#sam and dean love each other as much as two human beings can love each other | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

supernaturalscribe67 · 6 months ago

Text

Unwarranted

Words: 4,983

POV: 3rd Person

Pairing: Team Free Will x Male!ExAngel!Reader [Platonic]

Warning(s): Mention of past sexual harassment, sexual harassment, angst, hurt/comfort

Summary: Humans are interesting and complex creatures, and ever since the reader lost his grace, he had to learn to become one. Luckily, he had his friends by his side to help him through his trials and tribulations. What happens when he's face-to-face with a human experience he never anticipated, and how will Team Free Will help him resolve his issue?

Request:

Hi! I hope you're having a good day/night. This request is very specific. I would write it myself, but im awful at it. I hope you don't mind, lol.

May you do (ex?)Angel!Male!reader x TFW (platonic obv). You can make it where Reader joined after the angels fell and was castiels past battle partner and was good friends with him, or something else if you'd like.

Reader lost his grace after a rogue angel took it from him. He has no idea how to be human and struggles a lot, even with the help of Dean, Sam, and Castiel. Anyways, to get to the point- Reader picked a pretty attractive vessel, so both men and women hit on him a lot when the group goes to diners or bars and most of the time Reader wanders off to explore since hes never really gone to earth before so the boys never notice, and he doesn't know how to react or what to do when they start to get touchy, only that he doesn't feel comfortable with it at all, but he thinks if he tells them to stop its a form of being rude, so he never says so. the person usually stops when they realize Reader isn't having the type of reaction they were looking for.

When Reader mentioned this to the boys randomly, they realized that Reader didn't know that it was bad that they were touching him and explained what it was, what to say, and do when that happens and comforts him when he finally cries as a human.

Anonymous

A/N: I am so sorry for going off the grid for a while! Honestly, keeping track of dates and time frames has not been my strong point, especially with everything going on with work. Luckily I'm almost done with another request as well and will have that up by this weekend! I hope this gives the request justice. As always, feedback is very much appreciated!

~ Much Love!

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Humans are interesting and complex creatures, each with their own thoughts, wants, needs, and interests. When (Y/N) first joined Castiel on Earth two years prior, he was amazed by the array of personalities and emotions. No two people are alike, but, due to the vast differences, many of them can be categorized under three distinct titles; good, neutral, and evil.

The good people are the ones who are selfless. They take the first step when it comes to helping others. They aren’t perfect but they are as close as anyone can be. Only a small amount of people fit into the category of ‘good’, most of which find themselves canonized into sainthood years after death. Many strive to be classified under such a prestige title, but few make the cut. However, just because someone isn’t worthy of the title, doesn’t make them a bad person automatically.

Neutral individuals are what most would describe as your ‘average Joe’. It is the category in which most people lie. They are neither good nor bad. The choices they make in life come with a mix of positive and negative intentions. An example of a neutral person could be someone’s English teacher, who partakes in volunteer work after hours, or your boss, who had just been caught cheating on his wife with Jim from the mailroom. Just because people do bad things, doesn’t make them inherently evil.

True evil is much darker. An individual who would put a demon to shame with their actions, thoughts, and desires. One with little regard for the well-being of others. Ones that hurt others purely for self-gratification. To gain an advantage. Those are the ones that end up in prison or a seat in Congress. They’re usually manipulative, have a silver tongue placed in their mouth at birth, and can easily coerce those who are weak and gullible.

(Y/N) had met his fair share of individuals from all three categories throughout his time on Earth, supernatural entities excluded. At first, with his angelic powers, he was able to make an assumption of others based solely on their thoughts. Ever since the fall, however, his judgments on people had become rather askew. He was able to get the full experience of being human - not able to truly tell what one was thinking during various interactions - and he would be lying if he said he enjoyed it. Rather, the lack of understanding when it came to others caused him to develop a sense of paranoia. The last thing he wanted was for others to assume the worst of him. Even as an angel, he would treat the worst of the worst with as much kindness as he could muster.

Little did he know that the paranoia would lead to his downfall and a deep realization of how evil some people could be.

The first couple of weeks after his grace was stolen, (Y/N) was lost. He knew next to nothing about maintaining the necessary needs to keep his body alive. It was all tedious in his eyes. Why did humans need to eat, drink, and go to the bathroom so much throughout the day? Who possibly had the time to do so? Do they have to thread their needs into their schedules for work and school? On top of that, why did humans need to pay for food and water? Were they not necessities? Why would someone need to pay to survive? (Y/N) held a plethora of questions in his mind that still go unanswered.

Thankfully, Castiel, Sam, and Dean were all there for him, guiding him through the processes necessary to provide for his new form. It took a while for him to get the hang of it - the most overwhelming thing was when he was introduced to a large variety of foods. All the new flavors and textures send his tongue into sensory overdrive. Dean was more than happy to realize, though, that the two of them were rather fond of the same flavor of pie.

With the loss of his grace came the depletion of his strength. He was no longer invincible to man-made weaponry. Because of this, and since Sam and Dean’s jobs were so physically demanding, they spent weeks in training. Blades, firearms, and hand-to-hand all had their challenges, but (Y/N) was a quick learner, something the brothers respected him highly for. Within a month and a half, he was on the road with them, hopping from case to case.

Saving people, hunting things, the family business.

And true it was. The time he had spent with Castiel and the Winchesters was extensive, and there was never a dull moment. Away from the darkness and the monsters that crept in the night, Sam and Dean were playful jokesters. Childish, yet mature when they needed to be. It was noticeable that Castiel had also developed certain aspects of their personalities, as he was more lighthearted than when (Y/N) first met him. As time passed, (Y/N), too, started to display those characteristics. He felt like a member of the team. A real Winchester. For the first time since the fall, he felt at home.

*~*

(Y/N) had been to a handful of bars since he turned human, before becoming an honorary member of the Winchester family, and there was one fact he could confidently state; he didn’t like them.

Sure, he met some rather nice people while at said bars, mainly the middle-aged female bartenders who gave off a motherly aura, but with every kind individual he saw, he encountered twice as many assholes. Those were the ones that drunkenly called him slurs even though they knew nothing about him, the ones that shoved him out of the way when they wanted to get to the bar, or the ones that continuously pushed their limits on his personal boundaries.

Unfortunately, he had experienced the latter more than he would have liked.

He couldn’t quite describe how he felt when he had those interactions. When a bar patron would press themselves against his back or chest, touch his ass or thighs, or even leave kisses on his neck, shoulders, cheeks, and lips. It was decided, though, that he was extremely uncomfortable. Why would he possibly feel that way? He assumed that touches and kisses were how humans expressed affection towards one another. So, why didn’t he like it? He chalked it up to not being used to that form of affection or affection in general. Surely, he was bound to get comfortable with it eventually.

After-hunt celebrations were common with the Winchesters. Either the day of or the night after, they would all gather at the nearest watering hole, grab a drink or two, and then head back to the motel. Sometimes, Sam or Dean would abandon the group to retreat with a romantic partner, but (Y/N) would always stick with Castiel and the remaining brother. He never had any interest in human relations. It was a new, complex situation outside of learning to be human. He was just getting used to that concept, and he had no desire to learn about other aspects of humanity yet.

Classy Cline’s sat on the edge of a small town in Washington state. While its name suggested an upscale establishment, the place was, in all actuality, a shit hole. The booths and barstools were ripped at every corner of the seam, the tables were chipped and scuffed, and it appeared as if the employees hadn’t swept or mopped the floor in well over a decade. They had all been to nasty bars in the past, but Classy Cline’s took the cake.

“I don’t even wanna drink from this glass,” Sam mumbled as he eyed the pint glass Dean had placed in front of him.

While aesthetics weren’t on Cline’s side, the beer looked more than appetizing. An amber/gold liquid, topped with a beautiful, white head. Any beer enthusiast would foam at the mouth at the sight. The glasses, contrary to the floors, looked spotless. If they had put as much effort into cleaning the building as they did disinfecting the glassware, lines would be out the door, and Cline would be a millionaire.

“Oh, don’t be a baby, Sammy,” Dean rolled his eyes and gave a beer to (Y/N) and Castiel. “It may not live up to its name, but the beer sure looks good.”

“Thank you, Dean,” (Y/N) and Castiel spoke in unison.

“I’ll never get used to that,” Dean shook his head and sat down next to his brother. “It’s as if you two are constantly in sync.”

(Y/N) furrowed his brows as he cupped the glass with one hand, condensation coating his palm. “We’re an American boy band from the 90’s?” He cocked his head to the side.

Dean froze, the glass inches from his lips as he shot him a questioning glance. “While I’m proud of you for remembering what I taught you about music, that’s not what I meant. ‘In sync’. Two separate words.”

“Oh…”

“(Y/N) and I have worked together for well over a century. We’re bound to have some similarities.” Castiel explained.

Dean shrugged. “I guess you’re right,” he took a sip of his beer.

(Y/N) noted Sam’s hesitancy to drink, so he took a moment to examine the liquid himself. It looked clean, safe, and better than many other beers he had drank before. He took a swig and was pleasantly surprised to find that it was still very cold. A layer of foam coated his upper lip. Sam picked up his glass and examined the bottom.

“Will you stop that?” Dean scolded. “The beer is fine, Sam, you’re not going to die. You look like an idiot.”

“Well, excuse me for being skeptical, Dean! Have you seen the state of this place? I believe I have a right to be concerned.” Sam hissed.

“The beer is very pleasant, Sam,” (Y/N) smiled as he took another long swig, downing half the pint.

Sam slowly nodded. “I can tell,” he mumbled and glanced down at his glass. He hesitated for a moment before he took a careful sip, letting the liquid rest against his tastebuds before he swallowed. He hummed and raised his brows. “Wow, that’s pretty good.”

“See? Your big brother knows a thing or two about beer,” Dean smiled.

A bartender waltzed into view - an overworked twenty-something with her dirty blonde hair tossed back into a bun that she should have fixed hours ago. She sat a rocks glass in front of (Y/N), the ice emanating a clink inside as it shifted. He stared and intensely studied the dark liquid.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but I didn’t order this,” he looked up at her.

The bartender sighed and gestured towards the bar. “The man over there sent it,” she grumbled, her voice unenthusiastic and laced with exhaustion. She didn’t give him any time to further investigate before she swiveled through the booths and tables, vanishing into the crowd of regulars.

The group looked at the drink with curiosity before their attention shifted to the bar. Only one of the patrons had their gaze glued to the hunters. He looked to be in his mid-forties, with short, salt-and-pepper hair decorating the top of his head and a beard to match. Age lines crinkled the corners of his mouth and eyes. A leather jacket covered his broad shoulders and the jeans he wore left little to the imagination. When (Y/N)’s eyes connected with the stranger’s, the man smirked and winked. (Y/N) continued to stare at him, lips slightly parted, until he felt an elbow in his side. His gaze shot over to the eldest Winchester.

“Give him a smile and a wave. That shows him you appreciate it.” Dean said through a smile.

“Oh,” (Y/N) raised his brows and looked back at the man, whose eyes were still on him. He gave a small smile, followed by a timid wave.

The stranger grinned before he turned his head away. (Y/N) looked down and studied the glass once more. The liquid was a slightly darker shade than the beer, but more transparent. When he picked it up, the liquid sloshed inside. The smell was strong but slightly sweet. Whiskey. A sip of it caused him to cringe. It was Fireball. Not the best choice to send a stranger across the bar, but to each their own.

Dean leaned in close to him, his cheeky grin still prominent. “You should go over and talk to him.”

“Why?”

“He just gave you a drink. He wants to talk to you.”

(Y/N) gave Dean a confused stare. “How does that-”

“It doesn’t matter.” Dean waved him off. “He’s flirting with you by sending over the drink! You should go flirt back.”

