#sam winchester you would have loved dance fever

[noweakergirl]

x

[unalivejournal]

u mentioned only reading kripke era fic do you have a reclist 👀👀👀and if not could you link some of ur faves cuz the stuff that gets circulated the most right now is all like late late seasons fic and kripke era is my favorite too but im having trouble finding that many fics for it or even seasons 6-10 era which im fine with also. its just that like. the last five seasons were so bad that it makes fic generally worse too because people have to jump off of just Thee stupidest plot choices no matter how good their prose skills might be. but anyway yea if u have recs that would be awesome :)

hi anon i was thinking abt making a reclist and u just gave me the perfect excuse thank u

jess adamilligan’s kripke era fic recs

from making this ive learned that i never bookmark ANYTHING. sorry all of these r like….. 10k and under. i DO read longer fic but i don’t have any kripke era longfics bookmarked & tbh i prefer short oneshots

season one gen

disclaimer because it’s unfortunately needed: NONE of these are w*ncest! they’re all completely tagged as gen and i did not read them with the intent of consuming ship content.

Coaster Park by fogsrollingin, 10.4k, G, gen

Coaster Park had been experiencing an unusually high frequency of technical difficulties. Dean wouldn't have pulled a shift treating nauseated, heat-stroked, or dehydrated park-goers for that if he could've helped it, but when 'technical difficulties' were accompanied by rumors of things moving and stopping on their own in front of the operators' eyes, Dean had to throw down.

No historical tragedies or disasters in the area, ectoplasm, or EMF. Dean's only lead was a battered-looking kid that'd been coming to the park every day since it'd all started.

really interesting au fic! slightly ‘it’s a terrible life’. dean winchester is a hunter/EMT and sam wesson is a college kid destined to die on a roller coaster ride.

two basic motivating forces by sahwen, 7.8k, T, gen

He can’t cry, it’s not allowed; even as a child he was hushed into silence, whether his tears were from a long car ride or a late night or a raging fever. It’s never been an option, it’s never been an available outlet, and it’s not about to start being one just because he’s having an emotional breakdown on the bathroom floor.

Sam isn't only afraid of clowns.

BIG emetophobia tw (both for graphic depictions of nausea/vomiting and for the fact that this fic is about sam suffering from emetophobia) for this one but it’s my favorite sickfic. portrays anxiety over getting sick really well and is a fascinating examination of the different ways that sam’s fear of loss of control can manifest itself. also has lovely brothers content <3

Let’s Start at the Very Beginning (Remix of Just as Easy as 123) by nwspaprtaxis, 4k, T, gen

Dean’s functionally illiterate and Sam’s determined to remedy it...

PLEASE READ THIS ONE god it’s so sweet. dean never learned how to read properly due to his nomadic childhood and sam teaches him how.

dean/cas

Broadway Musical by Griftings, 9k, M, m/m

This is the day that marked the Holy and Blessed Union of Dean Winchester and Jo Harvelle.

The merging of prominent bloodlines is always a grand occurrence, but breeding pedigree hunter families like Winchester and Harvelle is something to be rejoiced. It is also something to be meticulously planned, which thankfully the Host is very good at.

Or, the romantic comedy where Dean Winchester and Jo Harvelle are destined to get married, Castiel is given the task of playing matchmaker and fails terribly, the entire Heavenly Host becomes a sitcom audience, God warns against male pregnancy, and Jimmy Novak is incredibly unimpressed with angels in general.

somewhat of a fandom classic and the humor holds up wonderfully. a very silly fic completed with commentary from angel radio throughout the entire thing.

Sappiest Season by dollsome, 2.7k, G, m/m

In which Dean and Cas have to stop an evil Christmas tree (like you do), and it requires a little fake couple action.

hilarious little s5ish fic. one of the first i read when getting back into spn. i don’t want to spoil anything but this is my favorite pick me up and i still giggle randomly whenever i think about it

The (Mostly Accidental) Courtship of Dean Winchester by tuesday

Angelic marriage rites were never intended to go quite like this.

another fandom classic. ik this one is recced a lot but how could i NOT include it. dean and cas get married (mostly by accident) and they’re huge cunts about it

the one thing in the galaxy god didn't have his eyes on by prufrock, 2.4k, T, gen + m/m

“Wait,” Dean says. “Let me get this right. You can fly, right—you can teleport—but you can’t drive a car?”

or, after the events of S5E03 "Free to Be You and Me," Dean teaches Cas to drive. Cas finds it stressful

im always a sucker for a good ftbyam fic. also i can’t drive so. resonation

So Says The Sword by komodobits, 85k, E, m/m

The briefing was simple: ‘Stand guard over the Michael Sword until the battle is ready to commence. Await further instructions.’

Castiel doesn’t mind working security duty; he was briefed shortly after the initial salvation of the Sword from the pit, and again before taking up his position. He knows what to do. However, it’s easy to forget that the green room isn’t real. Time moves differently there, the space ever-changing to make a prison of mountains, cathedrals, salt flats, orchards, and whatever Castiel was led to believe about Heaven’s greatest weapon—Dean Winchester is something entirely unexpected.

NO introduction neede. i think everyone on spntumblr has read this already but still. if you haven’t then i am demanding that you read it NOW. tbh i’m just adding this one so that i have at least one long fic here 😭

the weight by @myaimistrue, 3.5k, T, gen + m/m

“Do you…” Bobby sighs. “Listen, Dean, do you have something you wanna tell me?”

It’s the conversational equivalent of being punched in the stomach.

Or, Dean works through some things with Bobby's help.

WHEN I SAW THE USERNAME I GASPED I HAD NO IDEA THIS WAS U. anyway i Love coming out fics idk why i just do. the world is ending and dean comes out to bobby

canticles by 2street2car, 10.3k, T, m/m

“But you know something? If I couldn’t get you laid, at least I gave you a good first date.”

feat: footsies at a Ruby Tuesday, stargazing, the recreation of an iconic "Dirty Dancing" scene (no, not that one—the other one), and practicing for When You're With A Girl.

another ftbyam fic that skepticalfrog (i believe?) recommended a while back. made me feel at least 28 new emotions

Epilogue by JayneL, 28k, E, m/m

Bobby is here, swearing somewhere above and behind him; and Dean is here, talking about 2014 like it's a foreign country; and Sam is here, and is not Lucifer. Which means-- Bobby is here, swearing somewhere above and behind him; and Dean is here, talking about 2014 like it's a foreign country; and Sam is here, and is not Lucifer. Which means--

Cas is no longer when he was. Lucifer sent him back.

Coda to 'The End'.

2014 cas gets sent back to 2009, feelings ensue etc. i don’t remember all the details of this one bc it’s been a while but it’s really good

bonus

currently reading

Fragile As We Lie by perilously, 11k, E, f/f

Dragging Bela Talbot out of perdition isn't so much a decision as it is a frantic choice based on gut instinct. Her soul is bright, if fractured, and Anna yearns to do good again after the perversion of free will that immediately preceded her death.

Bela's no ordinary human, though; she's prickly and damaged and beautiful, and Anna doesn't want to leave her side. So maybe they can figure out how to navigate post-resurrection, post-Apocalypse-that-wasn't Earth together.

[according-to-the-laura]

StackedNatural Day 93: 8x11, 15x10

StackedNatural Masterpost: [x]

January 23, 2022

8x11: LARP and the Real Girl

Written by: Robbie Thompson

Directed by: Jeannot Szwarc

Original air date: January 23, 2013

Plot Synopsis:

When two LARPers turn up dead, Sam and Dean investigate the fictional world of Moondoor, where they find a familiar face.

Features:

Drawn and quartered in bed, Garth puts the Winchesters on a case, Charlie is the Queen of Moons, Dean is a nerd, Dean gets to dress up, Charlie’s got game, real fairy magic.

My Thoughts:

This episode is SO much fun, I love Charlie and I love Dean having an excuse to cut loose a little bit and explore something he would never otherwise get the chance to try. There’s a few cheap cuts at how cringey people who LARP are, but all in all it was kind of sweet once Dean got into it.

Dean is a nerd! This is established! It’s criminal that they never got sucked into a D&D game and had to play the game to get out. This episode also has what @meg3point0 calls “the Mint Condition Effect”, wherein Dean gets hotter when the narrative allows him to have interests and hobbies outside of hunting. I have to agree, he looks great this episode specifically when he’s in his costume and smiling and getting to play. He has more fun LARPing then we ever see him have at a bar (and he never gets to do it again, which is a bummer but don’t think about htat right now”.

The Belladonna pornstar moment is so much funnier than I remember it being. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen this episode, I mostly remembered that joke through gifsets, but Jared’s reaction is what really sells it. Understated but it hits.

I like that the LARPers are all like, accountants and attorneys. I don’t LARP but I do play a lot of TTRPGs and honestly most of the people I play with have very serious, boring-sounding jobs. The rest of them are theatre people, but I’m a theatre people too, so it kind of pollutes the data pool.

Notable Lines:

“These kids today, with their texting and murder.”

“I like my life here. I wanna stay and fight for it.”

“In this life, you can’t afford attachments. You just gotta let go.”

“I’m the one who saves damsels in distress around here.”

Laura’s (completely subjective) Episode Rating: 9.3

IMdB Rating: 8.8

15x10: The Heroes' Journey

Written by: Andrew Dabb

Directed by: John F. Showalter

Original air date: January 23, 2020

Plot Synopsis:

Sam and Dean hit the road to help an old friend, but it appears that their luck may have finally run out and they are the ones who may be in need of rescue.

Features:

Monster cage match, Charlie’s infinite credit card is broken, Chuck is petty, Dean’s anesthesia-induced dance-based fever dream, Dean is lactose intolerant, Garth is so strong, where to go when your luck’s gone bad.

My Thoughts:

I really like this episode with the caveat that it also makes me extremely pissed off because it sets up a bunch of stuff for the end of the series that it will completely fail to follow through on. So the episode itself is good but it contributes to the shittiness of the finale.

I haven’t decided if Garth was always a Dean foil or not, but he’s certainly one in this episode. Garth has the life that Dean could have if he were to get out of his own way and go for the things that he actually wants rather than what he thinks he’s supposed to do. Garth gets the family and the house, Garth gets to dance, Garth gets to be happy. In a beautiful Stacked twist, Garth echoes in this episode what Dean said in yesterday’s Stacked episode - he thought that he would die young, that he would never get something as nice as a home and a family. He’s on the other side of the dream that Dean has always thought he would never be able to have.

The dance sequence is chock full of symbolism - there was this great post a few months ago but once again I can’t find it, so I’ll summarize my own thoughts, which echo what a lot of people online have pointed out.

First there’s a good chance Cole Porter, the singer, was either bi or gay - he was married to a woman for 34 years while also several affairs with men. Dancing is a very common stand-in for either love or sex. Garth is there in the beginning, mainly to show Dean what to do, and then he vanishes - Dean throws away his prop cane and looks for a partner, but all he can find is a lamp. Cas is often associated with lamps and other sources of light - I’m thinking specifically of the scene in On the Head of a Pin where he looks up as the streetlamp gives him a halo.

Basically, Dean could have Garth’s life with Cas if he let himself dance. And he always thought that he could be a good dancer! He’s finally accepting that he could have that life! Which is why I get really righteously angry when I think about this episode too much, because why on Earth would you set that up and then impale him on a piece of rebar at 43? Why wouldn’t he get to have his little house and family and dance partner? Andrew Dabb, answer for your crimes or we duel at dawn.

Aside from my righteous fury, this episode is genuinely pretty funny. Garth is inherently hilarious no matter what he does (the “hey Dean, it’s Garth” gag has no reason to be as funny as it is). He named his kids to burn Dean. He gets to have his own little heist moment. I’m obsessed with him.

It is absolutely brutal, and wildly out of character, for Garth to blow up everyone in that warehouse. Yes, they were all monsters, but we know for a fact that no one except the brothers were coerced into fighting. They were consensually trying to make a few extra bucks and enjoy a form of entertainment that they had all agreed to, even if it isn’t palatable to our heroes. And Garth is a werewolf married to a werewolf. He knows that not all monsters are monstrous. As @meg3point0 wistfully put it, “Dabb is philosophically incomprehensible. I miss Ben Edlund.”

Notable Lines:

“Yeah, better than I ever thought I’d get. I mean, hunting – I figured I’d be dead before I’m 40.”

“You know, I always thought I could be a good dancer if I wanted to be.”

Laura’s (completely subjective) Episode Rating: 8.5

IMdB Rating: 8.2

In Conclusion:

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[cajunquandary]

Hands that Heal

Link: (coming soon to Ao3)

Summary: Sometimes all you need is a little push the right direction...

Created for: @negans-lucille-tblr SPN Secret Santa Fic Exchange

Rating: 18+ only

Pairing: Dean x OFC (Jay)

Warnings: Jealous Dean, fluff, smut, smidge of angst, medical IV (briefly), unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap the willy)

Wordcount: 3.8k

A/N: Happy Holidays, @jay-and-dean! I was so ecstatic to have received your name and hope that my ramblings make you smile a little.

.

It’s a funny thing, the way everyone goes on about the eyes being windows to the soul. Of course, they can be very telling, and if you ever catch yourself getting lost in those of the Winchesters, how could you believe anything else? Or perhaps you are more like Jay. 

Jay has been with the Winchesters for quite some time. She’s been lost in those eyes. And she’s been found. The pure green folds of Dean’s have scooped her up, swaddled her, saved her. So have Sam’s hazel, but not in quite the same way. Not that either brother knows. Only Cas. 

Cas has seen the way her deep brown eyes linger just a little longer than they ought to, can feel the ache in her chest. There are times when Jay meets the angel’s gaze just afterwards but looks away just as quickly. They both know, but they won’t talk about it. And that’s okay. 

But for Jay, she can see beyond the green. Beyond the freckles and blushing pensive lips, the curve of his jaw, the gently rolling hills of his chest and arms. She traces the majestic waves and ripples beneath his warm skin with only her eyes and her heart. They come to rest just past strong wrists and fall like weighted feathers upon Dean’s weathered hands. 

You see, that’s where the soul really reveals itself closest to visible flesh. Each scar and busted knuckle tell a story. The pattern of freckles and tan lines speak of years in the sun. The calluses of his palm and fingertips disclose a rough life, a tough job. They are toned with skill, accurate in all things. They can field strip a gun and put it back together in the blink of an eye, tie complicated knots with dexterity, bait a hook and cast a line without hesitation, and even mold and create custom parts for Baby as they fix her up.

And yet, the skin between those marks is soft, no longer as elastic as it once was, but still full of life and love. The very muscles that hold together the bone and sinew have the capacity to both take life, and give it. Jay has watched them rip apart monsters and gently caress and hold victims within the same minute. 

Such an extreme duality shouldn’t be so neatly wrapped up in one man, but it was. It was both Dean’s light and his curse. Jay shivered as she hesitated just a moment too long on the fantasy of those thick muscled, deadly, yet oh-so-gentle hands, imagining how they might tickle as they might glide over her smooth skin. Of course, Dean notices. 

“There’s no way you’re cold, Jay. It’s a hundred friggin degrees outside!”

Right. Jay had to remind herself that they were on a case. No distractions. “Yeah, I-I’m good. Just got a chill because, ya know, we’re next to human refrigerators.” She swallowed hard and clenched her teeth to help ground herself back to reality. 

It really was hotter than a witch’s tit out there and not much cooler inside the mortuary. Dean continued to read silently from some forms on the coroner’s clipboard before licking his thumb and index finger to turn the page. Heat washed over Jay, spreading like drunken honey from her scalp all the way to her toes. She tried to steady her breathing, remain in persona as a stoney FBI agent, but the hot red of her cheeks was giving her away. 

She tore her gaze away to inspect the body. Not that anything she made mental note of would stick at this point. Dean cleared his throat and pulled the clipboard closer to his face before setting his thumbnail between his teeth the way he always did when he was laser-focused on something. She only caught a glimpse out of the corner of her eye, but it was the final bit to break her. 

With a huff, Jay exclaimed a little too loudly, “There’s nothing here for us, Dean. I’ll be in the car.” Her legs carried her much too quickly out the swinging doors and up the stairs. 

“Um, okay?” Dean grumbled to himself before setting the paperwork back in its place and following Jay. “What the hell got into her?” 

Jay was glad to leave Texas. Mid-July heat drained her, along with every plant and tree scorched under the unrelenting and searing white sun. The world around them was bleached and bathed in the almost-eerie too-bright light. Well, everything except what existed in the shadows of the Impala. The sparse countryside rolled away mile by mile as time ticked by with every song on Dean’s favorite cassette. 

The air conditioning just couldn’t keep up, so Dean rolled down the windows. Jay tied up her locks in frustration, leaving a messy excuse for a bun resting on top of her head. The leather seats did nothing to help as she sweat through her shorts until she was nearly sliding off the seat. 

“How much longer until Oklahoma?” She sighed. For the third time that hour.

Dean shot a glare in her direction before settling his attention back on the highway. The heat was getting to him too, and even with sunglasses on, spots were gathering in his vision and impairing him with every piercing flash of the sun off of the windshields of passing cars. “Jay, I swear if you ask me ‘are we there yet’ one more time, I’m going to friggin pull over.”

“Ugh, FINE.” Jay wished to be nearly anywhere but here. Resignation set in and she slumped in the seat and let her bare feet hang out the window, crossing her arms. 

Dean turned the music louder, trying to drown out his own misery rather than her. He began to belt out slightly off-key to “Dazed and Confused.”

Jay cracked a half smile but hid it from Dean. 

He rapped out the solos on the steering wheel, his hands keeping perfect time as they danced upon the taught leather. 

Maybe pulling over wouldn’t be a half-bad idea, Jay thought. 

