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chiisana-sukima · 5 months ago

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What's your opinion on the take that Sam is always running away?

The short answer is I think spn's ethics are insane.

The longer answer is that if you did a rewatch and counted up all the times that Sam objectively "runs away" from a problem/his family/etc and all the times Dean "runs away" from the same, I'm not sure who would actually win. But I do think the narrative frames Sam as the one who runs, and that, over the long term, it treats "running away" as his cardinal sin.

For example, when Dean runs away from his mistakes in Road Trip, the narrative does frame that as immature and self-destructive, and punishes him with the Mark of Cain. But by s11, this is reframed briefly as a "we" problem in s11a (Sam: "if we don't change, right now, all of our crap is just gonna keep repeating itself") and then never held against Dean personally thereafter. Whereas Sam's equivalent attempt at running away--the s4 demon blood arc--continues to be held against him by the narrative until at least 13x21 (Cas: we let Lucifer out of the Cage.)

Even more interestingly, at least to me, with the exception of Stanford, the narrative also tends to treat Dean's episodes of running away from Sam as "abandoning" him, but Sam's episodes of running away from Dean as "betraying" Dean.

This is Dean abandoning Sam to his fate as Lucifer's vessel. The narrative punishment is extreme, but not only does Dean get a do over in the same episode and it never comes up again, but the quote is remembered by fandom primarily as a quote about how close they are. And I do think that's borne out by the narrative. If Dean abandons Sam, the world will literally end.

Meanwhile though:

When Sam screws up with Dean, he's betraying him. The problem isn't just that Sam is an addict or that he ran away from Dean's attempt to forcibly detox him for his own somewhat questionable "good", but that he did so with a demon whore. It's portrayed as a personal betrayal in a way that Dean abandoning Sam to Lucifer is not.

In some ways, Sam is even the more steadfast brother. He may physically leave Dean at times but he never stops believing in Dean's capacity for good. When it's his turn to lock Dean in the panic room because Dean gives up and runs to destruction at the hands of Michael, he doesn't do it. And in the Mark of Cain arc, he affirms that even if Dean kills him, he accepts it as necessary and still believes Dean is a good man.

Which brings me to spn's ethics and fandom's response.

If there's one single thing that spn is entirely, completely, one hundred percent consistent on, it's that tumblr is wrong. You can't just walk out; leaving is always wrong and will usually end the world. It's wrong if it's temporarily for the evening because you'd like to have Thanksgiving dinner and your family doesn't do that, or for four years because you want to go to college, or for forever because all your remaining loved ones have been killed before your eyes, or if it's only a partial withdrawal because you want better boundaries in the face of years of violence and autonomy violations. (To be clear, spn thinks the violence and autonomy violations are wrong too; it's just especially adamant that the only appropriate response is self-sacrifice.) The only reason Sam is finally allowed to temporarily leave in the finale is because he so obviously no longer wants to.

And all of this, to be completely blunt, is batshit fucking crazy. And I mean that in the clinical technical sense of the word. As a system of ethics it's an enormous mess, as a behavioral guide it's guaranteed to result in inappropriate assignment of blame and unnecessary suffering, and it's hard to interpret it all for me personally as anything but a response to trauma.

I do think that on an emotional level there's something wildly compelling about it though, and it's fiction, after all, so there's nothing wrong with it as a fantasy. The idea that if only you could prove your loyalty strongly enough your family would finally accept you, flaws and all, is an impossible wish many of us have spent a lot of our real lives trying to actualize. And seeing it happen on screen when it can't happen irl can be cathartic, much like revenge stories can be cathartic even though irl revenge is a terrible idea. The vibes are, in short, without flaw.

The thing that's hard for me though is remembering that everyone irl grows at their own speed. Not everyone is in a position to cleanly separate their emotional enjoyment of a plotline or theme from their intellectual calculus about whether or not it makes any fucking sense--especially when those plotlines or themes are about violence, betrayal, abandonment, and abuse. And it's hard for me to remember sometimes that huge swathes of meta aren't actually the result of [insert negative judgement here] but are just reflective of a different series of experiences than the ones I happen to have had.

Honestly I find it frustrating. I wish people would be better about separating out what the story is saying from what they think of that message themselves. I feel like the format of fandom meta is often kind of a disaster. It adopts an authoritative, academic tone, but is usually actually used to express personal feelings and wishes without acknowledging that it's doing that.

It's not that I think people should have to disclose their personal experiences to write meta--on the contrary, sometimes that's helpful but sometimes it just makes it worse. Rather, I wish people would get in the habit of using more "I" statements and acknowledging their subjectivity more overtly. Back in the days when dinos roamed the earth and I was an undergrad, I learned that the use of the third person passive voice in academic writing is a political choice. It grants the illusion of more authority and objectivity than actually exists. I wish fandom would take up my professor's call to abandon it to some extent and say "I feel hurt that Sam left Dean alone with John to go to college" rather than "Sam is always running away".

#spn meta #sam winchester #saved #canon-critical #god tfw you make a spelling error on the text on your screen cap #its so much worse than when its in the body of your post #i edited it now but sobbing in the club

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wandering-winchesters · 2 years ago

Text

Every Embrace

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 2,218

Summary: How sharing a bed with Dean Winchester started and where it is now.

Trigger Warnings: SPN level Violence, mostly fluff.

Requested: Yes, by Anonymous. “could you plzzzzzz make a fic where dean and Y/N share rooms or beds when on hunts and they aren’t dating but find comfort in cuddling and being near each other, especially dean. can he be the initiator and the sap for physical touch?”

A/N: Requests are open! Sorry for the lack of posts recently, life has been absolutely crazy! Hope to get back to posting regularly soon! <3 as always, please let me know what you think.

Masterlist

The first time we shared a bed was out of necessity. Dean had been driving for 10 hours straight, all of us were exhausted, sore and just tapped out for the day. The Wisconsin motel had come up suddenly, the last one for another hour. Dean had parked the impala and I had volunteered to be the one to go in and get us a room. Upon checking in, they informed me that they only had one room left, with two beds. I accepted and paid for the room, returning to the car. Intending to let Sam and Dean have the beds and I’d stay in the impala. The second I had suggested this to them it was shot down quickly.

Dean had immediately objected, stating that he’d stay in the impala and I could have his bed. Internally, I knew that wouldn’t happen. I helped them bring the bags in, letting them get settled. Sam quickly fell asleep on his bed, his clothes a rumpled mess. Exhaustion evident by the deep sleep he had been swallowed up by. Dean had hopped in the shower, mumbling something about needing to wash off the rock salt from hunting ghosts earlier in the day. I changed into comfier clothes, grabbing a pillow off of Deans bed and the blanket that I keep in my duffle at all times and quietly closed the motel door behind me.

I opened the back door to the impala and tossed my pillow in, spreading the blanket down over the seat before I had climbed in and shut the door behind me. I laid down, wrapped myself tight with the blanket I had brought and settled in as best I could in the cramped back seat. I had almost fallen asleep, when the door by my feet was yanked open. I yelled, fully prepared to kill whatever had decided to disturb my rest. I quickly backed off once I realized it was Dean.

He asked what I was doing and why I was in the impala when I was supposed to take the bed. I explained that I knew he was sore and I wanted him to have the bed. He refused. After a couple minutes of arguing, he grabbed me by my ankles and pulled me towards the open door. Mumbling that we could share the bed, he wasn’t about to allow me to sleep in the car. I tried to put up a fight, but he silenced me with a look. An exhausted, pleading look. I caved, and followed him inside. He had silently crawled into the bed, his back to the middle. I had carefully settled in next to him, mirroring his position, our backs had been to one another. That was until a nightmare had woken me up, a gasp had left my lungs and I had sat straight up. Dean had immediately noticed and his hand grabbed onto my own. He pulled me down against him, silently embraced me and lulled me back to sleep.