(Y/N) looked from the drink to Dean, from Dean to the stranger. He was a very attractive man, but (Y/N) was far from interested in flirtation. However, if Dean thought he should, what could go wrong? He trusted Dean’s advice.

Hesitantly, (Y/N) stood, the glass of Fireball in hand, and made his way over to the bar where the gentleman sat. He took the empty barstool next to him. The man looked at him out of the corner of his eye and smirked.

“Good to see you up close,” he said and turned his body to face (Y/N). “You’re even cuter than I thought. Chris,” he held out his hand.

This is a handshake. This is how strangers greet each other.

(Y/n) grasped Chris’ hand and shook it gently. He noticed how firm his grip was. “My name is (Y/N),” he said.

Chris smirked. “A beautiful name for a beautiful man,” he pulled his hand away and casually placed it on (Y/N)’s knee. “I’ve been coming here for, close to, fifteen years, and I have never seen anyone as good-looking as yourself. You new around here?”

(Y/N)’s eyes shifted to Chris’ hand before they returned to his face. “My friends and I are on a trip.” He replied. It’s a classic lie most hunters use and one that was taught to him early on in his training.

“Ah, and how long will you be staying?”

“I believe this is the last night we’re here.”

“You’re not sure?”

“My friend, Dean, drives us. He knows more about our itinerary than I do.”

“A ‘go with the flow’ kind of man. I like it.”

As they continued to talk, Chris’ hand ventured further up (Y/N)’s thigh, squeezing the flesh on his leg from time to time. Simple conversation switched to flirting rather quickly, the majority of it one-sided. What started as cheesy ‘first date’ type questions turned risque in the blink of an eye. At first, they were easy questions that (Y/N) could answer without an issue, but once they started to get dirty, his mind turned blank. Half the vocabulary Chris used was new to him. While he knew all of them revolved around sex, he couldn’t quite pinpoint the definition, regardless of the context clues provided.

He could feel the familiar pit in his stomach as the questions droned on. The sensation that he couldn’t quite give a title to yet. At least, not an accurate one. ‘Uncomfortable’ seemed as if it fit too loosely for the circumstance. It felt as if there were a swarm of bees buzzing around in his stomach, moving from his gut to his chest periodically.

Chris leaned in close to (Y/N)’s ear, his warm, whiskey-filled breath caressing his cheek. (Y/N)’s eyes were cast down. He had lost the ability to maintain constant eye contact when the mood shifted, and the bees began their attack.

“What do you say we get out of here?” Chris asked. “I could show you a thing or two.”

When Chris’s hand landed on (Y/N)’s crotch, every muscle in his body was on fire as they clenched tightly. (Y/N)’s eyes went wide and his body froze. The bees didn’t just fly, they infiltrated his entire nervous system. He felt an overwhelming need to retreat like one would in a battle they knew they couldn’t win. But he wasn’t in a battle. It was a simple conversation. Why did he feel like that?

Chris pressed small kisses on the back of (Y/N)’s ear. (Y/N) inhaled and turned his head slightly, the need to get away from Chris strong. Chris immediately stopped and opened his eyes. He paused for a moment before he pulled away and sighed.

“I see you’re not as interested as I thought you were,” he gave a tight smile, pulled out his wallet, and slammed a twenty on the bar. “Thanks for nothing.” He grumbled before he got up and stormed away.

With his presence gone, (Y/N) felt a sense of peace and ease wash over him. The beating of his heart inside his chest began to lessen and return to a normal pace. With a glance down at his hand, he noticed the way his fingertips trembled. That hadn’t been the first time someone else had gotten so bold with touching him, and he was certain it wouldn’t be the last. When was that feeling going to go away?

After a minute or so passed, he was able to compose himself enough to stand from the barstool and wander back to the table where Sam, Dean, and Castiel sat. He joined them without a word, not wanting to interrupt their conversation, and grabbed his lukewarm beer. There was no chance he was going to drink anymore that night. Not with his stomach as uneasy as it was.

“Hey, you okay?” Sam asked.

“I’m fine,” (Y/N) spoke.

“You sure?” Dean chimed in. “Guy looked like he had a stick up his ass when he left.

(Y/N) shrugged. “I believe he just wanted to leave.” He tried to keep his voice as straight as possible. He could tell his nerves hadn’t fully recovered.

Dean shook his head. “Well, his loss.”

*~*

One thing (Y/N) adored about being human was the way showers made him feel after a hunt. He never quite realized how tense his muscles could get until the hot water caressed his limbs. It was as if all the adrenaline was washed from his body. It made him feel refreshed. Renewed.

That night, he got the last shower. The water wasn’t as hot as other showers he had taken, but he would accept warm any day. By the time he left the bathroom, clad in a pair of night pants and a loose t-shirt courtesy of the youngest Winchester, Sam, Dean, and Castiel were dressed to leave. Another post-hunt celebration. Dean glanced at (Y/N).

“You’re not coming?” He asked.

(Y/N) shook his head and walked over to his bed. “Not tonight, no.”

“Why not? You never miss out on a bar.”

(Y/N) settled into the bed, and sat up with his legs crossed. “I notice that humans get very physical when they are at bars. I’m not quite used to it yet, so I think I’m going to wait until I’m ready.”

“Ready for what, (Y/N)?” Castiel asked.

“The touching.”

The three of them shared a concerned look before Sam waved his hand dramatically, eyes closed tightly.

“Wait,” he reached a hand up and pinched the bridge of his nose. “What do you mean ‘get used to’?”

“Well, I’m not accustomed to the way humans express attraction. I surely wasn’t aware that there was as much physical contact involved. So, I figured it was something I would be more comfortable with as time went on. I mean, I never knew strangers were so interested in touching each other’s genitalia.”

They all furrowed their brows, confusion etched perfectly on their faces, and slowly made their way over to the bed. Sam sat at the edge next to (Y/N), Dean stood next to him, and Castiel sat on the opposite side of the bed from Sam.

“(Y/N),” Sam started, his voice soft and steady, the same voice he used when talking to the families of victims. “Have you…given these people permission to touch you?”

(Y/N) cocked his head to the side, slightly taken aback by the question, as it was something he had never even considered before. Had he permitted them to touch him? He could not recall. Then again, he didn’t remember them asking. He took a moment to think back on the times he had been in bars since he became human.

“No,” he answered. “The first couple of times it happened, I pulled away from the touch, as it made me rather uncomfortable, but they would just get upset. One man told me it was wrong to ‘lead him on’ and then deny his touch. After that, I let people touch me. I would like a break from it for tonight.”

“(Y/N), other humans need permission to touch you,” Castiel said.

“But they get upset-”

“To Hell with them being upset,” Dean interjected. “No one has a right to touch you, especially if you don’t want them to.”

“Is that why that one guy left the last bar we went to left? You wouldn’t let him touch you?” Sam asked.

(Y/N) could feel his cheeks and neck heat up. He suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to hide his face. Was it because of the answer to the question? Was it because of the question itself? He couldn’t quite pinpoint the origin of the sense of dread, but he knew it wasn’t going to vanish anytime soon.

He shook his head, eyes cast down to his hands. “I let him touch me. I assume it was because I didn’t respond when he asked me to leave with him.”

Dean’s jaw clenched as he ran a hand down his face. “Son of a bitch,” he growled and began to lightly pace between the motel beds.

Sam slowly shook his head. “(Y/N), those people are horrible. You should never touch someone without consent, and you should never let anyone touch you if you are uncomfortable with it. Do you understand?” His eyes were laced with sympathy.

(Y/N) went to say something, but he felt a lump in his throat prevent him from doing so. Instead, he just gave a short, brief nod.

“I can only imagine how tough it was to become human. To lose all that power. You may not have the power to heal us anymore or read others’ minds, but you are still your own person, (Y/N). You have the power to tell people to keep their hands off of you. You have the power to let yourself have a good time at these places. It doesn’t matter what other people think about your choices. In the end, all that matters is you, okay?”

“Okay,” he replied, his voice shaky and barely above a whisper.

(Y/N) sniffled, and he felt as if his head was pulsing. Tears sprung to the corner of his eyes and cascaded down his cheeks. For the first time since he lost his grace, he cried. It wasn’t loud and dramatic, but, rather, soft.

It explained so much. How he hated the way bar patrons touched him, the sinking feeling when they got too close, the panic that coursed through his veins. That was no flaw on his part, but a flaw on the strangers. What they did was wrong, not him.

And that validation broke him.

(Y/N) immediately knew he hated crying. His chest ached as the silent sobs racked his body. In a way, it was relieving, though. It felt as if all of the pent-up discomfort was being released. As if he was reborn. Still, it hurt worse than it did comfort him.

Castiel was the first to respond as he placed a gentle hand against (Y/N)’s back, Sam, being the closest, engulfed him in a near bone-shattering embrace, and Dean halted his paces to kneel beside the bed, one of his hands landing on the small of his back. (Y/N) closed his eyes tight and leaned his head against Sam’s chest. Their touch made him feel safe. This was a good touch. This was how touch should make him feel. He shouldn’t be forced to feel uncomfortable to please others, because, in reality, some people aren’t going to like him, even if the reasons are far from valid. It was a harsh reality, but as long as he had his family by his side, he didn’t mind if the whole world hated him.

After a few quiet minutes, filled with silent cries, the tears stopped. (Y/N)’s eyes were bright red and puffy, and he occasionally sniffled.

“Hey,” Dean said, his voice soothing.

(Y/N) lifted his head from Sam’s chest and glanced over at him. Sam pulled back a bit so the embrace wasn’t nearly as intense.

“If you’re ever in a situation like that, where some douchebag won’t keep his hands off of you, all you have to do is say the word and we’ll kick his ass for you.”

“What if it’s a woman?” He asked quietly.

Dean opened his mouth to give a quick answer but shut it as he thought about it. “Then we will have Cas bring Jody or Charlie in to kick her ass. The point is; fuck everyone else.”

(Y/N) furrowed his brows. “Does that not mean to have intercourse with them?”

Dean sighed. “Sam, Cas, a little help?”

“What Dean is trying to say,” Castiel chimed in. “Is that you should not prioritize other peoples’ desires over your comfort. You are more important than a stranger. They are not important, you are, and what other people think doesn’t matter. If someone does not listen to you when you deny them, we will do everything in our power to protect you. We still care about you, and want what’s best for you.”

Dean pressed his lips together and nodded. “Couldn’t have said it better myself. That’s exactly what I meant.”

Sam rolled his eyes, but couldn’t hold back his smirk. “Look, we know how tough it is to be human. Dean and I have been dealing with this our whole lives. We know that there are setbacks that come with the package, but there are also a ton of fun experiences. We don’t want some jackass to ruin it for you. Cas said it better than Dean or I could. We care about you and want to do everything we can to look out for you. You deserve it.”

The tears reappeared, but they weren’t tears of sadness. They were tears of joy. Of relief. As if his heart would burst with all the love and care his friends will it with. (Y/N) took a moment to wrap his arms around each of them in an individual hug to show his appreciation.

“Thank you. I am very grateful to have friends like you.” He smiled warmly.

Dean smiled before he cleared his throat and waved him off. “Alright, enough of the chick-flick crap,” he said as he stood from his spot on the floor, a groan escaping his throat that he tried not to make too noticeable. “What do you say we skip the bar tonight, order some takeout, and watch a movie? I hear Roadhouse is on at seven.”

(Y/N) cocked his head to the side. “What’s Roadhouse?”

Dean froze, wide-eyed. His jaw dropped in shock. “‘What’s Roadhouse’?” He repeated in disbelief. “Action movie? Patrick Swayze? Sam Elliott? Kelly Lumch? Julie Michaels? Keith David!?” With each name, his voice got louder.

“Are those actors?”

“I-” Dean threw his hands up as he turned his back on him and began to pace around the room once more.

(Y/N) flashed a worried look at Castiel, then Sam. Sam shook his head and chuckled.