She closed her eyes, allowing the steady rumble of the engine to echo through her as hot wind whipped through the cab. She cracked them open again just long enough to witness the stretch of tight skin over Dean’s knuckles, the way the washed out wilderness blurred past behind them and accentuated the tan he’d gained from driving. 

The image was burned into her mind. To help pass the time, Jay granted herself permission to linger on it, explore it. Despite the heat outside, a new, different heat grew steadily in her core, stirring somewhere deep between her heart and soul. 

Not too long after, the Impala slowed and turned into a run down gas station--the first one in an hour. As Dean filled up, Jay took the opportunity to find shelter in some air conditioning and hopefully an ice-cold drink. Inside the store was no better. In fact, it was worse. The air was still and thick with humidity from the cooler, which buzzed and whirred as if it were possessed. 

“Sorry, Miss. Cooler is out. Hot drinks only,” a disheveled and sweat-drenched employee slouched over the register. 

“Thanks… got any pie?” Jay decided that if they had to drink hot water, they may as well have some comfort food. 

“Whatever we got is over there.” The clerk motioned with his eyes, no strength to even lift a finger. 

Jay stalked back to the car empty handed and more pissed than ever. If the summer heat was something tangible, she could just strangle it. Kick it, punch it. Anything to fight it. 

Dean finished up just in time, careful not to touch the scorching black paint and chrome on the car. “What, you go pee and come out with nothing? I’m dyin’ here!”

Jay snapped. “NO DRINKS. NO PIE. NOTHING. K?!” 

Dean was taken aback by the outburst. It was then he noticed the sunken look and dark circles under her eyes and the red sheen over her face and neck. She was getting pale and wasn’t sweating anymore.

“Okay, you’re right. I’m sorry.” His brows knit as he drove slowly through the town, hoping for a decent motel to rest at for a while. Fortunately, he didn’t have to wait but a few blocks before The Moonlight Motel came into view. 

Pay by the hour may not be the greatest, but at least it was cheap and would likely be empty this time of day. 

Jay was losing touch and the following events were a blur. The next thing she truly could grasp and remember was lying mostly clothed in a cold shower. Dean sat facing her atop the closed toilet seat, a worried face perched upon clasped hands. Still a bit out of it, Jay relaxed into the cool water as it slowly washed the fever down the drain. The world slipped away, replaced by a gentle, dark nothing.

When Jay stirred, the room was too dim to still be day and shadows were held at bay by only a small lamp on the far side of the dingy room. She couldn’t remember how she got there at first, but as she woke, things gradually came back to her. 

Dean had practically carried her to the room. He’d carefully set her in the bathtub and removed her belt, overshirt and boots. He’d turned on the cold water and at first, she’d protested, but slipped in and out of consciousness. He’d retrieved ice from the machine down the hall and poured it over her as he constantly monitored her vitals and temperature. 

He’d withdrawn her, a soaking wet dead weight, stripped away the sopping clothes while careful not to look where it would make her uncomfortable, and buttoned her up in the softest flannel he had. 

Jay glanced down at her right hand, as it felt stiff and sore. A needle was taped there, no longer hooked to the empty bag of saline, taped down and left in place just in case. Jay wiggled slightly when she realized that her other arm had gone quite numb beneath her and--Dean?

His soft snores disrupted as she shifted, equally mortified and elated to be nestled into the crook of his arm. Dean woke and rubbed his eyes, as if pretending he’d been awake the whole time. His voice was low and gravely from sleep. 

“Hey, how are you feeling?” He looked down at her, so small in his arms, furious with himself for not taking better care of her. 

“M-good,” Jay choked out, completely entranced by being so close to the hunter. Close enough for their breath to mix and his cologne to shroud her senses. Close enough to see the flecks of golds and blues and dark greens in the folds of his irises. Her breath caught and she shivered. Again. Jay mentally kicked herself for that tell. “Thank you… Sorry I was being a brat.”

“No. No, this is on me. You were sun-sick. I’m sorry. I should’ve--”

Jay put a finger to his parted lips with only the intention to stop Dean from blaming himself (like always,) but the touch sent electric pulses through her fingertips and set fire to every nerve in her body. They were impossibly soft and warm. 

Dean caught her hand tenderly in his before she could pull away and planted a slow kiss on her knuckles. He watched anxiously as her pupils dilated and her breathing became more shallow. Pulling their hands out of the way, Dean leaned forward just slightly and planted a firm, reassuring kiss to her forehead. 

Jay’s mind was a mess. This was more than familial. Were they crossing a line? Or maybe it just meant that Dean was comfortable with her, and concerned. But even as the thoughts swirled, her lips had a mind of their own. As Dean traced his nose down hers until their heads were pressed together, Jay angled upward to meet him. 

When their lips locked, there was no more question. Jay loved Dean, and he knew and he loved her back. It was soft and sweet, with their eyes shut tight, just exploring and tasting and sucking gently. 

The remainder of the trip back to the bunker was spent with Dean humming, a stupid smile plastered on his face, and Jay resting across the front seat, her head in his lap. Dean stroked her soft, brown hair adoringly. The night was much cooler and comfortably dark with only dim, scattered stars to blanket the hunters. 

~

Everything was different after the motel. The kiss. 

Almost six months had gone by and for the most part, they’d been wonderful. Jay spent more time in Dean’s room than her own, and the hunts had been good so far, like old times. 

Until this one. 

Jay, Sam, and Dean were doing a bit of recon at a local bar to dig up some answers, or at the very least, a lead. Jay had dressed to stun, as usual. (After all, men’s lips tended to be a bit more loose around a pretty girl.)

Dean was hovering. Everytime Jay got close to some useful information, Dean would scare off the burly locals with a death glare. 

Until this one. 

This man was built like a tank. He towered even over Sam by a few inches and dwarfed Jay in comparison. Sam eyed her uncomfortably from a few tables over, but he always got like that when someone was bigger than him. Dean didn’t adjust his tactics at all, and when the big guy had enough of Dean dancing around him and bumping his chair with an insincere, “sorry, man,” the guy stood up and puffed out his chest. Dean moved to both protect Jay and get in a prime fighting position, but Jay yanked him away by the collar of his jacket faster than he could complain. 

She didn’t stop until they were completely outside the bar, then shoved him into the soot-covered brick wall. Dean opened his mouth to spout something pigheaded, but stopped himself as he felt the chill of her glare more than the chill of the snow flurries swirling around them. 

���Would you just trust me to do my job? What is your problem?” 

“I do! I just--” Dean waved in a flustered motion, unable to find the words. All he knew was that when she got a little too... comfortable... with anyone, he saw red. 

Still, Jay seemed to understand. She reached up and held his face firmly between her palms, forcing him to maintain eye contact. 

“I’m yours. I know that you worry, what you fear. I’m not going to leave you. Ever. No one can ever take me from you, either, because I’ll haunt your ass and you know it.”

Dean’s bottom lips quivered just barely, and he quickly bit it back. “Don’t you even joke about that,” his voice broke. 

“De- I’m right here, okay?”

 He nodded and leaned into her until his face was buried in her neck. He squeezed his arms around her, never wanting to know what it would feel like to have to let go. 

A muffled “let’s go back to the motel” emanated from somewhere within Jay’s scarf and she nodded in response. 

Dean grasped her hand as they walked the short distance back to the rented room. Jay stopped dead in her tracks, eyes wide and pointing over to the edge of the woods. A startled “Dean!” escaped her, and Dean dropped her hand and withdrew his gun, ready for a fight. His plumes of hot breath on the air slowed to nearly nothing as he steadied himself and visually searched the area. 

What had she seen?

Before he could ask, something hard, round and icey struck the back of his shoulder with decent force. He spun on his heels and lowered his weapon to find Jay wide-mouthed and laughing, another snowball forming in her hands. 

“Son of a bitch! You want to play dirty, huh?” Dean howled. He holstered the pistol and raced to close the distance between them. With a squeal and a grunt, the two ended up in a heap in the wet, mushy snow. 

Jay managed to end up on top of him and leaned in for a deep kiss. She could feel the smile on his lips as his tongue graced across hers. When at last they came up for air, Dean was moving his arms and legs haphazardly. 

“A slush-angel?” Jay giggled at the sorry creation. 

“What, my art not good enough for you?” Dean retorted while wearing a shit-eating grin. “And no, actually, it’s a Yeti.” 

The wet chill began to sink into their bones, so they hurried onward. Dean fiddled with the key card but the lock gave him fits. 

“C’mon, Dean! I’m freezing to death!” 

“Yeah, yeah, me too. Hold your horses.”

At last, the door swung open and Jay rushed inside, leaving Dean to close and lock the door behind them. She’d already started stripping off the wet outer layers when Dean approached. With every step bringing him closer, his heartbeat rose and he wrestled out of his own layers. 

Jay moved to lift off her shirt, but Dean covered her hands with his, intertwining their fingers. He stood against her, and in one swift move, wrapped both of her wrists in a single firm grip behind her, and with the other, pressed an open palm against her belly. 

Jay gasped, her knees going weak with what she knew was coming next. Despite the weather, his touch was toasty. Coarse skin slid over her soft flesh, causing a friction that left Jay needing more. Heat flushed her cheeks and pooled deep in her stomach. Dean melted with every shuttered breath of hers as he stroked up and down beneath the fabric of her shirt, making sure to linger over the more sensitive areas as she twitched and bit down on her lip. 

Dean massaged her breasts with skilled fingers for a few moments, but a sensual twist of her nipple sent Jay reeling backwards, supported only by Dean’s other arm. With her head tilted back, Dean took the opportunity to kiss and suck and nip zig-zagged lines over the most delicate parts of her neck and along her collarbone. 

Jay squirmed and panted with lust-blown pupils and a cry just on the tip of her tongue. Dean’s grasp only steadied her against him more until he found himself grinding into her, faint moans already filling the air. The growing bulge in his pants drove Jay mad. She wanted to be covered by him, skin on skin, needed him inside her. 

“D-Dean please, please…” Jay whimpered and attempted to wiggle out of his hold once more to no avail. 

“Please, what, pretty girl? Tell me what you want.” Dean breathed against her ear, just above a whisper. He sucked and nibbled in the hollow behind it.

A shudder wracked Jay, but this time, she didn’t mind the tell. She had him. He was hers. But right then, she needed more and she knew he was holding back. “Unnghh, please… need you, now,” she managed.

“Okay, Baby,” Dean crashed his lips to hers and shifted until Jay was suspended in the air and straddling him as he walked them towards the bed. He dropped her playfully and they scrambled to see who could lose their remaining clothes the fastest.

In a fray of scattered clothing, Dean climbed on top of her, comfortably crushing Jay into the lumpy mattress. He let his full weight rest upon her. 

“Stop it,” she giggled as his scruff tickled her cheek. 

“Why don’t you make me?” Dean grinned between planting kisses everywhere he could reach. 

Before he could react, Jay had him rolled onto the floor. She straddled him and tried to concentrate despite his hard cock resting perfectly between her hot, dripping folds. Her hair created a curtain around their faces, blocking out everything but that moment and the sensations it was riddled with. Dean’s eyes closed and mouth opened like a fish out of water. His breaths were shallow and shaky. Jay fought the urge to lift her hips just so, knowing that if she did, and she came back down upon him, his throbbing dick would line up just perfectly… and they’d end up on the floor for the remainder of their romp. 

She rose to her feet, grasping his hand and pulling him up with her. Dean’s eyes were full of question, longing. His cheeks were flushed and hot to the touch. He was melting at every touch and could do nothing about it but wait for her. 

Jay led him over to the chair and pushed him into it. He nearly tripped on his way down. That stupid smile she loved so much spread across his face again as he dug his fingers into her hips and pulled her onto him. She let out a yelp as the broad head of his large cock spread her entrance, dripping with precum, and buried itself deep inside until her walls stretched almost uncomfortably. The shock of his size was something she’d never get used to. Each time was like the first, the same butterflies swarming in her stomach, the same jolts of pure lust burning through her veins.

Dean gasped and held her close to him, trembling hands roaming her back and squeezing her ass. Jay carded her hands through his hair and pulled just slightly at the nape of his neck as he whined in approval. Those laments made her head swim and her limbs weak. Drunk on Dean, she adjusted her position until he was sunk deep into the spot that was just right, then began to move back and forth, slow and steady. Dean’s breaths stuttered and his head fell back, leaving his neck open for Jay to take into her mouth. 

“Fuck--Baby you feel s-so good,” he stammered between increasing moans and grunts. She could see in his eyes that he was losing control.

Jay cried out as he began to fight her movements with his own, pounding up in all the right spots. She arched her back as the coil wound tighter… higher… tighter… higher... until she shattered in his arms, his name and curses spilling from her gaping mouth. 

He held her through it and chased his own orgasm, sucking a mark onto her chest before he spilled into her. Everyone would know she was his, and only his. Her walls clenched in waves and he pulsed within them, his delicious sounds filling her ears as she came down. 

Jay crashed her lips into his, and he returned with fervor until they were both completely breathless. Wrapped there in Dean’s arms, Jay was home. 

No, nothing was ever the same after that first kiss. And that was okay. It was amazing.

.

.

WAYWARD PEEPS:

@carryonmywaywardcaptain @manawhaat @supernatural-jackles @jensen-jarpad @wheresthekillswitch @bummblebeeblue @nothin-after-79-blog @docharleythegeekqueen @fangirl-writing-fiction @taste-of-dean @impala-dreamer @arryn-nyxx @idk-life01 @attorneyl @deathtonormalcy56 @xwing-baby @wonder-cole @itsangelpie @thinkinghardhardlythinking

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ALL ABOUT THAT DEAN:

@akshi8278 @will-winchester

@waywardbaby* the smut was heavily inspired by The Scene. Tagged as promised lol

Tag List now open!

[jawritter]

Twelve Days Of Christmas

Chapter 7

Summary: Dean never realized that Y/N missed Christmas until he turned off an annoying Christmas song on the radio on the way home from a hunt, now he will make it his personal mission to give her the Christmas he misses so much, and if he plays his cards right, maybe he will give her what he has wanted to give her for so many years, himself.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Written For: @spnchristmasbingo​​​​​​

Square Field: decorating

Word Count: 1564

Warnings: Fluff, don’t want to give to much away after that.

A/N: This is to help me catch up on my SPN Christmas Bingo card lol Chapter 8 will post tomorrow! I knew chapter will post every day until Christmas! I know I’m insane lol. This is a real time fic collection and all mistakes will be my own! Please do not copy my work! Hope you all enjoy these!!

**SERIES MASTERLIST**   **MASTERLIST**   **BECOME A PATREON**

You don’t remember the last time you slept that well. For some reason, you were beyond exhausted by the time you went to bed last night, probably the alcohol, but still, you appreciated the decent night's sleep nonetheless. 

Normally your sleep, much like most hunters, was plagued with nightmares. Since Dean and yourself had been sharing a bed in the Cabin you, as well as Dean, seemed to be nightmare-free. Even if he did sleep as far away from you as the bed would allow, arms folded like a corpse. 

Rolling over with a sigh you take in the empty bed next to you. It was cold, Dean had been up for some time. The darker than usual sky outside told you that you were probably in for another day indoors, so why was he out of bed already? 

You brush off the feeling of rejection that tried to slip its way into your subconscious. If Dean had a problem with you, then why the hell would he have gone so far and done all this for you? It didn’t make sense for someone who didn’t like someone to want to spend this much time with them, doing all the nice things Dean had done for you over the last few days. 

“Calm the fuck down Y/N, and stop overthinking,” you scold yourself, kicking off the covers and making your way into the living area of the cabin in search of Dean. 

As soon as you descend the little set of stairs you find him easily, sitting with his coffee cup in his hands, and eyes staring at the fire he had going in the fireplace, the tree standing in the corner, put together and fluffed in the corner of the room, waiting on you to decorate later today. 

You stood there watching him for a moment, with his sleep tossed hair and sweatpant clad legs spread out comfortably as his eyes watched the hungry flames dance over the logs, consuming them and turning them into ash. 

You reach for your phone in your pocket, and quickly snap a picture of him. Even with the tired, whether-worn look on his face, he was still just as breathtakingly handsome as he was when he was in his late 20’s. Maybe even more so now. That boy you met long ago had been replaced with the man you now loved today. It was done through fire, and torment, the broken pieces that were once discarded, now at the hands of the potter inlaid with gold and turned into a beautiful piece of kintsugi pottery. Unique in his own right, and heartbreakingly beautiful; made so by his own brokenness.   

As you descend the last step his eyes drifted from the fireplace to you, and a warm smile spread across his face, masking the tired expression from before. 

“What are you doing up so early,” he asks as you drift your way to the coffee pot, pouring yourself a generous amount before taking your place next to him on the couch.  

You shrug, knowing his eyes were still watching you closely as you crossed your legs and took a sip of the dark, steaming liquid, savoring its bitter taste on your tongue. “I woke up, and you were already up, so why not get up too.”

Dean hummed in response, offering you the blanket that was on the back of the couch. 

“Got her all setup,” he said, nodding in the direction of the tree. “All we got to do is decorate. It’s gonna be another snow day, so I figured we’d spend today making this place look a little more festive. I know it’s a piss poor day 7, but tomorrow we can get back into more exciting stuff once the snowstorm clears.”

Sitting your coffee down on the little table in front of the two of you, you take his hand in yours, determined to get through to him. 

“Dean, not every day has to be some grand plan all day! I’m perfectly happy decorating the tree and just spending the day with you. When’s the last time we actually decorated for Christmas? Don’t feel like you have to keep me busy. You’ve done so much for me already.”

Dean’s eyes drifted across your face, searching, he was always so hard on himself, he was always trying to carry everyone else’s burdens, it was unfair that no one ever tried to carry him. 

