at the sound and you'd patted away the warm tears down your face when you did.

There was another sound down the corridor. A screech. A chair scraping over the stone floors, then footsteps.

They neared until another faceless officer appeared into view. His paces jingled with a ring keys hanging at his side. You perked up at the sound.

He avoided your eyes, instead he worked to slot the key into the cell door. "Twelve hours is up. You can go."

You rose on unsteady legs, calves and thighs frozen stiff against the steel bench. "I can go?"

"'s what I said."

You nodded, tightening the jacket around your frame. You stepped past him into the fuzzy yellow light of the corridor and he handed you a manila envelope, the shape of your house keys lumped under it's wet glue seal.

"My animals?"

The man still wasn't meeting your face. "You can collect them after eight o' clock when the station opens."

Your fingers twisted between your palms.

"Okay." It came out small, tired. "Thank you."

He didn't respond, instead pointing you down the corridor.

In the foyer, the desks had been abandoned. Lights were off closer to the back of the room. You figured the guard at your cell was the only one on nightshift.

By the door was a long wooden bench, there was a man hunched over: head leaning into dinner plate sized hands.

His gaze lifted at the sound of your footsteps.

That rolling feeling of warmth rushed down your throat and between your organs again.

"Sam?"

He rose to his feet, a hand pressing his long chestnut hair out his face.

"Hey." He sighed and you neared him. Closer up, you could make out the exhaustion buzzing around his eyes. His shoulders slumped with it too.

"What are you doing here at this hour?" You laughed softly, laughter laced in confusion.

He shrugged, mouth forming around words and reshaping them a couple times before settling on: "I wanted to make sure you were okay."

The situation dawned on you, smile slipping quickly off your face and the relief you'd felt at his presence rinsed out with guilt.

"You didn't ... have you been here all night?"

Sam swiped at his mouth with one of his wide paws, he shrugged again. "Yeah, uhm, I was."

Your throat tightened at the revelation. "You ... you shouldn't have. I was just fine--"

"Yeah, in this freezing station where all these people think you kidnap children."

Lips parted in still unformed words, you watched his fidgeting hands, but he stopped you before you could say anything else.

"It's fine. I wanted to be here." His eyes were soft, sincere. "Anyways, you hungry? Want a coffee or something?"

"Uhm--"

"Actually, you probably just wanna go home ... I can call a lift--?"

"No," it came out louder than either of you had expected. Sam blinked at you. You swallowed hard. "I-- yeah, I would actually. I'm starving. I'm sure you are, too. There's a diner a few blocks down from here i-if you wanna walk?"

Sam nodded slowly.

“Yeah. That sounds good.”

Beyond the wind brushing at leaves down the sidewalk, it was quiet outside the station. There was not one other person down the foggy streetlamp-lit road.

Sam's strides were long, reaching further with each step wherein took you two of the same. His crisp white shirt shone starkly even in the low light and his tie grappled tiredly around the bend of his neck.

"So," his voice ripped your eyes from were they'd been nudging at the bottom-most button on his shirt, lingering dangerously close to the line of his belt. "What happened?"

A velvety red pressed against your cheeks. You hoped the darkness hid your quiet embarrassment.

"Uh, I was out to go check on some trees that were showing signs of sickness a few days ago." You shrugged, hands fiddling with the manila envelope. "Also, Goose needed a walk. I think he bit one of the officers."

Sam laughed at that. The sound made your throat tighten.

His head was thrown back against his shoulders, hair tickling the space between it's blades. With the angled light of the lamps, his neck became a mosaic of shadows. It's slopes and dips proving it an alter to which you'd decided you could pray at forever.

Your own laugh came out breathless, it tinkled lightly beside his.

"Don't laugh! I feel bad about it."

He shook his head. "You shouldn't."

You shrugged. Flickers of splintered memories blinked at you behind your tired lids.

The thud of officers crushing through the underbrush towards you. Goose's wild, scared yips. The burnt cloud of a cigarette suffocated beneath a boot, tossed somewhere between the fresh green blades of your front lawn.

"They were just doing their job."

Sam's eyes found you, you could feel his gaze warming the side of your face, but he didn't answer. Instead he ran a hand up his forearm, then down again.

Your eyes widened, "Oh--oh, I'm so rude ..."

Beneath the stronghold of it's thick weight against your shoulders, you'd abandoned the memory of Sam's jacket over your frame. You went to shrug it off.

"You must be freezing, I didn't even say thank you--"

You'd stalled to a pause, sleeves halfway down your arms, when two warm palms closed over your shoulders. They sent a sharp, blistering shudder through every molecule in your body.

There was a loud tinkle and your shimmering pair of opalescent wings popped into view. They glowed faintly in the dark space.

Sam's eyes flew open widely, his hands pulled back suddenly as if you'd burnt him.

"I'm ... sorry," he shook his head. "I w-was just ... gonna say that y-you should keep it on. You're gonna freeze in that tiny little dress."

You watched where his eyes struggled to part from the shining protrusions behind your head. You turned over his sharp features in your mind carefully.

"Thank you."

He nodded, gaze flickering between your wings and your face.

The warmth of your palm sunk into your fingers where you wrung them out.

"You can touch them, if you want?"

Sam's eyebrows flew into his hairline, his mouth opened ... there was an almost no, that's okay forming on his lips, you were sure you saw it, but instead he nodded.

"Yeah ... I do."

You nodded too, slipping the jacket to bunch just over your wrists so the wings could stretch comfortably out past your frame.

Sam stepped impossibly close, bringing you nose to nose with his endless expanse of chest. It was warm there.

A long arm stretched over your frame. It was unthinkable to resist the view from under Sam's jaw. Your eyes meandered up his shoulder, over his neck to watch his shallow breaths, his furrowed brow and the tentativeness in his shifting.

You felt when his fingertips met the wings, if not informed by Sam's sharp intake of breath.

"Someone told me once that it feels like dipping your hand into warm water."

His eyes glanced down to where you were tucked beneath his arm, considering the suggestion. You could feel his palm run from the pointed edge down towards your shoulder blade.

"That's ... that's pretty accurate."

He retracted his hand, but he lingered. His lashes grazed his cheek where he looked down at you.

"They're pretty." He said quietly. A secret.

His eyes flickered around your face, nervous in their pursuit of somewhere to rest.

If you just leaned on the tips of your toes, if you just tugged lightly down on the end of that already tempting tie ...

You shook your head, gathering the willpower to break your gaze: bringing it to the space between your feet.