“Dean’s just being dramatic,” he whispered, which caused (Y/N) to let out a sigh of relief.

“I am not being dramatic!” Dean retorted before he stopped, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. “This is all my fault. I was so focused on teaching him about good music that movies never crossed my mind. Have you at least seen Indiana Jones?”

“Indiana…as in the state?”

“If it makes you feel any better, (Y/N), I, too, have yet to see Roadhouse or Indiana Jones,” Castiel said.

Dean deadpanned. “I have some work to do. Sam, go get us some food. I need to make a list of movies for them to watch.”

Sam snorted as he stood from his spot on the bed. “Yeah, yeah. Just text me what you guys want.” He mumbled and retrieved his jacket from the back of one of the chairs.

As Sam left to get them food, Dean began to ramble on about movies he determined (Y/N) and Castiel had to watch, most of which were either action or old westerns. He talked with such passion regarding the films that (Y/N) couldn’t help but smile. Dean was right, the opinions of others didn’t matter, especially those whose only goal was to satisfy their selfish desires, disregarding others’ wellbeing. They were foolish, scum, true lions in sheep’s clothing. Those hidden evil beings could make themselves look innocent. (Y/N) didn’t need to please them. Didn’t need to make them happy. He only wanted to make his family happy, just as they did him. For how much they’ve helped him on his treacherous journey into manhood, they deserve it, for they have taught him the most valuable lesson of all;

His worth was priceless.

…

“Hey, are you even listening?”

104 notes · View notes

so-much-for-the-seashells · 6 months ago

Text

Always

Dean Winchester (Supernatural) x GN!Hunter!Reader

Disclaimers: The only character I own is the reader insert.

Author’s Notes: I’m writing this the day after I swore I’d never do angst. Ironic, huh. I’m working on getting more power across in my words- hopefully that shows.

Anyhow, this is set after <S2 SPOILER> John dies saving Dean. Obviously, given the nature of his passing, Dean can’t talk to Sam about it- but in this story he has someone he can talk to.

Icons by @gosling-girlx !! ❤️❤️

As always, all notes are very much appreciated!

Content/Content Warnings: This is angst at its finest. A 16+ audience would be preferred on this piece.

“What if, for just once in your life, you manned up and actually talked to me?” My voice is loud. It’s booming, and it’s borderline angry. My hands are balled into fists at my sides, and my jaws clenched.

I’m just so done. I try so hard with Dean, and I’m always patient. When he doesn’t want to talk, I don’t pry. I’m there for him whenever he needs me, however he needs me, wherever, at any hour, without so much as a second thought. I’ve never faulted him for not being able to say “I love you,” or for not being gentle when I need him to be. And I will always do these things.

But I am not okay with being told to “Stop fucking doing that,” ‘that’ being me trying to ask him if he’s okay. I let him get away with a lot of things, maybe more than I should, but outright cussing and waving me off? That’s too much.

So fine. We’ve been yelling at each other at least ten minutes now. Far too loud for a shitty motel with paper thin walls, surely, but right now I need him not only to hear me, but to listen to me.

He’s stood down after that last question. His shoulders slumped from their tense posture, his jaw no longer clenched. He’s trying so hard to retain his scowl, but I see the tick in the corner of his mouth. I see the way that his beautiful green eyes start to water.

No matter what cruel things he said to me, I refused to retaliate. He can swear at me all he wants, but he won’t get the same treatment in return. Because nothing can take down the thick walls of the elder Winchester like human decency. Something he’s never properly gotten from anyone- his own father included in that omniscient “anyone.”

“So?” I ask, my hands still fists. I won’t back down until he does, I can’t give him the chance to roll his eyes and turn away like he would with anyone else.

“I-,” his voice gets caught in his throat. “Cause I’m no man, sweetheart. Certainly not man enough for you.”

“Cut the shit, Dean,” the swear slipped out of my lips before I could stop him. I see him flinch, and my heart pangs, fists unclench. Suddenly, I’m not so fired up. “Sorry, sorry. Listen, this isn’t about what you are for me. Because if it was, we wouldn’t be fighting. You’re perfect for me, Dean.”

“Just-,” I stop myself, moving back to sit on one of the dingy hotel beds with its ugly orange gingham duvet. I sit cross-legged, back against the flat puke-green pillows propped against the headboard, looking up at Dean who is still standing in the same spot like a statue. “C’mere,” I pat the bed gently.

He obeys wordlessly, a listless quality to the way he drags his feet to where I’m sat. He doesn’t sit, though, a clear tentativity in his watery eyes. “Dean, it’s okay.”

Okay to cry, I want to add.

Okay to feel.

Okay to be human.

He sighs. “I’m just not good at talking, Y/n. I never had anyone to talk to- my dad was my boss more than anything, I had to- have to- be strong for my brother, and anyone else who’s come into my life seems to fit into one of those two categories.” A singular, perfect tear runs down his face. His expression is stony, but his voice… while as deep as always, it has a broken quality to it, something he’s trying to hide.

“Dean. I’m not anyone. You can talk to me, you can be broken with me,” I urge, mentally willing him to come sit by me so I can touch him, hug him, anything.

Finally, he sits. I don’t reach out to touch him, not yet. He looks shaky.

“Listen. I know Sam’s been up your ass trying to get you to talk about him. I know aren’t big on touchy feely stuff, and I ain’t gonna push you. But I need you to stop lashing out at me when I ask you if you’re okay.”

His cheeks are flushed, eyes wide. His lower lip quivers, finally breaking his scowl. A sad, splintered chuckle leaves his lips. “Y’know, he’d do the same to me. I’d ask, sometimes, after a real bad hunt, and he’d lash out… I’m too much like him, y/n. That’s why I don’t want to talk about him.” His voice is just a little too steady, almost artificial.

“You’re not too much like him, not at all,” I say, reaching out to him, but stopping before my hand can touch his. I’m letting him be the one to pull the trigger, to decide if he wants physical touch right now. “You’re better than he could’ve ever hoped to be, Dean. He knew that. Sam knows that. I know that.”

And that’s what breaks the dam, tears freely falling down his stubbled cheeks. He takes my hand in his, holding tight before I tug at him, inviting him to lay in my lap. He obliges, head resting in my lap. I take initiative to run my fingers through his hair, something that I’ve found soothes him.

“I just-,” his voice is broken, there’s no hiding it now. “I’m sorry.”

“I know,” I murmur. “I just want to help you be okay, that’s all.”

We sit like that for a while, his head in my lap as he cries. He doesn’t sob, but occasionally choked up noises escape him, and it breaks my heart seeing him like this. Eventually, I find it in myself to speak again.

“I know he never really said it, Dean. But he loved you, he did. He trusted you. He was thankful for you,” I tell him, wiping some of the tears off of his face.

John Winchester might’ve been a sorry excuse for a man after Mary died, fine.

But it was clear that he loved his boys, especially Dean, even if it was in his own fucked up way.

I hated the Winchester father. Quite frankly, I still do. For the way that he had put revenge in front of the care of his kids, for the way he treated his kids, even into their adulthood. I mean, making an eight year old take care of a four year old? How bad of a father can you be?

He’s a son of a bitch. But in the end, even though the bastard never once validated his elder son (nor his younger)- and he should’ve- he died for Dean. And I know Dean’ll blame himself for it. But the fact that his dad loved him… that might be enough to make the self-resentment more lenient. That and the fact that he has me.

I won’t let him hate himself or feel unloved. I think John knew that- that Dean would have far better support if he was gone. I’m know he knew how much Dean respected and idolized him, but I also know damn well that he knew damn well that he was not good enough for his son. Not nearly good enough.

So hopefully, between me and Sam, we can mend the hole in his heart. Help him feel whole again.

But for now he needs this. To cry, to feel. Something he never felt he could, not in the presence of anyone else.

Gradually the tears slow to a stop. He sniffles, wiping his face, but not moving his head from my lap. “Thank you,” he whispers.

“Always,” I lean down and kiss him on the forehead. “I mean that.”

“I love you.”

There’s no stutter or pause in his words. He’s said them, plain and simple, as if this isn’t the first time he’s been able to get the words out. I guess it’s my turn to cry, because I feel a tear trickle down my face, landing on his. He grins a crooked grin at that. “Is it that bad a fate?” he jokes.

“No, no,” I choke on my laugh. “I love you too.”

And sure, there’s going to be more nights like these. Nights where we fight, and maybe sometimes they won’t end so well, so neatly.

There’s going to be more fights. Stupid fights, nasty fights.

But there will also be more I love yous. More holding. More feeling.

And no matter what happens, I’ll be there for Dean Winchester. Always. And I mean that.

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x you #dean winchester angst #fanfic #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction

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michaelmilligan · 7 months ago

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Do y'all even know how much I rotate post-canon Midam in my mind? Like, every day my brain is speed-running a fix-it where Michael is brought back.

And it can go so many ways.

Michael getting brought back, immediately rushing to Adam, and Adam accepting him back with only love and relief in his heart? Absolutely believable.

Michael being brought back, dragging his feet about going to Adam even though he desperately wants to see him, but also he pretty much betrayed his brothers and sided with God, and when he does finally go see him, Adam hits him with the whole 'How could you, I thought we were friends!' and takes a really long time to be convinced that Michael still likes him and wants to be with him? ALSO absolutely believable.

There's so much in between that, and there are of course several factors influencing which would be more likely - like how much time passes until Michael is brought back, whether Adam has been spending time Sam and Dean or not, and how much they told him, if anything. But at the end of the day, there is I think one big question that decides where it comes out to. And we simply don't see enough of those two on screen to be able to answer that question with any clarity.

The question is, how much of their feelings have these two shared?

And I don't necessarily mean this in a romantic way. I'm all for big dramatic 'I love you's and all that, but this would work just as well with a queer-platonic, or purely platonic, relationship between the two. In fact, I think even if they had exchanged 'I love you's before rapture, that still wouldn't answer this question.

The thing is, how much do they know about the depth of each other's feelings? Do they both know just how much the other wants to be with them? Does Adam know that Michael would burn the world if he asked? Does Michael know that Adam doesn't need him to kill for him, he needs him to LIVE for him? Does Adam know that the reason Michael didn't go back to Heaven is at least 90% him? Does Michael know that Adam isn't just keeping him around because it's convenient, but because he genuinely enjoys hanging out with him?

There is a lot of interpretation here on my part, but yeah, I think whatever configuration you put these two in (romantic/queer-platonic/whatever else), these two are just absolutely unhinged about each other. As in they cannot imagine a life without each other anymore. Adam just spent at least a thousand years with Michael alone. That's the equivalent of several human lifetimes! And for Michael, it's of course considerably less, but do you really think he has been this close with, this focused on anyone since Lucifer fell? Since his family broke apart, and he became a general above anything else? Do you think he isn't absolutely thrilled to have Adam, a guy who doesn't always agree with him but likes him anyway, a guy he is literally chilling in the same body with, as close as two people can conceivably be? You think he's not insane about that guy?

Anyway, this got off track, but I truly do believe that how the fix-it goes depends on whether they know this about each other. How secure they are about each other's feelings. Because I think if Adam knows how Michael feels about him, he's more likely to think along the lines of 'Michael was manipulated by his abusive dad and went back to him, man I wish I could have been there and helped him untangle his emotions, he must have been at rock bottom :(' and less likely something like 'Michael went back to his dad as soon as I was gone, guess he never cared about me at all'.

And I guess in the end it does come down to Adam, because while I can see Michael being insecure and not knowing if Adam will take him back, he would also jump immediately if Adam called for him in a prayer or anything like that. Meanwhile, if Adam is angry, I think Michael would withdraw pretty quickly, which Adam would take as confirmation that Michael never really cared much...

So, yeah. I guess what I'm trying to say is that it can go many ways, and to me it depends heavily on whether they (especially Adam, but also Michael) know how much the other cares for them.