“I just want this to be the Christmas you deserve, Y/N/N.”

“Dean, you’ve already given me that, and so much more. I’ll never forget this, even if I’m lucky enough to live old and develop Altimeters, I will still remember this time here with you. It means that’s much to me.” 

Dean’s eyes traveled to your lips, you didn’t realize you had been gravitating closer to him as you were sitting here talking to him, but right now you were so close to him you could feel his coffee kissed breath fanning over your skin. 

Before your brain could even process what to do next, Dean deliberately leaned closer to you and tentatively captured your lips in his, giving you a sweet, slow kiss that was almost not even there, but at the same time, it was enough to set your heart soaring around the room and light your world on fire all at once. It took a second for your brain to catch up with your body, but as soon as your lips begin to move slowly along with his, he deepened the kiss, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you closer to him, throwing everything he had into it; slipping his tongue across yours as your lips parted with his own, stealing your breath away from you. 

When he pulled away from you he kept his eyes close and leaned his forehead against your own, both of you breathing as if you had run a marathon, the room itself even felt charged with a current of sorts, igniting around you like the air before a southern thunderstorm. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he confessed earnestly, and looking into his green eyes, still pale in color from the morning light you thought surely you must have fallen and hit your head on a hunt, or this was all some fever-induced dream. 

But it wasn’t a dream or a fever-induced hallucination. This was real, Dean was real, and this whole thing was hanging entirely on your acceptance or rejection. He’d taken a chance, and Dean was quite fragile when it came to his emotions, you knew this was the last time you would ever get this chance again if you pushed him away. 

“And I’ve wanted you to do it since the day I met you.”

The wide, relieved smile that spread across Dean’s face could honestly have stopped the world from moving in its tracks if they saw it. Before his lips could reconnect with your own, his phone began to ring loudly on the coffee table, cutting through the still air around you. Sam’s name flashing in bright letters across the screen. 

“You better get that,” you tell him, looking at the clear dilemma developing in his features. “It might be important.”

Reluctantly, Dean reached over, grabbing the phone and answering quickly. “Make it quick Sammy.”

You watched as Dean’s features transformed from annoyed to confusion, and your nerves started to get the best of you. 

“Sure, that’s fine Sammy, what time?... Okay great...see you then.” 

Dean hung up the phone, leaning over and placing another tentative kiss to your lips before lacing his fingers with yours.

“We better get started decorating,” he said, watching the relief spread across your features as he did, and his heart swelled at the idea that you still wanted to say with him, that he hadn’t just overstepped and ruined everything, he just couldn’t wait any longer. 

“What did Sam want?” you ask, still a little concerned. 

“He and Eileen are going to drive up here to see us tomorrow, he swears nothing’s wrong, he just wants to tell us in person. So I figure we get this place in shape, maybe fix a little family dinner and our Christmas with the family tomorrow, that way Christmas morning It can be just me and you.”

A smile tugged at the corner of your lips as you reached for the box of decorations sitting at the foot of the coffee table, and handed Dean the string of lights to untangle. 

“Well, looks like we better get started then.” 

Dean grabbed the lights from your hands, kissing you quickly again before starting to work on the ball, a new excitement hanging in the air around the cabin. Whatever Sam had to say, good or bad, Dean seemed really excited, and his excitement was contagious. 

Or was it the fact that you were certain your heart would never come down from floating around the raters from that kiss? You didn’t even care what it meant at this point, all you cared about was Dean was kissing you. That was something you never thought would happen. If he gave you nothing else for Christmas, that would be enough.

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Series tag list: 

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[unnuevosoltransformalarealidad]

Safety First

Title:  Safety First Summary: Reader gets sick while hunting and she can’t stay back on this. Dean is there to make sure she is safe. Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Prompts: “Hold my hand, we gotta make this look convincing!” / “Can we fight so we can have angry makeup sex later?” Warnings: Sickness, fever, fever nightmares, flirting, sex (mention) Word Count: 1832 This was written for the SPN Bi-Weekly Challenge of @supernatural-jackles A/N: I’m sorry if there are any mistakes, English isn’t my mother tongue and I’m still learning. Prompts are bolded and in italics. Enjoy your reading!

^

-”Hold my hand, we gotta make this look convincing” — Dean told you to your ear -Stop it! You are making way too obvious if you keep saying it — you said -I know, but I want to finish this as soon as possible. I want to go back home -Me too De, me too — you said sighing

Truth is, you’ve been on the road for 5 weeks now, hunting non-stop, case after case. You all were really tired. You deserved a break, especially you and Dean. The relationship between you two was pretty intense, one moment you cared for each other and then you wanted to kill each other. Basically, now you were at the point of wanting to kill the other. This seemed to be a simple ghost case; it needed to be done fast because Sam was about to lose his head with your fights, he definitely wanted to kill both of you.

-Come on sweetheart, just a little longer -Did Sammy find something? — You ignored what Dean told you. -No, he hasn’t finished yet, but if you want we can go and help him -Yeah, but first let’s finish our night with a little love dance -you whispered -Let’s dance my love -Dean said loud enough to be heard

He gave you his hand for you to stand up. He took you to the dance floor where a few couples were dancing. 

-You know hun, we should extend our stay for a few more days, this place is beautiful — you said -What? — Dean said perplexed -The receptionist is looking at us -you said to his ear hugging him -Your wishes are my command, my love -he said closing the distance between you

You were about to kiss him when a wave of dizziness hit you and you tighten your grip on Dean’s arm.

-Babe, are you alright? -Yeah, is probably the alcohol -you said smiling -I think it’s time to go to bed. Come on -He grabbed you from the waist and headed to the elevator

Dean’s grip was strong, he was worried about you. Once in the elevator, Dean never stopped looking at you. It was getting uncomfortable.

-Would you stop looking at me? You’re making it uncomfortable -How are you feeling? — He asked you — I know it’s not the alcohol -I’m fine, De — you couldn’t finish your sentence when another wave of dizziness hit you. This was way stronger — Ow -Hey, I’ve got you. We’re almost there — his grip tightened more. Now you were worried too. Your vision got blurry and started to see black dots -Dean, I think I’m about to pass out — you warned him -Hey hey, look at me. I’ve got you, everything is going to be fine — Dean said when the elevator doors opened. Dean instantly hugged you from the waist and directed you towards your room. -We are almost there, love. Hang on — He kept saying

You took a step inside your room, your body gave up and everything went black.

-Y/N! -Dean scream grabbing your limp body -Crap! -Sam rushed towards you -Dean, what the hell -I don’t know man, we were fine pretending and she started to feel dizzy. She said it was alcohol, but we know it’s not true. -Ok, laid her in bed -Sam said -Sam, her body is warm — Dean commented — It might be fever

When Sam brought the medkit, Dean had already laid you in bed and took your shoes off.

-Mhm? — you groaned -Easy, sweetheart — Dean said moving your hair from your face -How are you feeling N/N? — Sam asked you -Thirsty — you said -I’ll bring her some water — Dean said squeezing your shoulder

Sam sat next to you on the bed and handed you the thermometer. You waited a few minutes until it beeped.

-Well, you have a fever of 101.3° F. You should rest, and we will keep an eye on you — Sam said -Thank you, Sammy — You said when Dean entered the room -I brought some cold medicine and ibuprofen from Baby — He mentions — So? — He asked Sam -She definitely has a fever, and for now, she needs to rest while we do some research.

You took the pills and the water and grabbed a book to do some research.

-What do you think you’re doing? — Dean asked you -Let me be, Dean. You know I’m going to fall asleep in less than 5 minutes -If you are still awake in 5 minutes, I’m taking that book with me -Fine by me

Dean left you with your book and within 5 minutes, you were fast asleep. Dean went to grab the book you were reading and he touched your forehead to check your temperature.

-Dude, I’m worried about her — He said to Sam -Me too Dean, but luckily we will finish this sooner -Yeah

Sam and Dean kept researching what was causing the killings in the hotel. A few hours later Dean kept doing research and with Sam asleep next to him. The boys found out it was a vengeful spirit that lost his wife in the hotel with a tragic death. You needed to find what was attaching the spirit to the hotel. You started to toss and turn on the bed, Dean went to check on you. He sat next to you and pressed a hand on your forehead. 

-Oh sweetheart — Dean said — shh don't worry, I've got you — he kept saying while caressing your cheek

He noticed your frown, he knew something was bothering your sleep and broke his heart not being able to help you. He tried to calm you without waking up, you needed all the possible rest. You started to whisper, like if you were fighting. It was time to wake you up.

-Y/N, sweetheart, wake up — he said shaking your shoulder

You sat in bed scared and choking with a sob. Your arms flew to Dean's. He held you without complaining. 

-It's ok hun, everything is going to be ok -Dean said running his fingers through your sweaty hair -De? You called him -what is it N/N? -can we — you hiccupped— "can we fight so we can have angry makeup sex later?" -What? — he hesitated on answering you. He didn't know if you were joking, or sleepy or if it was the fever talking — uh… yeah sure, why not? — he said, feeling the heat radiating from your body -Good, because I wanted to have angry sex with you for a while now — you said

You probably weren't going to remember any of this. Dean thought to better ignore it and held you. Sam woke up and saw you two hugging, it melted his heart, but then he heard you crying.

-Sammy wake up — Dean said holding you -I'm awake -I think her fever spiked up, her body is hot, she is shivering and all sweaty -Check her fever, I'm going to prepare the bath, just in case — Sam said to Dean, and he nodded -Ok sweetheart, we have to check your fever. Open — You started to giggle interrupting him and Dean was confused. -Sweetheart, what's funny? -There is someone behind you with a funny face — you said giggling -What?

Dean couldn't process what you had said when Sam appeared in the room again

-Dean! Look out! — Sam shouted hitting the ghost with iron -Crap! We better hurry — Dean said putting the thermometer in your mouth.A few minutes later it beeped -106° F -We need to break it. The bath is ready — Sam said -Good — Dean said grabbing you bridal style and taking you to the bathroom

He took your clothes off leaving you just in your underwear, doing the same with his.

-Stay with her for a little. I'll do some more research — Sam said from the other room.

Dean was massaging your scalp to help you relax. You had your eyes closed, the warm water relaxing your body, unconsciously you moaned making Dean twitched beneath you

-Sweetheart? — Dean called you -Mhm? -How are you feeling? — he moved you a little to see your face -Tired and cold -We will have to stay for a few more minutes darling, don't worry. I'll keep you safe

After hearing Dean saying those words, you sighed and relaxed. You knew he was going to protect you from everything and anything. It made your heart full. Respecting what he told you, a few minutes later he took you out of the bathtub and dried you off taking you to the bed again.

-Sam can you check her temperature? Her body is not hot anymore -Sure thing — Sam said coming closer to you

You were running out of time, the end of the fourth day was coming which meant that the spirit was going to attack you any minute, and you didn't know how to kill it yet. Sam gave you the thermometer and waited. When it beeped he took it from you

-So? -you asked -102.2°F. You still have a fever, so we have to be careful. -Ok. How are we going to kill this thing? — You asked -Well — Dean said appearing into the room again — We have to go to our anniversary dinner tonight -Ok, I’ll go get ready, you two finish the research — You said -Are you sure you are ready? — Dean said walking to your side -We have to do it, De. There’s no other way, you know it -I hate to say this but she’s right, Dean — Sam agreed with you -Ok -Dean sighed — Let’s get ready then

When you got up from bed your legs gave out crashing onto Dean’s arms

-Are you sure you’ll be fine? — Dean asked you worried -Yes, De. Don’t worry -I do because I need to know that you’ll be safe out there -I promise you, I’ll be safe. Besides I have my dearest husband by my side — you said winking at him -Y/N — Dean called you in a warning tone -Seriously De, do you want to keep fighting over this? Does this mean you want to have sex with me? — you asked him and he looked at you surprised you remembered that -We will see what happens with the sex. I just want you to be safe — Dean said looking to your eyes

Truth is you’ve always felt safe next to Dean. Whatever was going on with you, he made you feel safe, whereas is just a squeeze to the shoulder, an encouraging phrase, or those reserved hugs he has for you. He was the safest place on earth.

-You make me feel safe — You whispered while hugging him.

Tag List (Let me know if you want to be added)

@iguessweallcrazyithinktho @void-hoechlin @mrspeacem1nusone @thevelvetseries

[impala1967dwinchester]

Baby Fever IV

*Not my gif*

Word Count: 1k

Mention of All befriended people of the Winchester boys 

Masterlist

Christmas had gone wonderful the tree sitting bright everyday. Hunts were tolerable nothing too dramatic or bizarre. The new year was stupendous the boys hadn’t made any foolish choices just yet. Sam and Dean had ended up treasuring their gifts. Dean had gotten a few things for his brother and a few things for me.

Recap:

“I’m so sorry Y/n. I didn’t mean to take advantage of you.” Sam said going to sit down at the now-empty table. “Sam, it’s fine. I kinda liked it.” I said the blush rising in my face.

I went over to Sam kissing his forehead, and said “good night Sam,”

I went into my room putting together the boy’s baskets, full of things that I assumed that the boys would like.

Some things were crazy, some were more sentimental. Sam on the other hand had thought about his gifts, clothes for Dean since he had a problem with washing his clothes after a rather gruesome hunt. Sam had also gotten Dean a few magazines, along with a new pair of boots. He also gave Dean a card inside of which held a gift card for the new year of pies. Something that Dean stood and hugged his brother for.

For me, Sam had gotten a few of the same things, new boots, new clothing. The different things were such as a heart necklace, the stone was blue with diamonds that crested the outline of the heart. And a new pair of jammies.

His brother went to tease him. “Oh look at you giving special gifts to Y/n” “Dean shut up, Or I’ll take your gift-card back,” Sam said with raised eyebrows. Dean pouted and then apologized.

“Do you like it?” Sam asked me. I giggled, looking up at him. “Can you help me put it on?” I asked. I heard a snort come from Dean as he looked up from his phone. “Of course Y/n” I pulled my hair to the side letting Sam drape the necklace over my chest. “All done.” I heard Sam say I let my hair go and turning.

He looking tracing the silver chain down to the crevice of my chest. “It looks good.” He smiled and winked at me. The new year was amazing the boys had gathered a few friends, a small party. Sam had decorated the map room and library. A mistletoe sitting above the entire way of the library. Something that I assume Dean or Sam forgot to take down. Food and drinks lining the table. A few poppers and glow sticks alongside the drinks.

Dean had invited Charlie, Jody, Donna, Rowena, Kevin, Garth, his wife, and his kids, Castiel, and of course Claire with her girlfriend Kaia. Like I had said before it was a rather small party. Dean had dragged his TV out of his room placing it at the end of the table in the library and looked for a news channel.

“So what’s up with the mistletoe?” Jody asked. Dean turned around “Shit, I forgot that. Whatever.” Jody chuckled

Finally, after drinking and dancing, it was closer to the end of the year. We immediately started to pair up with people sitting together and just being happy. I hadn’t been paying attention when I felt a large hand grab my hand. When I looked up it was Sam I sighed in contentment.

At that moment I think he had kind of made a whole life with me in his head. His bright smile only becomes brighter whenever he talked to me. His broad chest and ridged shoulders dropping when I grabbed his wrapped my arms around his neck.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see, Rowena smiling and watching the television. She winked at me. She had become a motherly figure to Sam and was always there on her own to protect him. That wink and smile had given me a sort of approval. For what I didn’t know yet.

“Yo, Lovebirds The count down is about to start,” Dean said. I rolled my eyes. “Dean If there weren’t so many people here right now, I come over there and punch you.” I slapped Sams chest “Stop and just enjoy the new year.” I said with a small chuckle.

In unison, we counted for the new year.

“10″

“9″

“8″

“7″

“6″

“5″

“4″

“3″

“2″

“1″

“Happy new year,” We all said, and Sam kissed me. I kissed him back. The kiss was deep, meaningful. Like Sam had waited his entire life to do kiss me. He left my lips, and instead of going to cup my cheeks.

Everything after that seemed like a dream. Sam was touchy. Which didn’t bother me at all. Not wanting to let me go for too long. He’d kiss my forehead and cheek. After a while of more drinking and dancing, the Winchesters friends started leaving. Leaving just Dean, Cass, Sam, and I.  

Having someone that is touchy with me is new. Before coming to the bunker, and being around the boys, I hadn’t been around the best of men. My father was abusive to my mother, which caused any other relationship that I was in to be abusive. It was like I attracted crazy, I attracted the abusive.

It started when I was in high school every boyfriend was horrible. I was either psychical beat or mentally abused. Nothing was off the table for the men that I attracted.

My first boyfriend Clyde was great at the beginning of our relationship everything was sparkles and rainbows. But after awhile Clyde started to mentally fuck with me. he’d accuse me of cheating when in reality I was only with my sisters. He’d come up to me in school and grab me harshly. Pushing and pulling me into a closet or teacher's bathroom.

For day afterward I’d have marks around my neck, and wrists. He left marks on me, and he hated when I would cover them. My scarfs and bracelets would be ripped from my person.

That was only my freshman year. In my sophomore year of high school, I was dating a much worse. I was thinking of sitting down in the library. “Y/n are you okay?” Sam asked me. I thought for a minute. He had kissed me twice under his own wanting. He wasn’t abusive to me. He was the kindest, emotional, caring person I had ever met. Maybe I should tell him about my past, just so he knows, maybe it will be okay.

“No Sam. I’m not okay.” I said playing with the hem of my jacket. He turned his head. “Is it something that I did?... I knew I should have asked if you wanted to kiss me!” He said. He sat down next to me. “Sam, would you stop overthinking everything,” I said.

