#shipping/pairing: Dean Winchester

[angelsberrymilk]

I need more of Sammy and Soldier Boy.. pleaseee 🥹🥹🥹

Im going feral over them and I need to be satiated.

samboy (Sam winchester x soldier boy/ben)

aprox. 800 words

tags: +18 mdni. non-con (this is RAPE), abuse, crying, near-death experience, guilt, hallucination (?), feminization, general dark yucky stuff knowing soldier boy, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT.

soldier fucks Sam like he wants to kill him. like he wants to brand him from the inside out.

the room is filled with wet sounds, the continuous sound of their skin slapping together, ass to hips, lube messily spread between Sammy's thighs, his angry red cock swinging under him as Soldier boy holds him by the neck like an unruly dog, pinning him to the bed on his stomach, his back arched and his eyes rolled back.

his long legs are spread apart. his hole fluttering around Soldier boy's thick cock, stretching and squeezing around him. He can't help it. not when soldier boy feels warm on top of him, how he grunts and moans and praises him and calls him filthy names in the same breath, right in his ear, his beard rubbing his skin raw. He smells good too, musky and manly with a hint of sweat, so familiar, so close to home. too close to home.

It's so good that it hurts, and with each thrust Sammy's mind chips away and his memory gets weaker, forgetting how he even ended up in this position. Forgetting that Soldier Boy came in and threw a bottle of lube at him, telling him he has only 3 minutes to get ready. told him how it was nice of him to even give Sammy a heads up. he should consider himself lucky. that he should be thankful. Come on, Sammy, thank him. 

Thank him for rearranging your guts while you tried to fight him off. 

Thank him for holding you down as you couldn't even cry as he ripped your trousers off.

Thank him from the same mouth you're wailing and moaning on his cock. 

Sam tries to be quiet, to hold on until the man above him takes his fill, but he can't keep his mouth close, noises punched out of him, his tongue heavy in his mouth, he can't speak, the only sounds coming out of him are primal, pained and animalistic.

"Look at your little hole, boy am I glad I can fit in there without ripping your pussy, would be a shame if I did," Soldier boy says, satisfied beyond measure. a deathgrip on Sammy's tan waist, thumbing at the sweat-wet skin. 

Sam feels like he's going to pass out, his ears ringing, and he can't control his mouth. His tongue feels too heavy for his mouth, weak, as if he'd been stung by bees right in there, clogging his throat shut. Sam's eyes are wet and his cheeks even more so, he can taste blood and he can hear Dean calling out his name, the sun coming in from the windows bright and harsh. Sam isn't sure he's breathing, can't tell and then suddenly he feels cold and his eyes focus in a startling clarity. 

“Hey, don't you pass out on me, boy” Dean grits his teeth. 

Sam starts crying all over again, or maybe he's never stopped, or hasn't, who knows. His head was stuffed with marijuana smoke, the smell of beer, sweat, lube, mould and blood. 

Dean is mean. 

Dean is being mean to him. 

Sammy wants to whine, wants to cry big fat tears, push him off and wail in his babybrother voice, tell him how he almost killed him, how he lost himself and almost crushed his neck in his chemically enhanced strength. It wasn't Sammy's fault!

Sam suddenly feels hot from the inside, his eyes roll back and he thinks he's smiling thinking one of his organs finally ripped apart and is bleeding, that he'll float and go join his brother, in a heaven only built for them. 

He must be making an awful lot of noise when Dean is shaking him by the shoulders, “Calm down, Sammy,”

Sam feels his soul dragged back down to earth and he realises he was the one shaking, his stomach, chest and chin are sticky with his own cum. Sam's sight is blurry when he slowly lifts his head and looks down his body, expecting to see a puddle of blood but instead all he sees is Ben's soft cock, wet and pink, horrifyingly gorgeous. 

“Stop being a fucking pussy, I just came inside you, you're fine.” Ben says and Sam didn't even realise he was talking. 

Sam was about to say something but instead his eyes rolled back and that's the last thing he remembers before he passes out, sticky with cum, sweat and tears, and not a single drop of blood in sight, only the one in his mouth, from his own doing. sinful blood trying to choke him, end his wretched life to deliver the world from his existence.

tags cuz thank u sm for sharing my love for these two 💚

@klingyklaus @toasty-broski @28confusedthoughts @winchesterdefender @blackkmariah @106skin @redpopcat @arwenadreamer @nguyetdahuong @asongfortheunloved @rancidlovers @bcatwinchest @supfan67 @unabashedhonesty @hellfire-fist @nanacupid @arthrodira @loserluizard @jocelynfan @waywardsamdean @sastielbeltscene @sam-sinchester @masoena @winchestermylove @sammybeann @azrielrose @saltmonellas @boypussysam @monkibizznes @daddysboydean @notanotherthembo @i-already-know-im-going-2-hell @jinkieswouldyoulookatthis @katamcauley @sams-princess-hair @redcl8ver @yuetyin940 @loserluizard @arthrodira @runawaydr3amerao3 @giulmu

[tempobsessdom]

Saw a post that was like child levels of complaining about how Zukka "doesn't make sense" and how all their interaction in canon were so brotherlike and I'm like....you are weak and your bloodline is weak and you never would have survived the asylum I grew up in and by asylum I mean shipping (and being part of a large online community that created amazing works for) two characters from two different shows that never ever interacted, and never had a single hope of ever interacting (that wasn't the goal).

Canon means nothing my dear. All a ship needs to be is interesting to you.

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

i think we need to bring back OTPs.

like, bring back having that one ship where other ships might be good, great even, but they're always going to be that one that's your Ship Of All Time™

they may not be your current obsession, but they're your OTP™, you feel me?

[hoziernaturalevents]

POSTING SCHEDULE

Like Real People Do - "Mad Dog Caged"

Coming: August 6

Main Character/Pairing: Castiel/Dean Winchester

Author: @mbqnoyolo

Artist: @squirrelofcelestialintent

Beta: @ididitallofitforyou

All Things End - "When We Begin Again"

Coming: August 7th

Main Character/Pairing: Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester

Author: @entropic-saudade

Artist/Beta: @outofnowhere82

Jackie and Wilson - "Mid-youth Crisis"

Coming: August 9

Main Character/Pairing: Mary Winchester/Rowena MacLeod

Author: @sunshine-zenith

Artist/Beta: @rauko-creates

It Will Come Back - "Don't Let Me In"

Coming: August 12

Main Character/Pairing: Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester

Author: @gen-spn

Artist: @outofnowhere82

Beta: @hermit-writes

As It Was - "The Love, The Dark, The Light, The Flame"

Coming: August 13

Main Character/Pairing: Castiel/Dean Winchester

Author: @raimykeller

Artist: @nickelkeep

Beta: @quizasvivamos

Be - "Be Like the Love that Discovered the Sin"

Coming: August 17

Main Character/Pairing: Castiel/Dean Winchester

Author: @grim-work

Artist: @deancodedcastielenby

Beta: @sky-is-torn

Angel of Small Death and the Codeine Scene - "Angel in the Shortwave"

Coming: August 20

Main Character/Pairing: Castiel/Dean Winchester

Author: @columbocas

Artist/Beta: @squirrelofcelestialintent

Someone New - "Someone New"

Coming: August 23

Main Character/Pairing: Cain & Crowley, Dean Winchester/Castiel/Benny Lafitte/Cain (and various iterations of such)

Author: @nickelkeep

Artist: @deancodedcastielenby

Beta: @imbiowaresbitch

In A Week - "After The Raven Has Had Its Say"

Coming: August 24

Main Character/Pairing: Sam Winchester & Castiel

Author: @samrubygf

Artist: @ryuuseini

Beta: @munchablemusic

Swan Upon Leda - "Swan Upon Leda"

Coming: August 26

Main Character/Pairing: Castiel/Dean Winchester

Author: @kelsstiel

Artist: @marvfortytwo

Beta: @deaniewithalittleweanie

Movement - "A Call to Motion"

Coming: August 27

Main Character/Pairing: Castiel/ Dean Winchester

Author: @banshee1013

Artist: @nickelkeep

Beta: @rauko-creates

Dinner & Diatribes - "The Look of Mischief in Your Eyes"

Coming: August 28

Main Character/Pairing: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester

Author: @nonastrega

Artists: @brothersinablackcar & @rauko-creates

Beta: @oolongfog

Shrike - "Remember Me, Love, When I'm Reborn"

Coming: August 29

Main Character/Pairing: Castiel/Dean Winchester

Author: @lazarus-rose

Artist: @deancodedcastielenby

Beta: @very-offkey-kazoo

No Plan - "Marvel at Flowers You'll Have Made"

Coming: August 30

Main Character/Pairing: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester

Author: @sammichgirl

Artist: @amberdreams1960

Beta: @jerzcaligrl

Foreigner's God - He Feels No Control of His Body

Coming: August 30

Main Character/Pairing: Sam Winchester & Various

Author: @withthekeyisking-writer

Artist: @amberdreams1960

Beta: miajackswild

Wasteland, Baby! - "wasteland, baby!"