#Midam #I have once again written too many words but oh well #I'm not proof-reading all this love and light but y'all are gonna have to live with my typos

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delulu4dean · 1 year ago

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“Five Gum…”

Warnings: idk, cringe outdated pop culture references. Gender neutral terms(just wanting you so you don’t get like confused <3 )

Pairings: Cas X autistic!reader(platonic), Dean x child!reader

Summary: Castiel is hanging out with Dean’s autistic child, and they have a lot in common.

Word Count: 1,278

Your dad, Dean Winchester, is out on a hunting trip with your Uncle Sammy. He left you alone with Castiel. You don’t know what Castiel is to your dad, they say they’re best friends, but the way they look at each other says more.

You didn’t mind being at the bunker with Cas though. Out of everyone, you got along with him the most. You had some sort of mutual understanding that Sam and Dean don’t get. You assumed it’s because Castiel didn’t know much about human interaction, social cues, pop culture references, and you were well, autistic. Your dad has made the joke that you and Castiel tilt your head the same way when you’re confused, and both don’t understand his sarcasm, and how even though your Dean’s kid, you’re a mini-Cas.

“So what are we doing today?” Castiel asks you.

“I know my dad is protective, but you really don’t need to babysit me, I’m 18. I am an adult,” you explain to Castiel.

“That’s not why he leaves me with you, he just doesn’t want you to get lonely.”

You nod, understanding. Today you’re probably going to do what you and Cas always do, exist next to each other while doing your own things. He’ll be reading something, you’ll be drawing something, and occasionally you two will look at each other, and ask how it’s going. It’s always worked that way.

And that is what you do today. You both go to the library together, Castiel picks out a book, you pull out your sketchbook, and you start doing what you learned is called “parallel play.” At least that’s what it’s called in kids, but you figured the term can be applied here too. You start sketching away as Castiel looks at you, narrowing his eyes.

“You wear that jacket all the time, why?” he asks.

“It brings me comfort. You wear that trench coat all the time, even indoors when you don’t need to. Why is that?” you throw the question right back at him.

“I suppose it also brings me some sense of comfort,” he concludes.

You nod, satisfied with his answer, and go back to sketching, as he goes back to his book. The only sounds filling the room are Castiel’s occasional page flipping, and your constant scribbling. This goes on for half an hour, only to be interrupted by your stomach erupting in hunger. Castiel does not say a word, as he gets up and goes to the bunker’s kitchen, and comes back with a prepackaged peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

“Oh thanks. When did we get these?” you raise an eyebrow.

“I got them the last time I went grocery shopping with your dad. He said you were having trouble eating because the foods we’ve been getting weren’t the right texture, and I remember when I was human I loved peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, you can never go wrong with them. But I know you sometimes just want ready made food, and when I saw these in the freezer section, I told Dean to get them.”

A smile comes across your face as you open the packaging and take a bite. These prepackaged peanut butter and jelly sandwiches were one of your safe foods, your other one being boxed mac and cheese. You bounce happily as you eat, something you do whenever you’re eating food you really like. And if it’s super good, you’ll kick your feet a little too.

You lick your fingers after you finish your sandwich, and sign “thank you” in ASL, something you do when you don’t feel like talking much. It’s a thing you do with everyone, you’ve taught them basic signs like “yes” or “no” or “please” or “thank you” or “food” or “water” to communicate when you don’t feel like talking.

“No problem,” Cas responds, smiling at you.

You nod and get back to your little activity while Castiel gets back to his. The silence is nice, you get to focus on you sketch, which is a picture of Castiel sitting down in his chair, reading. You occasionally glance up at him, getting the details you need, but you’re not going for realism. You have your own cartoonish art style and you’re drawing Castiel in it. Once you finish, you show him, and a big smile appears on his face as he puts down his book.

“You drew that? That’s me,” he says, and you nod. “I love it.”

You smile and start putting your art supplies away, as he goes back to reading. You clean up your space and put everything back in your room, before returning to Cas. You look over his shoulder at the book he’s reading, trying to not disturb him. He flips through the pages as he reads. But the page flipping and the silence get too much.

“Dicks out for Harambe,” you blurt out, not thinking.

Castiel once again sets his book down, this time not intending to pick it back up, as he looks up at you concerned. You didn’t think before speaking, but being on the internet you hear this phrase a lot. So you said it, and now Castiel is concerned.

“Who is Harambe and why are we exposing ourselves for him,” Castiel asks.

You think for a moment, wanting to answer him, but there’s no way to answer him without sounding stupid and insane. You take a deep breath, giggling a little at the thought of explaining “dicks out for Harambe” to Castiel.

“It’s an internet thing. This gorilla, Harambe, was killed, so we uh, expose ourselves, as you put it, to pay respects to him,” you attempt at an answer but Castiel furrows his eyebrows, getting even more confused.

“How is that paying respect?”

“Well it isn’t… it’s a joke…”

“I thought jokes were supposed to be funny,” he bluntly says.

“It is… to younger people I guess,” you shrug.

“And you said it because…?”

“I said it to fill the silence.”

Cas takes a moment to think, nodding, taking in what you just explained. He then takes his phone out and types away and you look at him, waiting for him to say or do something. He pats the seat next to him and you sit and look at his phone. It’s one of those fruit sensory videos on TikTok that you got Castiel into. Not the baby videos(well they are the baby videos) but the ones to popular music. You and Castiel watched as blueberries and strawberries bounce around the screen to Lincoln Park’s “Numb.”

“Why are we watching this?” you finally ask.

“You seemed like you needed something stimulating to watch or listen to,” Cas answers you.

“That reminds me,” you say, running to your room to grab something quick.

✰✰✰✰✰

Sam and Dean walk into the bunker, and as soon as they see everything, they just look around, confused. The ground is covered in bubble wrap, and the map table is full of Pop-it fidgets. You look up at your uncle and dad, as you and Cas run around barefoot on the bubble wrap, playing with the fidgets.

“What are you doing?” Dean asks.

You look up at him, with an innocent smile on your face.

“Five gum!” you yell at him, throwing a pop-it fidget at him, and he catches it. “Stimulate your senses!”

“I think they are making a joke, because this is a way to stimulate our feeling sense, which is something people on the spectrum often do,” Castiel explains to Dean.

“Yeah, I know what they meant, Cas,” Dean chuckles. “You two have fun while we were gone?”

You and Cas both nod.

✰✰✰✰✰

A/N sorry if this is silly, I’m autistic and Kin cas so I thought it would be fun to do Cas and Dean’s autistic kid. But autism is a spectrum! While this may be how autism is for me, it doesn’t represent everyone with autism :)

#castiel #castiel supernatural #castiel x y/n #castiel x reader #dean x child!reader #dad!dean #supernatural #dean x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester x you

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pagannatural · 9 months ago

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1.21 Salvation

-John finally, after some 22 years, lets his sons in on his plans and shows them everything he’s got on the demon that killed their mom and Jess.

-John is such a good character. I’m not really interested in liking or disliking him, I just love his part in this story. He reacted to an unimaginable situation in a human way. Who among us can say, really, how we would parent two small children if our wife was brutally murdered on the ceiling by a demon who then burned down our entire house? John truly thought the whole world was a war zone so he made his kids soldiers rather than getting them to safety. To understand John you have to understand that Safe and Normal as concepts were destroyed for him. He wanted to protect his boys so badly that he tried to prepare them and toughen them and train them but he also wanted to shield them so he hid as much as he could from them. He taught them that people were dying and they were responsible for stopping it. He put all of that on their way-too-young shoulders all while refusing to trust them or let them in.

Under all that pressure, Sam and Dean created their own world, their bubble of safety with each other. They give each what they need in the most vital and fundamental sense, nourishing each other in a hostile environment. They share something that no one else could ever understand.

So thanks, John.

-“It’s not your problem, it’s our problem” is an objectively kind and supportive thing to say so I’m proud of Dean for managing to shout it angrily at Sam. Such passion such energy

-Sam looks like a little kid this whole scene where Dean and John are arguing about parenting him. Dean stands up to John again and defends himself. He’s Sam’s daddy now (sorry)

-John tells Sam “I want you to go to school, I want Dean to have a home” which is hilarious to me because it implies that he thinks of Dean as a homeless man (which he is).

Dean glances at Sam when John says this and then hangs his head. Sam is his home. And he feels responsible for Sam leaving school (which he is).

-In the car Sam tells Dean “I want to thank you” but the you comes out as “ya”. This happens another time when Sam tells Dean “I still love you” (or something close to that) in s5e11. It’s unusual for Sam. He doesn’t ya his you’s regularly at the end of a sentence. Jared and Jensen both have typical midwestern accents on the show. Jared intentionally changes his speech pattern when he’s possessed, so that words like “wasn’t” or “doesn’t” are enunciated when normally Sam pronounces it like “wud’n” or “dud’n” with a very soft “d.”

Point being, something is causing Sam to shy off of saying these things and making them sound too serious so he says “I want to thank ya” which sounds more casual. When he’s lost in emotion (like later when he throws Dean against a wall and says “don’t you say that”), he enunciates his you’s. I think this is unintentional of Sam and intentional of Jared. Sam’s trying not to scare Dean off or sound too confessional- he’s seen how Dean reacts to that.

-Sam says “even when I couldn’t count on anyone”

Dean gave him consistency and safety and the knowledge that he was always loved. Dean’s his sanctuary.

-Dean says the house is “burning to the ground, it’s suicide”

“I don’t care” “I do”

Sam is reckless. He has a safe place to land, so he often acts without really thinking through the consequences, and Dean is always there for him. This is the THIRD house fire Dean has protected Sam from. Interesting that Sam asked Jessica, his Dean replacement, “what would I do without you?” in ep1 and she said “crash and burn.” Actually that’s what you would do without Dean :)

-Sam says killing the demon is “all we’ve ever cared about” he doesn’t realize that Dean has always cared more about him than about revenge or justice or whatever else. Dean would rather have Sam. Wild that Sam doesn’t know he’s Dean’s top priority yet. I wonder if he knew that pre-Stanford?

-Sam gets angry when Dean says they can’t bring Jessica or their mom back. It mirrors Dean slamming Sam against the wall in ep1 when he told Dean their mom is never coming back. Sam’s anger melts as soon as Dean speaks and he ends up just kind of grasping Dean’s shirt and pressing into him with this desperate look on his face. They look at each other’s mouths.

-Dean is accepting of Sam grabbing him and throwing him against a wall, just like Sam handles it in s2 when Dean punches him in the face. They have no normal way to express how intensely they feel about each other so it comes out as violence or care when one is injured. Love and need and pain are inextricable between them- they love each other in ways that are painful. So they just submit to each other like Yes, finally something that feels strong enough. It’s like it’s soothing to express and receive each other’s needs, even as pain. It has to come out somehow.

-Dean says that the three of them are all he has and “sometimes I feel like I’m barely holding it together” Dean doesn’t let himself fall apart, and he wants to fall apart with Sam here, begging Sam to be careful with his life, to understand that he needs Sam. He’s saying Please don’t get hurt, I need you, I’m falling apart.

Sam could kiss him right now. Dean’s not holding it together enough to try pushing Sam away or protecting him from their feelings.

-Dean says “without you and dad, I-” and I think that Dean obviously loves and cares about John but the real issue is that he couldn’t say “without you, I-” on network television because they would have just made out. The mention of their dad brings Sam back to himself. He turns away from Dean and lets go of him with what looks like some effort. Dean looks lost and he’s also still tilting his head up with his lips parted looking like Sam didn’t kiss him. Sam asks him to call John.

-This parallels when Dean told Sam to call Sarah in 1x19. Dean calls even though he’s still emotionally involved in the conversation with Sam and didn’t finish what he was saying. He’s just admitted something that was difficult for him, and Sam reacted by pulling away, distancing himself, exactly as Dean did when Sam admitted Jessica isn’t the main reason he’s not interested in anyone.