He shook his head and wrapped his hand around mine. “I was thinking about my past relationships. You kissed me and I can’t stop thinking that I might fuck this up by bringing my past into everything.” I said “ I tried dating all of my high school years, all of which ended in me broken-hearted and more broken than I was before.

“Some people only come into your life to show you what love is not,” Sam said. Wow, I don’t think I had ever thought of it that way. “Sam? Can I just tell you about my past relationships so you understand where I’m coming from?” I asked.

He smiled squeezing my hand. “Of course, Y/n”. “My first boyfriend was harsh and emotionally abusive to me. Clyde was my freshman crush and my boyfriend for a short while. I spend the rest of my freshman year thinking that love was meant to be abusive and hurt each other.”

He hummed letting me know that he was still listening to me.

“My second boyfriend Otis was my sophomore crush. He was again nice at the start, but it turned quickly into me being a “bitch” and a “whore” who was only after his friends. He was so mentally abusing that I actually ended up breaking up with him.”

“I’m glad that you were able to get out of it. Be the strong you.” Sam said.

“My third boyfriend had actually been so nice, ya see Sebastian was so cute he’d bring me flowers, and get me coffee in the morning. My junior year was set seeing as my third boyfriend was not just thinking about himself. It ended when he just cut me off. The niceness stopped and instead of telling me why he just left me on the end of a hook.”

“Seems like a dick,” Sam said I giggled and rolled my eyes.

“You see my fourth boyfriend was that guy that ended up dying from the Djinn. Tobias was a wishy-washy guy. One day he’d hit me and the next he’d bring flowers home, praising me until I saw it was okay. Just when I thought he was a good guy he’d go and fuck it up. He’d never actually go to the bar and drink. he’d go to the bar and go find another girl to fuck.”

“Y/n? Why didn’t you say the truth when we asked you?” Sam asked. I think Sam thought I wasn’t going to tell him seeing as I was quiet. “I mean you don’t have to tell me. I’m sorry if I overstepped a boundary.” Sam said a small expression of sadness falling over his face.

“You know, you’re too nice to be with me. Where’d you get it from?” I asked a chuckle coming from within me. “Y/n it didn’t get anywhere. I’m just a nice guy with a heart. I promise that I won’t treat you like that ever.”

“You promise?” I asked my voice definitely starting to crack. I hadn’t talked to anyone about the boys I had dated, nobody knew about the shit they had done to me.

“Y/n. I promise that I’ll be better than they were. I can’t say that I don’t have my issues and things I need to work on, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want this to not work. We both have to put in the effort for this to work.” Sam said.

“I  know that this is early and that you’re still hurting, but I want to be with you. I want this to work for you. We can go slow, we can go fast. Anything you are comfortable with. I just want to be in your corner Y/n.” Sam said.

Completed 01/17/2021 

[dothwrites]

15.07 coda--where no words abide

Sometimes, the things that are felt the most are expressed between two souls over the distance and over time...where no words abide. And others may speak freely, live with one another freely, express themselves freely--just like everyone else, but then there is you...you have no words for proof of reassurance, no tokens of professed love, but you have something. Something worth keeping.--C. Joybell C.  

---

Dean burns the bar. 

Dumps tequila and whiskey and gin and rum and whatever other rotgut he finds behind the counter over the floors, the pool tables, the bar itself, the walls--He splashes alcohol over Lee, carefully not looking at his face, at--

Dean swallows down his disgust, his rage, his grief. He pushes it down into the seething mass of his stomach and walks towards the exit. At the door, he turns around. If he turns his head just the right way, he can see the dark lump of Lee huddled against one of the pillars. Dean turns his head the other way before he flicks his lighter. 

He tosses it into the room and leaves as the wave of heat slaps him across the face. He walks away to the sound of flames licking against the walls. 

He puts the burning building in his rearview and he never looks back. 

On his way out of town, he glances at his cellphone. When he sees that Cas called, his heart does a sick little lurch and jump. He fumbles several times over the screen before his thumb swipes at the message. 

When he hears what’s in the message, his foot presses down on the gas pedal until the tires are squealing against the asphalt. 

---

He drives straight through the evening and into the night until his tires crunch over the gravel outside the bunker. His mind is churning with the sound of Cas’ voice on his phone, his words Sam is hurt and then the more desperate, angrier, Where ARE you. The sound of three missed calls spurs him onward, because Cas can never just answer his damn phone, because apparently it’s fine when Dean calls Cas and Cas doesn’t answer, but heaven forbid Cas call Dean and not get an immediate answer. 

It’s a small, mean thought, brought on by fear and helplessness, and the knowledge that there’s still a little smear of Lee’s blood ground into the skin of his thumb. Dean grits his teeth and pushes on and when he gets to the bunker, his heart does a little skip-thump when he recognizes Castiel’s truck parked outside. 

He drives faster than the recommended into the garage and parks the Impala crooked. Grabbing his duffel, he hurries through the hallway into the war room. The sight of movement is enough to make him jog the last few steps until he bursts into the room to find--

Cas looks up at him, eyes wide and startled. Dean thought that his heart did a weird little lurch when he saw Cas’ name in his phone and truck in the driveway, but it’s nothing compared to what’s happening now, his heart is dancing a damn tango against his lungs and ribs and he’s powerless to stop it, he’s caught in the riptide of Cas, back in the bunker, Cas, back where he belongs--

“Dean,” Cas says. At the sound of Cas’ voice smoothing over the letters of his name, something in Dean’s chest shatters. Cas’ voice is unfathomable, soft and bitter and unreadable. 

For weeks, Dean’s practiced what he would say to Cas. In the quiet moments between cases, in the solitude of his room or the shower, in the ceaseless churn of his tires against pavement, he’s confronted Cas thousands of times. Sometimes he’s angry, sometimes he’s desperate. Most of the time he begs Cas to stay. Sometimes, in his fantasies, Cas even says yes. 

But for all those scenarios, Dean forgets how words work when confronted with the reality of Cas in front of him, the glory of seeing the impossible become possible. He gropes for something, anything to say, and can only come up with, “Sam. Is he, uh...” 

 “He’s fine,” Cas says, too quickly, his eyes darting around the room at anywhere except Dean. 

A chasm opens up in Dean’s chest, wide as ocean, wide as the table that separates him and Cas, wide as the years that separate them, wide as the span of his fingers that want to reach out and clutch the tails of Cas’ coat. 

A sigh of relief blows out of Dean, the ever-present clamoring of Take care of Sammy, Take care of Sammy appeased. Something complicated passes over Cas’ face when Dean says, “Good, that’s good,” except Dean doesn’t see what it is since Cas is already turning away from him. 

“Yeah,” Cas says, already moving, always moving away. Ten years and Cas has never stopped moving away, has never stopped walking out of all the doors in Dean’s life. By now, Dean is so familiar with the sight of Cas disappearing out of doorways, that he sees it in his sleep. 

“Good,” Dean breathes, past the pained twist in his chest. “Good.” 

---

Dean is back. Castiel thought that he was prepared. 

He was not. 

He thought that he had managed to exorcise Dean Winchester out of him, the same way that humans used to burn out fevers, the same way that addicts sweat through withdrawals, but all it took was one look, one short conversation and Castiel realizes that Dean Winchester is a fever he can’t sweat out, the worst kind of drug. He’ll never be able to scour Dean Winchester out of him, never be able to clean out all the fingerprints that Dean has left on him. 

He can feel Dean’s eyes on him, the swift brush of his gaze, but Castiel keeps his eyes firmly fixed on Sam, on the ground, on the wall--on anything except for Dean. Dean is the moon and Castiel is the tide, pulled by his relentless whim, but he can’t...He can’t. 

It’s a flimsy plan, but it’s still a plan, and Castiel allows himself to imagine what it would be like, for just a moment--To be cut free, set adrift. Untethered from all his connections. There’s a wild sort of joy in the thought as well as a desperate sort of despair. 

Castiel doesn’t want to be alone, but he doesn’t see a way in which he gets to reclaim what he’s lost. That door was slammed shut, the key thrown away, the way back lost. That idyllic future, whatever it might have been, was erased, sure as footprints on the beach.  

He walks out of the infirmary, head like a tornado. He’s so caught up in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice Eileen running after him until her fingers close around his elbow. “Are you ok?” she asks. 

Not for the first time, Castiel wonders at the innate kindness of some humans, the selfless urge that sends them running after people they only met mere hours before. 

“I’m fine,” Castiel answers, wondering if he’s ever been fine, if he’ll ever be fine. Hard-pressed, he can’t come up with a definitive version of what the word fine truly means. “I just need--” He waves his hand in a gesture meant to encompass the world. 

“Ok.” Eileen’s face is a roadmap of doubt, but she releases him. Castiel walks away from her, into the solitude of his room. 

He sinks onto the bed, hands gripping his knees. If he could burn Dean Winchester out of him then he would, but he’s addicted, he’s hopeless. He has been ever since the first time his grace spanned across the realms to brush against Dean Winchester’s soul. 

---

Unable to sleep, Dean wanders through the bunker. He’d tried, he really had, but every time his eyes drifted shut, all he could see was Lee’s face, twisted in pain as Dean shoved the broken pool cue into his stomach. Or worse, Lee’s face back when he was still a fresh-faced youth with sparkling eyes and a grin that beckoned the devil himself to dance. 

Dean had almost loved him once. 

He’d never been able to take that final step, never been able to cross the space between possibility and probability. Under John Winchester’s eyes, the possibility had withered, until all that was left was the empty space of might have been and the vague regret of the road not taken. 

There had been the nights, fueled by too much beer, too many hormones, and too much adrenaline, where he and Lee had mapped out the contours of each other’s mouths, where Dean had discovered that he loved the feel of fingers twisting in his hair, nights that had left him with stubble burn on his chin and his lips swollen and raw. 

And it had never turned into more, because...Because...

Dean moves down the hallway without conscious thought, only the memory of Lee’s mouth on his and Lee’s empty, staring eyes, to fuel him. How many things has he lost because he was willing to just let slip by? What opportunities have slipped through his fingers? 

What might he have become if he hadn’t had Sam and Cas all these years? Lee is the road not taken, the divergent path in the woods--We Are, Cas said, when Dean asked what was real. Why do you care so much? Lee asked, and somehow, those two things are related in his mind. 

Dean cares. He cares so goddamn much that sometimes he thinks that he might rip apart from the agony of it. He cares about Sam, about Eileen, about the weird little extended family he’s managed to build. He cares about the people that he’s lost, the family that he’s watched burn into nothing. He cares about the civilians that they save and the ones that he doesn’t. He cares about the bad calls that he’s made, he cares about the roads that he might have walked down. 

He cares about Cas. 

It’s more than that of course; it always is when it comes to Cas. For the first time in weeks, Dean acknowledges that, allows himself to really feel it, as he stands outside Cas’ door and raps his knuckles against the door. 

There’s a pause after Dean drops his hand down to his side. Years of hunting allow him to hear the soft sounds of a body shuffling inside, the moment when a body makes a decision. The doorknob creaks as Cas opens the door. 

And once again, Dean forgets how to speak, forgets how to form words, because now he’s looking at a Cas dressed in sweatpants that are slung a little too low on his hips and a t-shirt that stretches just a little too tight across his chest. His socked feet shuffle as his eyes look beyond Dean. 

“What?” Cas asks flatly. His jaw is set, immovable and eternal, but Dean won’t let that stop him. He can’t. Why do you care? Lee asked, and Dean couldn’t pretend any more that he didn’t care, that he didn’t feel everything deep and personal and godawful painful. 

“Can I...Can I talk to you?” 

For a wild moment, Dean thinks that Cas is going to slam the door in his face. He sees the jump in Cas’ jaw when he considers it, the flex of his fingers on the door. Then, without a word, Cas steps backward, allowing Dean into his room. 

Dean’s eyes dart around the space, taking in the little details, the tiny stamps of Cas’ personality on the blank space. One shelf has dozens of rocks on it, worn smooth by time and Cas’ thumb scraping over the surface. Cas’ coat is slung over a chair, along with his suit jacket. His shoes are stacked haphazardly near the door. 

“So what is this, casual Friday?” Dean asks, when the silence between them stretches into crushing. 

Cas doesn’t answer as he retreats to the opposite side of the bed. Always something between them, every single time--the Apocalypse, Purgatory, Leviathans, angels, Lucifer, Jack, Michael--always something there, as desperate as the end of the world, as simple as a bed. 

“What did you want?” Cas finally asked. Now that he’s looking for it, Dean hears the thin tinge of exhaustion in Cas’ voice, sees the shadows underneath his eyes. There’s weariness in the way that his fingers pick at the blanket, frailty in the tiny holes around the collar of his shirt. 

“I...” It would be so easy to give up. To retreat, to let whatever the fuck this is between him and Cas wither into nothing. To watch another road disappear in his rearview, to close the door on yet another opportunity. All he has to do is leave. All he has to do is keep quiet. 

Why do you care so much? 

“It’s not your fault,” Dean blurts. 

His eyes are on Cas’ face, so he catches every second of his reaction--the startle, the widening of his eyes, the convulsive twist of his fingers in the blankets. He sees the intensity of Cas’ stare as it focuses on the bedspread, watches the tension put his spine into a ramrod position. 

“You...you’ve been there for Sam and me when no one else was, and if you’ve messed up...Well, it’s no more than either of us have done. You’ve always tried Cas. Every single time, you’ve always been trying to help us, to do the right thing.” Forty years well up in Dean’s chest, nights on the beach spent with the possibility hanging heavy on him, his father’s disapproving stare, years of walking away from what he wanted, years of watching Cas walk away from him. Years of pushing away the probability. years of swallowed words. They push up in him, until he’s coming out with--

“It’s why I love you.” 

Cas’ eyes, wide and fearful, light on Dean. His mouth falls open in an ‘O’ of surprise, and Cas never learned how to play it cool, never learned the art of apathy. Dean might care, but so does Cas, and it seems impossible that their two magnets are eternally repelling each other. 

"And I want you around just because.” The words come easier but don’t erase the apprehensive tilt of Cas’ head, the slight glimmer at the edge of his eyes. “And I know that it wasn’t your fault, I know that--And I know that we’ve got this Chuck bullshit hanging over us, but it’s...” 

Here Dean falters. Here his words die, because he doesn’t want to admit to Cas what he already knows--that even though he loves Cas with every ounce of emotion his miserable heart can squeeze out, he’s still a son of a bitch who will punch first and ask questions later, and whose first response to any kind of pain is to find the thing that hurt him and hurt it worse. People like that can’t be in relationships. They don’t deserve relationships. 

But maybe Lee was just the tiniest bit right when he asked Dean if they didn’t deserve some kind of happiness in compensation for all the pain. 

“Anyway, if you want me to go, then I can...” Dean gestures towards the door, which finally sparks Cas into some kind of motion. 

Slowly, like he’s moving through liquid or a dream, Cas stands from the bed and makes his way to Dean. Dean forces his body to remain still, even as Cas stands in front of him. One hand reaches out and Dean doesn’t run, he doesn’t flinch, not even when Cas’ hand lands on his left shoulder. 

Something in Dean sings with joy. 

“It’s late,” Cas says. His voice is calm but he can’t quite suppress the edge of awe that’s creeping around the edge of his words. “And I need to sleep.” 

“I can--” Dean jerks his thumb towards the door, but Cas looks up and finally, finally, meet his eyes. 

“You need to sleep,” Cas says, in the same even tone, but his fingers grip Dean’s arm. 

With careful motions, Cas walks them backwards towards the bed. He’s slow, giving Dean every opportunity to back away. And part of Dean wants to, part of Dean wants to run and hide behind his facade of anger and betrayal, part of Dean wants to get in the Impala and drive as far away as he can, because, at the heart of it, he knows that this is never going to work, that the second he gets any kind of happiness, something come along to snatch it away. 

But Cas’ mattress is soft and welcoming, and Cas’ eyes are gentle at the edges as he looks at Dean with a hint of his old reverence. “Sleep,” Cas says, and it’s not forgiveness, it’s not what needs to happen, but at the moment, it’s close enough, which is all Dean’s ever really asked for. 

Cas folds himself into bed behind Dean. He lays, there, immobile and radiating heat and Dean freezes, clutching the blanket around him. The back of his neck prickles with the weight of Cas’ eyes and the world holds its breath in anticipation of what’s to come. 

Cas lays one careful hand to the back of Dean’s neck, right above his shirt collar, at the first knob of his spine. At the first brush of his hand, Dean’s muscles go lax as he sinks into the mattress. After a long moment, Dean rolls over. He presses Cas’ hand to his heart, keeps it there with one of his. 

Lee’s blood is still caked underneath his nails. Chuck is still out there, along with Lilith. Danger hangs over Sam’s head, and as always, the world seems one short step away from plunging off the edge of the abyss. There’s a fragile peace between him and Cas that could shatter with a moment’s carelessness and there are mountains still between them. 

But here, in this liminal space of the night, he and Cas exist in a place without words, in a place where words are extraneous. Here, there’s only the press of Cas’ fingers to the soft thud of his heart, the slow sweep of Dean’s thumb over Cas’ knuckles. Here, there’s just the two of them, pressed close enough together that their knees knock, staring into the other’s eyes until Dean’s eyelids grow heavy. 

“Sleep,” Cas says, blinking slowly. Dean would move the earth for him, would take the whole of heaven, hell, and purgatory and burn them into nothingness if it meant that Cas would be safe. 

He already knows that Cas has done the same for him. 

“I’ll be here in the morning,” Cas tells him. 

Dean sleeps. 