"Let's go. It's just down the next block." Quiet in return. Another secret, but a promise. A promise of maybe we can come to this again.

The diner was just a little further. The Frothy Mug.

It had been one of your first stops when you'd moved to town, almost three years ago. Most mornings since then, too.

But it had been weeks since you'd come in. Almost seven, the same week Georgia Abbott was snatched out from her back yard. The day you became the monster under their beds.

The walkway up the steps were damp, slippery with early forming ice. Sam's hand was at your back. You smiled into your chest.

There was a jingle where Sam pushed the door open, gesturing you ahead of him. The starchy light was comfortable in it's familiarity, painful in that way too.

The Frothy Mug was barren beyond a single man perched at the bar-top with a mug between his hands, eyes tired beneath a trucker hat. He waved vaguely at your passing figures.

Behind the counter, a ruggedly feminine voice called out through the kitchen window, "be with y'all in a sec!"

Shifting awkwardly, still draped in the quilt of Sam's jacket, into the booth: he chuckled softly at you.

"Hey, not my fault you're the size of a juvenile sasquatch." You shrugged.

"I didn't say anything."

"Actually," You went to correct yourself. "Maybe more pre-teen. You're not that big."

Sam frowned for a second. His head tilted.

"Bigfoot ..." Brow knotted again, "He's not ... not real, is he?"

You patted down the front of your dress over your legs, "They. It's a species, and of course they are."

There was a long moment of silence. Sam's gaze drifted off into the distance, it took a long moment before he shrugged. "Okay."

"It's a wonder how surprised you guys are with these things: fairies and bigfoots and forestfolk, considering how much you've probably already seen."

"Sorry y'all," Two thin menus slid abruptly onto the shining grey surface, a thin, dirty blonde woman hovered over the table. "Can I get some coffees, so long--?"

The woman's eyes found you. Her posture stiffened and her face whitened as if visited by a spectre.

There it was again. That same icy liquid dripping down the back of your throat when they looked at you like that. When the sheriff had slapped a pair of handcuffs on you and thrown you in the backseat of a cop car.

"Mornin'," Sam spoke first. "Yeah, I'll have a black coffee. And ..."

His hand motioned over you, eyes imploring.

"Uhm," you could make out the scowl deepening in her features, you purposefully met Sam's face. "I'll have a tea. With milk and sugar, please?"

"No tea." It was sharp and you flinched like she'd stung you.

"Oh," you nudged the menu closer to you. "A hot chocolate?"

The woman, Teresa, sighed: eyes raking over your figure. You recognised her from when you'd still come through.

"No hot chocolate."

You sighed, teasing the worn corner of the menu with your cold fingertips. "I'll-- just some water then. Please."

But Teresa hadn't moved. Eyes burning into the side of your face where you were working hard to hold a neutral expression, focusing on your lap. She snatched the menus unceremoniously off the metal table.

Sam hadn't noticed anything in the first few seconds, but he was quickly starting to do the math.

The little space between his eyebrows was crumpling like it did when he was growing annoyed. His eyes were warming too, irritation watering in the corners.

"Is there a problem here?"

But Teresa's eyes hadn't left you. "You have some nerve walking in here. You should have skipped town a long time ago, and taken that zoo with you."

Your shoulders deflated, not distinctly surprised, but rather wearied.

"I'm sorry you feel that way." It was all you said, not meeting her eye.

"Right." Sam was already shuffling out the booth. He all but shoved the woman out the way to your side of the booth, he stuck his hand out for you to take. "We're leaving."

Without another thought, as if on instinct, you reached your hand to mould into his own. He nudged you gently out the booth past the woman who scathed at your retreating figures.

"And don't come back!"

The door met the frame with a crack where Sam had slammed it.

He huffed out into the cold, and your brain was buzzing with his hand is so warm, his hand is so warm, his hand is so--

Cold nipped again at the edges of your dress. You sighed. "I'm sorry."

His hair flicked wildly over his shoulder where his head snapped to find yours. Incredulity pressed deep into his frown lines.

"You're sorry?" He huffed, blowing a strand of hair from his forehead.

Your hand tightened against his, you didn't mean to, but you did feel bad.

"Yeah, now we can't get breakfast. It's the only place in town open this early."

"Fuck breakfast!"

"Sam?" A small, confused laugh punctuated his outburst.

"That woman was horrible. Do you get this everywhere? I mean, it's the third time I've seen it and I've barely been in town a week. Do you?"

Your chuckle dissolved when you found his face looming, again too close for the wires in your brain to transport messages efficiently. Anger dripped off his features.

The question lingered.

"Yeah." You nodded. "I do."

"And you just take it?"

That picked at a nerve between your brows. "I don't just take it. I choose to be kind, rather than stoop to their level."

Sam's head shook again, confusion dripped off him still. "Why?"

You sighed, he was puffing like an angry dog.

"Kindness will take you farther."

The words settled into the air. The tension in Sam's face ebbed slowly. He was facing you completely again.

"I read it somewhere a long time ago. Stuck with it since."

A warmth settled in your stomach when his thumb started brushing over the side of your palm where your conjoined hands still hung between his hip and yours. He nodded, then sighed.

"Okay. What you wanna do now?"

You shrugged, huffing loudly and allowing yourself to slump against his side in a move your mind made before cowardice could stop you.

"God, this is a lot of decision-making for one night."

Sam laughed. He looked so pretty in the light still reflecting through the grainy diner walls.

"Right." He said. "How about I'll walk you home and you can get some proper rest under a toadstool or wherever it is you fairies sleep."

A velvety blush warmed at your cheeks.

"Sasquatch." You mumbled. Sam smiled again.

Your hands were still connected you noticed. Sam must have followed your eyes.

"I can let go if you want?"

"Nope."

So you walked like that with him.

Your house was more than a couple blocks, too far to walk on a normal day but it was nearly five in the morning: you were falling in love with a monster hunter and you'd just spent the night in a jail cell. A less than regular night if you'd ever had one, and the hour called for such spontaneity.

"So how does a fai-- a dryad end up in a town like this?" He asked, arm still swaying slightly with your own against his side.

A lone car tossed a long shadow down the empty road. It passed noisily.

"I don't know. A bit of roaming combined with youthful curiosity, I guess. I jumped state to state after college--"

"You went to college?"

You laughed loudly, face screwed up in light offence. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Sam raised his free hand in surrender, he was laughing too, "I didn't mean you, I just never thought--"

"What, you don't think fairies go to college?" Your shoulder shifted warmly against his side. "Our heads are just filled with pixie dust or something?"