Coming: August 31

Main Character/Pairing: Castiel/Dean Winchester

Author: @deaniewithalittleweanie

Artist: @deancodedcastielenby

Beta: @wanderingcas

[sastielsfandom]

Currently thinking about Debriel's and Sastiel's height differences.

[ao3topshipsbracket]

Tumblr Top Ships Bracket - FINALS

This poll is a celebration of fandom and fandom history; we're aware that there are certain issues with many of the listed pairings and sources, but they are a part of that history. Please do not take this as an endorsement, and refrain from harassment.

[bickbickbarnes]

I’ve been thinking about why destiel doesn’t do it for me- because there’s been a resurgence. I think I finally figured it out! Usually, I’m a multi shipper. I have my favorite pairing, and then I really enjoy reading a bunch of other stuff. In most fandoms. Hell, if there are three characters, I love an OT3! And obviously, ship whoever you wanna ship, but destiel has just never done it for me. And I’ve never figured out why. Until now.

It’s the devotion.

When I’m shipping something in a fandom,- I like, I need- for the romance to be all consuming. For the two people to be the most important thing in each other’s lives. Put first no matter what. This kind of world ending love. Super unhealthy, super toxic, super encompassing (also probably why I don’t like kidfic. Doesn’t really work out that way.)

Dean Winchester? He’s taken.

Whatever love interest, Dean has, however much he loves him/her, Sam is still going to be his number one priority. He’s going to love Sam more than anybody else in the whole universe. No matter what. It’s built into the narrative. It’s fundamental.  it’s part of what makes him dean Winchester. Unless you’re going super AU and only keeping the names, Sam being the most important thing in the world is foundational. 

So I can’t ship Dean with anybody else. Not the way I like to ship. Because there’s the Sam of it all. 

[deanangel]

﹏﹏ ࣪ ˖ pairing : dean winchester x mermaid .ᐟ reader

synopsis: on a hunt sam and dean find out mermaids are real and they have to end the mother of them all, which brings them to you.

warnings: mentions of death , alcohol mentions (!reader is most definitely an alcoholic!) , mentions of having like no clothes?? ...

word count: 1.3k

the oceans waves crash against each other in a frenzy. the sky is grey and rain falls harshly against the waters as a storm comes in. villagers run to hide, for if they didn't the sea would take them. forever letting them find peace – well, death – in the salty waters. creating ruckus and fear was a pass-time of your mothers, after years of being a goddess and worshiped for her help, a flip must've switched in her head.

shaping her with rough hands into the monster she was today. you were not one to lie, even you had sunken ships and caused floods, but those days ended long ago–unless you were ordered otherwise.

once you realized that it wasn't needed. for all you wanted was the walk amongst the people, yet you were bound to the seafloor as long as she was alive.

her control over you was suffocating, until you could muster up the courage to take her down you would forever lay beneath the deep blue waters. marine life swarming around you as all you could do was watch with tearful eyes.

sea witch was what those whose eyes caught a glimpse of yours called you. it was a name that you didn't mind because you found peace in spells and potions.

you found yourself engrossed in whatever book fell victim to the ocean's grasp, specifically witches spell books that were tossed away by careless hunters, even if it was wet and well-ruined.

being around for centuries had its perks, only those who were blessed by the gods, you'd say, would ever get to try a pirates rum. the taste was strong and lingered on your tongue for hours-just how you liked it. who said mermaids couldn't drink? it shocked you that such a thing was created by the hands of mankind.

often swimming away from your mothers presence, seeking that of a humans instead. their energy was uplifting, calming even. you never met a soul whose being didn't bring you into a state of relaxation, even the most horror filled person still had good in their heart.

and, that was enough for you.

it never occured to you that your mothers actions would attract the likes of hunters, her voice declared the urgency for their disposal.

forcing you to deal with them.

you reluctantly swam towards their boat, with minimal effort you pushed it over, bending the waters to wrap around their forms effortlessly drowning them in such a way they would feel no pain.

even though the crismon liquid was nowhere in sight you knew in the back of your mind that their blood was on your hands now.

you needed a drink after this, so you swam beneath the rocks and into your small cavern like area. which was filled with shiny iridescent shells, sand dollars, and of course your favorite alcoholic beverage.

with how many pirates whose lives you'd taken you had enough rum to last you 100 more years, that's if you didn't drink the remaining bottles to the last drop. for you hadn't taken a life in decades, even if you'd done it many times before it still took a toll on your mental being.

the golden liquid slides down your throat, the slight burn that comes after providing you that feeling that you never want to get rid of. your fingers clench around the bottle, plump lips wrapping around the top as your head swings back to take in more.

while you were off somewhere drowning in your sorrows for what felt like eternity, your mother was in a bit of a predicament.

two hunters had her pinned down on land, a blazing fire raised atop of her form. she would've called out to you, but the heat and dry air depleted her magic rapidly. for if she was near water with what little strength she had left she could make a call to you, her precious daughter–little servant in her eyes. she had chained you down to the sea, if it wasn't for her you could be walking amongst them, the filthy humans.

she was not all evil, she still cared for you, albeit in a sick and twisted way, but she still cared. her body went up in flames before she could even think, screams echo throughout the wind, eventually reaching you.

a weight had seemed to be lifted off your shoulders at the same time. pulling the long empty bottle from your lips, you dived back into the blue sea. following the sound as animals follow behind you.

sam and dean found themselves by the shore, awaiting any other mermaid that would attempt to attack them for hurting their mother.

eyes widening in surprise when they saw you emerge from the waters, tail turning into legs with shiny blue scales adorning them. a shell top decorating your breasts, nothing covering your bottom half.

your eyes were glazed over with tears, a bright smile etched on your features. you were finally free, and it was all thanks to them.

sam covered his eyes, not wanting to look somewhere he shouldn't, but dean kept his sharp gaze on your figure as it got closer. what he didn't expect was your wet body trapping him in a tight hug.

“thank you..” was all you said. your voice carried a hint of sadness, but the happiness overrode it. your mother being dead had upset you – wishing it was you who ended her life – but now you were free.

the boys brought you back to where they resided, a bunker. in which you lay on a couch now clothed, eyes looking in awe at the things around you.

you'd never seen anything like, rows of books that could be filled with endless spells and potions. this was a dream come true, dean had brought you food. it was fish.

you wondered if he was stupid, for who gives a mermaid what she is half of to eat. you stood up, feet pattering against the cool wood floors, fingers trailing down spines of books until you found the perfect one. wandering back to the couch you sat, opening the book and diving in.

every word, you took in. every spell, you memorized. it was everything you dreamed of and more.

when dean came back with sam in tow he found you with a pile of books surrounding your form. he could barely make you out with how many there were.

dean couldn't help but roll his eyes, you were a bookworm just like sam. one that was not fully human and drank more than anyone he ever knew, but still like his brother.

“looks like you were havin’ fun while we were gone, ariel.” he teased, standing in front of you with a wolfish grin.

the name stirred something inside you, that of irritation. who was ariel and why was dean calling you that?

“who is ariel? that's not my name.” you spoke, confusion and a hint of annoyance laced in your tone.

you look up towards him through fluttering lashes, you didn't even realize how much time had passed and just how many spellbooks you'd read.

“don't worry your pretty little head about it, doll.” you heard him say as he walked away towards the kitchen, most likely for a beer. shrugging you went back to the pages in front of you, immediately engrossed in them once again.

to dean you looked so smooth and soft, just like a doll. he leaned against the counter, watching you with eyes filled with something one could only describe as love – an emotion both of you were not familiar with. anything he loved got hurt, and anything you loved would cease to exist.

leaving you to mourn for the rest of your life, but he could get used to you being here, especially if this is how you spent your days. cooped up without a care waiting for him.

authors note: after like A MILLION years its here, if its really bad SHHHHH dont even THINK that i wrote it 🤭 shes been on my mind forever and I finally decided to finish it!! I LOVE YOU ALL AND PLEASE SHOW HER SOME LOVE TOO!!

tags: @bluemerakis @ultravi0lence14 @bitchykittenconnoisseur

[hairenya]

The tags are the funniest thing I’ve read all week

Have you seen our(tumblr) news network(the destiel confession meme) yet?

I have and I don’t understand why that one person loves the other one but at least I get news :3

[angelsberrymilk]

I need to know if Sam's puppy dog ​​eyes work on Soldier Boy like they do on Dean 👀

+18. mdni

oh they do, I promise you they do.

they're so effective in fact that Sammy has stopped him from committing many hate crimes and escalating minor situations to deadly degrees. Sammy's puppy dog eyes affect him on a bone deep level, he doesn't know why they work so well on him, but soldier boy is annoyed.

that's one of the reasons why when soldier boy finally decided he wanted to fuck Sammy, he gave him the lube bottle, he didn't want to get too close to those wet puppy eyes, all he did was watch Sam stretch himself out on his own long fingers. eyes zeroed on his pink hole instead. ignoring Sammy's face.

and that's why when soldier boy first took Sammy, he did it while pinning his head down on the bed, by the neck, on his belly, so he wouldn't turn around and flash those devastatingly beautiful eyes at him. so he could have his way without something like guilt stopping him. he knew exactly what he was doing. he's a terrible brute. the worst of them all.