I’m a John-would-kill-Dean truther if he found out about anything untoward going on between his boys, so the mention of their Dad and the fact that he’s in danger would absolutely make Sam force himself away from Dean.

This specific dynamic of Sam pleading with Dean for something and Dean surrendering brokenly to Sam in a Please give it to me Please just take it loop where neither is willing to act makes me want to chew on my own ribcage.

#samdean #supernatural #spn meta #wincest #spn 1x21

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shallowseeker · 3 months ago

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Yes, yes. We've talked about the futility of windmills and striving wind with regards to all hunters, workers, and soldiers.

But there are other things in this hotel that are SO CUTE.

Dean and Cas are very often twinned by their morals and values. You could say that they're very often tilting at the same "windmills." Struggling with many of the same things, albeit at different timelines.

There's also...flowers in the decor.

LOTS of flowers.

Prominent yellow flowers in the bedroom appear between them, symbolizing pesky, bubbling happiness between the two of them.

There's often this concept of "blooming" between Dean and Cas. Springtime. Hell, we can even point to Dean's dance number in s15, "Let's Misbehave," originally written for Irene Bordini.

(They say the Spring Means just one thing to little lovebirds // We're not above birds // Let's misbehave)

There's April Kelly, the reaper, and also the Leviathan blossom (that grows OUT of death). An association to Lily Sunder and her daughter May, born after spring, as Jack will be born in May.

Dean himself is like a valley of death, but ALSO a valley proper, with the capacity for growth and spring-green, and it is this that associates him to many of the Lily characters, like Lily Baker.

Anyhoo, this cute motel is mirroring the blossoming friendship. It's full of Netherlands motifs, including the windmills but also tulips and blooms. The low-lying land of the Netherlands is what makes tulips flourish there.

Later The Empty will "tiptoe through Cas's tulips" as it reads his mind (and his love).

As Dean is undergoing individuation, he too is blooming.

And wooden shoes.

There's an abundance of tulips flanking the bathroom, sprouting up alongside the Dean side, over near the couch. On what will become "the Cas side" of the domestic space... shoes.

Dean is trying not to feel things. Cas is trying not to feel things.

///

Anyway, when Cas asks for help, he gets in REEEEEALLY close again:

And Dean gets a little nervous again, shifts, slightly pouts his lips and then cracks a joke:

They've been so mean to each other. Hehe.

After all, Cas's immediate reaction to seeing Sam and Dean again was to lay into them about being failures and not worth the effort and rebellion he put into them, so Dean's cattiness is understandable here.

It's tense. Awkward.

They've been disagreeing with each other and telling each other how they've lost faith in one another and don't believe in each other's plans...which oddly is EXACTLY the sort of emotional honesty that will make their bond stronger.

They keep orbiting each other, walking around and around each other in circles, and moving into each other's spaces. Even without the dialogue, the body language is interesting.

Cas is trying to read him, to figure out the human rules of him not being allowed to move threateningly into Dean's space, but Dean being allowed to move into his ... plus Dean making off cultural references that involve HOLDING HANDS and sailing off cliffs.

Then brushing past him so closely, and what exactly ARE the rules for personal space? Also, we see the yellow flowers between them here.

Dean may be under the impression that Cas doesn't care about him that much. That he helped him on a moral whim and now he's stuck with him/them.

And they're very close to one another again. Dean is fishing for information. "I'm your strategical bait, huh? That's all?"

And Dean relents.

///

So anyway, the body language is legendary for a reason, but the flowers are such a nice backdrop. :DDD

Aside///

I love how Cas just marches in on the Cas and tries to be frank with everyone.

Poor Cas. Just a mere hundred or couple hundred years ago, this would've worked. He really COULD march in there and start talking angels and demons with some authority, might have even been able to tell them that he was an angel.

What we call the modern world is still so new. We as a species have believed in supernatural worlds for so much longer than we haven't.

And Dean just... can't help getting into Cas's personal space. I find that so cute about him. He establishes the norms of personal space and then he proceeds to fiddle with Cas's clothes. Meanwhile Cas is just like ????? wow human rules are so illogical.

*Dean fiddling*

Dean, honey. I promise you that if you'd handed Cas the badge, he would've grabbed it somewhat normally.

///

Dean *fiddling with his own badge and coat and steadfastly NOT looking at Cas's face*

*can't resist*

Aside/// I love so much that SPNwin poked fun at THIS in particular (as well as SPNwin's John making silly voices).

Sighting on main: Man with a nascent, burgeoning mega-crush tries to make rules about personal space and then winds up being even weirder about space than the person he was accusing of not adhering to normal human etiquette...

DEAN: *buttoning, buttoning, I know I'm taking a while to button this, pay it no mind. now imma fix your tie...*

#dean stuff #cas stuff #spn 5 x03

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followafallingstar · 3 months ago

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You meet Michael again - Cordelia

Summary: The oldest archangel had been keeping a good eye on you the last few days, making sure you weren't in any trouble yet you popped up at the one place where he didn't want you. At the bunker. Pairing: Michael/female Reader, Michael/ Witch Disclaimer/ Trigger Warning: soulmate au, Stalking, Mention of stalking, invasion of privacy

Soulmate au: God created a soulmate for each one of his children. For angels finding their soulmate is one of the most honorable tasks they could achieve due to the amount of luck they must have since the soul of a human mate can be sent to earth at any time during the existence of humanity. But when an angel does meet their other half their loyalty to god switches to their mate, protecting them at all costs. Feelings such as love and lust are only acceptable and archivable for angels when they meet their soulmate and that only to the mate too so acts of unloyalty or cheating don’t exist in their world.

Tagged <3: @elf-punk

While he had found out by now that you are no ordinary human he had hoped that you were part of the people that studied magic out of curiosity and not a need to protect themselves. Well, he was wrong. Oddly he and Lucifer ended up being part of the Whinchster's little group since they started searching for his father causing him to permanently stay at the bunker.

While preparing for an upcoming hunt with the Winchesters, he noticed that the soft voice of the person on the other side of the bunker sounded too much like you. It had to be you. He immediately walked towards the direction, opened the door to the library, and interrupted the conversation that had been going on between you and Sam. "Cora?" he called your name. Your eyebrows shot up, remembering the voice of the man who had approached you a few days ago at the beach.

"Hello, Michael" You answer but not understanding why he was here or why exactly he looked so panicked. "How do you know Sam Winchester?" What an odd question considering you and your sisters have been in touch with the hunter brothers since the early stage of their little adventure of finding their father, sometimes helping each other out here and there. You weren't sure if you should tell him the truth considering you barely knew him and the fact that he dared to talk to you as if you owed him an answer. It made you feel like throwing a fireball right in his face, not that you knew that he was pretty much invisible and would a hundred percent correct you on your improper stance.

But considering he was with the boys you knew that he must be somewhat trustworthy you answer "We are friends". He didn't like the answer at all, companionship with the two was always bound to some trouble and anyone who is slightly involved with the brother's lives must have some kind of connection to the great plan of his father, and maybe it wasn't a coincidence that you were already linked into his path. There is just one thing that bugs him when he thinks about it: the danger. His life as a warrior had taught him many things and one of them is that the future he desired so much, the future with you, his true vessel Dean, and his father back in his life was something he would probably not get so easily. But there must be a reason why you suddenly popped up out of nowhere even though you were there the whole time, right under his nose.

After Sam's rough explanation of why you were involved with them, meaning trying to answer all of Michaels's annoying and creepy questions such as: Where have you met each other? What did you say to him? Why did you think it would be a good idea to even talk to them? Is your friendship on a physical contact basis? Why would you choose this kind of life when you could be…Safe? And even after answering all of them, surely not without raising Sam's suspicion on the archangel's sudden extreme interest in you, he was still convinced that it was his duty to make sure that not one hair would be plugged from your pretty little head.

Later on, he watched you silently as you laid the lilac potion that would help them in their next hunt, on the table with the instruction written neatly on a medium-sized paper. Your delicate hands wrapped around the pen as you added some notes to it and handed them to Michael. He inspected your handwriting, cursive, hard to read yet there was an organized aspect of it, as if you had written the words countless times over and over. "I will keep it safe" the blue feathered angel replied. As you were about to leave he added a few words "Cora, I want to know where I could find you. For the potions". Smooth. Indeed smooth. Of course, he knew where you lived and where he could find you but that doesn't mean he will risk you getting skeptical of his behavior if he starts appearing out of nowhere before your door. You should feel like it was your doing, free will, that was what every human wanted and even if it isn't what he knew is true, it doesn't mean he will destroy your dream. If you wanted it. He will give it to you.

"Here" you handed him a small teleportation rune drawn on a paper. He nodded, knowing that he would never use it but keep it close. One last smile was what you flashed him before disappearing before his eyes once again. He noticed that you have a habit of running away from him. That must be changed.

#supernatural #castiel #lucifer supernatural #michael supernatural #michael x reader #spn michael #lucifer x mc #spn lucifer #dean winchester #sam winchester #spn fanfic #spn #team free will #spnfandom #spnadam #archangel michael

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the-weary-wayward-son · 2 months ago

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Let me tell you a sweet little story about me and the two Supernstural ships that most people argue about but that both have a place in my heart and in my mind.

Dean and Cas were my first gay ship, and that in itself has changed me fundamentally as a human being. My first ever fics I wrote when I was eleven were about them. Destiel made me realize, right from season four, that a relationship between two men can (and often is) so much more interesting and complex than any potential heterosexual relationships either of the men could have with a female counterpart. We all know very well the argument of “if Castiel was a woman, there would’ve been immediate romance, but she would get killed off by the end of the season because the fans would hate the relationship”.

I used to watch that™️ scene of Cas pushing Dean up against a wall on repeat and hide my search history from my mother. It made me feel so many things all at once, and as a kid that was way too young to watch the show it the first place, I knew nothing about what they were and what to do with them. Slowly, over the years, I began piecing them together into a more comprehensive understanding, and as the seasons were coming out, one after the other, until the very end, I shipped Destiel somewhere deep in my heart. I stopped actively watching the show on season 12-13, it my feelings towards the ship remained, and they were so deeply engraved within me by that point that it felt like watching Supernatural and not shipping Destiel was like not watching the show to begin with. That being said, I’ll never forget the day that I logged into tumblr for my main blog, and saw Destiel trending. Never in my life have I said “what the fuck???” louder than I have on November 5th.

So that was that, Destiel was cannon? After all these years, after all the (sub)text and the eye contact, and the sacrifices made for each other, Destiel was cannon? We didn’t get Dean saying the words back, let alone a kiss or anything, because CW are mentally stuck in the twelve hundreds, but we got a confession, did we not?

We did, and it felt so anticlimactic that the entirety of the world now gets the news about the latest events through an outlet that should’ve been the end of an era. The confession that hundreds of thousands of people were waiting and hoping for was supposed to be impactful, gut-wrenching and tragic, because that’s what Supernatural has always been about. Most importantly, it was supposed to be closure. It was supposed to feel like it really was the end, which is understandably a very hard thing to achieve in a show where all the main characters have died and resurrected about fifty times.

That is what we did not get. An end to Cas and Dean, to their incredible story that we followed for eleven (11) years. Watching Dean sit in that room with his head in his hands and knowing that that was it, that that was the end of their relationship, felt like someone grabbed me by the neck and pushed my faced under water, holding me there just until I started suffocating, and then just let me go. A sudden, painful and lowkey traumatizing experience that, in the end, amounted to nothing. I felt cheated twice — CW decided to break my heart with the final moments of a relationship that I carried in my heart for over a decade, and they couldn’t even do that right.

Now let’s get into what usually is the opposing opinion.