The second time was out of fear, Dean terrified to let me out of his reach for more than a second. We had unknowingly stumbled upon a hoard of demons, only making it out thanks to Sam and Deans quick thinking. I had frozen in place, fear overwhelmed my senses which allowed one of the demons to throw me head first down a set of stairs. I had blacked out, a concussion another injury to add to my long list of hunting ailments. I had awoken to Dean shaking my shoulders, his face swimming before my eyes like the image seen inside of a kaleidoscope. His words had been silent and they had fallen on deaf ears, a temporary loss of hearing plagued my senses, only to return a short time later. He had pulled me into his arms, cradled me close against him and rushed me out to the impala. His grasp on me firm, but gentle. Once we returned safely to the motel, he ignored my every protest and cleaned me up to his satisfaction.

The cut on my forehead and my splitting headache the only proof of the internal injury that was my concussion. He shushed me as he applied the bandage to my forehead, his eyes scanned my own for any hint of pain that he had not addressed. Once he was satisfied, he helped me down off the counter. A heavy silence had fallen between us, I was exhausted and simply didn’t have the energy for the argument that I was sure was going to follow. It didn’t however, he simply hugged me. His arms tight around my waist, his chin rested against the crown of my head. His breathing was escalated, sharp and had the edge of panic. I hugged him back, allowing his touch to calm me. I only let go when he pulled away, I had believed that was the last of it for the night.

I bid him goodnight and began to head for the motel door. He stopped me with his words, insisting that it wasn’t a good idea for me to go sleep in a room by myself, the concussion reason enough for me to stay in there with him and Sam. I had hesitated, not wanting an argument, but also afraid of getting to used to the comfort that sharing a bed with him provided. We still hadn’t spoken about the first time it had happened, the way that we had woken up in the others arms. Once we had both woken up, we were quick to roll apart, making excuses for our unconscious behavior.

The pleading look on Dean’s face was enough to convince me to stay that night. So for the second time, we climbed into the same bed. I faced the outside of the bed, my back to Dean’s. Yet this time, it didn’t last more than thirty seconds. He had immediately pulled me back against him, his arm wrapped snuggly around my waist. His chest pressed to my back, his chin cradled my the curve of my shoulder up to my neck. I couldn’t tell which one of us needed it more in that moment, his touch eased my pain. Little did I know, I eased his pain too. His was mental, mine was physical. We had both fallen asleep embracing the other, lulled into peaceful dreams by the other person.

I can’t tell you when the third time turned to the fourth, the fourth to the fifth ,or the fifth to the sixth. It was a natural progression, as easy as breathing. A fresh breath of air on a foggy morning, easy and clear. Refreshing. The situations varied, but one thing never changed. Dean was always the one to initiate the physical contact.

We no longer looked for multiple rooms at motels, the bed in the bunker that I had claimed began to go unused. Our need for the other person became so great that we could no longer ignore it. It was platonic, comforting and necessary for survival. The unknown ache that had settled over my should was slowly being eased. The need for another person, physical touch and emotional comfort had finally been fulfilled in a way that I never saw coming. If you had told me years ago when I stumbled upon the Winchester brothers that I would seek comfort in the eldest, I would have laughed in your face and called you crazy. However, now that I am here, shrouded in the safety that was Dean, I couldn’t help but smile to myself. The darkness of the room normally would have been anxiety causing, the nightlight that remained plugged in to the outlet of my room in the bunker is no longer necessary.

I no longer fear that monsters that might be lurking on the edge of the darkness, I no longer fear the darkness within my own head. All of these have been driven far away from my every thought, all of that due to the man who’s arms I am wrapped in at this very moment. It had changed from the inability to sleep when we shared a bed, due to anxiety over waking him up or the fear of letting him in, to the inability to sleep without him next to me. I craved his touch and that scared me more than I thought physically possible.

“Whatcha reading, Y/N?” Dean asks, his bare feet silent as he enters the room. I glance up from the book I was scanning, my eyes darting over the low hanging sweatpants adorning his hips, his bare chest and shoulders only covered by the fabric of his unbuttoned flannel before locking with his own. I hum, considering my next words carefully. While I had been sitting with this book for the last hour, I had not been reading. I had been thinking, over analyzing every time we had shared a bed or grown closer over the last few months. The emotional connection that I had with the green eyed Winchester standing in front of me, something I never could have predicted. “I, Uh-couldn’t really tell you,” I laugh, snapping the book shut and setting it on the table next to me. “Was thinking more than reading I guess.” I shrug my shoulders and try to brush off the look that he is giving me. One eyebrow raised, his lip caught between his teeth in the way that I know means he is debating on whether to tease me or let it go. He chooses the latter, remaining silent, but sitting down next to me on the couch. He nods and hands me a beer, that he had already taken the cap off of. Another thing that he had started doing for me, without my asking. It was little things like this that had caused me to question exactly what was going on between us, the silent things that he had started doing for me.

“What had you so lost in thought?” He asks, his hand pulling my legs across his lap. He rubs his fingers gently into the muscle of my calf, working out a knot that I didn’t know was there until his firm touch brushed against it. I shrug again, taking a sip of my beer in order to delay my response a bit longer. He had been so touchy recently, not that I minded. It was there, a need for physical affection, I had buried it long ago. Yet the second his body brushed my own, it was roaring like a lion. Needy and vocal, rearing to be released from the internal cage I had locked it in so long ago.

“You.” I mutter, the word leaving my mouth before I can even think to stop it. A flush washes over my face, my cheeks turning red. I can feel deans eyes on me, but I refuse to meet his gaze. I am paying close attention to a slight imperfection in the glass of the beer bottle.

“What about me?” He asks, his hand squeezing my thigh gently. I hesitate, wondering if I really want to vocalize my next thought.

“About how you’ve been so affectionate recently, I don’t mind it at all. I love it. But it confuses me, we haven’t talked about it. And I just, it leaves me to wonder, you know?” I say, the last words leaving my mouth an almost silent whisper.

“Wonder what, sweetheart?” He asks, his tone flirtatious and cocky. It’s only then that I look up and I’m greeted by a grin plastered across his lips. He’s enjoying this. He’s enjoying my hesitation and embarrassment. I smack his arm playfully, my eyebrows tugging together in a look that tells him to knock it off.

“Okay, okay.” He says, his hands raised in mock surrender. “Wonder, what Y/N?” He asks again, his tone returning to seriousness.

“What does this mean De?” I sigh, resting my head against my hand and staring back at him. He turns to face me, his hands resting on each of my thighs. I can see that he’s choosing his next words carefully which causes anxiety to bubble up within me.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything, everyone needs physical touch. It’s part of being human.” He says and my heart falls. The hope that had been building within me for something more with him quickly crumbles.

“Or, if you wanted it to mean more than just friendly affection, that would be okay too.” My eyes snap back to his once more, confusion flashing over my features. He smiles softly at me, his eyes searching my own for an answer. My voice is lost to me, so I nod. The only response necessary to communicate how I felt at that moment.

Even though we hadn’t labeled the things we both felt for the other, it was no longer a concern at that moment. Every embrace was enough to keep the other going. For now, being wrapped up in his arms and listening to his soft snores every night would be all that I need. Maybe one day that could change and we could delve deeper into the feelings that we shared. But for now, sharing a bed would be enough.

tag list: @roseblue373 @hobby27 @jc-winchester

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tteotlma · 4 months ago

Text

Brewing Emotions

- tension and unspoken feelings finally come to a head.

Sam Winchester/Reader 2.1kw

a/n: i wrote this after finishing spn over the summer. can u tell i love tension.

tw: mild violence mention, mild sexual content (kissing), emotional distress

The drive back from Wheeling, Illinois to the Bunker was an excruciatingly silent drive. It seemed as though everyone was steeping in their misery, and it was gonna be hard to shake off.