Sammy also immediately realises he has some sort of power over soldier boy; his puppy dog eyes. and he uses it whenever the situation calls for it. whenever soldier boy is about to commit some heinous act. Sammy makes sure his puppy dog eyes are extra big, intense, his hair extra fluffy and his shoulders hunched, appearing smaller than he actually is. and it works everytime.

that's why when soldier boy's blood thirst gets too much, he's pissy and extra mean. he goes out looking for trouble. he says he's patrolling but Sammy knows that he's looking to kill some poor sod, a homeless person sleeping somewhere where they shouldn't be, or a bunch of children kicking ball in a hotel's parking lot. Sammy tries to distract him with a football game, some good brother bonding time, and when it doesn't work, he tells soldier to take it out on him instead, that he can take it (he can't).

soldier boy laughs in his face and goes ahead to leave. Sammy threatens to run away if soldier boy leaves and Ben's solution is to bring Sammy with. he can't run away now, can he?

soldier boy finds his next target, a young couple smoking weed or something in a deserted McDonald's, Sam tries to convince to let them be, they're not doing anything wrong. But Ben doesn't want to hear it.

At this point Sammy is shaking with anger and fear, he can't stop him, can't even hurt him because even when he punches him, Ben doesn't even feel it, his skin is unbreakable, he doesn't bruise, doesn't break. and the only mercy that Soldier boy offers Sammy is 3 simple words, "Don't look, Sam,"

[lilacpaperbird]

Hi,

I took from your other post that you are Chinese or at least able to read and write Chinese.

I'm really curious about something. (And please excuse my lack of knowledge on how Chinese writing works. I hope this question is not offending.)

Is there a Chinese sign for wincest? And for wincesties? If so, could you show us what it looks like?

Have a nice day! 🤗

hiii! I'm flattered you think I know Chinese, I wish !! I managed to translate that post using several online translators + the help of a chinese friend <3

I sent @cathybird0714 your question and she was so kind to explain it all to me. I'll tell you what I've learned:

There are several names they use for Wincest

1) 温骨 - /wen gu/

2) 温双 - /wen shuang/

3) 温温 - /wen wen/

Those three mean basically the same thing, Wincest. But I'm a linguistics nerd and I wanted to know more about them! So...

1) 温骨

温 literally means "warm", but the nickname comes from the first character in the translation of "Winchester" – 温彻斯特

骨 means incest, the nickname for incest is 骨科, which is an abbreviation that comes from "German orthopaedics" (德国骨科). And you may be wondering why the hell is that the case. Well, there's a popular rumour that says a father caught his son and daughter fucking, and the father beat the boy so bad he broke his legs and he ended up going to a German orthopaedic to get them fixed. Fascinating stuff

2) 温双

双 means pair/two, so 温双 means a pair of 温

3) 温温

Simply a cuter version of the name!

But that isn't all. Chinese wincesties care a lot about top/bottom dynamics, so they have two other names to refer to Wincest depending on that

- 爱死弟 /ai si di/: also called "SD", means top!sam/bottom!dean. The Chinese literal meaning is "to love younger brother to death"

- 弟爱死 /di ai si/: also called "DS", means top!dean/bottom!sam. The Chinese literal meaning is "to love big brother to death"

(btw SD is by far the most popular version of the ship in the Chinese fandom)

Regarding the word Wincestie, in Chinese it is 骨姐 /gu jie/. 姐 means sister!

骨姐 is the neutral term, if you want to specify if it's SD or DS, you write that version of the term then add 姐 after

Thanks again to @cathybird0714 for her help and patience with me as I asked her a million questions!!! <3

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Hollywood Babylon | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader (Eventual ? ;) )

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, heights

Word Count: 4424

Mobile Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Playlist

Dean sat with his arm draped around your shoulders on the back of a trolley tour of Warner Brothers studios. Dean was ecstatic, whispering to you about all of his favorite 80s horror movies that had been filmed there, and you smiled fondly at his ramblings.

Sam turned to you and his brother, seemingly uncomfortable, and hopped off the trolley. “Come on,” he said.

“Let’s finish the tour!” Dean begged, but Sam was already walking away. With an eye roll from the older brother, you and Dean hopped off as well to follow Sam around the lot.

Dean excitedly exclaimed, “Guys, check it out, it's Matt Damon!”

“Dee, I don’t think that’s Matt Damon,” you laughed.

“No, it is,” he argued, face dropping.

“Well, Matt Damon just picked up a broom and started sweeping,” Sam deadpanned.

Dean refused to back down. “Yeah, well, he's probably researching a role or something.”

“Ah, I don't think so.”

You noticed a sign pointing to the right. “Hey, this way, I think Stage 9 is over here.”

“Come on, let's keep going this way,” Dean pleaded, walking forward.

Sam shook his head. “No, come on, we've gotta work. Dude, you wanted to come to LA.”

Dean sighed. “Yeah, for a vacation. I mean, swimming pools and movie stars! Not to work.”

“This seem like swimming pool weather to you, Dean? I mean, it's practically Canadian,” Sam scoffed.

“Yeah.” Dean seemed to hesitate before starting the next part of his sentence. “I just figured that, you know, after everything that happened with... Madison, y-you could use a little R-and-R, that's all.”

“Well, maybe I wanna work, Dean. Maybe it keeps my mind off things,” Sam grumbled.

“Oh-kay,” you cut in before the boys could become entrenched in a more intense argument. “So, this crew guy, he died on set?”

“Yeah, uh, rumors spreading like wildfire online,” the brunet responded. “They're saying the set's haunted.”

“Like ‘Poltergeist’?” Dean questioned.

Sam shrugged. “Could be a poltergeist.”

“No, no no,” the older brother said. “Like, the movie ‘Poltergeist’.”

Sam still looked confused.

“You know nothing of your cultural heritage, do you?” Dean scoffed.

You giggled. “Set of ‘Poltergeist’ was supposedly cursed. They used real human bones as props, and like, at least three of the actors died in it.”

“Well, yeah, it might be something like that,” Sam nodded.

“Alright, so this crew guy—” Dean began, “what's his name?”

“Frank Jaffey.”

“Frank Jaffey…” you considered. “He got a death certificate or a coroner's report or anything?”

“Well, no,” the younger Winchester started, “but, uh, it's LA, you know? It might not even be his real name. But the girl who found him; she said she saw something— a vanishing figure.”

“What's the girl's name?” you asked.

Sam thought for a second. “Uh, Tara Benchley?”

Dean began to grin widely. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, Tara Benchley? From ‘Fear dot Com’ and ‘Ghost Ship’, Tara Benchley? Dude, why didn't you say so?”

You sent a warning glare at him. “Curb your enthusiasm, Dean.”

He shrank under your glance. “Sorry. I’m just— I’m a fan of her work. It’s very good.”

Your lopsided smile returned to your face and you shook your head at his antics, following him to Stage 9.

Once inside, you noticed a man in a sharp, fitted tuxedo with an earpiece talking to another man wearing a headset around his neck. There was another holding a thick packet of papers; assumedly a script.

The man in the fitted tuxedo seemed to notice you and snapped his fingers in your direction. “Uh, excuse me, Blue Sweater Girl?”

You pointed to yourself quizzically, suddenly remembering the oversized blue sweater swallowing your small frame whole. 

“Yeah, you. Come here,” he ordered.

You briefly looked to the boys before heading toward the man.

“Can you get me a smoothie from Kraft?” he asked.

“Uh…” you stumbled.

The man scoffed. “You are a P.A.? This is what you do?”

You shook your head suddenly, figuring out what character you were supposed to be playing to infiltrate the set. “Yeah, sorry. I’m new. One smoothie comin’ right up.”

You turned on your heels with the boys hot on them.

“What's a P.A.?” Dean whispered.

“I think they're kind of like slaves,” Sam commented.

***

Hours later, the real crew was hard at work several scenes deep in their shoot for the day. You had swept the place for EMF, finding nothing and beginning to get slightly frustrated.

You met up with Sam and Dean at the Kraft services table.

“So?” you asked the brothers, shoving your hands in the pockets of your jeans.

“No EMF anywhere,” Dean said.

“Same here,” you nodded.

Sam snorted, “Great. So, what do you think?”

“Well, I think being a P.A. sucks. But—” Dean picked up a tiny sandwich, “the food these people get, are you kidding me? I mean look at these things. They're like miniature Philly cheesesteak sandwiches. They're delicious.”

He held one of them out to you, and you took it happily. “Thanks,” you grinned.

Dean took a huge bite of his own sandwich. “What'd you find out about the dead crew guy?”

“Frank Jaffey was just filling in for the day,” you said. “Nobody knew him or where he lived or anything.”

“Oh, great. So you found out about as much as I did,” Dean remarked. “Sam?”

“I did dig up some stuff about Stage 9's history.”

“Yeah?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Four people died messy here over the past eighty years. Two suicides and two fatal accidents.”