First thing’s first — I do not and I have never truly, seriously thought that the show was implying that Sam and Dean were sleeping together. Yes, they give each other weird looks but I honestly never in my life believed that somewhere off-screen, within the show, they are lovers.

However.

Whatever it is that Sam and Dean have, it’s definitely more than brotherly love. I’m not saying it’s romantic love, I don’t think it is, but what I am saying is that their souls are tied together with such a tight and tangled thread, that they are two halves of a whole.

They blur into each other, bleed into each other like aquarelle.

A lot of people that have joined the fandom post 2010 do not realize that before Cas, all they ever had was each other. Losing the other meant losing yourself, and the lines separating them into two different people have blurred so much that the lines of the relationship blurred with them.

I personally have an older brother who is the best man I’ve ever met in this life. Do I love him to death? Yes. Would I die and kill for him? He would never let me but yes. Would I, however, offer up my soul to bring him back if he were to die prematurely? No.

The Winchester brothers do it so much that Dean has turned it into a hobby.

If you review his actions and decisions over the seasons, you’ll realise at one point that while Sam managed to live (no matter how dreadfully) without Dean between seasons three and four, Dean cannot live without him.

He is not just striking up deals with higher powers and/or demons, he’s not making sacrifices, he’s killing himself because he physically cannot fucking live without his younger brother.

Seeing what a horrible father John had always been to them, they only had each other to trust, to seek comfort in, to protect and to get protected by. I will never get tired of watching the way they instinctually reach for each other when it seems like everything is coming to an end. In the final moments, they always, always strive to meet them as a whole.

And the way their story ends is, if we take into account everything above, so much more impactful. One last death, and of course it’s Dean, protecting Sam like he always has. They reach for each other, like they’ve always done, and the scene is a gut-wrenching mirror of their first scene together. It was that mirror, the story finally coming its full, inevitable circle, that ripped my heart right out of my chest and then patted my cheek with the bloody hand, asking if I was really expecting a happy ending. Supernatural has always been about tragedy, and the relationship between Sam and Dean has always been about damnation.

The absolute desperation of them trying to save each other and not realising that they are two inseparable, twisted parts of a whole will never not fuck me up.

#dean winchester #supernatural #sam winchester #castiel #wincest #samdean #destiel #casdean

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dotthings · 7 months ago

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After rewatching 4.19 Jump the Shark, here's some thoughts on hunting, the making of personal connections, and what SPN is about.

As often happens with SPN, the characters themselves play out ruminations on these themes. I barely even have to write commentary.

DEAN What the hell was that? SAM What? DEAN 'Hunting is life. You can't have connections.' Dad gave you that exact same speech, remember? It was just before you ditched us for Stanford. You hated Dad for saying that stuff, and now you're quoting him? SAM Yeah, well, turns out Dad was right. DEAN Since when? SAM Since always. Dean, when I look at Adam, you know what I see? DEAN A normal kid. SAM No. Meat. Because the demons and monsters out there, that's all he is. I hated Dad for a long time. I did. But now I think I understand. So we didn't have a dog and a white picket fence. So what? Dad did right by us. He taught us how to protect ourselves. Adam deserves the same.

Notice how this severe idea that all they can have is this, nothing else, no friends (even friendships with other hunters is frowned upon, John was noticeably isolationist and distrustful and alienated his hunter friends who loved him, like Bobby), no love stories, nothing but the hunt, comes right from John's words.

Dean's shocked to hear it from Sam. In part because Sam always fought John about it and now Sam is quoting John, but in part it's because one of Dean's long arcs is rethinking a lot of John's ideas and finding his own identity outside of being John's shadow, or mimic.

In season 4, as Sam goes deeper and deeper under the influence of demon blood and Ruby's coaching, he goes colder and more ruthless and more remote, less like the Sam we know, and Dean notices more and more.

DEAN Listen to yourself, man. SAM You think I’m wrong? DEAN I think it's too late for us. This is our life. This is who we are, okay? And it's fine. I accept that. But with Adam, he's still got a chance, man. He can go to school. He could be a doctor.

Now it pulls back to Dean's resignation--but it's too late, the words are already out there with Dean questioning it. Too late for the audience not to notice.

While Dean doesn't expressly voice the idea that as hunters, maybe they don't have to sever all personal connections and turn off their hearts, it's self-evidently on Dean's mind. He doesn't see much hope for himself. That doesn't mean he isn't thinking it. And it's a very obvious part of the canon story for the run of the show.

As usual with SPN, two things can be true at once. Or there's a seed of truth but it's an incomplete truth. It is difficult to form and maintain connections in the hunting life, even with other hunters in the life. That doesn't mean Sam and Dean don't have any or can't have any. SPN self evidently shows they absolutely did, right along. Not just with each other.

Found family--the forging of connections, the human heart--is part of the life's blood of the story and always has been.

Dean in particular, throughout the series, has been adept at forming these connections and caring. He may at times try to shut himself away because it feels safer. The other people get less hurt. He'll get less hurt. But always he lets them in, he always cares.

It's easier with other hunters. People in the life with them, who understand that life.

John's narrow worldview of hunting, the ruthlessness, that's mirrored in Sam in this episode, and the idea that they can't have anyone else--isn't presented as the right answer.

Dean, as the series goes on, moves more and more into living the hunting life in a way that's by his own definitions, his own way, not his father's dictates. Despite the challenges of the hunting life. Dean makes his own rules.

We also see more instances of people in the hunting life who don't live by the extreme isolationist ideas of John Winchester. In fact, it turns out John was unusual and that hunters are sociable with each other, even if the life can be harsh and isolating. There's a hunting community. We only see glimpses of it early on because John kept Sam and Dean unusually isolated due to the circumstances of his particular quest, the YED.

But Sam and Dean are not their father. They forge their own path.

Most of all, SPN is a story about the connections that form between people--including the brothers, but not limited solely to the brothers.

SAM Dean...all this...it's not real. The dad Adam knew—he wasn't real. The things out there in the shadows—they are real. The world is coming to an end. That's real. Everything else is just part of the crap people tell themselves to get through the day.

You know what popped into my head when Sam said that? Dean's voice telling Cas in 4.22 -- You know what's real? People, families -- that's real.

Sam falls into a dark despairing mindset where all he can see is monsters and he is losing his heart. 4.19 ends on an ominous note

DEAN You know, I finally get why you and Dad butted heads so much. You two were practically the same person. SAM looks over. DEAN I mean, I worshipped the guy, you know? I dressed like him, I acted like him, I listen to the same music. But you were more like him than I will ever be. And I see that now. SAM I'll take that as a compliment. DEAN You take it any way you want.

Dean's coming to some realizations about his own hero-worship and imitation of his father, and seeing how he's not in fact, his father, no matter how much he fears it (or used to wish for it), and learning how much Sam is the one who is more like John than he is, despite Sam's lack of imitation and worship.

And without their friends who are like family, Sam and Dean aren't ever finding their way out of this thicket. They'd be lost, the world would be lost.

SPN is first and foremost about love.

#Dean meta #Sam meta #spn meta

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daughterofcain-67 · 1 year ago

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𝕽𝖆𝖎𝖘𝖊𝖉 𝖎𝖓 𝕭𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖉 (𝔭𝔱7)

(Dean Winchester x Female Reader)

(masterlist)

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Dean has now become a demon and he’s convinced you to travel with Crowley and himself. Afterwards, you and Crowley notice the changes Dean is going through and Crowley convinces you to try and persuade Dean to try and be a little less cocky with his killing sprees and tone things down a bit. How far are you willing to go with Dean and his downward spiral into his newfound demonic nature?

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: implied smut, no graphic detail, intimate negotiations, Dean and the reader killing a demon… I think that’s it? This chapter’s a little shorter than the last couple of chapters.

You were back in Cincinnati where this story began for you. Your clients at your little tattoo shop wondered where you had been all this time and you simply said you needed a short hiatus. Of course you couldn’t tell them the truth with this sort of thing. How could you? What kind of a normal human in their right mind would believe you when you say you had been helping two monster hunters in an angelic war?

Yet you were still replaying the events of two days ago in your head.

Dean Winchester’s death affected you more than you thought that it would. It was ridiculous, honestly, especially since you were still hurt by the idea of the Winchesters using you and tossing you aside so easily one day like they did to Crowley. You hated that you were even feeling the way that you did.

In order to distract yourself from your thoughts of your previous adventure, you went right back to work. You were drowning yourself in client’s designs and other tattoos or piercings. Your work was enough to keep you occupied at least for the time being.

You were sitting in your chair while you were working on a tattoo on someone’s back. The lady in front of her had asked for different colored dragons along with different jewels of the birth months for the loved ones that had passed on. You were focusing on the delicate details as much as you could while you listened to the music in your building.

“Y/N? Can I ask you something?” Your client asked, causing you to hum and thus giving her a signal to ask.

“How come you never really talk about yourself with your clients? Like obviously there’s more to you than meets the eye. But what is your family like? Do you have any loved ones that live here? Do you have a boyfriend or some sort of significant other?”

You were a little shocked by the client’s inquiry but you supposed it gives you something to talk about to kill some time, “I don’t really talk much about family because we aren’t exactly close… My mom died several years ago but we both hated each other and I never met my father.”

“Wow… that really stinks to hear. I’m sorry. What about siblings or even lovers?”

“Neither one. I don’t have brothers or sisters and… I guess over the years no one’s caught my interest. Never wanted to look because I hear too much about people’s heart breaking over something going wrong.” You admitted.

Then you recalled the way you felt when Dean betrayed Crowley. After that your mind went to Dean’s death and Sam’s reaction. You remembered realizing just how strong humans are, and in a way you admired them. But still, you didn’t need that type of attachment, nor the sentiment.

“I’ve seen what love does to people… and I’ve seen what happens when someone you love dies. It’s not worth the attachment.”

Your answer, though seemingly logical to you, was almost unsatisfactory for the lady in front of you.

“Well that’s a pessimistic point of view, isn’t it? Sure people’s hearts break but after those heart breaks there are lessons learned. Those lessons make you stronger. It’s better to love eve with the risk of getting hurt or losing someone. Feelings aren’t a thing to be fearful of. They’re what make you human, they make you appreciate life no matter the ups and downs.”

You stopped what you were doing and listened to each word your client said. You hadn’t expected to hear some sort of lecture on emotion on someone who’s supposed to act as a canvas.

When you were finally done with the client’s tattoo, she paid you and walked out of the door. The next thing you knew it was closing time and you were still thinking about the conversation with her. Maybe she was right… Maybe caring wasn’t so bad. The Winchesters taught you a lot about humanity and you could see why even Castiel appreciated life.

The adventure you were on is in your past, though. The Winchester brothers surely wouldn’t come looking for a demon. Even if they did, you weren’t sure you’d go with them.

But the moments where Dean actually smiled at you, gave you that sense of peace, making you forget about the eternal pain of what you were cursed with.. those moments stuck with you even if they were only a handful of moments.

Then you remembered the vision with your mother. What if you were becoming weak after all? You were learning to appreciate everything and yet those murderous urges were still there. You couldn’t help that. But what would happen if you chose to be human after all? Was an option like that even possible for you? And would you go to the bunker?

You shook those ideas from your head. That had to be the stupidest idea you’d ever come up with… being human to be with the Winchesters again. Even if you decided to be human, they would never take you.

While you were cleaning up your shop, you heard the door open. You must’ve forgotten to lock the door, so when you turned to see who was entering your shop you were shocked to see who was there.

“Dean?”

“Hey, Sweetheart.”

The next thing you knew, Dean had his hand on your hip and he pulled you closer, taking you by surprise. Was Dean always some kind of ladies man - or acted like it? That was something Sam hadn’t told you about when you met the boys. But that was when you realized there was something off about him.

“You’ve changed….”

Then you watched him begin to smirk before you saw the way his eyes turned black, realizing that the mark finally changed him to what it wanted him to be. “You like the new me? I think it’s starting to grow on me a bit.”