A family of Djinn’s were plaguing the city with missing persons for the past three weeks, and by the time the three of you showed up – there was more bloodshed than expected. Turns out the Djinn were running this operation for way longer and tens of lives were lost.

The three of you tried to save the remaining five survivors but because they were so weak, not all of them could be saved. Much to Sam and Dean’s dismay, only two walked away.

Of course, you were devastated as well but having been a solo hunter far longer than teaming up with the boys – you learned the hard way that losses were inevitable.

You were also less emotionally constipated than the other two, so you knew the better way to feel better was to surround yourself with things that bring you joy. But tweedle dee and tweedle dum here like to sit and stew in silence.

You were able to get them to talk here and there for the first few hours but your efforts ultimately fell short and silence took over. Exhaustion took over and you just let the silence be. During the car ride, you stared at the back of Sam’s head trying to stop yourself from reaching out and touching him in some way. Especially running your hands through his hair. You didn’t know if it was because of your feelings for the man, or because the act of petting lowered stress levels but whenever you found yourself feeling troubled you always found your hands in the man's hair, and vice versa.

Sure the science article was about animals but – potato, potato.

Instead you just crossed your arms and tucked your hands into your armpits, closing your eyes to try and get some shut eye.

The first person to say something was Dean, when the car pulled up to the Bunker.

“I’m gonna wash up.” He huffed, as his leather jacket squeaked against the leather seat while shimmying out of the car.

Perfect, you and Sam could prepare a meal while Dean washes up. You were about to reach out to Sam when he sprung out of the car.

“Hey Sam-” you rushed, following his steps in unloading the car. “Why don’t we-”

“Actually, I’m feeling a little grimy so I’m just gonna wash up too.” He mumbled, lugging the duffel bag over his shoulder, and walking away.

“Oh, okay.” you whispered, trying not to sound dejected. You entered the bunker and everyone made a B-line for their bedrooms.

Throwing your backpack onto the ground, you started undressing wanting nothing more than to just step under hot water and let it burn the tension away from your shoulders.

—

By the time you were done, you were already feeling much better. Your pajamas felt softer and cleaner than the stale outfit you had been wearing for the past two days. Your hair no longer felt stringy and greasy, and your skin felt exfoliated. Now to top it all off with a nice warm cup of tea.

You startled, seeing Sam standing in the kitchen.

“I thought I wasn’t gonna see you until tomorrow.” You said, giving him a soft smile as you walked up to him.

“Uh, well we hadn’t eaten anything since that rest stop about seven hours back.” He returned the same smile, before beginning to chop vegetables. You nodded, placing a swift hand on his shoulder blade as you passed him, to let him know you were walking behind.

He cleared his throat, and a small smile spread on your lips.

“I’m making tea,” You started, “would you like some?” Opening the drawer in front of you, an array of colored boxes splayed out before you.

“Sure, I’ll just take a cup of whatever you’re having.”

You took the small red box out the drawer, placed it on the counter and opened the cabinet above you to get your mugs. You grabbed your favorite, and when you went to grab Sam’s you realized it wasn’t in the usual spot next to yours. Pushing around the mugs, all that could be heard was the ceramic clinking together.

“You need help there?” A small scoff escaped his mouth.

“Your mug isn’t here.” Ceramic still clinking, standing on your tippy toes to try and get a better look.

“That’s okay just grab any other one.” He said, throwing the chopped vegetables in a large bowl.

“But you like that mug,” He turned to look at you. “I swear I put it here when I did the dishes.”

“Maybe someone used it.” He obviously wasn’t convincing you that another cup could be used so he put down the knife with a chuckle and walked towards you.

You could feel his presence loom over you as he stood behind you – barely able to feel his warmth on your back. You tried not to move a muscle.

“Yeah look it’s right here,” He said, reaching into the only shelf you couldn’t reach, and behind a large bowl he pulled out a dark blue mug. He looks down at you as you turn to grab the mug.

“Well, that’s not where I put it.” you mumble, taking the mug from his hands.

Inspecting the mug, to make sure it’s clean you notice Sam falls silent. You look up at him and catch him looking at you – quite intently.

Heat rushes up the back of your neck, and you give him a little smile hoping to god this tension building up isn’t just your imagination.

“Are you okay?” You ask under your breath. Sam blinks and shakes his head clearing his throat.

“Uh, yeah, yes I am.” He spits out, and he steps away. The cool air swooping in and taking place where he previously stood. He goes back to chopping vegetables in silence. His kurt answer leaves you thrown off, so rather than respond you choose to join in the silence and fall into a sort of rhythm beside Sam as he preps the salad he’s been working on as you work on the tea you offered.

As Sam shakes the bowl to mix the dressing, you could feel his warmth and you wanted nothing more than to step closer, under the impression that maybe his warmth could take away these remaining forlorn feelings.

"How'd you like your tea?" you ask, steeping the leaves.

"Like I said, whatever you're having." He puts down the bowl and turns to look at you. You shift your eyes towards him, then away when you feel his gaze boring into you.

As you grab the honey and a spoon, you turn to get some oatmilk from the fridge. Suddenly, you realize Sam is no longer behind you but beside you, his chest at eye level. You startle and look up.

"You okay?" His eyes never leave your face.

"Yeah," is all he says, his gaze unwavering.

Shifting uncomfortably, you begin to look anywhere but at him. An unbearable longing aches within you to touch him—to feel the rough texture of his shirt beneath your trembling fingers, to inhale the faint scent of his cologne mingling with his skin's warmth. You yearn to be enveloped in his embrace, to feel his strong arms wrap around you, pulling you close until his steady heartbeat thrums against your chest. Every fiber of your being screams for that connection, that solace, that undeniable closeness.

Your hands clench and unclench at your sides as you look down, the weight of his gaze becoming too intense.

"What is it?" Your voice barely rises above a whisper, afraid to break whatever spell he might be under.

He remains silent. Instead, he steps closer, fingers trailing lightly along the hem of your shirt. He moves even nearer until his chest is mere inches from your face. His hand circles around to your lower back, slowly pulling you in. The movement is so gradual you're barely sure you're moving at all. It's not until you feel Sam begin to lean in, his arm wrapping fully around your waist, that you realize he's been wanting to touch you just as badly as you've been wanting to touch him.

Your breath catches in your throat as Sam's arm tightens around you. Your already small world narrows even more to just the two of you—the warmth of his body, the sound of his breathing, the faint thrum of his heartbeat. You finally allow yourself to raise your hands, letting them rest tentatively on his chest. You slowly look up at him.

"I-I'm sorry, for brushing you off earlier," he says, a glint of remorse in his eyes.

Your hands move to hold his face, thumbs gently caressing his cheeks. "It's okay," you whisper, maintaining the intimate atmosphere between you. "You don't have to apologize."

You watch as Sam presses further into your hands, his eyes closing. A breath of relief leaves his lips, the tension in his shoulders visibly easing. The vulnerability in this moment strikes you, making your heart swell with affection.

Studying his face, your hands glide into his hair, gently pulling him close. As if by instinct, Sam buries his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply. His hands, initially at the middle of your back, slide down to your hips. He tries to bring you closer, but you're already pressed against him. Instead, your hips align more firmly with his as he holds you there.

The sound of your shaky breaths mingles with the scent of his cologne. The warmth of his body envelops you, and the gentle tickle of his breath against your neck sends shivers down your spine. Time seems to slow, each sensation heightened in this intimate embrace. It all feels like a dream—a long-awaited, exquisitely real dream.

Sam's fingers flex slightly at your hips, as if reassuring himself that you're truly there. You respond by carding your fingers through his hair, relishing the softness beneath your touch. The world outside fades away, leaving only this moment, this connection that you've both longed for.

Sam pulls away to look at you, his eyes searching your face. You lightly tug at the hair entwined in your fingers, a silent gesture of affection. Without a word, Sam begins to lean in. His lips brush against yours, feather-light and questioning. Your stillness is all the encouragement he needs.