“Awesome. So any one of them could be a vengeful spirit,” you commented.

“Yeah. We've just gotta narrow it down more,” Sam nodded. 

Dean’s eyes followed Tara Benchley as she walked onto set. “I'll get right on that.” He walked off, leaving you fuming.

You trusted Dean, but you didn’t trust his downstairs brain. And the fact that the two of you weren’t officially together bothered you in situations like this. You eyed him intensely with your arms folded, every once in a while bringing a hand to your mouth to chomp on your mini sandwich.

“Cool it, (Y/N),” Sam told you. 

“I’m so cool,” you grumbled.

He made a bitch-face at you. “Uh-huh.”

You rolled your eyes. You stood by Sam, the both of you just trying to stick as close to the wall as possible for a few minutes. Then, Dean came back up to you. “I know who our mystery man is. And he’s not dead,” Dean said.

***

You then went to the home of Gerard St. James and confirmed that he was, in fact, the man who had posed as Frank Jaffey for the day. The whole thing was designed by the producers to stir up press for the movie, and it worked. In fact, you were planning to leave town chalking the whole thing up to a hoax when the man in the tailored suit who’d called you “Blue Sweater Girl” wound up dead; dropping into a scene hanging from his neck. 

And so, you were back on set. You gave a lopsided smile at the sight of Dean so thoroughly enjoying himself; donning an equipment belt with a headset attached and snacking on as many sandwiches as he could get his hands on. 

You noticed a P.A. whose name you learned was Walter storming off set and followed him. “Walter!” you called, trying to catch up to him.

“Leave me alone,” the short man grumbled, but you kept quickening your pace until you were by his side.

“What happened back there?” you asked.

“They’re screwing with the movie,” he replied.

“How so?”

He scoffed. “Didn’t you hear them? They keep adding explainers about how the ghosts can hear the summonings from hell or how the ghosts couldn’t possibly be afraid of salt,” he mocked the director.

“What’s got you so fired up, though?” you pushed. You reached the edge of the studio lot near the parking lot. “I mean, ghosts aren’t real, so, what difference does it make?”

He laughed humorlessly. “ ‘What difference does it’—” he cut himself off. “Look, you wouldn’t get it. Just— leave me alone.” He stormed off toward a green Jeep and slammed the door once inside it.

Perplexed, you made your way back onto the set. You took in the various actors and crew members milling about, reading over sides, setting up lights, mingling in the corners of the soundstage— and for a moment, you wished you could actually work on a set like this. 

Dean was easy to find; frequently barking commands and responses into his headset, and Sam never far from him. That poor kid was so far out of his element. 

“Hey, sweetheart, whatcha got?” Dean asked you as you approached.

That nickname still had a devastating effect on you. “Walter’s a little testy for a P.A. What you got?”

“Uh, not much. Other than EMF readings up the wazoo. For some reason, it's a legit haunting now,” he said. “Oh, and some freaky static feedback on the scenes.”

“Well,” you began. “Who’s the ghost? What’s it want?”

***

After reviewing one of the tapes Dean had snagged from one of his new crew-member friends, you discovered an apparition in the corner of the room just as Brad, the man who died, had fallen through the roof. Sam had somehow recognized her.

“Here. Check this out,” Sam said, putting a piece of paper between you and Dean who sat across the table from him.

“Yeah, go for Ozzy,” Dean spoke into his headset. “No, I don't have a 20 on Tara, I think she's 10-100… Okay, copy that. “ Dean looked back to Sam as you skimmed over the article he’d given you. “I'm sorry, what were you saying?”

Sam shook his head in exasperation, and you took the opportunity to explain what was happening to Dean. “Elise Drummond,” you relayed. “Kind of a rising star back in the thirties. Had an affair with a studio exec. Piece of shit kinda left her in the dust when he was done with her, and she hung herself from Stage 9’s rafters; right into a scene they were shooting.”

“Just like our man, Brad. So, what, she's got it in for the studio brass?” Dean questioned.

“Possibly,” Sam shrugged. “I mean, it's a motive. And Brad's death matches hers exactly.”

“We're digging tonight, aren't we?” Dean sighed.

***

Later that evening, you walked beside Sam into the Hollywood Forever Cemetery to dig up Elise Drummond’s grave. 

“Which way?” Sam asked his brother, who walked ahead of you holding a map.

“Uh... over here,” he replied, continuing ahead. “Hey.”

“Yeah?” 

The older brother gestured to a memorial for Humpty Dumpty with a wide grin.

You shook your head, suppressing an amused sigh. “You’re a freak, dude,” you jested. “Kid in a candy store over a bunch of dead celebrities.”

“You just don’t get it, sweetheart,” Dean responded. “Hey, we've gotta go check out Johnny Ramone's grave when we're done here.”

“You wanna dig him up, too?” Sam deadpanned.

“Bite your tongue, heathen!” He passed another memorial, effectively distracting him from his younger brother’s blasphemy. “Oh, that's cool.”

“Focus, Pinky,” you said, nudging Dean’s shoulder. 

“Hey, why am I Pinky?” he protested.

“ ‘Cause Sam’s clearly Brain,” you replied simply. 

“So, what does that make you? Pharfignewton?” Dean chuckled.

“Oh, hell no. I’m Dot!” you protested.

“What, we’re doing a crossover episode?”

“Duh. You guys are the freaky lab rats. Not me. I’m flippin’ adorable,” you sassed.

Dean smiled delightedly at you. 

“Guys, please,” Sam huffed, bringing your attention back to the task at hand. “What I don't get is why now? I mean, after seventy-five years, Elise Drummond suddenly goes homicidal, you know? Why this movie?”

“Well, maybe she's mad they're making a scary ghost flick,” Dean shrugged.

The brunet snorted. “Come on, is it really that scary?” 

“Here we go,” you announced upon reaching Elise’s headstone. 

“Yahtzee,” Dean remarked and immediately set to work digging.

***

You returned to the trailer Dean had scored to get a few hours of sleep after exhuming and torching the corpse of Elise Drummond. There was a pullout couch in the trailer as well as a single queen bed, and you and Dean agreed to share the bed. Sam clearly had questions, and you knew you would have to answer them in the morning.

“This is fuckin’ awesome, man,” Dean grinned, shrugging off his jacket and boots. “I feel like a movie star.”

You giggled. “Did you ever wanna be one when you were growing up?”

“Meh, I wanted to be a rockstar more,” he replied. “You got first shower.”

“Thanks.”

When both of you had showered and readied for bed, Dean slipped under the covers beside you. “Oh, holy crap, this is so much comfier than a motel.”

“Yeah, probably because the mattress is more than an inch thick,” you snorted, settling into Dean’s side. You laid against him in silence for a moment, before a question that had been plaguing you escaped. “Hey, Dean?”

He hummed in response.

“Do you— Do you have a… thing for Tara?” you asked.

He shifted to look down at you. “What?”

“I mean, I know you and I haven’t really… talked about anything yet…” you began to ramble, “but if you wanted to, y’know, go there with her— I just— it’d really upset me, is all.”

“(Y/N), if I wanted Tara that bad, do you think I’d have jumped at the chance to share a bed with you?” he asked earnestly.

“Well, I don’t know—”

“What, am I that much of a man whore?” he questioned before suddenly reconsidering. “Don’t answer that.”

You snorted. You paused for another moment, hesitant to ask your next question. “Would you— Would you ever wanna— I don’t know, be… more than just… this?”

Dean tilted your chin up with his finger. He leaned into you, kissing you gently, giving you all the answers you needed. “Fuck, yes,” he said against your lips. 

***

The next morning, you awoke to sirens blaring outside the trailer. You jerked against Dean, waking him up, and he immediately straightened up and pulled you into his side protectively. He relaxed when he realized it was just a siren. However, that posed a more troubling question: why was there a siren outside your trailer at seven in the morning?

You quickly got dressed and met Sam at the door; heading down to see what the commotion was about. Sam went to investigate the crime scene as Dean went to talk to the friends he’d made on the set. 

You milled about, simply observing. You noted Tara looking visibly upset as she stood with her costars; clearly having just woken up. People holding clipboards and headsets talked in hush voices, rushing from one group of crew members to another. You saw the director talking to a policeman, a body bag being rolled into an ambulance, and a nervous P.A. huddling with her friend a distance away from the scene. You’d seen all of these people before at least once or twice, and you assumed the sirens had to have woken everyone up. At least, everyone that was staying on the set and didn’t have homes nearby. Sam came back over to you.

“Run-in with a giant fan,” he said in a hushed voice. “Same thing happened to an electrician back in '66, a guy named Billy Beard.”

“What the hell, dude?” you questioned.

“I don't know. Doesn't seem like Elise this time, either. It's not her M.O.”

“No, no way. Couldn’t be her. We deep fried her already. But it’s weird; these things don’t normally tag-team,” you thought aloud.

The director suddenly stood on the hood of his car. “Everybody! Gather around, okay! I've got an announcement to make.” He handed his keys to the P.A. who’d been nervously chewing her nails in the corner with her friend before addressing the group again. Dean walked calmly over to you at that moment.