---

Things were falling apart. We just could not slow down. We were evolving into something greater, perhaps too much for our own good. And one thing always remained as I moved on. I saved a little bit of love just in case you would ever return home.--Robert M. Drake

[hairasuntouchedaspartoftheamazon]

I feel like the SPN fandom as a whole, especially the fantastic people who make vids, songfics and aesthetics, are missing out on the near-perfection that is The Gaslight Anthem. GA is a rock band from New Jersey, and basically all their songs have this vibe of “I’m a little sad, could kill you, miss when we were younger, and I want to be loud”. I’m also of the belief that a decent amount of their songs fit SPN perfectly.

Examples(I also highly recommend listening to all of these, they’re great):

American Slang(Highly appropriate in my opinion):

“And they cut me to ribbons and taught me to drive, I got my name tattooed inside of my arm. And I called for my father but my father had died! While you told us fortunes, in American Slang”

“And here’s where we died that time last year, and where the angels and devils meet, and you can dance with the Queen if you need, and she will always keep her cards, close to her heart.”

“....and I called for my father but my father had died! And we called for our mothers but our mothers had died, and you told us fortunes in American Slang”  

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oAqbnTKQBIY&list=OLAK5uy_np5CJdYInsAeogm56OsGNqLq0j1eBBzaI

Boxer:

“You got your pride and your prose, tucked just like a tommy gun somewhere in the smoke just in case you need it son, I heard it’s been a ride rougher than the last one, what’d you use to say, oh the harder they come”

“You took it all gracefully on the chin, knowing that the beatings had to someday end, we found the bandages inside the band, and the stitches on the radio, and there was something that was holding you down, and there were whispers that were driving you crazy and now you hunt the heart of this town, remember when I knew a boxer baby”

“And your tattooed knuckles oh how they grind down, try to be a man tough just like your father, try to settle down, more like a calm down remember them songs and the reasons we were singing for”

“And he, he says he just doesn’t miss her and he, hey says it’s somewhere in his framework, but I have heard you never really lose it do ya, do ya?”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DYMeWEGTOxA&list=OLAK5uy_np5CJdYInsAeogm56OsGNqLq0j1eBBzaI&index=7

Bring It On:

“...Blue eyes and spitfire, I saw you walking back and forth, about another boy, thinking that you may wanna leave, so give me the fevers that just won’t break, and give me the children you don’t wanna raise, and tell me about the Cool, he sings to you those songs, if it’s better than my love, bring it on”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J-ZN7NyPfb4&list=OLAK5uy_np5CJdYInsAeogm56OsGNqLq0j1eBBzaI&index=3

We Did It When We Were Young:

“There are no reasons to believe, I buried my faith in another plot,Where your heart and your claws will not find, And I don't feel you or recall, I put your bones out in the yard, For someone else to be called and caught by” “And I cannot hold a candle for every pretty gun,We were strangers many hours and I missed you for so long, When we were liars, lovers in combat, Faded like your name on those jeans that I burned” “But I am older now, And we did it when we were young, I am older now, And we did it when we were young”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vw8WPJHajEY&list=OLAK5uy_np5CJdYInsAeogm56OsGNqLq0j1eBBzaI&index=10

Old Haunts:

“And all along you knew my story, didn't you? And all night long I carried yours, Your blood was mixed with wine and robbery, baby, And left us always wanting more” “So don't sing me your songs about the good times, Those days are gone and you should just let them go, And god help the man who says "If you'd have known me when..." Old haunts are for forgotten ghosts” “Cherry Bomb, your love is surgery, Removing what you don't regard, And every breath felt like a funeral, baby, While you were packing up your car” “And with the window down, I hear you're tired now, You borrowed everything and wore all your old welcomes out, Well, shame on you, my love, you sold your youth away, Memories for sinking ships that never would be saved”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eoDKQT7vXNA&list=OLAK5uy_np5CJdYInsAeogm56OsGNqLq0j1eBBzaI&index=8

The Spirit of Jazz:

“The Cool is dead, baby, go on to sleep, Rest your weary head and love a better me, And in the morning we'll start over again,That's how they do it up on the screen” “Was I good to you, the wife of my youth? Not another soul could love you like my rotten bones do, So I will wait on the edges in between, These New York streets where you and I would meet” “For twenty-nine years we loved that line, And I would take it easy if I had your mind, But I'm a cannonball to a house on fire, And you're slow like Motown soul” “So what now, lover with your long black hair?, If I cut you open, baby, I can repair, Bandage your wounds with the salt on my tongue, And I'm the only one around here”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q9KOUAmZ12w&list=OLAK5uy_np5CJdYInsAeogm56OsGNqLq0j1eBBzaI&index=9

Wherefore Art Thou Elvis?(Tell me that this isn’t the Sam Winchester song, I dare you):

“I cut my teeth on the stone of a teenage romance, I was the salt of the earth, I was hard, The last of the independents” “And in the breath from my chest I was blowing kerosene, My lips and fingertips were stone, I wore my heart on my jeans, I sang the blues like the dogs left too long in the street, I still sing the blues with the dogs” “And I got half a mind to let it all burn up in this fire, I've had burning through my veins since I first learned to cry, I'd watch this whole night come down and never miss her again,I never felt right and never fit in walkin' in my own skin” “Now I got scars like the number of stars, My mind's full of vipers, I got the dust of the desert in my bones, Comin' through the amplifiers, And in the minor chord fall and the fourth and the fifth, It's a broken Hallelujah and a pain in my fist, I wash my hands like the man with the blood on his teeth, Over and over without relief” “Walkin' in my old man shoes, with my scientist heart, I got a fever and a beaker and a shot in the dark, I need a Cadillac ride, I need a soft summer night, Say a prayer for my soul, Señorita”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UPdCP5f_gmk

High Lonesome:

“And Maria came from Nashville with a suitcase in her hand, I always kinda sorta wished I looked like Elvis, And in my head there's all these classic cars and outlaw cowboy bands, I always kinda sorta wished I was someone else” “There was "Southern Accents" on the radio as I drove home, And at night I wake up with the sheets soaking wet, It's a pretty good song, baby you know the rest Baby, you know the rest”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UErXgvNV3lw

’59 Sound:

“Well I wonder which song they're gonna play when we go, I hope it's something quiet and minor and peaceful and slow, When we float out into the ether into the everlasting arms, I hope we don't hear Marley's chains we forged in life, 'Cause the chains I've been hearin' now for most of my life” “Did you hear the '59 sound, Coming through on Grandmama's radio? Did you hear the rattlin' chains, In the hospital walls? Did you hear the old gospel choir When they came to carry you over?Did you hear your favorite song, One last time?”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zw3w1iKiq8M

Mulholland Drive:

“Did you sleep last night and do you remember dreams? Do I ever cross your mind and do you ever think of me? When you think about your life are there things you would reverse? I still remember holding you, just out of sight of her, In the deep, dark parking lot pressed up against my car, With your hands around my neck I felt the pounding of your heart, And the summer night was giving in to the lure of Autumn’s sway, I can’t seem to forget that night or how I heard you say, ohh and I’d just die if you ever took your love away”

“And I can still recall the hour when you first let down your walls, I thought I might've died right there floating up above it all, But it scared you love, to need someone, so you killed it all instead”

“And did you miss me when I'm gone? And the simple things we used to rely on? Who came to wipe your tears away? Who came to bring back your dignity baby? And who came to drive you around this town, Like I used to drive you all around with the radio on”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eR4-F-P-Y6Q

Film Noir:

“I'm all washed out by the side of the road, Broken bones Matilda left a note and a rose, Sayin', "Baby honey child, I've loved you so long, But you deserve much better than me."” “So I'm just burnin' all around all the miles in the road, And I'm never goin' back and I'm never goin' home, I've been gone too long, I've been less right than wrong, I lost so much blood in the fallin' out” “And I lit a fire that wouldn't go out, Until it consumed the walls and roof of this house, Until all I remember was burnin' away, And all I remember, you burned it away” “See, for ten long years I've been hustlin' around, Tryin' to wash the sins and the sweat from my brow, Just tryin' to find a better life for me and my own, Just some rest for these tired workin' fingers” “But nobody never gonna tell you the way, You gotta figure it out boys and suffer the rain, And the fools in the night and the heat of the day, When all you ever really wanted was for someone to understand”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8KS9Cz1HgVs

She Loves You(this just gives me lowkey Destiel vibes):

“And if all was well, And your heart could find the words, Would we be for better baby, Would we be for worse, And if there was a way, To navigate your seas, If tonight my true love (Dared belong to me)”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WHYY-_3Ft84

Boomboxes and Dictionaries:

“I took a drive today, I thought about you, I thought about a friend who passed And how much we just went through” “I saw the sun shine off the hood of a Cadillac, I thought about some things I said, And some I would take back, I thought about how fortunate I feel to be alive” “And if you're scared of the future tonight, We'll just take it each hour one at a time, It's a pretty good night for a drive, So dry up those eyes, dry up those eyes” “Because the radio will still play loud, Songs that we heard as our guards came down, Like in the summertime when we first met, I'll never forget, and don't you forget, These nights are still ours” “We should remember to slow down more often, And maybe we will, Now here's a lot of good things coming our way right now, A lot of bad has passed, But we survived the breakdowns, All is forgiven, water under bridges now”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V9zYLE6Em7U

Drive:

“In my head I am already gone, Side roads boarded up, decisions decided on, But in my nights there are restless hours, When 3 AM comes down and nothing else comes up “And the only thing we know, Is it's getting dark and we'd better go, And the only thing we see, Are the despairs of the day, And if you're too tired, Go to sleep my brothers, I, And if you're too tired, Go to sleep my brothers, I'm all right to drive” “And in my heart I'm the weary kind, I'm much tired to cry, Though it's sad enough for tears, It's been try, fail, try for years, And when the next year comes along, I don't know if I'll be home, I don't know if we'll survive”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ClWHlXWSG9M

Biloxi Parrish(This is totally a Cas song):

“I've been fumbling with your heart strings, And that's good enough for me, And if I've rained on one of your hours, Then I know I must been working,Try it on for size my darling, See what a man you can make of me, I will eventually haunt you, And you'll eventually be my queen” “And I'll be with you through,The dark so that you do not, Go through the dark alone, Or on your own” “I've been down Biloxi Parish, And that's all the same for me, I found that nothing truly matters That you cannot find for free, I love you more than can I tell you, When you pass through from this world, I hope you ask to take me with you, Or that I won't have to wait too long, But until then I'll be with you through the dark, Yes, until then I'll be with you through the dark” “And who else can say that about you, baby, Who else can say that about you, now, And who else can take all your blood and your curses, Nobody I seen you hanging around" “And all of our heroes were failures or ghosts, Burned out in brilliant explosions alone, And all of the blood and the sweat that they gave, Well, we took it all and we threw it away”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o2RSKSYIXKY

Here Comes My Man:

“And how much time do you think that we have? If I wanted to, I could start over again, Let the good night decide who she wants me to find, And I'll never let you drop another tear in my eye, Singing oh sha-la-la, oh sha-la-la, Listen honey here comes my man”

“So I packed up my things and I faced up my doubts, You know I think I will grow my hair back out, Nevermind what you think, Nevermind what you like, I'll take it out to the streets for somebody else to admire”

“Maybe time will tell you, Why I got so much hell to sell you, Please, please understand me, Oh you can't just dance around me, Maybe your work will love you, When I'm just not there to hold you, Maybe your pride can be your companion, Oh but I just won't be there to stand for it, Not one more minute will I stand for it”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nBkfHv6kc5o

Blue Jeans and White T-Shirts:

“We are the boys from Little Eden, We are the heart of Saturday night, We drink from the fountains off the fireworks, Sweat and bone for a better life”

“Still we sing with our heroes, 33 rounds per minute, We're never going home until the sun says we're finished, I'll love you forever if I ever love at all, Wild hearts, blue jeans, & white t-shirts” “Some things baby never told you, Some things papa done ain't right, Spent a lifetime just to get over, You always said my mama tried”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u3sQsWuDHrw

[diminuel]

I wasn’t all that fond of 15x10 while I watched it yesterday. I loved the premise and Garth, but I think it was just a bit too over the top for me. The placement of this episode within the greater context of it being the final episode and following the rather gloomy previous episode just made it feel a bit off. That aside, I just didn’t enjoy watching it all that much even though I could appreciate what we were given.

But I’m giving it another rewatch and another chance! I’d love to hear your thoughts too, whether you agree or disagree with my reactions. :D

It takes hardly any time for us to notice something completely amiss and they don’t even hide it: a classical piece of music accompanying a bloody fight between two monsters. Everyone is going to notice that this isn’t quite right, which then guides over into the next thought: the editing makes or breaks a scene. I think that’s the overall theme I took away from this episode. Metatron said that God posted the first draft and we’ve seen both Becky and Metatron edit God’s writing. The first conclusion we could draw is that God is not “editing” Sam and Dean’s story. But actually that doesn’t make a lot of sense because he couldn’t see Sam and Dean before either and they were fine. It’s maybe that he over-edits it. He throws problems in their ways that are... well, kind of what Becky wanted; the everday issues. Them dealing with laundry all day. This is the stuff we write, ad absurdum. And with monsters.

So the theory I’m going with right now is that Chuck is editing, just differently than before.

One preliminary thought regarding Garth: Were there no consequences to the Grace he had swallowed during AU Michael’s weird monster plan? What happened to that monster plan in general? Michael seems to be very bad at stragegizing.......

Dean’ shopping: The shop is called Berens’ quick trip. Berens is always sending us on a trip, though I think this one was Dabb’s fever dream. *lol* Lots of music for what is basically just showing Dean shopping. We see the guy giving Dean a ticket through the window but Dean’s oblivious, too focused on shopping. (Two six packs of beer. This might either show Dean indulging or Dean stocking up for Cas, not that Cas wants beer usually.) 

Dean knows the store attendant by name, so I guess this is a place he goes to often, though I doubt it’s in Lebanon because of the high rises in the background? 

What did Dean buy? Some beer, a magazine, some chips, something sweet he’s eating... How did that amount to over 40$? Why did he go buy that? Why not go to a proper store and buy proper food? Just beer and snacks? As someone who has to do her own shopping now this seems inefficient. (And my shopping center is in 5 minutes walking distance. *lol*) Also, I think I’ve seen people mention that the magazine is a cooking or baking magazine?

Also, here’s the first instance we have of Dean’s teeth hurting. Just stop eating the chocolate you silly man.

I have no compassion for Dean whining about getting a ticket. He’s not allowed to park there. Rules apply for you too, Mr. Winchester. I don’t like people who think they can do what they want. *thinks back to young snobby looking BMW driver who parked in the middle of a square in front of a bank and who got a ticket* *Schadenfreude* (That’s the kind of person I am. I like people who think rules don’t apply for them to be punished by the law.)

Sam’s scene in the kitchen: I assume it was Dean who had started cooking and then just walked away to get some more shopping done. This is merely based on my assumption that Sam doesn’t cook. We know that Sam sometimes does kinda stupid things like blowing on paper to make the fire go out... Touching things straight out of the oven and putting his hands on a hot pot are pretty thoughtless. And he’s clumsy apparently.

Also why the heck would he pull the pot from the stove? It wasn’t even boiling over. Just lower the temperature. Have you never been in a kitchen before, dude? And you’re not even cleaning up after yourself?

Dean and Sam discussing their issues: So Sam never trips? Both noticed right away that this was weird. Sam looks so offended. Like “I’m Sam Fucking Winchester, I don’t trip!”?

Also, did Sam say “dinner”? Is it already evening and they’ve just been hit with “normal person-itis” now? I see Sam’s watch but I can’t decipher it right. It it 5:35? What time of the year is it in canon? I was still light outside when Dean was shopping.

In the car on the way to Garth: A look, it’s dark now, which suppors the “they just randomly got hit with normal people problems. The music for this scene is also unusual. 

I’m annoyed that Cas is in heaven. Why. Why is he up there? Why does SPN always stash Cas out of the way with random stuff? It would have been nice if there had been a phone call or something with Cas checking in or just a mention that Dean was driving back from dropping Cas off at the angel gate or whatever. It takes so little, makes such an impact for me. This? Sorry. It’s just not enough for me.

Why is the car giving up the ghost? Especially in such a weird way? Isn’t Dean constantly working on the Impala? This is not normal people problems either.

At Garth’s: So Sam and Dean walked like 16km? Couldn’t they have taken public transport OR a taxi like normal people...? Or call road assistance or Garth at least? I don’t know what it’s like in the US but that seems a bit extra, even for Sam and Dean.

Garth and Bess have an old style phone in their house, which is a random remark but it’s a nice deco object.

Garth’s Twins: I don’t quite understand why Garth calls the twins Sam and Castiel. What kind of connection does Garth have to Cas? Why not Sam and Dean? If only one of the brothers, why Sam? He has more of a connection to Dean after all? I don’t get it. Dabb just liking it when people prefer Sam and Dean has to roll his eyes at it? :/

Again with the weird, out of place music when they have a look at Bess’ cousin.

Dean and Garth: The dramatic music when Dean steps into the dentist’s room. *lol* And then his disquieted “you’re very strong” when Garth forced him. I think since Garth treats werewolves who might also have an aversion to the dentist, he’d be used having to use a bit of force *lol* Besides. I really love getting insight into how monsters deal with “normal people problems” because they have them too. It’s a shame that we don’t see more of that side to monsters. We only see those monsters who mess up after all, rarely those who try to blend in. 

I might not know much about dentistry but I only had cotton stuffed into my bleeding mouth like that when I got my wisdom teeth out in an operation. Sure, I bleed a bit when I have appointment but not like that??? Just what did Garth do? Replace Dean’s teeth with werewolf teeth? *lol*

Sam and Bess: Dramatic music continues when Bess hands Sam the “cure” drink. It kind of frames the scenes as dangerous and at least it put me slightly on “confused edge” because the music made me think I couldn’t trust Garth and Bess. Sam’s struggles are kinda... over the top. I mean, we’ve seen Dean eat ghost pepper jerky and suffer, but Sam is suffering kinda ridiculously, like he’s been hit by a curse or something (i.e. still like he’s in the middle of a battle against some monster). Ew. Sam wiping his tongue on the arm he’s been sneezing and snotting into. Uff.