Years of unspoken feelings finally come crashing down as Sam captures your lips in a proper kiss. He pulls you impossibly closer, one hand cradling the back of your head as if afraid you might slip away. His lips part slightly, and you seize the moment to nip gently at his bottom lip. Sam responds by deepening the kiss, and you meet him willingly, your mouths moving in perfect harmony.

A soft noise escapes him, echoed by your contented sigh. The kiss grows more passionate, your shared breaths becoming ragged. Sam's hands, which haven't left your body, slide down until his fingers find the bare skin at your hips. He kneads the flesh there, his touch both tender and desperate.

The intensity builds with each passing second. Sam's kisses grow more insistent, more passionate, mirroring the longing you both have harbored for so long. The forgotten tea steeps on the counter, the abandoned salad wilts - neither of you notices or cares. There's only this moment, this long-awaited connection, consuming you both entirely.

"Hey, did you guys make any—" Dean's words cut off abruptly as he entered the kitchen. "Well, alright Sammy!"

You and Sam spring apart, both flushed and breathing heavily. Dean stands in the doorway, his eyes wide with surprise before a knowing smirk spreads across his face.

"About damn time," he chuckles, shaking his head. "Don't let me interrupt. I'll just grab a beer and go."

As Dean rummages in the fridge, you and Sam exchange sheepish glances, a mix of embarrassment and barely contained laughter in your eyes. The spell of the moment is broken, but the warmth of it lingers.

Dean grabs his beer and heads out, but not before throwing a wink over his shoulder. "You might want to take this somewhere more private next time. And Y/n? Your tea's probably over-steeped by now." He chuckles.

As Dean's footsteps fade down the hall, you and Sam look at each other trying not to laugh, the tension dissipating. Sam reaches out, taking your hand in his.

"So," he says, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth, "about that tea..."

You squeeze his hand, your heart light despite the interruption. "I think we might need to start over," you reply, unable to keep the grin off your face.

As you move to prepare fresh tea, Sam's arm wraps around your waist, unwilling to let you go just yet. You lean into him, savoring the closeness. The night may not have gone as planned, but it's ended better than you could have imagined.

—————

pls leave comments/feedback! i luv hearing ur thoughts!

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lght-roastcoffee · 2 months ago

Text

⋆ ˚｡⋆ Just a Dream ⋆ ˚｡⋆

prompt: Nightmare┆Tuna-Tober ⊹ Day 7

pairing: Sam Winchester x fem!Reader

wordcount: 1K

warnings: established relationship, angst, spn level violence and gore, slight language, there's fluff in the end

author's note: So I was supposed to be done with this last week... I had a busy last week filled with work, school, and I got sick again. I have more freetime this week and next week, so I should be able to finish (hopefully by the weekend!) We only have 3 more prompts left!

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ 𝘯𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘨𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ 𝘵𝘶𝘯𝘢-𝘵𝘰𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘴 ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹

I- I’m walking. No, staggering.

There’s a pain in my arm, one of my hands is holding the wound on my bicep. It’s so dark, I can barely see anything in front of me. . It smells damp and rotten, and bloody.

We were hunting a demon. It was killing young women at the college in town. It’d go to the popular bars and choose its victim. Sam was able to track it down and I was the bait. Right. But it went south after it figured out I was a hunter.

No… Not this night again. Please…

A crash sounds behind me causing me to swivel around and prepare for whatever made the noise. What do I have? What did the demon leave me with?

Splash!

To the left! That came from the left! Right?

I scramble to reach for the knife I keep concealed in my waistband. The dagger my father gave to me before he died.

“I can smell you, hunter,” the voice said to my right. “I can smell your fear. Do you really think those boys are coming for you?”

My head snaps in the direction the voice came from, dagger turned and ready in defense. Another crash, like pipes being kicked on the ground, comes from behind me, closer than the last time. I turn my body in its direction, heart beating pounding against my chest.

“I think the Winchesters were just waiting for the moment you’d get reckless.”

“Stop,” I demand, creeping forward slightly.

“They probably think you’re just a liability.” There’s movement in my peripheral to the left again. “You’re nothing to them.”

“Stop!”

I rush forward, looking for the exit of the building. I spot a large garage door and dash to the chains to raise it. As I fumble with the chains, an arm darts out of the darkness and grabs my injured arm. Pain shoots up my arm as I’m dragged back away from my exit.

Where are they?

“Now.” The demon throws me to the ground and I try to push myself back up and away. “Let’s begin, shall we?”

In my struggle, the demon managed to get on top of me. I see an opening, briefly, but I take it. I grip the dagger in my hand and bring it down on the demon, directing it to its chest. I strike my target, but it does nothing to help me.

“You bitch!”

Black eyes pierce my own as the demon grabs the wrist with the dagger and twists until I can no longer hold on. The dagger falls to the ground in a clatter that rings in defeat in my ears. The demon reveals its own weapon, a dagger with a serrated edge on one side and black as midnight. There’s a handle on it with spikes sticking out.

The demon slams the handle into the side of my face as it repeatedly punches me. I feel the blood from the spikes drip over my features. Stars paint my vision as I struggle to stop the blows to my head. In my struggle, the blade of the dagger hits my arm, drawing more blood. I can feel myself growing weak from the blood loss, but the demon keeps dealing blow after blow.

ᴡᴀᴋᴇ ᴜᴘ.

Then, for a second as the punches stop, a searing white pain shoots through my side. I scream in pain, opening my eyes which must have closed at some point to the demon laughing over me, the dagger still sticking out of my stomach. There’s more pain as it’s dragged agonizingly slowly out of my body.

“Hey!”

The demon’s joyous expression turns to fury as it turns its head just in time for a knife to enter its back. Its soul or whatever it has sparks before the body goes limp. The knife is removed and the body moved away.

Brown, floppy hair enters my vision first, followed by the warm, hazel eyes belonging to Sam Winchester. I can’t hear what he’s saying, his lips moving, but I can see the terror behind his eyes as he pulls my head into his lap. I smile despite the searing pain. Black starts ebbing its way into my vision. I know what’s about to happen now.

ᴡᴀᴋᴇ ᴜᴘ!

I gasp, struggling to catch my breath. My eyes snap open to the familiar hazel ones starring in concern. I feel Sam’s hand smooth back the hair on my sweaty forehead.

“It’s just a dream, Y/N,” he says while taking my face in his hands. “It’s just a dream.”

Tears form quickly in my eyes as I recount the nightmare I had. It was a hunt gone wrong. Sam and Dean had just gotten to the warehouse just in time. They rushed me to the closest hospital and I survived. But I almost didn’t.

I go to sit up, Sam helping me along the way. He rubs my arms as the tears finally fall.

“You’re okay, it was just a dream.” His eyes bring me comfort, just as much as his touch, as it grounds me back to reality.

Sam brings one of my hands up and kisses that back of it before pressing my palm to his chest. I can feel his steady heartbeat and the rise and fall of his chest. I start breathing with him, syncing mine to his.

“It was just a dream,” I repeat, head clearer now.

“What do you need from me?” He asks, stroking the hand still at his chest with his thumb.

“Lay with me,” I whisper into the space between us. “Please.”

He smiles softly. “Of course.”

I scoot over on the bed to give him room. Sam slips under the covers with me, sliding us down until my head is resting on his chest and his arm is wrapped around my shoulders. His heartbeat comforts me more as I fully let go of the fear from the nightmare. I feel Sam press a kiss to the top of my head before nuzzling his face to my hair.

“You’re okay.”