“Everyone! Huddle in!” the director called. “In light of Jay's accident last night, and in cooperation with the authorities, we're shutting down production for a few days. I know, I know. Look, I'm not gonna lie to you. We've had a few setbacks this week. But we all know what Jay and Brad wanted more than anything. And that was to see Hell Hazers 2: The Reckoning on screens all across America! Now, we owe it to them to go on, and to pull together and make this damn movie, huh?”

The crowd before you cheered and applauded.

“But— but, but, but not today. Go home. Someone will call you,” the director finished.

You snickered, turning to head back to your trailer.

“Any chance you got more copies of those dailies?” you asked Dean.

***

Later that day, you were barely able to keep your eyes glued to the screen in front of you. While watching the B-roll of the movie was fun, the movie itself was awfully boring and cheesy. You just wanted a ghost to jump out at you already, instead of needing to sift through hours of footage while Dean and Sam were out researching.

A pretty blonde actress interrupted Tara’s character as she began to read in Latin from a book. 

Dean and Sam reentered the trailer.

“Hey,” Sam said.

“Hey,” you replied. “Anything?”

“Billy Beard was cremated,” Sam informed you.

“Perfect,” you deadpanned.

“Any more ghost cameos in the dailies?” Dean asked.

“Not in the first six hours,” you sighed, sitting back on the couch and running a hand through your hair. “Y’know, maybe the spirits are trying to shut down the movie 'cause they think it sucks. 'Cause, I mean, it kinda does.”

Suddenly, something caught your attention in Tara’s awful Latin pronunciation. You rewound the tape a little bit, listening closely. “Holy shit, guys,” you said, pausing the tape. “That’s the real deal. A real life necromantic summoning ritual.”

Sam looked at you confused. “What the hell is that doing in a Hollywood movie?”

“Beats the shit outta me,” you scoffed. You paused a moment. “Wait, Walter.”

“What about him?” Dean asked.

“He was all bent outta shape about them changing the ‘real’ ghost stuff. Like the salt, or that bit they added in about the ghosts having super hearing to be able to hear the Latin chanting from hell,” you said.

“Yeah, but he’s a P.A. What does he have to do with any of this?” Dean questioned.

“Dean, I think she’s got a point,” Sam chimed in. “What if Walter wrote the script, and he’s the reason this is all happening.”

“Dean, do you remember what your P.A. friends said the writer’s name was?” you asked.

*** You and the brothers tried your best not to weird Marty, the writer of the movie, out too terribly much as you pried into the history of the writing. He ended up confirming your theory; Walter had written the original script. You ended up getting copies of the original screenplay from Marty and brought it back to the trailer you were squatting in. 

“Lord of the Dead” was the title on the cover page.

“Should've kept Walter's original script. It's actually pretty good,” Dean noted.

“Yeah,” Sam agreed. “And it reads like a how-to manual of conjuration, like a textbook on how to summon ghosts and get them to do whatever you want.”

“Yeah, like kill people,” Dean realized.

“I’m thinkin’ he got pissed they tinkled in his cheerios and started using black magic to get back at these people for wrecking his movie,” you chimed in.

“Motive and means,” Sam nodded.

“It's worth checking out,” the older brother shrugged.

As night fell, you exited the trailer and were going to try and find Walter at his home address. However, when you reached the parking lot, you noticed that distinctive army-green Jeep. “Wait, that’s Walter’s car,” you told the brothers. It was one of the only cars in the lot aside from the Impala. Immediately, the three of you ran back to Stage 9 to see if you could catch Walter in the act of trying to hurt someone else.

Thankfully, you made it to the studio just in time. You could hear a man screaming and a fan loudly blowing, and you ran toward the sound with your shotgun raised. Dean came up behind Marty and shot at the ghost of Billy Beard, effectively making him disappear. Sam clicked off the fan, and you followed Walter up to the rafters.

“You are one hell of a P.A.,” you heard Marty telling Dean as you climbed. 

“What are you doing?” Walter asked you, still a bit of a distance above you.

“Uh, the fuck are you doing, dude?” you questioned. “Raising spirits from the dead? Makin’ ‘em murder for you? Do you have a death wish?”

“You don’t understand,” Walter shook his head.

“You’re right,” you said. “I don’t.” 

You began to charge him, but he held his hands up. “Just... wait, look,” the man pleaded. “You put your heart and soul into something, years of hard work. It's years, and then they take it! And they crap all over it! And then— and then they want you to smile and say, ‘Thank you’.”

“Listen, I get it, man,” you began, “I know that feels shitty. But this is in no way, shape, or form the answer.”

“Look,” Walter scoffed. “I've got nothing against you, sweetness.” You cringed at the nickname as he continued talking. “You're not part of this. Just please, please, just leave. But Martin's gotta stay.”

“Sorry, can't do that,” Dean called up to you. “It's not that we like him or anything, it's… just a matter of principle.”

“Then I'm sorry, too.” Walter picked up the talisman around his neck and began to mutter in Latin. The set began shaking, and you grabbed the railings on either side of you to steady yourself. 

“(Y/N)!” Dean called up to you. 

Suddenly, a ghost with a horribly mangled face appeared in front of you, knocking you to the floor. You aimed your shotgun and fired, making him disappear. When you looked behind where the apparition had stood, Walter was gone. 

“Dammit!” you cursed. You then spotted him sprinting across a rafter in the distance. The quickest way to him was going to be running along a large steel pipe next to you that led straight from your platform to his. 

“(Y/N), are you fucking crazy?!” Dean exclaimed as you began to sprint across the pipe, trying not to be too careful that you slowed yourself down while simultaneously trying not to fall to your death.

“Maybe!” you called back, leaping off the pipe and clutching the railing of the rafter. You pulled yourself over the top of it, boots landing firmly on the mesh, steel floor. 

You saw Walter chanting in the back corner of the rafters and ran at him; he hadn’t noticed you til you were quite literally standing on top of him. You had him completely cornered.

“It’s over, Walter,” you told him harshly. “Give it to me.”

Walter threw the talisman to the ground at your feet, shattering it completely. “There! Okay, now no one can have it.”

Your breath caught in your throat. “I wouldn't have done that if I were you.”

“Oh, yeah?” he challenged. “And why not?”

“Because you just freed them. Ain’t nothin’ I can do to help you now,” you said. “You brought ‘em back and forced them to murder. They're not gonna be very happy with you.” 

The rafters below you suddenly creaked and separated from the wall, Walter screaming as he fell to the ground below. You screamed, hanging onto the railing for dear life as it hung loosely from where the platform was connected on its other end.

“(Y/N)!” the brothers called.

Your feet swung limply below you as you searched for something— anything— to grab onto and keep you from suffering the same fate as Walter. You noticed a thick cable attached to one of the strings of lights hanging down into the scene below and swung yourself over to it; latching on the way a fireman would grip a fire pole. You let go just enough to slide all the way down, letting go when you were no more than five feet from the ground. You rolled over your shoulder before you hit the floor and undoubtedly broke a bone, having learned that it was best not to land on your feet in these situations.

Dean, Sam, and Marty looked down at you in shock.

“What?” you breathed out. “Nobody’s gonna help me up?”

Dean and Sam immediately outstretched a hand each to help you off the floor.

“Dude, how are you not dead?” Sam questioned. 

“Yeah, and since when are you chick-Ethan-Hunt?” Dean asked.

You shrugged. “My dad made sure I was agile enough to do shit like that. Still didn’t think I was gonna survive that.”

Sam and Dean chuckled, and you started heading out of the studio. “Shit, probably screwed up my arm, though,” you hissed, rotating the shoulder you'd used to tumble set over when you hit the ground.

“Hey, if that’s the worst injury you have after all that, let’s be thankful,” Sam commented.

Marty followed a bit behind, seeming a bit in shock. “Uh, guys?” he called.

The three of you turned.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” you replied. “Seriously. To anyone. Ever.”

He nodded, seeming slightly afraid of you. 

*** You and the brothers decided to stick around for just a few more days to enjoy yourselves after everything that happened. You watched as Tara’s co-star, just as the brothers told you Marty had, directed Tara where to shoot by seeing where the ghosts were in the phone’s camera. 

“You find out there's an afterlife, and this is what you do with it?” Sam snorted at Marty who was standing nearby.

He looked up from his cell phone, grinning. “I needed a little jazz on the page.”

You bid your goodbyes to the people you’d “worked” with that past week and walked toward the Impala with Dean’s arm around your shoulders. You laced your fingers with his. 

Dean grabbed a sandwich with his free hand, and the three of you walked toward a painted sunset backdrop crew members were rolling away. “God, I love this town,” he chuckled, making you and Sam laugh.

The backdrop before you moved to reveal a beautiful sunset over the Hollywood Hills, bathing you in the sun’s glow. 