He shook his head. "Hey, you're the first fairy I've ever met. Can you cut me some slack? A week ago I didn't even know you existed."

"Humans." You huffed. "You're all so ignorant. What's your first impression of me then? Do I live up to what you thought a fairy might be like?"

His eyes brushed over your face, considering you. He nodded. "Yeah. A lot actually."

"That so?" Your arms crossed over your chest, bumping him as you walked. "How?"

"Plenty of ways."

"Like?"

"The tree stuff, and the animals, and the wings of course--"

"Can't forget the wings."

"--And the sparkly clothes and the crystals and stuff."

You nodded. "That it?"

"And you're really pretty. Like how they are in the books and the movies." He shrugged, eyes out on the road ahead like he hadn't turned your stomach to molten lava with how he was tossing his words out so absent-mindedly. "Like, beautiful."

"Oh. Well that's good, I suppose,"

Your brain had gone muddy: a gooey, sticky, melted mess that could come dripping out your ears at any moment soon.

"And what about me? I'm sure I'm not the first hunter you've met, but still ... thoughts?"

You smiled, gathering what braincells still had the motivation to carry on.

"You're nice."

"Nice?" He laughed.

You nodded, "Yeah. The last time I had an encounter with a hunter I left with an arrow through my shoulder."

His eyebrows jumped. "Wow."

"And you're sweeter. Taller too." You shrugged, feeling his gaze flicker over you. "Fantastic hair."

His head ducked, like he was blushing. You hoped he was.

"Not any steep competition, from what I'm gathering."

You shrugged. "You win some you lose some."

"Anyways, you were telling me about college before I rudely projected my fairy prejudices on you." His free hand slipped into his pant pocket.

"I had fun. The drinking, the partying, the taste of freedom."

"What'd you study?"

A loud giggle erupted from you. "I'll give you three guesses."

Another cold rush of wind charged between you, he shivered.

"Don't tell me, not the plants?"

"The plants exactly!"

His footing stumbled between his laughter. "Right, right. How could I imagine anything else."

"Botany, actually. Some work in zoology, animals, but plants mostly."

You tugged at his hand, nudging him down a shorter road in the direction of your house.

"Did you enjoy it?"

"Loved it." You nodded. "What about you, do monster hunters go to college? Or do you guys have a special school for stabbing werewolves and setting fire to corpses?"

"Yeah, yeah. Very funny." His thumb had taken to rubbing circles against the back of your hand. "I did actually. Go to college, I mean. Law school. Never finished though."

Something shadowy passed over his features. You frowned.

"Oh, that's too bad. Why didn't you finish?"

His shoulders slumped, he sighed loudly.

"My girlfriend ... she was, uh, killed by a demon. Kind of got caught up with getting revenge, and then I was sucked back into hunting. Haven't stopped since."

Your breath caught in your throat. It lodged there like a stone.

"I-I'm so sorry to hear that." Maybe it was involuntary, but your hand squeezed against his. It squeezed back.

"It's okay. Happened a long time ago."

A question shuffled nervously to the edge of your tongue.

"Was ... was she your--" you shoulders twitched up against the lining of Sam's jacket that suddenly felt misplaced over your body. "--your other?"

His head shot in your direction as if he’d been electrocuted. “Oh, no, no … just my girlfriend at the time.”

You suddenly felt bad for asking.

“Oh.”

In the distance, a streetlamp revealed the little sliver of sidewalk in front of your house. It drew nearer and the conversation stalled to silence.

Sam was still holding your hand, you remembered blithely.

The sky had also turned a deep purple, threatening to spill into dawn.

You sighed up at it.

“The sky looks so beautiful at this time.”

Sam’s eyes darted between your face and the heavens. “Yeah, it does. I‘ve never really been up to see it.”

Your little patch of the world came passing under your feet. The dewy grass crunched beneath your shoes.

He walked you all the way to the door. His little yawn against his collar didn’t go amiss on you.

“You didn’t have to stay all night, you know?”

Two sets of feet padded up your porch steps. Sam shook his head.

“Of course I did.”

“To make sure I was okay?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

You twisted to meet his face, the one perched on the head that loomed so far above you.

“I’m stronger than I look, Winchester.”

His eyes sparkled in the low light. “Oh I have no doubts about that.”

You smiled, pressing a gentle thumb against the side of his hand.

“You’re a good person, Sam Winchester.”

With a weary hand, he rubbed a spot behind his neck. “The way you say it almost makes it sound true.”

Your head cocked, almost resting on one shoulder. “Trust me. I have a feel for these things.”

“You make me want to be a good person.”

It hung in the air for a moment. A long moment.

You pulled your hand from his softly, raising it to brush a finger over his cheek just once before dropping it back to your side.

“Goodnight Sam.”

The door clicked open under the key’s persuasion.

“Goodnight.”

It clicked again gently shut.

-

When morning came, after sleep had long evaded you in the absence of the warmth Goose normally provided from a spot at the base of your bed, you came to find eight metal crates packed neatly on your doormat.

Your animals keened happily at you from within their confines.

Attached to the side of one of the cages was the police release form. At the bottom of the drawling document was a haphazard signature, a sprawling handwriting that you could just make out to read Samuel Winchester.

-

"So now what?"

Sam slugged back the last of his already cold coffee out the cardboard cup.

Dean was watching him from the side of his eye.

"I guess we go in, see what we can find." Sam shrugged. "The lore's been pretty less than helpful."

Out the front window of the Impala loomed an open stretch of forest, an entryway a little further out of town where they could avoid the prying eyes of nosy residents.

Sam rubbed the back of his fists against his eyes, he yawned.

"You sure you ready to head out there, cowboy? You barely got any sleep."

"Yeah, yeah," Sam nodded. "I'm fine."

Maybe it was a fib. He was exhausted.

He'd only gotten back to the motel around five and barely slept two hours before slipping back out to the police station to make opening time at eight o' clock. Sam figured you deserved the sleep more than he did, electing to unburden you of the humiliation of walking back in there to fetch your animals.

To face more of the unsettling stares and scathing remarks. The whole thing made his skin prickle with anger.

"Whatever you say, Sammy."

Dean tugged his jacket tighter over his chest as they climbed out the side of the car and Sam felt the outline of his blade against his thigh.

The lore on killing goblins had been foggy, but Sam figured it was hard to go wrong with a silver blade.

Loud crunching echoed their every step past the outer line of trees. An eery air settled over where the brothers walked.

"What exactly are we looking for?"

Sam shook his head, overtly wary of his surroundings: half convinced something was moments from leaping out at them.