#tuna tober 2024 #tuna tober prompt challenge 2024 #thecoffeeshop #supernatural #supernatural imagine #supernatural x reader #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester imagine

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daughterofcain-67 · 1 year ago

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𝕽𝖆𝖎𝖘𝖊𝖉 𝖎𝖓 𝕭𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖉 𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱

(Dean Winchester x Reader Masterlist)

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: A hunter believes it is his job to bare the Mark of Cain and suffer alone. It's Dean's destiny to kill his enemies and save the world no matter how vast the oceans of blood will grow. Sam, of course, refuses to let his brother do this alone and he is on the desperate search to find someone who can help his brother before he changes for the worst. When Castiel tells Sam about a rumor of a girl who is the direct descendent of Cain, he begins the hunt for her. He hopes you will be able to help him find a way to subside Dean's changes before he loses his brother forever.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: SPN spoilers pertaining to seasons nine and ten. SPN level of violence, gore, blood, torture, which may not be suitable for all audiences.

𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐮𝐩𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞: 09.12.23

𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐮𝐩𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞: 11.09.23

𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 1

𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 2

𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 3

𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 4

𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 5

𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 6

𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 7

𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 8

𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 9

𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 10 (final)

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deanswhiskey · 1 year ago

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𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲 - 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫

⛥ ⛥ ⛥

summary; helping dean with his wounds after a fight can only lead to good things

wc; 1,036

warnings; cursing, canon level violence (not a lot tbh), talks of wounds (again not a lot), kissing

a/n; aahhhh first spn fic !!! i’m so excited !!!!! (also this isn’t proofread)

⛥ ⛥ ⛥

“ah, fuck!” dean cursed.

"sorry!" you winced while wiping dried blood from a cut on deans temple with an alcohol wipe.

here you were again, playing nurse, because dean winchester can be a wimp when he has to clean up his face wounds.

he always said that his face was ‘too sensitive’ for him to do it himself. it was a good enough lie to convince you.

he really just liked how close you were to him.

he loved the concentration in your eyes. he loved the your nose would scrunch ever time he’d wince. and he loved the way you’d bit your lip whenever you patched him up.

there was a pack of alpha werewolves that another hunter, ethan, needed help with.

not only was it difficult, but having dean and ethan being taken by them didn’t help either.

you and sam arrived at the warehouse the pack was keeping dean and ethan. "you ready?" sam only nodded back at you. you both busted down separate doors of the building and began exploring, looking for the other two hunters. flashlight and your gun with silver bullets occupied your hands while you took careful steps to ensure your stealth. your silver blade tucked into the belt on your jeans just incase.

a couple werewolves spotted you and the fight began. it began with you fighting two werewolves on one side of the building while sam dealt with another two on the opposite side.

eventually, you two both shot down the werewolves and made your way to where dean and Utahn were being held. sam held off the last remaining werewolves while you went to untie dean and ethan.

they were both pretty beaten up. you could see the bruises forming on their faces and the now drying blood from the various cuts. it pained you knowing that dean went through this kind of physical pain.

the four of you finished the fight and successfully taken down the rest of the alpha pack. you and sam had managed to leave with merely a few bruise and small cuts.

arriving back to the bunker, sam had passed out almost instantly. after changing into something more comfortable, you went to check on him after and found him asleep in an awkward and funny position; you giggled to yourself.

you walked past deans room to check on him and found him wincing in the mirror with an alcohol covered gauze pad attempting to fix his wounds.

"may i?" you ask creaking one his door.

he looked into your worrisome eyes that he could never deny, "yea- yea, of course." he through the somewhat bloody gauze into the trash next to the sink.

you grabbed his hands and sat him down at the foot of his bed and walked off to grab the rest of the first aid from his sink, setting it down next to him on the bed.

grabbing an alcohol wipe and opening the little packet it was in, you nudged deans legs open so you could stand between them. you gently grabbed the side of deans head with your free hand and tilted it upwards.

dean looked at you with admiration. how you could care for such a broken boy like him, he'll never know.

you had finished tending to most of his wounds before speaking up, "you really should learn how to clean your own cuts." you half whispered while placing a wound closing band aid on his chin.

"why would i do that when i have you?" dean smiled, his hands moving from his lap to the back of your legs. slowly, his fingertips starting moved in a small and slow, yet hypnotizing up and down movement. this feeling was so foreign yet so familiar. you were used to dean having his hand on your leg, or back, or arm. It wasn't just because he liked you; he felt a sense of security, so he knew you were there.

every time dean touched you, there was a spark he'd leaving dancing around your skin and throughout your heart. these feelings weren't unfamiliar. you're attraction to dean hadn't come on short notice. you'd met him while hunting and almost immediately fell for him. you fell for the sparkling green eyes. you fell for the man who'd do anything for family. you fell for the man who had a secret sensitive side only you knew about.

"and what if im not here?" you paused what you were doing to look him in the eyes.

"well, sweetheart, if you're not here then i'm not here. simple." you didn't know what to say after that, so you just smiled and continued to the last cut that was on his bottom lip.

"okay, well i should be going now," you walked away to throw everything in the trash.

"y/n?"

"yea?"

"stay."

you were taken aback. what did he mean by that?

"dean-" you started before he interrupted.

"stay with me. here, with me. tonight." he got up and walked over yo you. his hands move to cup your face.

"okay," you voice barely above a whisper.

deans eyes flickered to your lips before returning to your was, as if he was searching for permission within them. you closed the gap in between you two and gently pressed your lips on his. sparks fly as your lips move in sync. your hands moved up and down his chest and eventually found their way to the back of his and tangled in his hair. his hands made their to your waist.

dean was, surprisingly, the first to pull away. he rested his forehead against yours while you both were catching your breath. dean pulled away from you to close his door and dim the lights; you took this as a sign to go get in his bed. you put on his pajamas which just consisted of a pair of sweats and a black tee. he lifted the covers on his side and got in bed, scooting closer to you. his arm wrapped around your waist, scooting you impossibly closer to him.

"stay. forever?" he whispered in your ear.

"always."

and with that, you were both off to sleep in each others arms.

⛥ ⛥ ⛥

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #supernatural #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester fic #spn #team free will #supernatural fanfiction

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mirkwoodshewolf · 1 year ago

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First heartache is hard; Jack Kline x reader

*Author's note*

Well this only took me two days to write which I do like when I can easily write a story that fast hehehe so @gabrielasilva1510 here is your ANGSTY Jack Kline request.

Warning: MAJOR ANGST, Character death, NO FLUFF AT ALL ONLY HURT, blood, violence (this is supernatural afterall so SPN level of violence). Basically get your tissues ready cause this is a sad one.

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things

@waddles03

@psychosupernatural

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels

@queen-paladin

@gay-and-ready-to-cry

___________________________________________________________

Jack stood outside in the cold night after a long training session with Bobby. Now that his grace was gone, he had to build up his strength mortally, which meant getting punched and falling down a lot, and getting hurt whilst getting beaten down. He thought he had felt powerless before, but his mind always went back to what happened that night at the church. The moment he truly felt powerless.

The night he had lost you.

*Flashback*

Bobby, Mary and (Y/n) stood in the main lobby of the bunker still debating about who in the world would wanna kill Maggie. After questioning all the hunters from the apocalypse world, they decided that none of them had any motive to hurt her, and that maybe it was just some creep or psycho looking to murder and innocent girl in the woods.

“I mean it’s not uncommon. That’s what happened to my mom’s sister once when they were younger. Some bastard slit her throat, raped her, and dumped her body over the bridge. That’s when I learned that there are more monsters in humanity than there are in the supernatural sense.” (Y/n) said.

“She’s not wrong.” Mary said supporting (Y/n’s) statement. As Bobby nodded, they soon heard footsteps and that’s when they saw Jack.

“Oh Jack.” (Y/n) sighed with relief but before she could race up to hug him, they were horrified to see Lucifer coming up behind him.

“Hey~” Lucifer greeted with a small wave.

“Kid, what in the sam hell is—?!” demanded Bobby but Jack interrupted him.

“It’s okay. He’s here to help.”

“Him!?” (Y/n) asked exasperatedly.