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

[arjwrites]

Back On the Beach- Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Reader and the Winchesters find themselves at the beach for a rare day off after a long string of difficult hunts. Something about the special day changes things forever. Warnings: Some language and angst but nothing crazy. A/N: Nothing heals my heart more than a happy Dean Winchester. Hope you enjoy <3 Another hunt was in the books. That was the third one this week- you'd lost track beyond that. You and the Winchesters had definitely been “cranking and ganking,” as Dean had been calling it, but you all were exhausted to say the least. No rest for the wicked, though. When you arrived back at the motel after taking out the vamp nest, it seemed like Sam had already found another hunt, and all of you prepped to ship out in the morning.  

You woke after a near restless night, your entire body weighed down by a lack of sleep. Getting up and into the shower felt like moving through Jell-O, so you couldn’t even imagine how Sam and Dean felt. Even more so Dean, who had blamed himself for one of the casualties of last night’s hunt. Before climbing into your bed the night before, you had given him a tight hug. “We can’t save everyone,” you reminded him with a gentle whisper. But you still heard him pacing the whole night- he didn’t so much as sit, let alone lay down and close his eyes. So you were up all night, partially from worry and partially because of the noise he was making. And if you had been kept up, you knew Sam had been too. That’s why you were surprised to hear some particularly chipper laughter and discussion between the two boys as you emerged from the shower. 

“Y/N! Bobby took over that case I found last night. He was in the area, so I guess we have a day off. I was thinking we could just take the time to get some rest, but Jimmy Buffet over here wants to hit the beach,” laughed Sam, hucking a packed bag into Dean’s chest. Dean caught it with a huff before holding it out to one side in order to show off his ensemble. 

“Hey, when in Margaritaville, right? How often do we get a case somewhere like this, huh? Let’s live a little.” 

Dean was decked out in Hawaiian patterned swim trunks clearly purchased from the tourist shop down the street, complete with a towel around his neck and a pair of gas station sunglasses. He was right, how often were you taking cases in Florida (seriously, enough freaky shit goes on there, yet somehow none of it is supernatural)? Your first instinct was to laugh, because he looked ridiculous, but simultaneously, your heart soared. To see Dean getting excited about something so mundane as a little beach trip was a small miracle. Things hadn’t been easy on the road recently, and it seemed like Dean had taken the brunt of it- the guilt, the sleepless nights, the long, long hours. It always hurt you to see the way he took it all, never giving himself any kindness or time to relax. So for you, it was an easy choice to humor him a little. And after a bit of convincing Sam (okay, maybe you and Dean begging and annoying the crap out of him), you got him on board too. 

 After remedial stops at the tourist shop for swimsuits for you and Sam, and the gas station for beer, sunglasses, and the sunscreen you insisted on (“Dean Winchester I have seen you take on some scary shit, so help me God, skin cancer will not be the thing that takes you out”), your crew finally found their way down to the water. And from the moment you stepped foot in the sand, the gentle crash of the waves washed the worries from your minds. It was rare day when you three could be normal. Normal people at the beach, with no monsters to kill, no world to save, no burdens weighing you down. 

It had been a picture perfect beach day. Seriously, Dean made sure you all got the full experience. He had picked up beach chairs and towels and a football for him and Sam to toss back and forth. You sat reclined in one of the chairs, reading a book (a non-lore book, you couldn’t remember the last time you read for pleasure) and watching over the boys, laughing at their interactions. After zoning into your story for a while, you lost track of the boys. Figuring they had gone exploring down the beach, you let yourself fall entirely engrossed in the cheesy romance you were reading. They didn’t call them beach reads for nothing! The protagonist was finally alone with the love interest, who was about to lean in for a kiss, until- the book went flying out of your hand, and you went flying over Dean’s shoulder. 

“HEY! Put me down!” Your words seemed frustrated, but your tone was anything but.

Dean raced down to the ocean as you bounced rhythmically off of his strong back. You playfully whacked at him in protest, but it was no use. Finally deep enough into the water, Dean gracefully slid you into his arms and tossed you under. After catching your bearings and emerging from the surf, you surveyed the scene. There was Sam, laughing his ass off. Dean held a smug look, arms crossed and a teasing smile. And you, now soaking wet, caught completely by surprise.

“I will KILL you Dean Winchester!” You ran after him, laughing and splashing. While you had chased down plenty of adversaries recently, there was something about this enemy that was compelling- pretty cute, even. 

That was the rest of your afternoon. Playing in the surf, munching on soggy gas station sandwiches, sharing a few beers, and your constant nagging at the boys to reapply sunscreen. Though none of you ever spoke it aloud, there was a shared agreeance that this was so nice. That it was a luxury to feel normal and that in that moment, you three were the luckiest in the world. And it was so fulfilling to sneak a glance at Dean and see him smiling, really smiling. You let your gaze linger, snapping a mental image and filing it away to remember for when things got tough again. You wished you could give him this peace more often.

The sun was setting on your perfect day, but the three of you remained on the beach, stalling the oncoming nightfall and thus, the return to your reality. After a serene while, Sam rose from his chair, wrapping a towel around himself and throwing you and Dean a knowing look.

“Alright, I’m going to head back to the motel and start packing our stuff. You guys stay down here a little longer.”

So there the two of you sat, side by side, leaned back in the chairs, toes dipping into the still-warm sand. You weren’t sure if the subtle pink of Dean’s cheeks was the beginnings of a sunburn or the effects of the day’s alcohol drawing the blood to his face. Warm, tipsy, sunkissed, happy. This was a Dean you wish you could get used to. 

“Thanks for taking us here today, Dean. It was a really great idea.” A soft smile graced your face as you reached your hand out, resting it on top of his own. 

Your voice drew Dean’s gaze over to you, and the look on his face triggered a pang of hurt in your chest. Though his lips were drawn in a tight smile, his eyes slightly watered and held in them all of the angst of the last few years. It was as if you could see each harrowing memory in their glassy reflection.

“What if we just stayed?” Dean asked, already knowing the answer. His question hung in the air for a moment without a repsonse. You couldn’t stay, you both knew that. There were always going to be people to save and things to hunt. Still, you deserved some peace every now and then. And that was all you wanted to give Dean in this moment- some peace. You wove your fingers into his and pulled him to his feet, meeting him with an embrace. He wrapped his arms around you and continued.

“Obviously we can’t. But, what if we did. You, me, Sammy. We could do this every day. I mean, we’d have to get jobs, but even that would feel like a day at the beach compared to… everything else. We’d be so happy,” he sighed.

“We’re hunters, Dean. We’ve gotta make our own happy.” 

“You make me happy.”

That was all you ever asked for. Dean Winchester, in your arms, happy- and because of you, no less. In that moment, you decided that this would be your own personal slice of heaven. A moment you could return to as often as you wanted- something that could never be taken from you. A perfect instance that could remain untouched by the horrors of your world. Everything in this difficult life had lead up to this moment, and every day from here on out you would exist in a world in which you made Dean happy. 

With the kind of sweetness that brought tears to your eyes, Dean brought his hand to your cheek, cupped it gently as if it were the most precious thing in the world, and joined his lips with yours. They fit in the way you always knew they would, and the touch sparked the feeling you had always imagined it would. It wasn’t nerves or butterflies. It was so incredibly tranquil. Kissing Dean, finally kissing Dean, felt like bathing your troubles away in the ocean. The hurt, blood, sweat, and tears pooled off of you, and you felt clean, new, at peace. You knew that this wouldn’t fix everything, for either of you. Both of you had your demons, and you’d both be facing plenty more. But from this point on, you could return to this moment- return to each other, and feel your worries wash away. You could come back to the beach for a short while, and things would be okay. You could make your own happy, together.

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

Things Learned and Unlearned Ch. 15

Series Summary: Y/N has spent her life trying to outrun her mother's reputation. When she meets the rich and successful playboy, Dean Winchester, how quickly can he get her to stop running?

Pairings/Characters: Dean Winchester x Y/N, Sam Winchester, Jessica Winchester, Lucy Winchester (OC)

Warnings: Each chapter will have it's own warnings, but there will be smut, seduction, virgin!reader, playboy!dean, Edwardian era BS attitudes surrounding sex and women. (Technically it's set in 1900 and the Edwardian era started in 1901, but you get it.) Angst, Fluff, all the good stuff that regularly pops up in my series. 😁

Chapter Warnings: None. Just angst and fluff.

Word Count: 3,343

A/N: So, here it is - Chapter 15, and the end of this series. I've been so grateful for all the wonderful reblogs and encouraging comments this fic has received as it's gone along week by week. Your support is the reason why it's finally completed.

It began life as just a few chapters from an orphaned fic of mine over on ff.net and now it's a fully completed Dean fic that I'm very proud of. 😊 So thanks again, and I hope you enjoy the end of this story, and feel it was worth the investment of your time. ❤️

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Four weeks later. January 1901.

Dean sat down heavily behind his mahogany desk and picked up his morning mail before immediately throwing it back down in annoyance. 

It will just be invitations and invoices, Dean thought, who cares?

He leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes and digging his fingers into them. He was hungover and had barely slept. He felt like he'd been hit with a brick building.

With a deep sigh, he opened the file in front of him and ran his hand over the top page. It was his copy of the deal that he’d finally signed a week ago.