"Anything that looks out of the ordinary."

They walked for what only could have been hours. Through the thicket of the trees above, it was hard to keep track of the sun. Rather the forest air was draped in a cool shade that made the autumn air even colder.

There were times where they split up, not far apart, but enough to cover more ground. Dean jumped every once in a while over an ambitious tree frog or a wandering deer, but more than that, the search was proving fruitless.

Sam paused for a moment, Dean huffed beside him and by then the sun was leering far enough over the hill that the forest was dipping into early evening darkness.

"Hey man," Dean sighed, leaning his leg up on a log. "Maybe we're looking in the wrong direction. Maybe dad was wrong, thought it was something to do with--"

A beam of light was peaking through the canopy. Specks of moonlight where it was slowly replacing the sun in the sky.

"Dean."

The misty light was shining against the wood of a tall oak that loomed just a way out of their reach. Deep scars etched into it's side, scars that were glowing under the moon's gaze.

Dean found it too.

They moved in unison towards it. The creatures of the forest chirped loudly where they neared.

The shining wounds formed a triangulated symbol, sharp like edges of teeth, surrounded by a skewed circle.

"You ever seen anything like that?" Dean's voice broke through the music of the forest.

Sam shook his head, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and captured a photo. "Nope."

They watched it for a moment.

"Well," Dean yielded. "Guess now we got something to work with. It's getting dark, let's get the hell out of here."

-

Hours around the desk proved fruitless. Sam had even bargained a trip to the local library, scrounged around in the local lore to come up empty handed.

Noon sun blazed through the open window, nudging against the curtain. Dean tipped back the sweating beer bottle before knocking it down against the desk.

"Nothing I've ever laid my eyes on, sorry to tell you."

Sam groaned against the phone. He nodded as if Garth could see.

"Right. Thanks again, Garth."

"Adios muchacho."

Dean's eyes followed where he killed the line and set the phone against the desk. "Nada?"

"Nada." Sam confirmed.

Shoving his chair back noisily, Dean stretched his legs out with a whine. "Well, you know ... there is someone who might know a little something about this."

Sam leaned his arms over his head, they cracked from the tension of working against the laptop. He could already smell his brother's next words.

"Let me guess."

"Tinkerbell, that's right."

Sam's lips pursed. He pretended to consider his brother's suggestion, as if he wasn't keening for your presence. Like he wasn't constantly engulfed by the gnawing urge to be at your side every single second like how he craved to breath air.

"Yeah, you're probably right."

"I knew you'd think so too."

-

The Bloom Box.

It was a cramped little shop, squeezed into a tight spot between the laundromat and a pharmacy on main street. Pale faded pink painted brick shimmered in the afternoon glare.

"Well. Can't stay she doesn't stay on brand."

Dean's comment was the last thought that lingered before being swept abruptly from the front of Sam's mind when the little bell over the door jingled jovially.

White orchards twinkled at him from over a marble counter. Pink roses, orange tulips and purple lilies gleamed too. The inside was impossibly more pink than the face of the shop: it made Sam's head hurt.

A heavy waft of the botanicals rushed over his face and up his nostrils.

There was a hum of a heater in the far corner. Your laugh cut through the sound.

In between the glitter and mosaic of the petals, your frame melded between the colours.

You stood behind the counter, head tossed back between your shoulders with your hair up out of your face. He couldn't help notice then, with hair no longer obstructing the view, that your ears held a pointed edge. Not too noticeable, but enough that Sam squinted in surprise.

More than your ears, Sam had noticed the figure beside you. Lanky, young - closer to your own age than himself - with dreads tied back in a bun over his head.

Clearly he'd just said something hilarious, because he was laughing beside you.

"I told you he'd do that!" Your melodic voice bounced around the room.

"I couldn't resist." The man responded, elbow leaned over the counter and far too close to your shining face for Sam's liking.

An uncomfortable itch was forming in the base of his stomach. A green-eyed monster shaped itch.

Dean marched on ahead, interrupting your conversation.

"Hey Tink." He started.

Your eyes found the brothers, straightening up as you noticed. "Hey guys!"

Sam's feet were moving towards you before they'd even been instructed.

"What brings you in?" You pressed down over your apron, some soil stains leaked over it. Underneath you were wearing another frilly skirt, longer this time: all the way to your calves beyond the counter, and another crochet top. Earthy brown. "Can I interest you in some tulips, they arrived this morning?"

The man was watching Sam, he was watching back.

You noticed the exchange.

"Oh, this is Tony." You motioned up to his figure. "We work together ... obviously."

Sam nodded briefly, Dean did the same.

"Not here for the tulips, princess. Can we have a word?"

You fiddled with the ring around your middle finger. "Sure ... uh, Tony would you give us a sec?"

But Tony seemed unconvinced, purveying Sam and Dean with hooded eyes. "You sure, love?"

Love.

"Yeah, she's sure." The words fell off Sam's tongue before he had time to catch them.

Tony all but glared at him.

Your hand found his arm, Sam watched it unfold with the eyes of a trained dog. "Yeah, yeah. They're friends."

The boy nodded slowly, sending a wavering glance over Sam and Dean. "Sure. I'll be in the office if ya need."

He disappeared beyond a door into the back of the shop.

"We found some symbols in the forest," Dean started as soon as Tony was out of earshot. "Haven't been able to find much on it, thought you might know something."

You nodded, "Sure."

Sam slipped his phone out his khaki jacket, his outfit unusually casual when it came to his meetings with you.

He set the phone down gently in front of you.

You pulled it closer, raking over the pixelated image that only barely captured the shape of the wounds in the tree in the darkness of the night.

The breath you sucked in was loud.

"Look familiar?" Dean pressed.

With another shuddering breath you nodded again. "Goblins."

Sam and Dean exchanged a look. A quiet I told you so.

"There should be four ..." you continued, zooming in on the photo.

"Four?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, four trees like this ... at least there should be. I haven't seen anything like this in real life, it's just stuff I learnt from knowledge passed down." The heater whined into the space between your words. "They each face a certain direction. If you find the point in the exact centre of the four trees, you've found the entrance. It should be like an underground cave from what I know."

Dean clapped his hands together in small victory, turning to Sam. "Great, we can head there now. Be done before sun down."

But you cut him off before Sam could, "Uhm, not exactly. These markings are only visible under moonlight, as is the entrance to their caves. You're gonna have to go looking after dark if you want to find anything."

Dean deflated. "Awesome."

"You think that goblins took those kids?" You asked finally, concern tightening at your brow.