He certainly had changed, He wasn’t the same Dean that you had been thinking of earlier that day when your client was giving you that pep talk. You knew the mark wouldn’t let Dean die, you knew that inevitably he would become a demon, but you didn’t know that it would happen this fast.

“What are you doing here, anyway? I told you not to look for me, remember? Just because you’re a demon doesn’t mean I wanted to see you again.” You said, pulling away and crossing your arms over your chest.

“Well, I’ve got a bit of a proposition for you.” Dean said, then he pulled out The First Blade.

“Where did you get that? I left it behind after your fight…”

“Crowley retrieved it and brought it back to me.” He spoke, “Now, about that proposition…”

“I’m listening?”

“Come with me. I left Sam at the bunker and told him not to look for me. He’d hold me back from all the fun stuff we could do. We could live care free, no regrets and nothing to hold us back from doing whatever we want to do.” He said as he took your hand and he handed you the blade.

Once you felt the blade again you remembered how good it felt to stab Metatron even if he hadn’t died. All of those things Sam and Dean taught you were nice and all, but you remembered the warning from your mother. When you were learning about humanity, maybe you were forgetting what you were meant to be. Now that Dean was a demon too, what would be so wrong with killing together?

You were conflicted, did you want to hold on to the lessons you’ve learned from the Winchesters or throw all of it away and forget about it?

You looked down at the blade and you could feel Dean’s gaze on you as if waiting for an answer, “How do I know you won’t just use me like you did Crowley when you were human?”

“Is that what’s holding you back? Please, that was just something I had to say to get Sam off my back to let me use the blade. Do you really think it matters how it’s done?” He asked you and you sighed for a moment before looking up at the taller demon again.

“Fine, I’ll go.”

Three months have gone by since Dean found you in your tattoo parlor. Obviously you had to shut down since you wouldn’t be there and you didn’t have an apprentice or anything to take over.

Needless to say, you had succumbed to your demonic nature and embraced your past but only to a certain extent. You killed but you didn’t feel quite as ruthless as you thought you would feel. It was a mixture really. It was like you were on an emotional fence ever since you left with the other two demons.

You both, much to your dismay and irritation, were traipsing around with Crowley. The King of Hell seemed to like calling your little group the Three Musketeers from Hell. It had a nice ring to it even if you did hate the man’s guts.

The three of you had been dodging and even killing Abaddon’s demons when they came after Crowley and Dean. If not that, you three were in bars, you would watch the other two demons play pool with humans for money, goose ball, they had the time of their lives and you could tell Crowley was having a ball having a Winchester by his side.

You were watching Dean in one of the many bars you two had gone to over the span of these few months. He was singing karaoke and you were finding out with a quickness that Dean wasn’t very good at it when he was drunk. If he wasn’t singing to make a human’s ears bleed, you he typically slept with as many girls as he wanted to.

He clearly wasn’t joking when he said he wouldn’t be held back.

Typically, however, whenever Dean was done slumming it with some slutty blonde in a skin tight dress you would take the opportunity to get your fill of the first blade. Naturally Dean wouldn’t know too much about your own fun you had with the humans. You knew he wouldn’t care if you killed them or not, he just didn’t really have enough interest to ask so you had some fun of your own.

And it was delightfully therapeutic to take out your frustrations of your internal struggles on these humans.

“What’s got you all lost in thought, Chipmunk?” Crowley asked you, causing you to turn towards him.

“When did you get- oh why do I even ask?” You rolled your eyes and watched as Dean was being escorted off the stage and he made his way back to the bar.

“Wait - since when do you call me Chipmunk?”

“Eh, it was similar enough to the squirrel. You’re close enough to Dean. Might as well give it a shot.”

“Okay well I’ll cut out your tongue if you call me that again.” You said, causing Crowley to put his hands up in defense.

“Alright, alright. Point taken.” He said, “Just wanted to talk about these recent developments with Dean.”

You lifted a brow as you took a sip of some beer that you’d been drinking that night while the other demon spoke, “You aren’t the only one that thinks he’s taking things a bit far with his carelessness. We need to find a way to harness it.”

“We? Oh no, you were the one that got him into this mess in the first place. So you get to be the one that finds a way to harness it.”

“You know he won’t listen to reason. The only one he’d listen to is most likely you. Especially since you two have some kind of chemistry. Maybe if he doesn’t score with one of the locals tonight, you could use your… feminine charms.”

“What makes you think that I’d even be willing to use those certain charms you’re suggesting?” You asked and Crowley motioned to Dean who was already starting to get himself into trouble with security. He was already getting into a fight and they had to call more than one security guard to assist.

“Because he seems to respond more with action than words.” He answered.

“And what exactly are you wanting me to tell him or persuade him to do?”

“Tell him he’d get a lot more satisfaction working with me instead of slumming it in these bars. I’ll give you both more details if he’s willing to comply.” He continued as he buttoned up his jacket, preparing to leave.

“I know you’ve been putting on more of an act to pretend you’re, what the Winchesters say, full metal demon. But I know you’ve changed ever since your first encounter with the Winchesters. You may be one hell of a murderer but you’re a lousy liar. You’re more like your father than your mother.” He said and he looked down at you.

“Don’t take that as weakness. Your father, even though he is the Father of Murder and the king of his trade, he still cared and he even got married because he loved. Feelings, because you know what they are like, can be used to manipulate others. How do you think demons have been able to manipulate the Winchesters over all these years? It’s through the love they have for their brothers and adopted family members.”

You listened carefully, taking each word and you recalled the conversation with the last client you ever had before Dean came to your shop. You had learned a lot from the boys, and maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to learn about what more of those feelings are like.

“Is it wrong to worry about Dean?” You asked and both of you watched the former hunter walking out of the bar.

“I wouldn’t say that it’s wrong. I even worry about him from time to time. Especially since he’s no longer the Squirrel I know. He’s more brazen, reckless, and he makes a hell of a mess for me to try and clean up.” He said and you let out a slight chuckle.

“Yeah, rookie demons are always so messy aren’t they?”

“That’s why I’m.. sharpening him up so to speak. So he can work on those skills of his before he gets himself killed, or turn into a full demon. He’s only half at the moment.” He said and you looked at him.

“Wait… Abaddon’s demons… you sent them?”

“Lower your voice, will you? I haven’t broken the news yet but I will eventually. It’s a means for our professional future you know.”

“Professional future?”

“Of course! I have a kingdom to run, you know. I can’t go partying around here forever. And having Dean by my side may prove to be beneficial. And the offer is extended to you as well, given you’d like the job offer.”

You scoffed for a moment, “You both just have a thing for double crossing each other, don’t you?”

“Hey, it’s sort of in my job description. You can’t expect me to be on the straight and narrow all the time.”

You chose not to respond, and you weren’t even sure if you wanted to know exactly what his plans were for this ‘professional future’ he was talking about. You didn’t really feel like asking about it either, not at the moment but you knew you had to keep this a secret from Dean, otherwise who knew how he would take it.

You and Crowley walked out of the bar to keep an eye on Dean. You started to wonder about something, “You used to be doped up on human blood, right?”

“Yes, although it clearly wasn’t my finest hour. Regrettably I think it was the lowest point of my long lasted lifetime.”

“I heard about that. Abaddon almost got the best of you then, huh?” You saw the discomfort on his face when he remembered that time but you continued anyway, “Could… could you tell me about what that was like? How much did it change you?”

“Why are you asking?”

“It’s just… I had this vision. My mother was in it and there was a human version of myself. I traded my life to save Dean’s or at least attempt to. And in the vision, my mother said that caring for anyone, especially a Winchester, would be the equivalent to some kind of torture.” You began.

“But ever since I saw the way Sam mourned for Dean when he initially died, I realized that humans… they have to be strong to deal with something like death, right? I mean, given that they aren’t hunters and constantly raise people from the dead on a regular basis.” Crowley looked at you with interest and he hummed a little.

“Well, I can admire some humans for their strength. As for what changes you can feel, well… You definitely start feeling those uncomfortable emotions like regret, maybe even worry, etc. Then there are other emotions that aren’t so bad. I’ll let you discover those on your own.” He told you.

“Now, I’ll leave you to it. Remember, we want to get Dean to harness his recklessness. Try to convince him somehow if you won’t stand in for one of the hookers he goes to the hotel with.”

The next thing you knew, he disappeared and you sighed. You honestly hated when he did that but oh well. You walked out of the bar and Dean pulled up with the Impala.

“Come on, let’s get out of this dump town already.” Dean said in his usual grumpy little grumble he had when he didn’t get his way.

“I swear, you’re just like a child. Maybe you shouldn’t even drive.”

“I can drive just fine. I can hold my liquor better than all those people in that bar.”

You just roll your eyes and got into the vehicle and stayed quiet while he drove off. Maybe Crowley was right too, maybe it wasn’t wrong to worry. You even wondered if you should call Sam.

Several hours went by and you were in Montana now from whatever state you were at before. It was still dark out since it was the early hours of the morning but you were able to make it into the hotel. You both shared a room but you groaned a little when you realized you were stuck with one bed instead of two like normal, but you tossed your little backpack and wallet to the side.

You heard a plop on the mattress followed by Dean’s groan. You supposed being in a car for so long was a bit draining even for him.

“It’s a shame there aren’t any bars open right now.” Dean said.

“There aren’t many people in the world that want to be drinking at three in the morning you know.” You said as you sat down on the bed next to him.

You could feel more movement on the mattress and you felt Dean’s presence next to you, “Yeah I guess that’s true. Everyone else is either sleeping off the booze or having their own fun.”

You felt his arm snake around your waist, causing your insides to churn. Surely the human Dean didn’t want to become something like this. Something wasn’t right but you remembered what Crowley asked you to do.

“Speaking of having our own fun…” You began as you shifted on the bed to face him better. He lifted a brow as he looked at you, “You’re being a little reckless, aren’t you?”

“Reckless, huh? How’s that?”

“Well, you’re just a little new at this demon thing and I was just thinking that maybe Crowley and I could show you how to make things… a little more clean.” You said.

“Awe, Sweetheart, you know being neat doesn’t matter that much, and it doesn’t matter how reckless I am. Did that bastard Crowley put you up to this?”

You bit down on the inside of your cheek as you tried to think. Maybe Crowley was right yet again, and you were starting to hate how he seemed to be right about some things lately, but maybe Dean really wouldn’t listen if you just talked to him. And with the way he still had a hand on you, maybe being physical would be the only way to get through to him after all.

You had to admit, you could see why some girls at the bar found him so appealing. You weren’t sure if this would be a good idea. You had no clue if there was any way that Dean would be okay with this if he was human. But if this was the way to get through to him, then maybe it was worth a shot.

You moved to where you were straddling Dean’s lap and you placed a hand on his shoulder, “Does it matter who says it? Remember, I know how that mark feels. And I know how exhilarating it is to do whatever the hell you want.” Then you carefully let your hand down before letting your fingertips graze his own mark.

You lifted his arm up and placed a kiss on his mark, then you could feel him start to lose some of the tension as he watched you before you spoke again, “On the flip side, there’s a right and a wrong way to do things so you won’t get yourself in trouble with whatever hunters come your way.”

“Don’t tell me you’re worried about my tactics. There’s nothing wrong and you know that.” Dean said as he had his free hand on your hip before scooting you up more. But then you felt his touch on your own mark. But this time was different from all of the others. It felt good when he touched it. Maybe it was because he was a demon now too. Anyway you were trying not to get distracted.

“Well, I know that Abaddon’s demons are still after you because you killed her. And personally, I love killing them with you. Kind of rejuvenating.” You said as you leaned in before you started planting kisses on his neck.