The tap dancing: Nice but I don’t really see the point in it >w< I guess normal people have normal funky dreams. And I guess Dean dreams of joyful things like dancing and having FOR ONCE gentle interactions with a lamp instead of always smashing them.

Talking about God and being heroes in a story: I like Garths’ approach to this topic and that he’s much more aware of story structures than the Winchesters seem to be. Why does Dean need a colonoscopy? (Angsty thought: does he have cancer...? Can werewolves smell it? Is that how it’s gonna end? Normal people problem killing Dean? Nope.)

Scene with the cousin: Poor Sam, he looks so upset when his “gentle request and puppy eyes” approach didn’t work. Though I like that it’s Bess who gets the guy to talk (like it’s Garth who gets the job done later on). I really like that monsters have normal people problems too. And it seems like the Winchesters are still very surprised about that.

Sam and Dean “job”: I think they’re being idiots here. Not only do they lack any evidence that the monsters who watch those fights are harming people, so they just kill them because they’re monsters? Also, it seems very unwise for two people alone to take on how many monsters?? No damn research done at all. And on top of that it seems really unwise to go on a case when they don’t know what else “normal people problems” entails while hunting. At least Sam might have been alarmed due to his sudden clumsiness... Just, stupid move on the Winchesters’ part. 

Side note: Sam doesn’t seem to be comfortable saying anything at all. He still seems to be shocked by the werewolf’s diss.

Dean continues to be kinda dumb and I don’t exactly get why. They don’t know what they’re walking into, so they definitely need to be prepared and I can think of several examples where he was prepared for anything. And now that he can’t be sure of his “luck” he’s not gonna think twice about it? And him munching his grilled cheese, talking with his mouth full and “playing” with the gun wasn’t super endearing to me. Sorry, I know many found it cute *lol* And who vomits that loudly...? I mean... ew.

I liked that Dean tried to bluff his way out of the situation and maybe it would have worked in another situation... 

Dean and Sam in cages: It makes no sense that not being able to pick locks is part of normal people problems because I’m sure they learnt how to pick locks over the years. So this, and their inability to fight later on (another thing they’ve learnt) just makes it clear that Chuck didn’t just remove them from “hero” status, but took away more than just their special skills.

Dean’s entire heartfelt speech doesn’t work either, neither on Sam or Dean, nor on the audience both because of how it’s filmed (no particular clear shot of Dean’s face and Sam constantly looking uncomfortable) and the variation of Dean’s theme.

What’s with Dean’s throat? I don’t understand what he said.

Garth saves the day: Dean’s awed “you are so strong” is cute! Why has he never been in awe of Cas’ strenght? Cas lifted a 1t anvil once and Dean didn’t even look at him amorously for it. 

Man, there are a couple things I don’t understand here! Wish I had subtitles because I’ll probably only get what “we’re gotta get out of here blblblbl monstersquad” or “the monster squad bbbüb the good guys” means.

I think they might still be able to fight but whatever “hero” bonus they had was deleted and now it IS almost impossible to just knock out a monster. They did have more trouble in earlier seasons before they could just easily stick an angelblade into every monster and not even break much of a sweat. But the whole fight sequence is just a little bit too ridiculous for me...

Back at Garth’s home: The whole “this Cas keeps looking at me weird” scene is my highlight. I wonder if now that Dean and Cas are no longer locked into their defined roles (though I’m not sure if Chuck has written them with a specific dynamic, since he never seems to make use of Cas) Dean will notice more about Cas too ;D Though of course Dean does notice the way Cas looks at him (”the last time someone looked at me like that, I got laid” as a classic example). But still, maybe something to think about. Since a story does come with particular characters dynamics between heros and their supporting characters.

Dean saying that he could be an awesome dancer if he wanted to be is nice. The only thing he lacks is a partner to dance with. Though... He doesn’t lack a partner since he has Cas back now. He just needs to make the first move ;3

Baby clearly doesn’t want to go to Alaska. *lol*

Okay, that was a long post again, not structured at all, not edited, and it still took me multiple days to rewatch and type this up! Haha

[tibbinswrites]

Suptober Day 20 - Imagination

Dean was beyond angry, he was beyond afraid, he was almost beyond caring, but no, of course he was still capable of that, where would be the fun otherwise?

He had never been one for religion, how could he be? Demons had been real to him since he was six years old but there were no old hunter’s stories about their opposite, nothing to suggest that there was any kind of creature out there that wasn’t completely evil. He’d known that Sam used to pray, but the idea that there was something listening was just absurd to him.

Once he knew unequivocally that angels existed it was no longer a question of belief; sure, the idea of God was still a fuzzy one, but he could safely assume that it was pretty likely, especially when Lucifer joined the picture and started whining about his daddy issues, like he was the only one with a deadbeat father.

But despite all of that, Dean had always had faith, not in Chuck, not in fate, not that things were gonna work out in the end, because boy had he been proven wrong on that account more than once, but he’d always believed in his own agency. He’d been certain that his choices made a real difference to the world and good or bad, they were his responsibility.

Turns out, nothing is real and his choices hadn’t made a damn bit of difference. It wasn’t right. He had struggled so hard to come to terms with certain aspects of who he was, he’d made an active effort to change his thinking, to be better and now he was supposed to just accept that all that work had been for nothing? That he would’ve gotten here anyway because Chuck’s fucking story dictated it? Even the things he was proud of weren’t his achievements at all but plot points, pre-determined and certain. How long was the length of rope named Free Will? Was it even long enough to make a noose with? Had he ever in his life made a single decision on his own? Had he ever picked out his own underwear? Was his favourite band Led Zeppelin because he actually liked them or because Chuck had chosen them for him? Had he really fallen in love with Cas?

It was that last that was giving him the most trouble, the most rage. The people in his life that he loved, Sam, Cas, his mother, Jack, Jody and the girls, Rowena, Garth, Bobby, Charlie, Kevin, Lisa and Ben, were any of those connections real? Had they ever been real or were they just constructed that way to push him in a certain direction or to shift his priorities? And if they were real, how could he know? How could he ever trust in that again? Chuck was the puppet-master and now that Dean had noticed the strings, he had to assume that they’d been there the whole time making him dance.

It was just too much. What the hell was he supposed to do now? Would it matter? Was he being manipulated even now?

Cas had said that they were real. He had said it with such fierce certainty that it set Dean’s brain spinning. How was he so sure? And what had he meant by ‘real’ anyway? Had he meant it in the basic way in that they existed, or had he meant something deeper? The essence of them, who they were, their personalities, their loves and their hates and their choices and their feelings, had he meant that those were made not from Chuck’s imagination but by their own lives, their own experiences, themselves?

He wished he could think so.

“Dean?”

Cas had found him again. Not that he was hiding, not really, in fact, he’d been kind of hoping. He knew that if anyone could convince him that his whole life was more than God’s fever dream it was Cas, the guy who had been made with the idea that his existence was to further God’s plan. If Cas could believe that they had autonomy in their lives then how could Dean not?

Dean turned to him. Cas looked determined and grave.

“What?”

“I just thought I should tell you… I’m leaving.”

“What?” Dean said again, incredulous, this was the last thing he’d expected, honestly probably the worst turn of events he could imagine. “Why?”

“Belphegor,” Cas said with a half-guilty shrug, “mostly. I can’t… Dean, he’s using Jack’s body.”

“Cas-”

“I understand that Belphegor is useful, but that doesn’t mean I can be around him. Every time I see him and I see that demon face underneath, it’s like losing him all over again and I can’t.”

“We’ve talked about this, Cas. We need him.”

“No, we haven’t talked about this. In fact we’ve barely talked at all which is another reason I need to leave. I’m adding nothing right now. I can’t keep these people safe, I can’t convince you that our choices matter, I can’t stop you being angry or come up with a solution about what to do next, I’m not even sure I can heal anymore so what is the point in staying?”

“Because you want to.”

Cas shook his head, a sad smile on his lips.

“I don’t,” he said simply. “For the first time, I don’t want to stay, Dean. I don’t want to see my son’s corpse every day, I don’t want to be reminded of how badly I have failed you and Sam, I don’t want to wait around and do nothing, feeling useless, being useless. I don’t want to be your punching bag any more.”

“You’re not-”

“Are you going to finish that sentence,” Cas interrupted, “really?”

Dean fell silent and swallowed.

Cas sighed. “If you need me, I’ll be there,” he promised. “But if there is a solution to the apocalypse, it won’t be found in this half-mile radius of a town, and you can’t leave these people. I’ll keep you updated.”

Later, Dean imagined what would have happened if he’d stopped him, if he’d grabbed him by the arm and told him not to leave, if he’d apologised for being an asshole, if he’d told Cas he loved him, if he’d kissed him and begged him to stay because he needed him here, he needed Cas around just because, he needed to know that he was safe and here and where Dean could reach him. He imagined it playing out in vivid detail, the kiss, Cas kissing back, Cas looking at him in awe as Dean murmured words that he would be embarrassed to repeat, kind words, soft words, words that he felt but could never seem to say.

He wondered if it would have been enough.

@winchester-reload

  If you liked this, please consider buying me a coffee.

[trickkombowerskru]

Congrats on this milestone! Can I get male ships for Bowers gang, Owen roles, stranger things, and supernatural? I'm 5'6", with brown hair that's down to my butt 😂 I'm going to school to be a home ec teacher. I have 6 siblings and we're joined at the hip. Friends and strangers often approach me for a "therapy session" so I'd like to think I'm approachable and good at listening. Fave music is 50- 80's rock. I dress cute, but mostly for comfort. I rescue stray animals and find them homes.

You want a ship too? Get the details here

For The Bowers Gang I ship you with….

Belch Huggins

K it’ll be on all of these so here it is now

Height Difference

Home ec teacher you say?

Please cook for him!

Reggie will always adore your cooking

He thinks it’s nice you and your family are so close

But is lowkey overwhelmed as hell seeing your family be so big

Since it is just him and his mama after all 

Will totally vent to you

Rocking out in Amy and being dorks

Will help you with he animals when he can

For Owen Roles I ship you with….

Alexander

Cute Height difference

Talk about a feast would ya

You wanna be a home ec teacher

And Alexander can cook amazingly

Making different dishes to surprise each other

Ooof it’s just all real cute

He thinks it’s really nice how close you are to your siblings

And will do his best to try and genuinely get along with them as well

It’s really sweet

He’ll totally vent to you if you need to

Being wholesome music nerds

And slow dancing to 50′s songs together

He thinks it’s so great that you help the animals

That’s how you two met actually

Well properly met anyways

You were mutually pining messes over each other for a bit

So when when you find out he’s volunteering that weekend

You make sure you’re the one to help him with what to do

Overall just such a wholesome relationship

For Stranger Things I ship you with….

Steve Harrington

It’s a smaller one

But still there height difference

So you wanna be a home ec teacher?

DEAR LORD PLEASE teach this boy at least some simple dishes

Because shit he needs it

He can’t live off of microwaved things forever (I say that as if I  don’t pretty much do that now)

But yeah cook for him

And show him how to cook

Him coming from a neglectful family

As an only child

Damn coming to your house feels like a trip

A big AND close family?

That shit feels like a fever dream to him

Not to say he doesn’t enjoy it

Shit when he feels all alone at his place he’ll just go over to yours

Your siblings love him

And it makes you happy that your place feels like a home to him

Will totally vent to you

Because the boy has a lot built up

And he’s gotta let it out

Singing at the top of your lungs to the radio in his car

Like nerds

He thinks it’s so sweet how you help animals

And loves your huge heart

For Supernatural I ship you with….

Sam Winchester

SUCH A MEGA HEIGHT DIFFERENCE

Sam may not be a fantastic chef or anything

But he does know his way around the kitchen

So ofc you two cook together just as a fun little couple activity

With him having Dean is more than enough

But the fact you have six siblings and are close with all of them>

Wow

That being said they love Sam

He was able to easily charm his way right into their good graces

Of course Sam vents to you

The man’s whole life is practically one large therapy session needing to be unpacked

Due to your music taste

Oh boy expect so many “debates” with Dean

I say “debates” because it’s really just you two going back and forth 

Calling the other crazy for some opinions here and there

Sam adores the fact you help animals

Whenever they have a bit of down time from hunts

He will totally help you with them form time to time

If they weren’t in the position they were in

And didn’t live in the bunker

You two would totally have one dog if not more than one

[alleiradayne]

Sex and Candy

Summary: Natalie returns from a resource run with a surprise for Sam. Square Filled: Sex toys Warnings/Tags: Pegging, teasing, bodily fluids, subtle delayed orgasm Characters/Pairings: Sam Winchester/Natalie Murphy Word Count: 2,401 A/N: For @spnkinkbingo this fills the Sex Toys square. And as always, thank you @atc74 for your wonderful beta’ing. Also, I give 0 fucks about how NSFW that aesthetic is, I fucking love it. Song: Sex and Candy by Marcy Playground

Chuck bless the knock at his door, for if Sam read one more sentence on the many uses of sage, he would pass out. The soft knock repeated as he rolled from his bed, the ancient tome tossed aside, and a tentative voice filtered through his door.

“Sam? It’s Natalie. Can I come in?”

He grasped the handle and pulled the door aside to reveal Natalie, clad in her leather jacket against which she clutched a plastic bag. Blue eyes drank him in from his bare feet and sweatpants all the way up to his ruffled hair. When she said nothing, Sam stepped aside and gestured her in.

She checked the hall once more before darting in and said, “Close the door. Lock it.”

Sam did as she said, but a myriad of questions bubbled up at her intense secrecy. “You okay, Talie?”

On the edge of his bed she sat, the small plastic bag in her lap. “I am. But I may have jumped the gun on an impulse buy.”

The small silver bag crinkled between her nervous fingers as Natalie fidgeted. Then Sam saw it. Black and red vines twisted in a tangled heart to brand the bag that of the sex shop in town. And not just any sex shop. The sex shop. Their favorite.

“Oh,” Sam started as he smiled at his feet. With his hands in his pockets, he shrugged, and a familiar sting raced across his cheeks as her eyes fell to his hips. Damn t-shirts. He had too few long enough, and the old rag he had grabbed earlier that morning had seen better years. Particularly short, the cool air of his bedroom pebbled the skin of his exposed waist.

Sure, he had done it on purpose. But he knew Natalie reveled in his coy smiles and innocent shrugs and shy, averted eyes. At least to start. She enjoyed his sweet awkwardness. But over the last year, they had learned much about one another, the little things. While Natalie loved his acute emotional awareness, she never orgasmed better than when Sam dominated the hell out of her. And Sam never came as hard as he did when she, in turn, abused the fuck out of him in bed.

He wouldn’t go so far as to say he was a masochist. But pain and pleasure danced along a fine, thin line for he and Natalie.

“Stop that,” she muttered. Her tone, deep in her throat, drew his attention, and Sam found himself staring at the plunging collar of her t-shirt.

“Stop what?”

Natalie shook her head as if to clear it. “That. Everything. I can’t think straight around you and your…” She waved a flippant hand at his crotch as she palmed her forehead.

“What, this?” Sam asked as he smoothed his palm down the length of his stiffening cock, clearly visible through his sweatpants. “Not my fault. You’re the one teasing me with some new toy.”

“I hate you,” Natalie hissed through her crooked smile as she stood. “Here.”

The bag dangled in her hand as she brandished it, and Sam took it as he grasped by the wrist and pulled her flush to his chest. Heat radiated from her as he slipped her jacket from her shoulders and his fingertips teased at her collar bone.

“Sam,” Natalie started, “Please look in the bag.”

Sam laughed at that. “I’m sorry, I like seeing you squirm,” he said as he pried apart the bag.

He fell silent then, and when he remained so for too long, Natalie asked, “Well?”

His jaw dropped in disbelief. There at the bottom of the bag lay a set of black straps attached to a belt. Atop it sat a new dildo, comparable in length and girth to his erect self. Last, a bottle of lube sat beside it, and Sam sighed as his cock twitched.

“How did you know?”

Natalie raised a brow at that. “I mean, it’s going to be different than my finger but, I’m guessing it’ll feel just as good.”

“But how did you know I’d even want to try pegging?” Sam asked, breathless as the words quivered on his lips.

“Because,” Natalie whispered as she stroked his length with delicate fingers. “You come way more when I finger you.”

The sting of embarrassment heated his cheeks. “I do?”

“I don’t usually need to swallow twice,” she said with a wink. “Imagine what this thing might do for you.”

Imagine he did. And not just a cock the size of himself buried in his ass.  No, he imagined Natalie behind him, fucking him, slamming that dildo into him as he jerked his cock and Sam nearly came in his pants at the thought.

And in the next heartbeat, he grasped Natalie by her ass and carried her onto the bed with him. There he set the bag aside as he planted a rough kiss on her lips, and she moaned into him. Greedy fingers grasped at her breasts as she writhed with him, her own hands finding his cock again. There, she gripped him with a long, hard stroke, and he whimpered an uncontrollable sigh into her lips.

She parted from him with a gasp as she gathered the hem of his shirt. With neither of them no longer interested in words, she tore the fabric over his head and tossed it aside. And Sam followed her lead, her shirt discarded and forgotten along with her bra. Taut nipples begged for his lips and he obliged without hesitation.

Natalie gasped as her back arched, pressing more of her into his mouth. Though eager to please her, Sam hoped she might forgive him later for skipping ahead, and he released one breast for the other. Again, Natalie moaned as her fingers carded through his hair and grasped to wrench him from her flesh.