"Well, if it's not you, that's our next best guess."

You rapped your nails against the counter in thought. Sam made out a tiny scratch against the side of your finger, one you'd made probably handling thorny roses. The same mark he'd noticed against his own finger while brushing his teeth that morning.

"If you decide otherwise, be sure to give me a heads up." Your face morphed into a grin, playing along with Dean's narrative.

Sam took his phone back where you held it out to him. "Well, uh, thanks."

"Please," you shook your head. "It's the least I could do after your little drop off yesterday morning. I never got to thank you for that."

Smiling slightly now, Sam shook you off.

"I didn't want you to have to go back there with those assholes."

"Well," you leaned closer over the counter, blinking up at him with eyes that could burn through steel, "Thank you. I appreciated it. Lydia too, poor thing's been hiding under the couch since."

The memory of the three-foot snake seemed to reappear to Dean. He shivered.

"I'll, uh, meet you out by the car." He muttered under his breath, "Thanks again, Tink."

You waved at him as he passed. "Of course."

The door jingled behind him.

"So," Sam's hands sunk into his pant pockets. He flicked his head up to where your co-worker had disappeared behind the door. "Tony, huh?"

Laughing you shook your head. "Uh, no. He's really sweet though. Maybe one of these days I'll give it a shot, but not now."

Sam's fists tightened, your reply bugged him.

"No time like the present." He didn't know why he was still talking, why he was mentioning it at all.

He had every right to open his mouth and tell you the truth, get your mind off Tony and any man or woman who ever came near you again.

"No, no." You chuckled softly, but it trailed off. "Kind of got this crush that I need to sort out first."

Sam sucked in a sharp breath. His feet twitched, shifting his weight.

"A crush?"

You nodded. "Yeah it's super pathetic, but he's leaving town soon. So I'll get over it. Hopefully."

A warm spongy feeling was replacing the scathing jealousy in Sam's chest.

"He's an idiot, I'm sure, if you think it's pathetic." He played along, hoping to any God listening that he wasn't reading you wrong.

"Not at all." You shook your head, eyes never leaving his. "He's actually very sweet. S'been swooping in to save me more times than I can count over the last week. Ridiculously handsome too which doesn't help the fact."

Sam was sure you could see the birds flying over his head and where he was sure his pupils had turned to hearts.

Sizzling embers warmed his insides at the sight of you, the prettiest thing between the flowers. Of how you blended so perfectly into the beauty of the world, so soft and beyond lovely and some divine power decided that he deserved it.

That you were crafted for him, as he was for you.

He felt a lick of shame in that, how you drew the short string with the mess of the man across from you.

It pushed him to respond. He forwent indulging more of your teasing.

"Can I come say goodbye tonight?" His voice was soft. "Once I'm done? I do still owe you breakfast."

A teasing grin plucked at your face again. "What makes you think I'll let you stick around 'till breakfast?"

He sighed, blushing at the insinuation. "Well, unless you'd rather have your crush come by? So I can see who's causing you all this trouble."

You shook your head. "I'll see you later then, hunter."

"You can count on it, fairy."

-

comment and repost if you enjoyed :)

taglist:

@firstsnowdrop @writerofthewinds @aria1245 @nyx22-blogs @lucysaloser @britishscum @pookiesnatcher @music-keep-me-sane @cryptid-with-a-cane @sammys-concubine @i-live-for-fantasy @grimbunnie @crystalreedwifey @haileycannotcometothephonern @i-cant-write-for-shit @did-someone-change-my-name @1313ek @chlorine11 @ch33ze00 @random-fandom-gurl @melancholicandmessy @harley-quinns-girlfriend @cardigan-ns @charliethealpaccaso @crystalandphoebewifey @nonbinarycryptic @multitargaryen @darylsleathervest @aquatic-bread @ferrersbiggestfan @miles-stargirl @secretsuitcasegooplawyer @bxtchboy69 @devilslittlebabyxx @bucky-barnes-beloved @susyelectra @spilled-coffee-cup @ashdoctor @deamus-liv @rintheemolion @damonsalavatore-best @ilovetaquitosmmmm

[hexedwinchester]

Supernatural S04E19 Jump the Shark

One of my favourite hurt Sam episodes

Sam using a purple/pink toothbrush

John Winchester had no right kicking Sam out when he applied for Stanford when he had another family of his own outside hunting

Hmmm.. interesting.. so Sam wants to tell Adam the truth because as a kid no one answered his questions but Dean doesn't because he doesn't want Adam to be robbed of the normal life

That close up shot of Sam Winchester just before he wakes up tied to a table. Thank you, Phil 😍

Sam girlies, how hot was Sam strapped to that table?!!

Kate!ghoul mentioning Sam's blood tasting different was so good!! I didn't expect them to tell demon blood apart from human

anyone else feel Sam should have lost a lot more blood than that?

Dean bashing ghoul!Adam's skull in was so personal

how quick was Dean to burn Adam's remains. Like when Sam mentioned asking Cas for a favour to bring him back, Dean denied it. Lol, Dean are you really jealous? 😅

I agree with Dean that Sam is a lot like John:

Both lost their love in the same fashion

Both got into hunting out of revenge

John didn't break in Hell and neither did Sam

[cliophilyra]

Twenty Questions for Fic Writers

Tagged by @firehose118 - thank you Sam! 😊

How many works on AO3? 62

What’s your total AO3 word count? 228215

What fandoms do you write for? At the moment only 911 but in the past I’ve written for Supernatural, Sandman, Spiderman, Deadpool, other Marvel stuff & Sherlock.

What are you top 5 fics by kudos? Implausible Deniability (Spideypool) Put you mouth where your money is (Spideypool) Sex, Lies & Arguing About Chores (Spideypool WIP) Accidentally On Purpose (Spideypool) Sensing a theme here? The Other Shoe (Destiel)

Do you respond to comments? Yes! Always if I can.

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Probably either When you’re tasting’ what he’s drinking (Saltommy - link below) or Therefore Love Moderately (Deanbenny SPN - link below) but I have a few.

What is the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Probably - If it comes back (Saltommy - link below) - but most of my one shots have fairly happy endings.

Do you get hate on fics? Touch wood - No

Do you write smut? If so what kind? Yessss. Only M/M so far. I think I’m best at it when I don’t over think it and just write what I think is hot. I’m probably not good at the kind of smut that drives plot/character etc. Definitely want to try my hand at more kink stuff soon.

Do you write crossovers? Never have - I like reading some of them but I’m very picky :-/

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Yes, by the dreaded Wattpad 🙄

Have you ever had a fic translated? Yes! Two as far as I remember - one into Russian and one into Chinese.