Two weeks ago, George Taskett had called his secretary to arrange a meeting. When Dean showed up at the appointed time, George apologized profusely for what had happened at the theater.

“It’s taken me a little while to reach out to you because I wanted to be able to tell you that Byron Temple had been fired, and before I could do that, I needed to speak to the board about it first. But I can assure you now that he has been permanently removed from his position, and fired from our company. It seems that the board shared my concerns with his lack of moral character.”

George had told Dean that when they investigated a little bit, they’d discovered that the incident at The Manhattan hadn't been the first such incident for Temple. Dean was not surprised, and he was glad that the board of Northern Freight had been all too happy to show him the door.

So with Temple out of the picture, the deal had gone through as originally planned and all three companies were now set to make a lot of money. Winchester Shipping and Lumber was in the best shape it had ever been in.

But he still couldn't sleep at night.

As he tucked the file away, he heard a knock at the door and then Grant's voice when he opened it. Dean couldn't make out what he was saying to the visitor, but if it was anything other than, “come back another day”, Dean might have to fire him.

A minute later, however, Grant was in his doorway to announce his guest. But Dean didn't need the announcement, as he saw his baby brother's towering frame standing behind his butler.

Dean stood up with a frown, walking out from behind his desk as Grant left, and Sam entered his study. “What's wrong?” He asked without preamble.

Sam shook his head. “Nothing's wrong.”

Dean's scowl got deeper. “What do you mean ‘nothing’s wrong’? Then what are you doing here?”

Sam shrugged. “Just wanted to visit my brother.”

Dean crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back against his desk and fixing Sam with a look as he took a seat on one of the leather chairs across from Dean.

“You just wanted to visit?” Dean asked, his voice incredulous. “You thought you'd take a six hour train ride to just…drop in and say hi?”

“Sure.”

“Sam.”

“I just wanted to see how you're doing. See if you're alright.” Sam said innocently.

“Why wouldn't I be?”

Sam sighed. “Cause Y/N isn't.”

Dean's heart beat double time as he scowled again at his little brother. “Sam, honest to god…” He ran a hand through his hair. “This better not be the real reason you're here.”

“It is.” Sam said calmly.

“Well, then I'm sorry you wasted your money on a train ticket, along with six hours of your life.” He held up a finger. “No, twelve, actually, cause you're gonna leave now.”

Sam just continued to stare at him, annoying him profusely. Finally his little brother had the audacity to shake his head and scold him.

“Dean, why did you let her go? I saw you with her, saw you at Christmas. I know you love her.”

“Bullshit!” Dean barked at him, angrily. “You are imagining things, Sam, and I'm not interested in dredging up this same asinine conversation I already had with your wife.”

Sam nodded. “Yeah, she told me about it. Just made us even more sure that you were completely in love with Y/N. What we couldn't figure out is why you were so furious about the very idea of loving her.”

“Dammit Sam, drop this!” Dean shouted at him as he straightened up from the desk. 

Sam pointed at him. “Yeah, furious like that.” He shrugged. “But then…I think I figured it out “

"Oh, did you?" Dean asked with a death stare, feeling the panic start to rise up in him.

Sam's voice softened as he looked Dean in the eye. “You're afraid you'll end up like Dad.” 

Dean clenched his jaw and refused to respond.

But eventually Sam just shook his head. “You won't though.”

Fear and panic sat thick in Dean's throat, clogging his voice as he spoke. “You don't know that.”

Sam scoffed. “Yeah, I do.”

Silence reigned for a moment before Dean shuffled back and sat down behind his desk again. His head was pounding harder than ever.

He watched Sam for a while before he shook his head. “You don't remember him the way - I mean, obviously you couldn't remember him how he was. Before. But…” 

He scrubbed an exhausted hand down his face. “I remember. The way he was. I remember him laughing and smiling. The way he'd pick me up when he walked back in the door at the end of the day, ride me around on his shoulders…I remember all of it. And I remember when it was gone. He was like a completely different man. He might as well have died with her, cause he was gone and he never came back.”

Dean closed his eyes. “So, I swore to myself, I swore,” he emphasized, “that I would never do the same. I would NEVER love someone like that and then lose myself completely when they were gone.” 

He shook his head again and opened his eyes to pin Sam with another glare. “I just won't do it.”

Sam sat, quietly nodding for a moment before his brow wrinkled in thought. “Hmm…” He took a deep breath and spoke as he exhaled.

“Do you love me?”

Dean stared at him for a heartbeat before a red flush began climbing up his neck as he answered in a growl. “What are you talking about?”

But Sam just waved away his brother's words. “Nevermind, I already know you do. You love me a lot.”

Dean continued to glare at his annoying little brother, not sure what to even say to that.

“And I know you love Jess and Lucy too. Also a lot.”

“What is your point Sam?” He barked at him, although he thought he'd started to figure it out.

“I know this too, though.” Sam continued without answering him, “If anything ever happened to me or…Jess, or…” He didn't seem able to finish the horrible idea, and Dean felt his stomach churn and his chest ache at the mere thought. 

But Sam pushed on. “If something ever happened, you'd never abandon the ones left behind. You'd never leave us on our own.”

Dean bit his bottom lip, feeling his throat ache from his trapped feelings. 

“Oh yeah?” He asked doubtfully. “And how could you possibly be sure of that?” He smiled without humor. “I am my father's son, after all.”

Sam shrugged. “That may be, but you're also just Dean, my big brother. And he's the most selfless man I've ever known.”

Dean scoffed, but Sam continued over him. 

“You've never put yourself first. Not while you were raising me. Not when you went toe-to-toe with Dad for me, so I could go to law school. Not when you worked a second job outside the business, so that you could pay my whole tuition when Dad refused to pay for it with ‘company money’ as he called it.”

Dean couldn't look at Sam any longer, dipping his head to stare at the wood grain in his desk as his brother continued to heap undeserving praise on him.

“And ever since you took over the company, you've always put your employees first, you take care of them, you work twice as hard as you need to, and pay them a lot more than other companies do, to make sure they can live good, happy lives. I've seen your books, I know it's true.”

“So?” Dean cut into Sam's diatribe, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. “Even if all of this praise was true, which it isn't, none of it proves that loving and losing someone wouldn't change all of that. Dad was a good man too, until he loved a woman and lost a woman.”

Sam tightened his jaw. “Maybe he was, but he was also a selfish bastard for abandoning us, for just going off to live alone with his grief and anger. You weren't even five years old, and you'd just lost your mother!” Sam huffed angrily. “He should have cared about that too. He should have cared about you, about us...not just the wife he lost.”

Dean's instinct was to defend their father, but he didn't. He'd begun to see that Sam was right; it had been pretty selfish.

“And I'm telling you,” Sam said with conviction, “if you and Y/N were lucky enough to be blessed with children, you would NEVER abandon them for any reason. Not ever. Because you. are not. our father.” 

Dean heard his little brother's words, and the freedom he found in them, surprised him. It felt like he could breathe deeply for the first time in a very long time. He felt a tear escape and he dashed it away quickly, turning his chair away from Sam and staring at the wall. 

After a moment of quiet, Sam spoke solemnly. "But none of this speculating about how you'd act IF you fell in love with Y/N really matters anyway. Because the plain and simple fact is, you're already in love with her.”

The words still made Dean's stomach clench, and he turned back to Sam and shook his head. “No, I refused, I wouldn't let myself love her.”

Sam rolled his eyes and breathed out harshly. “Damn! You really are a monumental idiot.”

Dean scowled at him, unimpressed with his opinion.

“Dean, you can't stop yourself from loving someone. You can't just control something like that.”

Dean felt the old, familiar panic start to rise in his chest. If he couldn't control it...if he really did love her already…then he'd already lost, and he'd never be free of her hold on him.

I don't wanna be free.

The intrusive thought leaked into his mind and he closed his eyes, trying desperately to deny it but-

“She's leaving.”

Dean's eyes popped open to stare at Sam. 

“What do you mean?” He asked quietly.

“She gave us her notice. She's leaving. Catching a train in a couple of days. That's why I came to shake some sense into you before it's too late. She's going west, says she wants to seek some adventure, but I know it's really because we're all just a constant reminder of you. She's been miserable this whole last month - trying very hard to hide it - but miserable.”

Dean felt a different kind of panic rising as he contemplated Y/N being on the other side of the country, living her life a million miles from his.

She'd get married to someone else - someone who didn't become paralyzed with fear at the thought of needing her in his life. He'd win her over, he'd make her smile, make her happy. He'd give her children; he'd be the damn compatible husband she'd always wanted, and give her the little cottage and respectable life she deserved. 

The exact life he'd told her to go and live just before he made love to her and then snuck out of the room before she woke, like a coward.

He looked at his little brother, desperate now for his help. “Shit. I walked away from her Sam. I left her a goddamn note cause I was too much of a coward to say goodbye to her face. Cause I knew if I spent another minute with her, I'd be so tempted to do anything she wanted, say anything she wanted, just to get her to stay. And I couldn't risk it.”

Sam gave him a scolding look and just shook his head.

Dean's voice was slightly forlorn. “What are the chances she forgives me for that?”