Sam stared into her fiery blue eyes alight with lust and another heavy flex of his cock left him dizzy. When Natalie spoke, his eyes fell to her lips.

“I want to fuck you, Sam.”

His eyes rolled back as he moaned, “Then do it.”

She eased the grip on his hair as she slipped from his bed and stood. Sam followed and stripped from his sweatpants, erection sticking straight out from his groin. Natalie froze with her pants at her knees, jaw hanging as she stared at him again.

Sam grabbed himself by the base with his left hand, then stroked his length with the other. Beads of precum gathered at the tip and with one swipe of his index finger, he brought it to his mouth and licked it clean.

“Tease,” Natalie taunted.

“I try.”

With another shake of her head, Natalie kicked her boots aside and rid herself of her pants. And faster than he had anticipated, she had donned the belt and dildo, the sight of which left Sam weak in the knees. There in all her five-foot glory, Natalie stood with her hands on her hips and a ten-inch dildo hanging from her crotch.

“God, you are so fucking hot,” he sighed as he knelt on the bed. “I want you so bad it hurts.”

Her eyes drifted to his cock as she raised an inquisitive brow. “You do look like you could use a little relief,” she cooed as she knelt on the bed beside him and grasped the dildo at its base. The tip raised to meet his and Sam flinched at the sudden contact. “So sensitive,” she teased. “Now, turn around. I want you to present yourself to me and beg for it.”

Christ, but Sam nearly melted at her command. Her whip like tongue and filthy words fueled his lust further, another heavy flex of his cock spinning the entire room. But he obeyed, turning and bending over as his hands gripped his sheets.

A pleased hum sang through her nose as Natalie smoothed one cheek, her fingers dangerously close to his hole. “Look at you,” she whispered, “Sam, honey, you’re shaking. Do you want it that bad?”

“I want you,” he moaned, a little more desperate than he had wanted to sound. But it was true. Natalie had worked him up to a fever pitch; he wouldn’t shy away from begging for her.

A high whimper burst from his chest as warm lube coated his flesh and dripped down his taint to his sac, then ran the length of his cock. More of the thin liquid spread as Natalie’s delicate fingers rubbed, then slipped in her finger.

Sam moaned a long, low groan as he arched his back and his head hung between his shoulders.

“Oh, my sweet Sam, just wait,” Natalie sighed as she slipped in another finger. “There’s so much more for you.”

Fuck, he did not deserve her. Nothing he had ever done in his life had owed him a woman such as Natalie, one as perverted and willing as himself. And Sam moaned again at the thought, emotions on edge as he tried and failed to keep his arousal in check.

“Ready?”

The soft silicone tip teased his hole as Natalie grasped his hips, waiting. “Yes, do it, fuck me. Fuck my ass.”

Time slowed, stretched with every inch of penetration that filled him until it froze as her hips met his ass. So full, his eyes rolled back as they closed, and his jaw fell slack. Nothing compared to that full sensation, penetrated so completely and at the mercy of the woman in whom he had found such profound love.

“I don’t hear anything…”

“I…”  Sam stuttered, “No human sound will do this justice.”

Another pleased hum filled his room as Natalie withdrew. Despite his best efforts, Sam howled a moan so depraved he hardly recognized his own voice.

“I figured the cock with all the ridges and nubs would do something for you,” Natalie giggled. “More?”

Sam nodded as he grasped his cock once more. “Fuck yes, more. Pound my ass, Talie.”

He might have used a different word knowing how eager Natalie could be. But regret never occurred to Sam, and so, when her hips slammed into his ass, he moaned a long high whine and begged for more. And Natalie obliged. Furious thrusts pumped her cock into his ass until the ache in his sac swelled so painfully, his orgasm threatened to take control.

“Keep going,” he insisted, “I’m… I’m so close.”

“That was fast,” she breathed as she stroked her fingertips along his spine. “You gonna come already?”

When he reached for himself, Natalie grasped his wrist and wrenched it to the small of his back. “Son of a bitch, it… I can’t stand it, I have to.”

She slowed her thrusting hips to long, lurid drags. “But we only just started,” she pouted. “I like seeing my cock in your ass. Wish you could see it. But I guess you get to see yours in my pussy all the time.”

“God—fuck, that’s hot,” he sighed, “Please, honey, I have to come, I can’t… I can’t hold out any longer.”

A snap of her hips withdrew her from him, and Sam cried out a pathetic whimper at the empty sensation, so void, so lacking. She released his wrist with a flippant toss, then shoved his hip. “Get on your back.”

He needn’t be told twice. Sam rolled to his back and lifted his legs for her. “Like this?”

“Aren’t you a little slut for me?” she taunted as she grasped his thighs and settled between them.

“Your slut,” he moaned as she pressed the cock against his hole. “Do I get to come now?”

As she filled him once more, Natalie grasped his cock and cupped his swollen balls. “Maybe. I might want to hear you beg for it a little longer.”

Oh, did he ever beg. Whimpers and moans full of nonsense ran like a river from his mouth, delirious and desperate. Natalie’s thrusts returned to her eager pace, and Sam ogled everything about her, from her undulating tits, to her rolling hips, to her deft hand stroking his cock. As hard as he tried, Sam lasted mere moments under her control. That impending release raced through his veins and culminated in a prolonged flex as he came. Hard. So hard, his vision blurred, and the room spun. Indeterminate seconds passed where Sam drifted, suspended in that ephemeral space between his body and his mind as his orgasm rampaged through him, only to relinquish its hold of him in a hazy cloud of euphoria.

When his vision focused, the cooling wet of his cum on his chest drew his gaze downward where he witnessed the virile mess of his orgasm. The sting in his cheeks flushed through to his navel, and when he looked to Natalie with a worried grimace, she laughed as she said, “Told you.”

In a fit of need, Sam reached between his legs and grasped Natalie by the shoulders to haul her atop him. She squealed in protest but settled atop when his massive arms squeezed her tight. “You like it,” he retorted.

Natalie squirmed in the wet stickiness between them as her lips found on his for a long kiss that Sam had craved since the moment she had walked into his room. Pliable, her lips parted for his tongue and he devoured her, the subtle sweetness of her mouth overwhelming his senses. The longer he kissed her, the more he wanted her, wanted to feel her wrapped around him again. Just the thought of being inside her renewed that aching swell in his balls, and it wasn’t long before his cock stroked against the leather of her strap-on.

Sam tore the bindings from her hips and tossed the belt to the bed before Natalie could protest. When he shoved her from his lap and to the bed, however, she glared over her shoulder with a questioning furrow of her brow. She was about to open her mouth when Sam pinned her hips to the bed with one hand and pressed his entire body atop hers. His cock teased her drenched pussy, gliding between her lips, then slipped inside with the slightest roll of his hips. She cried out a wild moan as her hips arched to present herself to him. But then she quieted, and so, Sam placed his lips to her ear and whispered.

“Your turn.”

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ALLEIRADAYNE’S SPN KINK BINGO MASTER LIST

ALLEIRADAYNE’S SPN MASTER LIST

The Whole Thang:

@atc74  @hannahindie @bevans87  @meganwinchester1999  @plaided-ani-on-hiatus  @oneshoeshort @jonogueira @andkatiethings @elfinmox@wonderfulworldofwinchester @princessofthefandomrealm  @just-another-busyfangirl @jmekitchens @81mysteriouslyme @dolphincliffs  @seenashwrite @canadianspnhunter  @meowmeow-motherfucker @depressed-moose-78@staycejo1 @hobby27  @pretty-fortune @mypopculturediva @fanfictionjunkie1112 @sandlee44@4llmywr1tings @claitynroberts @maddiepants @scarletluvscas @donnaintx@blackeyedangel9805 @rainflowermoon @winchesterprincessbride @lazinessisalliknow @the-is13 @waywardafgrandma @keymology @sister-winchesters99 @mrswhozeewhatsis

Sam’s Sasstresses:

@morganas-pendragons

[notfunnydean]

May I ask for this dance?

Pairing: Dean Winchester / Castiel

Warnings: None (too much fluff maybe)

Word Count: 3.225 Square Filled: Dancing on his feet

Summary: When Dean asks Castiel to accompany him at an undercover investigation at a masquerade ball, to find the witch who killed a lot of people, Castiel wants it to be a date. Only problem, he can’t dance, so he asks Sam for help.

A/N: The idea for this lovely story is from my very own Gabriel and I can tell you this is too cute to be real. I had to write it. This is for the @spnfluffbingo2019!

Link (if posted on AO3): https://archiveofourown.org/works/18400415

Castiel sits in the kitchen and reads one of his newest book, when Dean comes in. The hunter looks as if he didn’t sleep at all and Castiel holds his own mug with coffee up. Dean takes it without another comment and gulps the coffee down. Castiel ignores his slurping.

“I take it, the hunt didn’t end well?” Castiel asks and Dean grunts into the mug. Seems like he is in a very bad mood. Castiel looks around, but Sam doesn’t seem to be anywhere, maybe he was already in his own room, sleeping.

“Couldn’t find the witch.” Dean mutters finally, after the coffee is gone. Castiel wants to take his mug back to fill it up again, but Dean takes it to the coffee machine himself and fills another one for Castiel too.

“So you just left?” Castiel asks and tilts his head, because if he knows one thing, it’s that the Winchesters do a lot of things, but giving up isn’t on that list. Dean shakes his head and stifles a yawn.

“We found out that the victims all died at some sort of masquerade ball, so we figured we would catch her the next time it takes place and since it’s only one hour away, we wanted to sleep in our own beds again.” Dean says and he eyes the plate in front of Castiel.

“Fair enough.” Castiel offers and then goes back to reading his book. He drinks a sip of his coffee and frowns, he hates this mug, but Dean is still drinking from his, so he wouldn’t complain. [Watch out for the cut]

“Did you eat pie?” Dean finally asks and he is still looking at the empty plate. Castiel chuckles a bit low and then shakes his head.

“I wouldn’t dare.” He answers and Dean smiles shyly up at him. Castiel loves the moments like this between them and sometimes he wishes Dean would see a bit more in them as well.

“Good. Anyway, I should probably catch some sleep, Sam is already sleeping. He wasn’t feeling well earlier.” Dean says and Castiel nods. Even before they left Sam was already coming down with a cold, but he was too stubborn to stay at the bunker and let Castiel handle it.

“Goodnight, Dean.” Castiel says and he reads the paragraph for the fourth time. It’s nothing new to him, since he always gets a bit distracted when Dean is around. Especially now, when Dean stretches a bit and his shirt hikes up. Just enough for Castiel to catch a bit of skin.

Castiel doesn’t look up again, even though Dean hasn't left. Sometimes Dean seems like he wants to say another thing, but he doesn’t dare to do it. Mostly he leaves without saying anything and Castiel got used to the unsaid words between them.

“Cas?” Dean asks and his voice is a lot softer now. Castiel loves it, when Dean shows his real side. Don’t get him wrong, of course Dean is often aggressive or dominant, but Castiel knows his soul. Knows how much Dean pretends.

“Yes, Dean?” Castiel asks patiently and Dean is quiet again. It’s always like this and Castiel would give him all the time he needs.

“I was thinking… with Sammy being still sick. You think you could go to the masquerade ball with me?” Dean asks and he licks over his lips. Castiel, who had finally looked up again, focused on those pinks lips for only a second.

Dean wants to go dancing with him?

“Oh. Yeah of course.” Castiel finally says and Dean smiles happily. Castiel wishes he could feel how Dean’s smile would feel against his own mouth. Before Castiel can ask for more details, Dean is already out of the door.

“Masquerade Ball is in two days!” Dean says and Castiel nods to himself. He can’t wait. Even if there is a witch waiting for them.

*

“Sam?”

Castiel actually feels a bit nervous to go to Sam for a matter like this, but it’s not like he has many other friends he could ask. Sam, who sits in front of the chimney, looks up.

“Yeah, Cas? You okay?” Sam asks and he coughs a bit. Castiel frowns down at him. Since he lost his power he feels worse, when one of the brother get sick and he can’t help.

“Yeah I wanted to ask you something, but I see you are clearly too sick.” Castiel says slowly and Sam shakes his head. Castiel sighs, because if there was a day where they both admit how bad they really feel, the world would probably really end.

“It’s just a cold. What do you want to know?” Sam says and at least he drinks from the tea again, that Dean made him earlier. There is some honey in it too, since Dean explained that would help Sammy’s sore throat.

“Well, it’s about the masquerade ball.” Castiel starts and Sam nods. Dean informed him already that Castiel would accompany him and Castiel had seen how relieved Sam was when he heard it.

“Oh yeah. What about it? Do you already know what you will wear?” Sam asks back and Castiel sighs. Dean had already told him to wear a much finer suit and while Castiel had not many clothes, Dean said he would get him clothes and also a mask for the ball.

“No, but Dean drove to the next town to get me a suit.” Castiel says and frowns. He wanted to go with Dean, but the hunter had said he should stay at the bunker. Which brings a new problem up in Castiel’s thoughts.

“Okay.” Sam says and Castiel nods. Now or never.

“Dean explained to me that we would need to participate in the ball, so we don’t attract too much attention and I realized that I can’t dance.” Castiel says and with every word, Sam’s eyes seem to widen a bit more.

“You can’t dance.” Sam repeats slowly and Castiel nods.

“I believe I just said that. So I wanted to ask you, if you could teach me how to dance?” Castiel asks and this time Sam’s mouth opens once, twice, before he shakes his head. Castiel isn’t sure what he had done.

“You want me to teach you?” Sam asks again and Castiel isn’t sure if the fever did already some damage to his brain.

“Is it inappropriate to ask?” Castiel wants to know, because while he may be a human for now, he still doesn’t understand the… terms.

“Well no, but I’m still surprised. You think Dean will dance with you?” Sam asks and Castiel tilts his head again. Sam sighs.

“I hope he does.” Castiel admits slowly and Sam’s smile turns a bit sad. Castiel isn’t sure what that means, but Sam gets up and coughs again. He doesn’t have a fever anymore, but Castiel isn’t sure if it was a good idea to ask him to dance now.

“Okay maybe we just try one slow dance? Viennese Waltz?” Sam asks and Castiel shrugs, since he doesn’t know any dance. He watched humans for hundreds of years and always admired their dancing, but he never tried it once himself.

Sam gets up and looks into his phone for a slow song before he stands right in front of Castiel. The angel sometimes hates that he has to look up to him, but he doesn’t mind right now. Carefully Sam puts on hand on his waist and takes Castiel’s right hand into his left and holds them up.

“I feel like Dean is the one leading, so you have to put your left hand on my shoulder.” Sam says and Castiel nods. He is incredible close to Sam now, their chests almost touching and Castiel can’t wait to be this close to Dean.

“Okay.” Castiel says once he adjusts and Sam nods to himself. Sam seems to count in his head to the cadence of the song and Castiel tries to listen himself.

“This one is a rather easy dance. I know that Dean can do a lot of different types actually, but I think this one should be good enough. You just follow me, alright?” Sam says and then he starts moving.

Castiel looks down at their feet and he tries to follow Sam, but already with the second step, he steps on Sam’s feet. Sam actually chuckles a bit, while Castiel apologies again and again.

“I don’t know what I did wrong.” Castiel mutters and he gets in position again. This time it actually works a bit better, but then Sam tries to turn them a bit and Castiel steps on his feet again.

“Ouch. Okay. You just have to relax a bit Cas. It’s just me.” Sam says softly and Castiel nods, but when he already ruins this with Sam, then how could he ever dance with Dean without making a fool of himself?

They spend over thirty minutes like this and at some point even Sam seems to get frustrated. Castiel really hopes he doesn’t tire Sam out, since he is still sick, but Sam only says that he is fine, again.

“Wait. This doesn’t seem to work.” Sam says finally and Castiel sighs sadly. He knows that the vessel is actually his own body now, but sometimes it still feels unreal. He just doesn’t understand how his body works.

“I’m sorry Sam.” Castiel says again and Sam just shrugs. His feet must be hurting by now.

“It’s okay Castiel. The start is always the hardest. Hey how about you step onto my feet and we try it like that?” Sam says and Castiel frowns at that.

“I’ve been stepping on your feet the whole time.” Castiel says slowly and Sam laughs, before he coughs again and Castiel pats his shoulder a bit.

“No I mean you actually stand on my feet and I move us both, so you can at least feel in which order the steps should be.” Sam says quietly and Castiel nods. Sam is lost in his own thought for a moment, because while he never did it with his mom as a child, he remembers a picture where Dean dances with Mary like that.

“Like this?” Castiel asks and he carefully stands on Sam’s feet. Since the hunter is wearing his boots, it shouldn’t hurt that much, but Castiel is sure that he is actually to heavy for that.

“Yeah. It’s good. Now try to focus.” Sam says and this time he moves them both. At first Castiel actually holds a bit tighter onto him, but then he relaxes. He feels himself moving and it’s easy this way.

They spend over thirty minutes like this and Castiel even looks up sometimes to smile at Sam. He is dancing! When the front door opens loudly, Castiel takes a step back and Sam sits down again. He looks exhausted.

“I got us food.” Dean announces and when Castiel goes over to him to help, Sam winks at him and mouths ‘good luck’.

*

Castiel is sure, that he was never this nervous in his life before.

“Okay we just go in there and see if we can find the witch. You got your mask?” Dean asks when they are in front of the big ballroom. Castiel nods and gets it out of the backseat of the impala.

It’s a rather simple black mask, that covers only part of his face, but Castiel liked it. Dean himself wears an even smaller mask in white and his is made out of lace. Castiel’s fingers itch to touch it.