Have you ever cowritten a fic before? Not properly, I have worked with Betas pretty closely in past but I would love to have a go at properly writing something with someone else!

What’s your all time favourite ship? I know there’s probably a bit of recency bias here but it’s genuinely a tie between Bucktommy & Saltommy. Obviously in total I have written more for Destiel and they will always be super important to me but there is something about the upwelling of ideas and inspiration for these two ships that has been amazing. I basically had writers block for about 5 years. In that time I wrote about 15 fics - almost all of which were super short. In the last 6 months that I’ve had 911 I’ve written 12!

What’s the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Sex, Lies and Arguing About Chores - that was the one that brought on the writers block I think. I wrote myself into a sort of corner and got all stuck on peoples expectations of it and just froze up.

What are your writing strengths? I think I’m good at smut when I’m in the right mood and I like creating a sense of place and atmosphere and also I usually like my dialogue.

What are you writing weaknesses? PLOT. I suck at anything that requires a complicated plot or planning. Hence I don’t have many multi chapter things. Also character analysis - I always think other people are much better at this than me.

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? I haven’t done it much. Definitely wouldn’t attempt more than a couple of words without checking with a native speaker. I do not put it in italics lol

First fandom you wrote for? Sherlock (BBC)

Favourite fics you’ve written? Oh god this changes all the time, but today my top 6 would be: If It Comes Back - Saltommy second-chance reunion fic. When you’re tasting what he’s drinkin’ (are you thinkin’ bout me?) - angry jealous past-saltommy angst Calendar Boy - light hearted bucktommy fire calender PWP Like A Circus Wheel - saltommy secret relationship PWP Therefore Love Moderately - SPN Dean/Benny angsty PWP Implausible Deniability - silly smutty & occasionally angsty Spideypool adventure thing that I wrote as I posted it and was really happy with how it came out.

Also honourable mention to I’m Wasted (and I can’t find my way home) - Destiel endverse WIP which may never be finished but I really like what I have so far.

Tagging: @rdng1230 @thecarrott @rcmclachlan @alchemistc @nine-one-wanton @judymarch15

@marvelousbuckley @bangpop91 @racerchix21 @girlwonder-writes and anyone else who wants to play!

[winfreak]

What’s your favourite type of wincest fic to read/write?

(Hope you don’t mind the random question!)

❤️❤️

YES! Great question. I have so many literally how do I choose.

I love a good jealous weecest fic, especially if it's Sam who makes the first move. Absolutely delicious.

I love some of the stereotypical tropes; soulmate au, sex pollen, one bed. I ESPECIALLY love fake dating. Fake dating has to be one of my favorites of all time. When they start off reserved, not wanting to push it, to eventually just giving in and it feels so natural. Too natural. OR!!! When they're pretending and it's so easy, so natural for them that when it's over they just never stop. It becomes part of their routine and they don't even really think about it until Bobby or someone close to them mentions it. The sudden shame and confusion, lots of yummy angst. Of course they figure it out in the end though.

I love season 3 fics where Dean is dying and it's all desperation and fear and declarations of love. Yes, give me heartbreak and smut.

Sam being feminized and/or exploring gender things. Mmmmmmmm! Sam is Dean's baby brother but also maybe his baby sister too? Also just Sam in a sheer lacy bralette is perfection.

Also, just fics where it's them on a case dancing around each other. They keep doing that weird push-pull thing they do, not quite normal but also not fully admitting to what they are/want. If it ends without anything REALLY happening between them (no true resolution to their relationship), I will both rip my hair out and scream from the mountains. Is it in a good or a bad way? Who's to say.

Thank you for this splendid ask, I had fun with this!!

[fangirlingfromdownunder]

1st Day of Christmas

A Sneaky Christmas Surprise

Summary/Prompt - “Did you break into my house??” “You refused to put up any Christmas decorations! What choice did I have?”

Pairing - Jensen Ackles x Reader

Christmas Masterlist | Masterlist

A/N: Here we go! Day 1! Let’s hope I can keep this up for the next 24 days! I hope you enjoy this. 

You’ve been working as a makeup artist on the set of Supernatural for a few years now. Being so well versed in the talent of creating realistic bruises and bloody scars anyone would assume your favourite holiday is Halloween, but it’s actually Christmas. You love sappy Christmas movies, carols and most of all decorating. You’d just been counting down the days until it became socially acceptable to erect your tree. As soon as Thanksgiving weekend finished you had it out of the box and in pride of place by the widow covered in sparkling lights and beautiful ornaments. You would’ve had it up earlier if your boyfriend hadn’t threatened to stop sleeping over if you put it up any earlier than that. You love him, he is the sweetest and most caring boyfriend you’ve ever had, but his Christmas spirit tends to lack a little. But this year you’re determined to get him in the spirit. 

You’re awakened from your reverie by a knock on the makeup trailer door and then the familiar creek of the metal hinges. Then two strong familiar arms wrap around your middle from behind.

“Hey Sexy. You ready to head out?” he asks in his deep, Dean voice.

You turn around in his arms and notice he’s still fully in costume. “Sorry, Dean. I already have a date. Let’s see if we can’t find him somewhere in here,” you tease as you reach for a makeup wipe to clean off the intricate SFX makeup you applied earlier. A few wipes later you start to recognise Jensen as himself again. As a final touch, you drag your hands through his short hair to loosen up the gel and soften the look. You take a step back and admire your work. “Yep, there he is.”

“You know, Jared gets jealous he has to scrub off his own makeup. But I just tell him it’s his own fault for picking an actress instead of a makeup artist.”

“Don’t be mean. Gen is lovely, and Jared can come here anytime and I’ll do it for him too if he wants.”

“No way. This is my special service, plus I know you don’t get paid to stay here late like this.”

“I thought what we did back at your place last night was your special service. And you know it isn’t about the money, I love what I do here.”

“I know you do. That’s one of the things I love about you. Come on, at least let me buy you dinner and then we can go back to my place for some of that other special service.”

You throw the dirty wipes in the bin and then grab his hand urging him to stand up. Once he does you shut off the lights, lock up the trailer and walk hand-in-hand out to his car. He drives to your favourite local takeout place while you both share stories about your day. 