“Yeah tigress, me.” Lucifer said booping her nose to which she cringed and slapped his arm away from her. “Okay touchy-touchy Ms. Temper pants.” He said walking away following his son to where Maggie lay dead.

“Call Sam now!” Mary whispered urgently to Bobby as she and (Y/n) followed Lucifer and Jack while Bobby made a call to the boys.

“So you’re leaving dead bodies on tables now? Nice.” questioned Lucifer.

“We were waiting to give her a hunter’s funeral.” (Y/n) said.

“You won’t have to. My father he’s going to bring Maggie back to life.”

“Jack what are you doing?” asked Mary.

“What I have to do. This is my second chance.” Jack answered.

“Jack,” (Y/n) started. “What happened to Maggie was a horrible thing that never should’ve happened. But it was beyond your control. You couldn’t have known when or where she’d be attacked and murdered.”

“But I promised her I’d keep her safe. All of them.”

“There are some things that you can’t prevent Jack.”

“I’d listen to your little girlfriend son. Plus this whole resurrection thing is kinda tricky. People don’t often come back as themselves.”

“Sam didn’t.” Said Jack.

“Yeah well Sam’s always been a little—in the head to begin with.”

“And like you’re not?” sassed (Y/n). Lucifer snide at her comment.

“You said you’d do anything.” Jack told him. The intense look in his eyes soon made Lucifer relent and he did what Jack said he’d do. Placing his hand on Maggie’s forehead, his eyes glowed red and suddenly Maggie shot up gasping for air. Immediately, (Y/n) grabbed Jack’s hand and took him out of the room and they came into the kitchen.

“(Y/n) what—”

“What deal did he offer you?” she interrupted him.

“What?”

“Back there, when you told him that he’d do anything you’d ask. What was the deal he offered you?” Jack looked at the harsh stare of her (e/c) eyes and told her.

“We’re gonna see the galaxy together. Like in Star Wars. But I said I’d only go if he helped bring Maggie back.” (Y/n) looked at Jack in shock.

“What? You’re going with him?”

“Well not just me,” Jack stepped forward and took both of her hands into his, gently stroking the back of her knuckles. “I also said I wanted you to come along too. You always said you wanted to see the stars up close.”

“Jack I—” (Y/n) was a mixture of emotions. Horror, shock, perplexed, torn, and upset. “Lucifer he’s…..I can’t.”

“Why not?” Jack asked.

“Jack, there’s nothing in this world that I would like more than to explore the galaxy with you, but with Lucifer tagging along. Something doesn’t sit right with me.”

“He’s changed. He really wants to try (Y/n). Would the old Lucifer have offered you to come along with us?”

“I know that no matter old or new Lucifer, whatever he claims to be now, he’s always gets something out of his deals. And if he doesn’t, he’ll take it anyways.” Jack dropped (Y/n)’s hands, his chest rising and falling as he tried to control his anger.

“Why can’t you be happy for me for once?!”

“Jack I have always been happy for you! Looking out for you! Besides Cas and Sam, I’ve always been the one that’s always in your corner! But you can’t trust what Lucifer says! Believe me I know.”

“Oooo, did I come at a bad time?” Lucifer’s voice spoke out as he peeked his head from the kitchen door before walking inside.

“Get out!” demanded (Y/n).

“I’ll admit son, you at least picked one with fire in her.”

“How the hell did you get back here!?” snapped (Y/n).

“Does it really matter?”

“Let me think, yes it does! Now quit stalling and tell him what you’re really here for!”

“What I’m—listen (n/n) I already told him. I want to take my son to see the galaxies, the stars, hell the entire universe itself. I’m done playing second fiddle to pops and his game. I wanna be removed from the chess board completely and not have to worry about anything than showing my son the wonders of the universe. With you of course by his side if you choose to go.”

“I wouldn’t go anywhere with you if my life depended on it!” (Y/n) snarled with a sneer. Lucifer shrugged.

“Alright well, there’s no changing your mind. Let’s bounce son.” Jack slowly walked towards him but (Y/n) grabbed his hand and pleaded to him.

“Jack please, don’t go with him. He’s using you.”

“Would you mind stop gaslighting my own son against me? Geez that’s the thing with you women sometimes, especially teenage girls.”

“Jack. Jack please.” Jack turned to her and said.

“He’s my father.” (Y/n) stood there stunned and released his hand and watched hopelessly as the two of them vanished from the kitchen.

“(Y/n)!? (Y/n)!!” soon Bobby came in and he looked around and asked, “Where’s the kid?” (Y/n) buried her face into her hands and wept. Bobby then walked up and awkwardly wrapped his arms around the weeping girl before bringing her back to rejoin Mary and the newly resurrected Maggie.

When the brothers and Cas returned, they had told that Michael had also somehow managed to come into this world along with Lucifer. That to (Y/n) struck a chord in how Lucifer must surely been planning something. There’s absolutely no chance that those two archangels would willingly team-up to escape apocalypse world. And with Maggie’s death it—it can’t be a coincidence. She stood up and walked off.

“Uhh (Y/n) where are you going?” asked Dean.

“To talk to Maggie.” Sam immediately took off and stopped her and he said to her, “Hey, hey relax okay? Look mom told us what happened and to interrogate her now while she’s still trying to wrap her mind about being resurrected it—”

“I know Sam. You Winchesters aren’t the only ones to have been resurrected. But I have to know just who killed her. This all is one too big coincidence for them to have come back and Maggie ends up dead the same day they both come through their own rift.”

“You think it was one of them that killed Maggie?”

“Like I said, it’s a hunch but it’s too big of one to ignore.”

“Then let me come with you.”

“You just want to keep an eye on me because of my impatience.” She snapped accusingly.

“That and I also want to find out the truth. Hey,” Sam could sense the anxiety running through (Y/n)’s body about Jack. “We’re gonna find him.”

“He’s…..” (Y/n) trailed off before confessing her deep secret. “He’s my best friend. I—I can’t lose him.”

“We won’t. We’ve got everyone looking for them. Now let’s go see about your hunch.” Sam and her walked to where Maggie was sitting in the library trying to process everything that had just happened. “Maggie?” Sam broke her silence as she slightly jumped and turned her attention to Sam who sat down beside her at the table that was once her deathbed. “Hey, sorry. You okay?”

“I’m alive so…..yes.” she replied.

“Right. So listen, we know this is all weird right now but uhh…..before you died, do you remember anything about the person that killed you?”

“Does it really matter? I mean don’t you guys have a lot bigger Satan-y stuff to deal with right now?”

“Yes but it’s getting handled. For now, just answer Sam’s question.” (Y/n) said. Maggie took a deep breath in before saying.

“I—never saw his face. But…..I saw his eyes.”

“His eyes?” asked Sam. Maggie nodded.

“They were—unlike anything I had seen before. Those bleeding red, glowing eyes.” Once they heard that, both Sam and (Y/n) looked at each other in shock.

“I knew it!” (Y/n) muttered under her breath but at that moment, a sudden loud boom sounded off from outside. It almost sounded like a firework or a bomb had went off close by, then the lights began flickering on and off. The three of them went to rejoin Dean and the others as the front doors of the bunker began to jostle and bang loudly, like someone was trying to break in. “Ahhh shit.” (Y/n) said under her breath.

“Mom, Bobby, take Maggie out of here through the garage.” Sam said.

“We’ll buy you some time.” Dean said.

“What no!?” Mary said but Sam told her not to argue and soon Bobby had to drag her and Maggie out of the room to make their escape. (Y/n) came and stood beside Cas who put an arm around her as the doors continue to jostle and the banging grew louder. The two of them took out their blades as Sam and Dean readied their guns.

After what felt like an eternity, the door finally caved in and fell with a bang as a bright light shone through the bunker. And soon walking in with his head held high was Michael. Immediately Sam and Dean began to open fire at the archangel but being what Michael was, the bullets had absolutely no affect on him. The archangel slowly levitated himself down to the floor from the catwalk entrance and Cas made the first attack with his angel blade.