“How do we find the witch?” Castiel says when he put the mask on and turns back to Dean. He gasps quietly, when he sees how green Dean’s eyes look under the mask and his freckled cheekbones are much more prominent as well.

Castiel knows he is in love, but he doesn’t exaggerate, when he says nobody will ever be as beautiful as Dean is. Inside and out.  

“Sammy said she has dark lilac hair, so let’s hope she didn’t change it.” Dean says and he seems also a bit distracted. Castiel nods and follows Dean inside. There are a lot of people and everyone wears masks. Castiel is a bit overwhelmed.

“There are a lot of people here.” Castiel mutters and Dean nods slowly. He is already looking for the witch and Castiel starts to look around as well. He wouldn’t disappoint Dean. They both walk down the stairs and Castiel fidgets a bit when everybody looks at them.

Dean seems even more nervous and tries to straighten his tie again. Castiel isn’t sure why everybody seems to stare, but he brushes his shoulder against Dean’s. That seemed to be the right thing to do, because Dean exhales quietly and his shoulder’s relax.

“I have no idea where to start.” Dean says quietly and Castiel nods. He hadn’t thought so many people would be here. When they are in the middle of the ballroom, Castiel can see that a few people are already dancing, but there is also some food carried around by servers.

“At the moment you’re pretty obvious.” Castiel whispers, because Dean is still looking everywhere and people are still staring. Normally Castiel would say, it’s because Dean looks so stunning, but right now he catches the attention only with staring.

“Sorry. Uhm… just not used to walking around like this.” Dean says and he finally looks at Castiel again. Castiel nods and then looks down at himself, he isn’t really comfortable like this either. He misses his trench-coat. It seems like a safety blanket for him at this point.

“You look good though.” Castiel says and he wants to bite on his tongue. Dean’s smile is a bit shy, but nevertheless sweet and Castiel can’t do anything but admire Dean for a few seconds.

“Thank you.” Dean whispers back and he puts on of his hands on his neck. A sign that he is nervous. Castiel only nods and then looks at the few people on the dancefloor.

“Maybe we could look around while we dance?” Castiel says and Dean frowns behind the mask. Castiel isn’t surprised about this reaction and has to smile. Dean can be really shy and awkward if he wants.

“You mean like they did in Sherlock Holmes?” Dean asks and Castiel nods. They watched that movie only a few weeks ago and Dean had really loved it, while Castiel was mostly looking at him, but he had really liked this particular scene.

“Exactly.” Castiel says and Dean still seems to think about it for a moment. Castiel just waits for his answer and smiles up at Dean, who is fidgeting with his tie again. He always wears suit and tie for his FBI appearances, but he really seems to hate this.

“Well can you dance?” Dean wants to know and Castiel nods. He wouldn’t tell Dean that he just knows one dance and that he learned it with his brother the other night.

“Yeah and I heard that you can dance as well.” Castiel says and Dean blushes, seems like he isn’t too happy about the fact that Castiel knows that already. Dean looks at the ground again, when he speaks up.

“May I ask for this dance?” Dean says quietly and Castiel is taken aback a bit, he didn’t think it would be that easy. He would’ve been fine with just holding Dean’s hand for a while.

“Of course.” Castiel says and he carefully takes Dean’s outstretched hand. Dean’s hand is warm, although already a bit sweaty, but Castiel doesn’t mind at all. They walk together to the small area, where people are still dancing and Dean nearly stumbles over his own feet.

“Okay.” Dean says, when they stop at the dancefloor and Dean gets into position. Castiel is happy to put his free hand on Dean’s shoulder and Dean takes a deep breath, before he puts his hand on Castiel’s hip.

Castiel shudders a bit, when his chest touches Dean’s. He never had feelings like this before and he is glad that he can experience them. Not even heaven was this beautiful and calming.

“Ready?” Dean asks and Castiel looks down to stand on Dean’s feet. Now they are on the same height and Castiel smiles. Dean seems a bit surprised though.

“What are you doing?” Dean asks and it sounds almost hysterical. Castiel just shrugs and looks down. Maybe he is hurting Dean?

“Dancing?” Castiel asks and he tilts his head. Dean starts laughing and Castiel can feel his laugh against his own ribs. He loves this.

“Yeah I mean why not?” Dean says and Castiel notices everybody is staring at them again, but he doesn’t care and neither does Dean, when he starts to move them both. It’s different from dancing with Sam.

It’s more intimidating, more close and Castiel’s heart squeezes in his chest. Dean’s smile is breathtaking and Castiel was never feeling this free.

It’s almost like flying.

Castiel isn’t sure how long they are dancing like this, but sometimes Dean does slow down even more and Castiel sighs happily. When Dean stops at all, they are just standing there like this. Castiel still standing on his feet.

“You realize this is not normal?” Dean grins, when he points at their feet. Castiel shrugs.

“We aren’t really normal anyway.” Castiel answers and Dean chuckles at that. Castiel is glad that Dean doesn’t push him away or anything, no they are just standing there, still ��eye-fucking’ as Sam would call it.

“Cas?” Dean whispers quietly and his face is so close. Castiel is a bit distracted by the pink lips and it takes him a second to answer.

“Hm?” He mutters back and Dean swallows. Castiel licks over his lips. It’s almost like in the dreams he is having lately.

“Please kiss me.” Dean says and Castiel would never deny him anything, so he kisses Dean carefully. This time they don’t care about the people around them. It’s a bit weird with those masks, but then Dean changes the angle and Castiel hums against his lips.

When Castiel was sure that dancing with Dean was like flying, it’s nothing compared to this. Dean opens his lips and Castiel kisses him even deeper. Feels Dean’s flushed cheeks under his hands and he finally touches the lace, wished he could feel it somewhere else on Dean, too.

“Cas.” Dean says again, when they both need to breathe and Castiel smiles at him. Dean has his eyes closed a second longer and when he opens them they look so much darker.

“I wanted to do this for a long time.” Castiel admits and Dean laughs shakily. He pulls Castiel even closer again and even though they start dancing again, they have to stop more than once to steal short kisses.

“Me too.” Dean says and Castiel steps onto his feet a bit more forceful. Dean laughs.

*

It’s only later, when Dean admits that they already burned the witch and he just needed an excuse to go dancing with Castiel.

Castiel knows how to pay him back. All their friends and family are around them and waiting for their wedding dance, when Castiel smirks at Dean and carefully steps on his feet.

He isn’t sure who is laughing more Sam or Dean, but he kisses his husband quiet anyway.

[webcricket]

Castiel Imagine

Imagine: A grace-less Castiel doing his darnedest to take care of you when you're sick.

[A/N: Based on an ask from @81mysteriouslyme - “Just thinking: how would human!cas take care of a sick reader? Like sick sick. I reckon he’ll be insanely sweet and adorable but also a complete dork. Out of desperation he would also call Sam and Dean for help as he realizes he really has no idea what he is doing.”]

The plague - he read in an alarming article hyped in the headlines just last week in the Lebanon Daily Star that the black death pandemic that wiped out half of Europe in the 14th century is experiencing a renaissance resurgence in house pets populating the southwest. Mad-cow disease. You do enjoy a cheeseburger almost as much as Dean with the added benefit of table manners. Ebola. The trip to the zoo several weeks ago where Castiel insisted on spending hours in the primate exhibit observing the monkeys fills his heart with foreboding.

The list of fatal ailments he discovered in a Websummon search after plugging in your symptoms stretches endless in seriousness and judging by the patients populating the Doctor Sexy reruns Dean plays between cases in his man cave, it seems like humans stricken suddenly by dire disease is a daily occurrence to be expected.

Cas is convinced you need a team of specialists caring for you in a fully-equipped quarantine ward rather than a grace-less angel who burned the toast he tried to make you to calm your upset stomach … twice. You settled for crackers straight from the cupboard after he carried the smoking toaster into the bedroom, fingers singed black, eyes apologetically glassed, and hair frizzed on end after attempting to extricate an annihilated slice of bread from its fiery confines with a fork while the appliance was still plugged in. At least the flickering lights had nothing to do with a supernatural foe.

Disregarding the fragility of his own immune system at present, the one-time soldier of the Lord perches on the mattress beside you; irises glaze in concern as he gazes at your shivering sweat-drenched figure thrashing fitfully beneath the thin white bed sheet. The aforementioned list nagging his thoughts, he brushes the saturated tendrils of hair aside from your temples to check for small pox lesions. Relieved to see none, he lays a tender touch upon your forehead.

Wakened from tenuous sleep when his palm presses to your dampened brow to test the temperature, your whine of protest rapidly devolves into a congested cough. Given his lack of angelic aptitude, he can only guess at the sweltering height of the number.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes, the soft smile he usually reserves for you inverts into an anxious frown when the fatigued hollows of your watery eyes resolve on him. “You were having another bad dream.”

A fever dream to be exact. “S’okay.” You manage a strained sigh, throwing off the well-meant layers of extra warmth he piled on your extremities while you slept. Despite his inept nursing skills, there’s something reassuring about having him here as you drift in and out of consciousness. Muscles stiff and aching, you regret the loss of insulation, seized by a renewed wave of chills.

He frets over the hem of the wool blanket, fumbling his fingers along the scratchy fabric and tucking it again beneath your thighs. He doesn’t like seeing you wracked by shivers, at least not sickly ones. “Are you hungry?” he asks, feeling a burden of utter uselessness to ease your suffering in his human state. While you slept he looked up a video demonstrating how to make toast in a frying pan; going so far as to bookmark it for reference, he’s optimistic of his ability to mimic the task. If that doesn’t work, he has one requiring an iron to use as backup. And there’s always the can of chicken soup he discovered in the pantry if he wants to do battle with the microwave.

The thought of swallowing anything of substance sets your stomach churning precipitously upward. Rocking to your side, you assume the fetal position to suppress the rising pressure and prepare for the worst.

If Cas had any sense about what was coming or fondness for his sneakers, he’d do the same. “Sorry,” he repeats the sentiment because he truly is, “I-” He’s not certain what he wants to say. The fact is, without his divine gifts, he’s out of his element. Deciding on a silent show of support in lieu of syllables, he lays a hand soothingly to your side, smoothing across the shuddering landscape until the nausea naturally subsides.

The distraction helps. Cas sticking it out when you must look and smell God-awful means the world to you because it’s evidence of his love. It’s one thing to say those three little words, another to dance them in a tangle of passion, but being there when you’re at your worst, that’s the real definition of devotion.

For Cas, it’s not enough. He wants to do better; to be better - for you, so you get better. Losing you, it would be his biggest failure and one he isn’t sure he could survive.

Digging into his hoodie pocket, he retrieves his cell, closes the open web page of the sickness symptom checker, flicks through his short contacts list, and calls Sam on speakerphone.

“Hey, Cas. What’s up?” Sam answers.

“Y/N’s fever,” Cas murmurs, pausing his caress at the peak of your shoulder to squeeze, encouraging you to lie on your back. “I suspect malaria.”

“It’s not malaria,” Sam snorts, intuiting the former angel consulted the internet for a diagnosis.

Sam’s probably correct. You haven’t traveled to a tropical or subtropical region ever so the odds of exposure hover in the region of extremely unlikely; unlikely, although not impossible. “Websummon suggested-”

“It’s not malaria,” Sam insists, unleashing an airy snicker.

“Gimme the ph-” The phone emits a static buzz as Dean steals it from his brother to slam it to his ear. “Look buddy, the last time we were in tropical paradise sippin’ cocktails was never.” The elder Winchester’s voice bellows confirming Cas’ own inner argument against the diagnosis. “Sam’s right. It’s just the flu or something simple. Y/N’ll be fine in a few days.”

It occurs to Cas if you do survive it’s high time for a vacation. First he needs to get you through it. Perhaps a call to Rowena would have been more helpful, but then there might be the nastiness of personal favors owed and he’s not certain, lacking celestial clout, what he’d have to trade for your life or if influenza is reason enough to involve a witch. All the anxiety emerges as a rasped, “But-”

“But nothing. There’s Tylenol in the first aid kit, two every 4-6 hours until the fever breaks,” the hunter advises. “And, Cas?”

“Yes?”

“Angel mojo or no, you got this.” The call disconnects.

“He’s right, you know,” you mumble weakly, garnering his attention; gravel inflammation grates your tonsils as you speak. Clammy cool fingers wrap his wrist until the phone falls forgotten from their flexing tips with a bounce on the bed.

“About the flu?” Cas’ brow crinkles in confusion. When you attempt to sit up, he props a pillow behind your back and ensures you stay covered and warm.

You shake your head, coughing into the crook of your arm. “No, about you,” you croak. “You being here, I already feel better.”

A smile curves at the corner of his mouth, flattening the fretful lines of his features; his eyes gleam so brightly blue you can’t tell if it’s the fever muddling your senses, or a tiny speck of grace still simmering somewhere within the seraph.

Castiel tag list:  (Closed, if you’d like to be removed please let me know!)    @jeepangel  @sammiesamness  @willowing-love  @roxy-davenport  @blueicevalkyrie   @im-the-nerdiest-of-them-a11  @thesugargalaxy    @bluetina-blog  @dont-trust-humanity  @afanofmanystuffs  @honeybeetrash  @bucky-thorin-winchester  @superwholockz   @tistai  @wordstothewisereaders  @gill-ons  @mrswhozeewhatsis  @marisayouass  @stone-met   @castiel-savvy18  @samualmortgrim  @trexrambling  @magnificent-mantle  @kdfrqqg  @xdifsx  @moon-and-stars-cas   @rockfairy  @peaceloveancolor  @unicorntrooper  @anisolatedship  @itsilvermorny  @aditimukul  @kudosia  @goofynerd-67babylove  @uninspirationalsonglyrics  @mishascupcake   @mishapanicmeow   @praisecastielamen  @roseyhxnt  @jessikared97  @let-the-imaginationflow  @warriorqueen1991  @jenabean75  @alisonkenway  @anotherwaywardsister  @luciathewinchestergirl  @morganas-pendragons  @heyitscam99  @fangirl-and-stuff  @selahbela  @realgreglestrade  @splendidcas  @pointlesscasey  @lovelyangelofasgard  @i-larb-spooderman  @thewhiterabbit42  @thelostverse  @castieliswatchingoverme  @beccollie18  @dragonett8  @dixie-chick  @jtownraindancer   @carowinsthings  @pixiedusts @laqueus-ludovicus  @passionghost  @sherlockedtash88  @futureparent  @gabbie7-11  @myfandomlife-blog  @dreamerkim  @missjenniferb  @lexininja  @samael-has-arrived  @shamelesslydean  @earthtokace   @spookysculderfiles  @neaeri  @justanormalangel  @lone-loba  @supernaturalymarvel  @lilrubixx  @wings-and-halo  @thehoneybeecastielfollows  @musiclovinchic93  @81mysteriouslyme  @jessiekay2010  @the-bottom-of-the-abyss

[just-another-busy-fangirl-writes]

January 19, 2018

I am reposting old fic rec lists.  Unfortunately some of the blogs/stories have been removed, but I am still going to list them for historical reference.

Feel free to tag me in ANY fics you post, and see previous weeks’ fic recs HERE

SMUT

What You Need by @acreativelydifferentlove   Your heat hits and only your Alpha can give you what you need.

Sam’s Hair Routine by @bringmesomepie56   You ask Sam about how he does his hair.

Candy is Candy by @crispychrissy   After stumbling home from a bachelorette party, Dean enjoys some leftovers, much to your entertainment. (not explicit, just smut-topical)

Passing Through by @impala-dreamer   Boy meets Girl. Girl likes Boy. Boy is actually a demon who just wants a quick dance behind the bar.

Bullet Through My Heart by @nisaki-chan (on AO3)   Jared is on the floor, heart playing a crescendo for which fear is the maestro, the leading drum a desperate feeling of denial. This can’t be real, on a loop inside his head. His boyfriend of two years is pointing a gun at someone’s head. Smangst.

Flash by @saxxxology   You’re a model who finally gets a job with the famous Sam Winchester – and the results pay off.

Secret Fantasies by @sparklingcas   After an alcohol fueled conversation with Sam, you both discover that you share a similar fantasy.

FLUFF

Back of a Cop Car by @arazialotis   The reader meets Sam in her last year of high school and is head over heels for his older brother Dean. When they finally get a moment alone, it is short lived and they both end up in more trouble than they signed up for.

Honey Butter by @atc74   For a clever guy, Sam can be pretty stupid.

Nursechester by @crispychrissy   Being the half sister of Sam and Dean is hard enough, but being a registered nurse means you’re never bored, especially when Dean comes back from a hunt severely injured.

ANGST

Brother I’m Right Here by @hannahindie   Dean gets a phone call from Sam.

Me & Cinderella by @luci-in-trenchcoats   The reader always knew Dean Winchester was the one. But when her college quarterback boyfriend gets considered for the pros, they let each other drift apart so he could go after his dream. Seven years later, Dean realizes just what happened all those years ago… Flangst

Broken by @percywinchester27   Dean and Sam help the reader through a rough time when she’s all alone.

SERIES

To Better Suit Your Moves by insomnia-geek (on LJ)  Jared is a champion ballroom dancer who’s lost his partner and his passion just weeks before Nationals. Jensen’s a beginner who knows music like he breathes but needs a teacher to compete. Neither knew that their partnership of convenience would turn into so much more, or how learning to dance their own steps could uncover secrets long buried. As dance studio politics and their passion both reach a fever pitch, they have to decide what they really want out of life – winning, or love.

High School Reunion by @jhoomwrites  After some issues their senior year, Dean and Cas break up and go their separate ways. Despite still longing for what once was and what could have been, they don’t try to get in touch…Ten years later, their high school reunion throws them back together. Will they actually work things out, or continue avoiding each other?