Once you’ve picked up dinner he drives back to his apartment. You generally love his place; it’s so much bigger and more spacious than yours with an amazing view. The only thing that makes it lose its appeal is that it’s never festive for any holiday. You’ve always lived in Vancouver so your apartment is your home whereas you know he doesn’t see Vancouver as home; his apartment is just a place he crashes while he works. His true home is Austin, Texas. But you’re determined to spread and share a little Christmas joy with him before you inevitably part ways for the holidays once filming finishes. 

What he doesn’t know is that you had a little spare time today, as you were only needed on set in the morning, and you only came back to keep up a facade. So you snuck his car and house keys from his trailer and went on a little Christmas shopping spree before going back to his place to give your purchases a new home. You were very happy and proud of what you managed to accomplish in such a short time and on your own. And it makes coming over to see his reaction all the more exciting.

As he pulls into his driveway you have to try really hard to contain your excitement and nerves; you know you’re not the best actor. You have no idea how Jensen can just turn into a completely different person in an instant when you struggle to keep a poker face to contain little white lies. You hold the bag of food while you wait for him to come around and open your door so he can take it. He takes the food and helps you get out before passing the food back so he can unlock the door. As he flicks on the lights he notices the big fibre optic tree by the window, and little ornaments carefully and strategically scattered around the place. 

He turns to you as you join him inside. “Was this you? Did you break into my apartment?”

You nod sheepishly. “You refused to put up any Christmas decorations, what choice did I have?”

He takes the food and places it on the kitchen bench before pulling you into his arms for a tight hug. “It looks great, Sweetheart. But you could have just asked, I would’ve helped.”

You shake your head. “You already said you didn’t see the point because this isn’t your home.”

“Here with you, it’s starting to feel more like home every day. I spend more time here than in Texas now. There’s a lot we need to discuss, but first, I’m starving!” 

He kisses you and then pulls away to gather plates, cups and cutlery while you spread out the food. You dish out the food onto the two plates, while he pours some wine into the glasses and then takes them over to the coffee table. He sits on the couch and starts flicking through the channels while waiting for you to bring the food. You go through this routine almost nightly in either your or his apartment. You know that’s one of the many things you need to discuss, but right now you just want to enjoy a sappy Christmas movie and some yummy dinner with your boyfriend in his now festive apartment. 

[narrynukezankielover]

Im at the end of season 7 and I can’t believe how many gay references and jokes there are towards Dean. Once is a coincidence, twice is weird but this many times is intentional. Like all the dick jokes. Thrh obviously choose that name so thrh could make all those jokes but even Sam said are you strightly into dick now? My favourite one so far is Dean telling Charlie how to flirt with a guy. She said she couldn’t do it because he wasn’t her type so she’s saying only someone who likes guys can flirt with a guy but she’s a lesbian so she can’t do it. Dean goes right ahead and tells her what to say. He doesn’t try to get Sam to do it or stutter or anything. I don’t like that Sam laughed at him though.

I’m pissed off that at no point does Bobby or Sam try to talk to Dean about his feelings. Bobby asked him once right after Cas died but Dean is the type that needs pushing and he needed to be pushed. They were both there when Dean was drugged and said Cas is dead. I don’t care and the best thing is I don’t care that I don’t care. So they clearly know Deans biggest problem is Cas. Bobby I can kind of see not wanting to talk because he’s older and thinks talking about feelings is a girl thing but Sam is the one that tried to get Dean to talk when their dad died, when Dean came back from hell and wanted to talk about Bobby being a ghost but this time no. I think Sam thinks he got over Cas dying no problem so Dean should do the same thing. Sam was the one that said to Dean Bobby was right that after Cas died he was wobbly. Obviously he knows what effect Cas dying had on Dean and then telling Dean to not get himself killed and Dean saying I’ll do my best. That’s someone who doesn’t care whether he dies or not. That was the perfect opportunity to talk to Dean but he didn’t. I don’t know if Sam thinks Cas isn’t worth it or if he’s scared Dean will actually tell him his feelings (I think a bit of both).

One of my favourite moments was the parallel/opposite to Cas and Dean with Jeffery. He even said he was depressed without the demon, an alcoholic and suicidal. That sounds like Dean this season. He said he needed his demon back and he would do anything to get him back. Dean needed a husband angel back and would do anything to get him back. If Sam had to be the one that exercised the demon and was the one Jeffery was telling all that to it wouldn’t have had the same effect.

Then the Sam killing Emma thing. At first I was confused as to who I agreed with. Dean did tell Sam that he killed his friend because Sam wouldn’t be able to but then I realized you can’t compare those two because Sams friend was a monster who killed peoples but Emma is a monster who hadn’t killed anyone yet and she doesn’t need to kill people to live. Sams friend had a son who was a monster but he hadn’t killed anyone yet either so Dean didn’t kill him but told him if he did kill anyone he would kill him. If Sam had to let Dean talk to Emma a bit longer he might been able to convince her to leave like she had told Dean she wanted to do when she was lieing to him. Sam normally is the one that wants to talk to the monsters instead of killing them so he obviously just wanted revenge.

Ep 17 is such an amazing episode. Dean goes through soooo many emotions.

First he’s shocked. He’s not sure he’s seeing who he thinks he’s seeing.

Then he’s hurt from seeing Cas with a girl.

Then he’s confused as to way Cas doesn’t remember who he is.

Then he’s jealous when Meg is flirting with Cas.

Then he’s worried about what knowing the truth will do to Cas.

I love that Meg is a Destiel fan. She told Cas that Cas and Dean were the bestest of friends with that smile on her face. That’s the look of someone who knows the truth but is enjoying teasing them. Then Deans eye roll is soooo cute.

I know in the scene where Dean gives Cas his coat back he was supposed to say he kept it because he hoped he would come back to him but even without saying all that you can tell that’s what Dean is thinking. Why else would he have kept the coat. He didn’t wear it so he didn’t keep it for himself but he kept it in the trunk of all the cars.

I also love Dean telling Cas that he did the best he could do. That’s Deans way of saying he is willing to listen and understand why Cas did what he did.

I also love that Dean is pissed at Cas but yet he’s still protecting him. He told Hester (not sure that’s the right name) that an angel let the leviathans (close enough) out of purgatory but didn’t say it was Cas and when Crowley thought Cas was back Dean acted like he was wrong. He might be pissed at Cas but he’s still going to protect him.