But Michael easily overpowered Cas and had him flying over the table and across the room, knocking him unconscious. (Y/n) took out her curved scythes and slashed at Michael. He dodged each attack until he grabbed (Y/n)’s left wrist and disarmed her before breaking her arm. She let out an agonizing scream before Michael palm-strike her straight at her chest, sending her flying and slamming into the wall.

“You really thought you could run from me?” sneered Michael. Sam immediately went on the attack after (Y/n) had been injured but Michael easily overpowered him as well as Dean who more than anyone, put up a fight towards Michael. But the archangel soon had Dean by the throat.

“How did you—” Dean started to say but Michael interrupted him.

“Get here? Easy. I made a deal. And now this world is mine, I can save it, purge it of sin.”

“Yeah cause that really worked out on your rock.”

“Well I’m not perfect. And yes I made mistakes, but hey second times the charm.” As (Y/n) cradled her broken arm she muttered under her breath in prayer.

“Jack. Jack I don’t know if you’ll even hear this prayer but—we need you. He’s here……Michael is here. Please, help us. He’s gonna kill us.” As Michael and Dean continued to talk back and forth of each other until Michael squeezed Dean’s throat even harder almost to the point where his bones could be heard snapping (but not enough to kill him).

As Dean was starting to slip away under Michael’s grip, the archangel was suddenly thrown back against a pillar by a familiar golden aura of power. Dean let out a loud intake of air and coughed harshly. Everyone looked up to see that Jack had come back.

“Jack.” Sam said as he was finally able to stand up.

“I heard your prayers.” Jack only turned to look at (Y/n) and when he had seen the woman he secretly loved hurt, rage slowly began to simmer within him.

“Yeah it’s me, yay. Uhh we done yet buddy?” Lucifer also said as he had appeared behind Jack. He then tried to get Jack to leave now that Michael had been subdued, but it wasn’t enough for Jack.

First thing he did was walk up to (Y/n), knelt down beside her and healed her broken arm thanks to the teaching he learned from Cas.

“You okay?” he softly asked as he cupped her left cheek.

“For now.” Jack softly smiled but his soft side melted away as anger and rage now consumed him as he turned his attention to Michael. His eyes glowed as he raised his hand up and slowly walked towards Michael and said angrily.

“You hurt my friends.” Michael let out a pained groan as he hunched forward, almost as if something were burning him from the inside out. “You hurt my family!” Jack soon yelled as Michael screamed and felt his insides being crushed. “You hurt (Y/N)!!” as he clenched his hand into a fist now, Michael’s vessel started to bleed from his eyes and his ears.

Everyone, including Lucifer stood there in shock at just how much power Jack held.

“LUCIFER WE HAD A DEAL!!” Michael exclaimed as he slid down to the ground in pain.

“Okay, game over. Hey buddy let’s….let’s split.” Lucifer said with a snap of his fingers wanting to lead Jack away.

“What does he mean?” Jack asked as he turned to his father. Lucifer began stammering almost trying to play dumb but Dean soon said.

“They had a deal.” Jack then turned to Dean as he continued, “Lucifer gets you, and Michael gets everything else. He’s gonna nuke our world, Jack. Just like he did his.”

“Is this true?” Jack asked his father.

“No! It’s not.”

“Is that why you wanted us to leave? And why you knew (Y/n) wouldn’t come with?”

“Leave? (Y/n) what do you know about this?” Sam asked her.

“Lucifer told him they were going to see the stars. Then Jack said he’d only go with his dad if I got to go with them. But I refused because Lucifer would be the main tag along.”

“What you were just gonna leave the rest of us to burn?” Cas said as he was finally able to stand up after his fight with Michael.

“Okay, okay let’s slow down for a second. Are we forgetting who the real bad guy is?”

“Yeah trying telling that to Maggie dumbass.” (Y/n) snapped.

“What about Maggie?” Jack asked with a crack in his voice.

“You know you’ve done some dumb things Lucifer but even you must’ve known this would turn and bite you in the ass. Jack, Maggie saw the eyes of her killer. The glowing red eyes. Which angel amongst us has eyes like that?”

“Oh come on! Jack are you really gonna believe this girl!? (Y/n) is a hater she’d say anything to get you on their side!” Lucifer tried to point (Y/n) as the bad guy but Jack wouldn’t believe his father over her again, not after the brief pain it had caused him after they had left her behind.

“Tell me the truth!” Jack demanded as his eyes glowed and he held out his hand towards his own father. Using his powers, he controlled Lucifer’s mind and made him verbally confess how and why he killed Maggie. He also admitted to how much he enjoyed it. When Jack released him, he shook his head before saying, “You’re not my father, you’re a monster.”

Lucifer’s impatience was boiling to a head until he finally let out his rage in a powerful scream as he revealed his glowing red eyes. The scream of the devil shook the entire bunker and the Winchesters and (Y/n) had no choice but to cover their ears less their eardrums explode out of their ears.

“Okay…..I tried with you. I really, really tried with you.”

“Everything you told me was a lie.”

“Because I told you what you wanted to hear man! So what I killed the girl? Big deal! She’s just a human she doesn’t matter!”

“So am I!” Jack snapped.

“Yeah, and that’s your problem. You’re too much like your mother.”

“Jack.” Cas said as he, Sam and (Y/n) started to surround the two of them ready to attack, but Jack told them to stand back and that he’ll handle him.

“Oh yeah? Oh buddy, we could’ve been something you and me. We could’ve remade the universe. We could’ve been better Gods than dad. And I really wanted pal, I wanted that but now—if I can’t have it with you well….I don’t need you. I just need your power.” Suddenly Lucifer used an archangel blade and sliced a small cut on Jack’s throat and began absorbing his grace.

“NO!!!” Cas and (Y/n) cried out. Once Lucifer had absorbed all of Jack’s grace, he healed the cut on his son’s neck and felt ultimate power surging through him. Lucifer’s eyes briefly glowed the golden color of Jack’s powers and immediately (Y/n) leapt towards them and with a flash of light, the three of them were gone.

The next thing (Y/n) knew, she fell down to the floor and looked around to see that they had appeared at a small church.

“Really (Y/n)? Hitching a ride, you know you’re taking the term ‘clingy girlfriend’ to a whole new level.”

“Go to fucking hell!” she snarled through her teeth.

“Yeah, yeah been there done that.” Lucifer released his grip on his son and kicked (Y/n) square in the face sending her on her back to the floor. She briefly rolled across the floor and as she tried to sit up, Lucifer kicked her hard in the ribs. She let out a groan as she went for her scythe then just as Lucifer was about to stomp on her chest, she slashed his leg.

Being that the material was made of melted angel blades, it managed to cause him pain but not enough to kill him. She backward rolled and twirled the scythe in her hand as she glared up at the devil.

“I’ll admit, you always were the more fearsome fighter out of the brothers.”

“Growing up alone on the streets of West Philly teaches you a thing or two.” She spat out some blood as she took out her other scythe. She then charged at the devil, slashing at any chance she got but Lucifer was toying with her as he dodged every single attack that came her way. After toying with her, he grabbed her wrist and twisted it forcing her to drop her left one first before punching her in the face repeatedly.

Every blow sounded off a broken bone on her face or nose until her mouth and nose were covered in blood. He then took her by the throat and lifted her up.

“But you’re still human. And humans break easily. Shame though, you could’ve made at least a slightly decent daughter-in-law. But you know, I can always make more and there might be another one like you out there somewhere.” Lucifer then took her right scythe out of her hand and admired it. “Been nice knowing you tigress.” Then he swung the scythe across her stomach.

Jack who had slowly regained consciousness after losing his grace, woke up to see the woman he loved being held by the throat and saw as his own father kill her with her own weapon.