Sam shrugged. “Won't know till you try, coward.”

***

Y/N clutched the handle of her leather bag tightly, gripping it over and over, wearing it smooth from sheer worry. She recognized that traveling alone, to some remote California town she'd never been to was ludicrous and dangerous. But she just couldn't take it another day; she needed to get as far away as she could. 

Living with Sam and Jessica everyday, watching them in their happy, loving marriage, was simply more than she could handle. The fact that occasionally, when Sam smiled or frowned or laughed a certain way, a tiny piece of his big brother would appear on his face, well, that was just the knife in her heart that made leaving quickly a necessity.

So, here she was, on a bench on the train platform, waiting for a train to roll in and carry her away from endless reminders of Dean. But even just sitting on the bench reminded her that she'd first met him while she was sitting on a bench - on that cool day last fall, when he'd burned his way into her life, into her heart and then into her bed. Unfortunately, he'd also burrowed his way into her soul, and she knew he'd never leave.

Even now she imagined that she heard him calling her name over the screaming whistle of the steam engine that was pulling up beside her; it was the train that would take her away from everything she wanted to leave behind. Though she knew she'd never manage it completely.

Y/N frowned slightly as she looked up; she thought she heard his voice again. Was she truly going mad?

But then she saw him, running through the steam on the platform, coming towards her. She jumped up, completely confused, but somehow feeling like she needed to be on her feet.

“Dean?” She asked as he reached her. “Why are you…? What-”

Dean interrupted her. “Don't get on that train. Don't go. I have a proposition for you instead.”

Y/N felt her heart plummet. “Dean-”

“Marry me.”

Her words died in her throat and she just stared at him, her eyes bulging as she tried to work out what was going on.

“Oh,” she said almost sadly, “I've actually gone completely mad now.”

But Dean was shaking his head. “No, sweetheart, I was the crazy one. I was the one who thought I could simply wish away, or will away loving you, but I should have known it was never gonna work.”

Y/N returned to being simply speechless, eyes wide and staring once again, as Dean continued, his voice sincere and ardent.

“Sweetheart, I'm so sorry I didn't stick around to say goodbye. Hell, I'm sorry I even tried to say goodbye in the first place. I'm sorry I was too much of a coward to let myself love you, or admit to it anyway. Seems like I didn't really have much say in the matter. Apparently trying desperately to not love someone, doesn't actually stop you from loving them. Who knew?" He said with a lopsided smile and a shrug.

Still smiling, he took another step towards her and his voice was strong and sure. "But I'm mostly sorry that I didn't wrap my arms around you the very first time I saw you, and absolutely refuse to let you go.”

“That's actually kidnapping!”

Y/N whipped around to see Sam and Jessica standing behind her on the platform with Lucy between them. Jessica slapped Sam's arm for his sarcastic comment. 

“Shush. He's trying.” She waved at Dean and called to him. “You're doing great, champ! Keep going!” 

“Give her the ring, Uncle Dean. Ladies like rings!” Lucy shouted.

Y/N started crying and laughing in the same breath, and nearly choked. But as Dean nodded at his niece and got down on one knee, tears won out and she started crying noisily.

He gazed up at her with a soft smile and slightly glassy eyes. “I wasn't planning to do this with an audience, and I have a lot to explain to you, I know, about why I was such an idiot and how stupid I was to be afraid of loving you.”

“Quit reminding her she'll be marrying a moron!” Sam called out again, and Y/N heard Jessica smack him again. But she couldn't take her eyes off of the massive ring that sat in the velvet box Dean opened and presented to her.

It was a Tiffany's box, she noticed, and inside was a beautiful diamond ring, with a small round emerald in the very center.

“I love you so much, Y/N, and I know I don't deserve you, but please say yes anyway.”

“Yes!” She shouted, taking the box from him and then throwing her arms around his neck, letting him stand up and twirl her around, laughing with him through her tears.

Everyone on the platform clapped happily, as Dean kissed her. 

Sam covered Lucy's eyes but she pushed his hand away, clapping loudly at the little fairytale that had played out for her.

As Dean pulled back, he slipped the ring onto her finger and ran his thumb over her knuckles, before raising her hand to his mouth and kissing the back of it, just like he did the very first day they'd met. It still had the power to make her stomach flutter.

“Do you like it?” He asked, touching the emerald in the center of her ring.

Remembering her prediction that emeralds would always make her cry, brought on even more of those predictable tears. She was happy beyond measure that she'd been both right and wrong about that.

“Yes, I love it.” She said as she kissed him sweetly and then gazed into his bright green eyes. “And I love you, Dean. So much.”

“Thank God. Just...just don't stop. Please?”

Y/N nodded. "Promise." She whispered.

Dean sighed against her lips before claiming them once again.

***

The St. Louis World's Fair. Spring 1904. 

“Lucy Winchester! You've had more than enough of that spun sugar now, come back over here and hold your brother's hand.”

Jessica ran after her six year old with her two year old in tow, until Sam grabbed him up and settled him against his chest. With her hands now free, Jessica grabbed a protesting Lucy away from the cotton candy cart.

Y/N laughed at her former student's frustrated little face and decided to try and help her sister-in-law out. “Luce come here; your cousin needs your help.”

Jessica let go of Lucy's hand so she could run back to her aunt and uncle. Y/N and Dean walked behind them a little ways, with their one year old, Melody, toddling somewhat unsteadily between them.

Y/N let Lucy take Melody's hand. “She loves walking with you and you're so good at showing her just how a real lady walks.”

Lucy beamed proudly as she immediately slowed her pace to allow Melody to keep up, and then walked very sedately to help her little cousin learn how to be a lady.

Jessica smiled brightly over her shoulder and mouthed, thank you to Y/N who laughed lightly. Dean reached over and took her hand now that it was free, swinging it gently back and forth.

Suddenly Y/N remembered Christmas day three years ago and how she'd imagined going to the World's Fair, and walking hand in hand just like this.

There were no cherry trees beside them and the crowds were fairly thick on the pathways around the fair, which meant they were jostled around a bit more than she'd imagined in her idyllic fantasy.

But the feelings she'd imagined back then were exactly the same. Family. Love. Belonging. She stepped closer to Dean and rested her head on his shoulder, squeezing his hand tighter.

He kissed the crown of her head and then whispered to her. “Happy, sweetheart?”

She looked up at him and gave him a mischievous smile. “Happier if you'd kiss me.” 

He pretended to be scandalized. “Mrs. Winchester? In public? In full view of the children?”

Y/N laughed happily, making her in laws look back at them and smile.

Dean leaned down and kissed the tip of her nose. “That's all my strict moral fiber will allow for.” He said in pretentious tones.

Y/N pouted at him playfully and he dipped his head to whisper against the shell of her ear, making her shiver.

“But Mel is sleeping in her cousins’ room with the nanny tonight. So later, in the privacy of our hotel room, I plan on kissing every writhing, shaking inch of your body until you -”

“Auntie!” Y/N was yanked back to reality as Lucy called to her, excitedly. “Melody said my name!”

Trying to ignore the raging fire her husband had kindled within her, Y/N smiled down at Lucy. 

“Well, I'm not surprised. She loves her big cousin.”

Lucy smiled widely before she dropped Melody's hand to run up and tell her parents her good news. Melody started to fuss over her cousin leaving, until Dean scooped her up to sit on his shoulders; then she squealed happily, thrilled to be up so high.

Y/N just watched Dean for a moment, her eyes watering slightly as she thought about how heartbroken she'd been on that Christmas day so long ago, when she'd believed this life was forever beyond her reach.

Dean looked down at her and she picked up his hand again, pressing close to him.

“I love you, you know.”

His beautiful green eyes were warm and overflowing with happiness as he bent his head slightly, holding Melody tightly so she didn't slip, and kissed Y/N senseless. Despite his earlier moral protestations, his kiss was slow and deep and it stole all the air from her lungs.

He pulled back from her and the look of love in his eyes stole her breath all over again as he answered.

"I love you too, sweetheart." He kissed her forehead and spoke softly, for her ears only. "Thanks for teaching me how."

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Someone New

Hozier song: Someone New

Author: @nickelkeep

Artist: @deancodedcastielenby

Beta Reader: @imbiowaresbitch

Main Characters: Cain, Crowley, Benny Lafitte, Castiel, Dean Winchester

Pairing/s: Cain & Crowley, Cain/Benny Lafitte, Cain/Castiel, Cain/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester/Castiel/Benny Lafitte, Dean Winchester/Castiel/Benny Lafitte/Cain, Past Cain/Colette

Tags/Warnings: No Major Archive Warnings, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Widower Cain, Blind Dates, Casual Alcohol use, Polyamory, Non-binary Character (Castiel), Minor Misleading Information, Omitted facts, Established Dean/Benny/Castiel, Adding to the Polycule, Eventual Smut, Foursome - M/M/M/NB

Summary: Cain has been mourning his wife Colette for two years. Despite the promise he made her, he hasn't attempted to date again. Enter his best friend Crowley with a devious plan to help him find Someone New.