[earthtooz]

When will you post more of Cambridge gojo??

a/n: how do we feel about jealous cambridge!gojo ;)

third part of my cambridge!gojo instalment - you're gonna have to find the first two parts yourself 🤣 | FLUFF, mean gn!reader- it's... banter... but it stops dw, 'beautiful' and 'darling' as endearment, lovesick gojo

whatever gojo satoru wants, gojo satoru gets.

a new line of designer shades drops from his favourite brand? he's purchasing one in every colour. requesting an extension for the final because he needs to be abroad in who-knows-where? here, take two weeks, hope that's enough. ranked top of the class with little effort? easy, spedran that shit. take a dean's award while you're at it.

he does so all whilst maintaining his image of a perfect bachelor, never having a bad hair or outfit day as he shows up to lectures with a look ready for vogue whilst his classmates are struggling to not let the coffee and tea turn their teeth yellow.

when he flashes his pearly whites and offers you a flirtatious wink, you want to rip his pretty, snowy hair out, except you could never because it looks so soft.

he's also too tall to reach the top of his head.

motherfucker said he wanted to be the same height as the top shelves and was immediately blessed with long, lanky limbs.

so in conclusion, whatever gojo satoru wants, he gets.

the only anomaly in that claim would be you.

he watches from across the campus with a bitter expression plastered on his pretty face. as the students around him stare and quietly fawn over his presence, he's glaring daggers into the window of one of many cambridge cafe, heavenly eyes locked on you.

locked on you and another man, sitting opposite each other in a cozy booth. on your face is a smile that doesn't appear much around him and gojo burns with jealousy at the contradiction. it makes him feel queasy.

what should he do? should he intercept or should he wait for you to leave? a cafe 'date' (gojo shudders at the thought of you on a date with someone that's not him) can only be so long, so waiting wouldn't have any harm.

and violating your privacy would not be a good step in this 'courtship' you have going on.

but when he watches as you throw your head back with laughter, the corner of your eyes creasing due to how wide you were smiling, it gets harder to resist the urge to just storm in and steal you away.

why were you giving him the time of day when gojo couldn't even get a minute of it? what did this other specimen have that he didn't?

somewhere in the back of the white-haired's mind, he hears your voice and how it quips: 'a likeable personality'.

quickly shaking the thought away, gojo watches as you two pack up your table, shoving your laptop into your bag before shuffling out of the booth, disappearing from his sight. in retrospect, what he was doing was definitely creepy and he should have just kept going with his day but the second that he saw you with another man? his day was immediately turned on its head- there was no day to be had until he did something!

what if someone sweeps you off your feet before gojo does? he's been trying for months at this point and if some random thinks he can disrupt the progress gojo's worked his ass off to create then he has some bad news.

when you appear outside the cafe a minute later, he's relieved to see you bidding farewell to said classmate.

his body moves first and the white-haired easily closes the distance between you with his one metre stride length, curling around you to whisper a quiet 'boo' in your ear.

looking up at him, you pull a jokingly disgusted expression, frowning at him. "oh hey, it's the ugliest man i've ever seen in my life," you murmur.

gojo's jaw drops and he doesn't even have time to pick it back up when you begin to walk away. "i know you don't mean that!" he exclaims behind you, matching your steps.

"are you calling me a liar?"

"that's exactly it!"

"lies are beneficial sometimes."

he slings an arm over your shoulder, leaning onto you. "relative to the context, and darling, my beauty is not something to take lightly."

"you're a clown."

"you can just say that i capture your attention without comparing me to a circus actor."

"with your grandpa hair and overgrown limbs? i'm not looking at you willingly, y'know, you stick out like a sore thumb everywhere you go."

"good, means you get to look at me more."

"i'd rather gauge my eyes out."

"you're real mean to me."

"i will continue to be so for as long as you're vain. besides, my attempts of being mean aren't deterring you, for whatever reason."

"we're meant to be, y/n! i stay because of my heart that beats for you and you alone," he huffs, pulling you closer towards him. you get a whiff of his expensive cologne and you need to turn your nose away before you bury it in his chest. "y'know what, i think we started this interaction on the wrong foot."

"well you only have two and both are quite problematic."

gojo clears his throat, ignoring your last statement. "good afternoon, my beautiful y/n. how are you on this fine thursday?"

"why i am quite well," you respond, mimicking a posh accent. "thank you inquiring. how might you be, gojo?"

"fantastic now that i'm your company rather than that stranger you were previously at the cafe with."

your eyebrows scrunch together, conveying a mix of shock, confusion, and slight anger. "you saw me? how?"

"i was on my way back from a class then i saw you! you know me, i can't help but be drawn in by you, then i saw you with another and it broke my heart, so i was compelled to stay!"

"so you just... watched me? how long did you stand there for, you creep!"

"it wasn't like that- and not that long! just long enough to see that you were enjoying being with him," this time, a genuine frown overtakes his glorious features and a part of your heart sizzles because you caused it. "you looked happier with him than you ever are with me."

"gojo, are you upset?" you asked cautiously, not wanting to stroke the turbulence within him with another witty comeback.

"no," he lies with a sniffle, crossing his arms defensively.

the sight of him being so vulnerable breaks your heart a little and you pull him by the hand to the nearest vacant bench. you sit him down and stand between his legs.

your heart aches a little more at the way he looks up at you with such hope and wonder in those crystal eyes of his. you hate the way gojo's eyes bare into your soul; it's so unnerving, yet you don't have it in you to look away.

"i'm sorry, i realise a lot of the stuff i said just then was a little out of pocket, i didn't mean to hurt your feelings," you begin awkwardly, trying your best to sound genuine. "i'm happy around you, i promise, gojo."

with your affirmation, a wide smile replaces his previous frown and he throws his arms around your waist, causing you to stumble closer. instinctively, your hands hold on to his shoulders. he recovers quite quickly for the magnitude of his ego.

at his lighter attitude, you throw in a harmless quip. "although i might not act like it because you're too irritating for your own good."

he pouts again- jokingly.

"at least you're pretty," you sigh.

"i'm prettier than- whoever the hell you were just hanging out with- right?" he asks, prodding the extent of your vulnerability. "you're even happier around me, right?"

"what? why are you asking me these- wait... are you jealous?"

the way his nose scrunches reveals his answer, and the way that he reluctantly drags out a 'no' whilst avoiding eye contact has you chuckling at his childish behaviour.

"there's nothing to be jealous over. he's just a classmate i was partnered for for a semester project," you reassure. "i don't know what you have to be jealous of in the first place, though."

"i have to watch you interact with another man for another semester?"

you scowl at him, narrowing your eyes at his outburst. "watch your mouth, knave."

"yes, your highness," he mocks, sinking into the bench as he pouts again.

whatever gojo satoru wants, gojo satoru gets because he accepts it all with open arms... even if it's you giving him the bare minimum.

one day he'll get you to crack, but for now, he bides.