“But with you being reckless in places like gas stations or with security cameras..” You said before you held his hand, “You’ll have human Feds on you along with other demons or hunters. We can’t have that, otherwise it’ll ruin the fun of this little adventure, won’t it?”

Dean intertwined your fingers, relaxing as he felt your lips along his neck and jawline, “You really like this so called adventure, huh?” He chuckled deeply.

“I do, and that’s why we can’t let you get caught so easily.” You reminded but then you felt Dean flip you over to where you were on your back.

You could feel your heart racing as you gazed up into those gorgeous eyes of his. You nibbled on your lower lip as he took the arm with the mark and placed it beside your head while his other hand was on your hip, gradually finding its way beneath your shirt. The feeling of his fingertips touching your skin was growing more exciting, yet so wrong in so many ways.

“You’re holding something back…” Dean said and you lifted a brow.

“Am I that easy for you to read?”

“Let your desires win for tonight, Doll. The mixture between feeling right and wrong? I’ve been there. Why don’t we use tonight so you can explore that feeling.” He said and his large hand went down to your thigh, guiding it so your leg would make its way around his waist and he’d have access to your covered core.

“How did you know I had mixed feelings?”

“Because you don’t know how much human is left in me. You don’t know if the human me would be in bed with a demon. Newsflash, Doll… I’m really starting to like this little condition of mine. No regrets. So there’s nothing for you to overthink about.” He said as he dipped his head down into the crook of your neck before planting hot kisses on your skin.

“We’ve killed and tortured demons together… we’ve been traveling the road and raising hell together… why don’t we try a new aspect of this adventure you love so much and then I’ll think about toning down that recklessness you’re so worried about.”

You moved away so Dean would get off your neck and you looked up at him. You could tell that there was very little humanity left in him. If you did this, there would be no strings attached on his end after all.

“So this is the way we’re negotiating?” You asked with a chuckle and Dean smirked.

“I get the feeling you had an agenda wether we have sex or not. But I gotta tell ya… I may be open to listen if this is where it’ll go. Besides, getting you laid might help you lose some of that worry you’ve got over nothing.”

A negotiation… that’s all this would ever be for either of you.

You bit your lip before you reached up and pulled him down by the back of his neck, your lips collided as you closed your eyes. His lips tasted of cinnamon, whisky, and some cherry pie he must’ve consumed sometime that day at the bar. You could smell the alcohol and smoke from the bar but you didn’t care. You felt him nibble on your bottom lip, causing a heat rise to your cheeks. Just how experienced was he with this kind of thing?

The kiss continued to grow more heated and hungry as the two of you discarded your clothes and proceeded to explore one another in ways even you never thought imaginable…

Dean was sitting at the bar, drinking yet again after a bar fight. His knuckles were still a little bloody but he didn’t care. He could feel the stares from the patrons inside but it didn’t matter. He did what he had to do. Some random guy was being a dick to a lady and he had to defend her honor. Maybe it was a little more violent than it should have been but who cares.

He couldn’t ignore the stares of a certain demon that was there, it wasn’t you and it wasn’t Crowley.

However, he was meeting with Crowley and he just found out some news.

“You mean to tell me, you’ve been sending demons to kill me?” He asked, brows narrowing as he shifted in his seat to face the King of Hell.

“To make you sharp. If it weren’t for me sending the demon chum your way you would have been killed. The mark needs to be sustained and you need to get better at using it, otherwise..”

“Otherwise I turn into a full demon, yeah I get it. I got that six weeks ago. You lied, Crowley.” Dean said before taking a sip of his beer before he stood up.

“Who do you think you’re talking to, I’m not a saint so of course I lied.” Crowley said, “Now sit down, will you?” Dean just gave him a look, almost one of defiance as he continued to stand.

“Alright, I needed to keep you sharp for our future, of which we need to talk about.”

“Our future? Really?”

“Our professional future. If I have to spend one more night in this ‘feated party dish of broken dreams and ‘b’ ‘o’ I will cut off my own face.” Dean rolled his eyes at the dramatic remark, but the dramatic reactions are a part of Crowley’s character he supposed.

“Well I don’t know what you’re talking about because I’m good. Hell, I feel fantastic.” He said, holding his arms to his sides while he spoke. He was so sick and tired of people commenting on how they thought he was doing, questioning his skills in combat and whatnot. He wasn’t an idiot and he was tired of being treated like a child.

“Oh really? How many one hit wonders can you sing to death? How many of those stupid challenges on the menu can you consume?”

“Alright listen,” Dean said as he sat back down next to the demon, “the deal was we howl at the moon. No time stamp, no expiration date.”

“And we’ve done all of that. We’ve had our time of fun and all, and I’ll treasure these fleeting moments forever, but this is not what we should be doing for the rest of our lives. It’s time for us to accept what we are and go back to work. You, me, Y/N, the three of us.”

“Oh the Three Musketeers thing? As if…”

“Think of it, the King of Hell and Dean Winchester both by his side. Together the two of us could create the perfect Hell. We aren’t ending the party, just moving the party is all. Just a thought.” Crowley said as he got up.

“Right, and where exactly does Y/N fit into all this? She mentioned something about me being too reckless or whatever. What the hell was that about?”

“First of all, she’s more concerned about whatever none sense you’re putting yourself through than I am. I just gave a suggestion so she could help you get your head on straight. Speak to you in a way you may be able to understand after all.” Dean rolled his eyes.

“I offered a similar job offer, being by my side as well. It gives her something to live for rather than living amongst bloody humans and a Winchester that can’t get a grip of himself.” Crowley grumbled.

“Trust me, she knows I can get a grip of myself.” Dean smirked and the other demon acted like he was going to hurl.

“Please, spare me the details.”

Just as he was about to walk off, he realized there was something he should also mention to Dean, “By the way, I spoke to Moose earlier.”

“Um, what?” Dean asked and he turned around, looking at Crowley and he leaned his back against the bar counter.

“Seems he’s been tracking us for some time now. Apparently he got some phone from one of the demons you killed. Some things were said, perhaps too many things. Sorry about that. He may be here by morning.”

“So you sold me out. Perfect.”

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on with you. Y/N doesn’t know what’s going on with you. I don’t know how she feels but I know that I’m sure as hell tired of it.” He said starting to get ticked off.

“I sold you out, try doing you a damned favor. Everything I’ve done for you and for Y/N has been nothing but a favor. The mark, the First Blade, nursing you back to health, offering you a place by my side has all been a favor. Whether you see it or not.” He said, Dean simply looked at the demon and listened, not really sure if he should take it all to heart.

“Take the night. Think about it. You know where you can find me.”

Dean watched as Crowley walked away to go off who knows where.

He thought about last night with you. He figured that Crowley may have talked to you otherwise he knew you probably wouldn’t have thought to sleep with him in the first place no matter how good the night turned out to be. It was one hell of a way to get him to listen though. But he couldn’t help but wonder if you were against him too, if Sam had tried to contact you like he ended up contacting Crowley.

He stayed at that bar table for a few more hours and saw a few girls here and there he could hit on but then he saw you walking you through the door. He rolled his eyes and turned around to the bar and told the bartender to get him a refill.

“Well you look like Hell.” He heard you say and he scoffed a little.

“Did you know about Crowley’s sons of bitches coming to kill me?” He asked you as you sat next to him.

“He decided to take it upon himself to have a little discussion last night, yes.” He heard you reply and he rolled his eyes again.

“And did you know Sam’s been tracking us and now he’s looking for me?”

“No, he failed to include that detail. But are you surprised? You and Sam have this thing about going after each other for years. Of course he’s after you and you should’ve known that since the day you left.”

Dean hummed a little as he took a sip of his whisky before he looked at you again.

“So, you think I’m reckless, huh? I think Sammy’s on my tail because of those demons I killed so you may actually be right.” He said and you tilted your head a little.

“Was there any doubt?”

“You don’t want me to answer that.”

“Oh Dean… you and your trust issues.” You sighed as he watched you take a sip of your brandy.

“Can you blame me? The sex last night wasn’t even for a good time. It was just so I can dial things down a little.” He grumbled.

“For the record, even if Crowley did had something to do with it, or even if he hadn’t talked to me at all, my point would have still been the same. I’m not a liar like Crowley. I’m right about this and deep down you know it.” He heard you speak and he rolled his eyes with annoyance.

“What are you, my wife?”

“Oh shut up. If you want this howling at the moon thing with you and Crowley to continue, I get that. But a part of enjoying whatever life this is and whatever you’re deciding, at least be smart about it. Everything I said last night was to try and help you before you get yourself in trouble.”

“Fine, fine. What do you want me to say? Thanks for having a heart? You spoke your piece. Can we move on?”

He heard you sigh and when he glanced over at you again, his gaze softened a little, “Why don’t you and I get out of here? Sam’s probably on his way as we speak so we may need to get on the road again. I’d rather not have him find me and take me back to that blasted bunker.”

“You still want me to travel with you after you made the stupid assumption that I stabbed you in the back?”

“Well… Killing those demons by myself won’t be half as fun. Plus you aren’t nearly as big of a pain in the ass as Crowley.”

“Um.. thanks? I think?”

Dean got up and he tipped the bartender for the both of you and you guys got out of the bar so you could go to his Impala.

“You know… I guess I should thank you for picking me up in Ohio. This has probably been the most fun I’ve had in years.” Dean smirked a little.

“Speaking of fun.. I couldn’t help but notice we’ve had another demon with a death wish watching us the whole time we’ve been in the bar today.” He said and he watched you look up at him and it seemed to peek your interest.

“We’ve got some work to do, huh?” You asked and Dean smirked as he pulled out the First Blade.

Both of you turned around and saw a vessel that was about as tall but not quite as muscular as Dean walking towards you with an angel blade.

Dean started to fight off the demon and knocked him out before you managed to teleport the three of you to some abandoned alley where there would be no cameras around. Somewhere that wouldn’t get Dean into any kind of trouble, nice and secluded.

When the demon finally woke up, you held your hand up and pinned the demon up against the wall. Watching the demon struggle was already fun in itself.

“You and Abaddon’s followers… you know Crowley already told us he was sending you. All for the sake of exercise… He thinks you’re nothing but worthless scum. Which… you are, but I bet that makes you feel so small.” You said.

Then Dean walked over to the demon with his blade before he started to stab the demon repeatedly. You released the demon when it was initially wounded. It tried to swing at Dean but then Dean blocked the attack before pinning him against the wall and he stabbed the demon in the neck with the blade.

After a few moments of slicing and dicing with a bit of overkill, Dean stepped away from the body. His clothes were covered in blood and you looked at him. He was relentless but, it was what the mark wanted him to be.

You snapped your fingers and the demon went up in red smoke and you looked at the hunter in front of you.

“Let’s get you cleaned up. We can’t have cameras catching you all bloody.” You insisted and you snapped your fingers yet again and it was like the demon blood turned into red smoke and disappeared as well.

“There. Clean slate. That’s how you have fun killing without leaving evidence behind.” He heard you and he watched you walk away to the car, making him smirk a little.

Then, once you two made it into the Impala again you got into the car. Dean backed the car out of the parking lot and began driving away.

The first part of the ride was silent and Dean was growing lost in thought before he heard you start to speak again, “You know Sam isn’t going to stop looking for you. And you know you won’t be able to run forever.” He assumed you were referring to the discussion of Sam tracking the three of you down to find Dean.

“So?”

“So… what do you plan on doing about it if you don’t want to be found?”

“That may have to be something I think about another time. At this point I’m thinking of changing my number just to stop getting calls from the guy.”

“I just hope you know what you’re doing with your brother…”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Let’s get out of here.”

Hey there!! Thank you for reading if you’ve made it this far in the fanfiction! Sorry this chapter was a little short, it’s more of a filler chapter but there is more Demon Dean to come within the next chapters. Will Sam contact you before Dean changes for good? Or will Dean accept Crowley’s offer to stand by his side as a ruler of Hell?

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