“NOOOOO!!!” Jack cried out. Lucifer turned and said.

“Oh good you’re awake.” He then dropped (Y/n) like a ragdoll and as she began to bleed profusely all across her stomach, her body already going into shock at the amount of blood that was already seeping out of her body.

“You—you killed her?”

“Like I said, she’s just a human. There’s dozens more out there like her, but if you’d like, I can let you join her. Classic Romeo and Juliet fashion.” But before Lucifer could do anything, a bright angelic light shone throughout the church and standing there was Dean with Sam close behind him. The shadow of angel wings coming out from Dean who had accepted Michael as his vessel.

While Dean and Lucifer talked and fought each other, Sam quickly raced over to (Y/n) after seeing her on the ground in her own blood.

“(Y/n)? (Y/n)? Hey, just hang on, keep your eyes open for me okay sweetheart?” Jack came beside her and grabbed her hands.

“I’m sorry (Y/n). I’m so, so, so sorry. I should’ve believed you this is all my fault I-I’m so sorry.”

“Not…….your……f-fa…..” (Y/n) choked out but Sam interrupted her.

“Hey, hey shhh save your strength okay? Jack, take off your jacket and put it on her stomach okay? We have to keep pressure on her wound.”

“It’s—it’s too……” weakly (Y/n) stopped Jack who looked down at her with tears in his eyes.

“No. (Y/n) we’re going to save you. Please let me save you!!”

“You—already…..did.” soon a bright light and a cry of pain echoed throughout the church and as Dean fell to the ground, they watched as Lucifer’s light was extinguished and he lay there dead.

Lucifer was finally dead.

“Is he?” Sam started to ask, almost not believing it to be true.

“He’s dead.” Jack said. The brothers and Jack couldn’t believe it, finally after all this time Lucifer was finally dead. Not sealed in the cage, truly dead.

“Dean, you did it.” Sam said.

“No. No man we did it.”

“(Y/n). (Y/n) did you hear that he’s really….” Jack said as he looked down, but something wasn’t right. Her eyes were still open but there was no life to them, the soft smile was still upon her face but she was as stiff as a board. “(Y/n)? (Y/n)?” tears began to fill his eyes. “No, no, no, no, no, no please no!”

“Dean!” Knowing he had Michael’s power, he thought for sure he could heal the wound but just before Dean could make a step, he lurched forward in pain groaning. “DEAN!!”

“WE HAD A DEAL!!!” Dean cried out before he too went still for a moment.

“Dean?” Sam called his brother again. Dean rose up but his posture and the look in his eyes were different. Dean looked around before saying.

“Thanks for the suit.” And then he disappeared, leaving Sam and Jack alone with (Y/n)’s corpse.

“(Y/n)! (Y/n) please wake up! Don’t go please you can’t die!” Jack cried out.

“Jack…..” Sam trailed off.

“There’s hospitals. Human doctors can save her right!? Sam please call them!”

“It wouldn’t do any good. I’m sorry Jack, she’s gone.”

“No she can’t be gone!” Jack picked up (Y/n)’s body and wept into her neck, pleading and begging to anyone above to save her as he wept into her cold neck.

After sending a prayer to Cas about what had happened, Cas found them and brought them back to the bunker so that they could give (Y/n) a proper hunter’s funeral. As she lay there on the table moments before she would be wrapped up, Jack stood over her utterly broken and lost.

The only thing he could do was lean down and kiss her cold blue lips. Deep down he had hoped that true love’s kiss would awaken her, just like all those Disney movies and fairytales she had shown him could do. But this was no fairytale, nor was there a happy ending for them.

“Jack,” Cas voice spoke gently to the grieving young man. “It’s time.” Jack sniffled and he said.

“I’ll prepare her.” Cas nodded and left Jack to do all the prepping alone. Once he was done, he carried the wrapped up body of the woman he loved in his arms towards her funeral pyre. He set the body down on the wood and watched brokenly as the hunters doused her body in gasoline before Sam was the one to light the fuse and burn her body.

As they all watched (Y/n)’s clothed body burst into flames, Jack had no more tears left to spent, but his heart continued to ache him and he would soon be the only one to remain at her pyre even after all the other hunters went back to work to search for Michael.

*End of flashback*

“Jack?” he heard Sam’s voice say. He felt as Sam came up and stood beside him. “You okay?”

“As fine as I can be.” Jack said monotonously.

“Look Jack, I know it’s difficult without your grace. But Bobby said you’re really improving and soon you’ll—”

“It’s not that.” Sam looked perplexed for a moment but then realized what he meant.

“Oh.” Jack nodded softly and turned to look back up at the stars. “Yeah, I miss her too.”

“It’s all my fault.”

“Jack, you can’t blame yourself for what happened. And (Y/n) would sure as hell wouldn’t want you thinking like that.”

“But I—”

“She wouldn’t have done what she did, if you weren’t worth saving. She’s had a rough life before we found her. Trust me.” Jack sniffled and wiped away his tears.

“It hurts so much Sam. My heart it—it’s like…..a werewolf had taken it, tore it apart slowly and then put it back in my chest with no way to fix it. Why? Why does it hurt so much?!” Jack gripped his chest as he lowered his head and sobbed. Sam cautiously reached out and brought the young Nephilim to his chest, resting his head on top of his.

“I know what you mean Jack. Long ago when I thought I had finally gotten out of the hunter’s life, I found a girl I had fallen for. Jessica, oh she was a force of nature. And—I was gonna eventually ask her to marry me. Once I had finished law school and everything. But when I came back she—it tore me apart too. I went through the exact same heartache you’re going through now. It’s tough losing the woman you love.”

“I never—even got to tell her.” Jack whimpered.

“She knows. Believe me, women like her and Jess, they always know. And it’s also probably why she did what she did.”

“How do you do it Sam?” the two of them looked at each other as Jack whimpered brokenly as a few tears slipped down his face, “How do you continue to live when they’re gone?”

“One day at a time Jack. One day at a time.” Sam brought Jack’s head back over his heart and rocked the young man comfortingly as Sam let a few tears of his own slip out, also mourning for the loss of the young woman whom he called sister for so many years.

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soullessjack · 9 months ago

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🔥 jack

oh my godddd I have so many unpopular opinions where do I even start….HOLY DISCLAIMER BATMAN!

anyways so in no particular order or tier system:

✯ i don’t think jack would wear anything feminine im sorry spn fandom. for lolz he has same-outfit-pattern-everyday autism and for serious it’s like. Really weird how fandoms tend to HC/portray non-binary amabs (and men/transmascs in general) almost exclusively as GNC or fem-presenting…like DGMW that is a real and valid form of self expression but it’s not the Only type of non-binary expression that exists. and honestly…**dare I say that most fandom/queer spaces just need to realize that queer masculinity exists and it doesn’t always have to be a matter of breaking gender norms??

** genuinely do whatever u want idc I can’t stop you i don’t want to stop you yada yada. paint his nails and put him in a skirt all u want but Please recognize patterns yall 😭

✯ more headcanon complaints (see disclaimer above ⇧) but I promise to switch it up soon. anyways every time somebody on this lil website says something along the lines of “Jack can’t handle/doesn’t like [insert violence, scary or adult-oriented thing], he prefers [soft or blatantly childlike things]” I shrivel inward like a dead spider. It’s annoying, it’s completely inaccurate to his canon personality and interests, it’s annoying ˣ2, and whether ppl wanna admit it or not—it stems from infantilization. not necessarily ableism, as infantilization is not exclusive to disabled people, but still just about the same thing.

honestly all I see of majority jack headcanons are ones that set him back to just being a child or otherwise being treated like one. for example, the one about him being able to shapeshift is pretty cool...until it just becomes about him deciding to age regress, yknow, to an age set he canonically chose not to go through, showed no desire to be in, and is more offended than anything to be considered as such. all of his interests have to be some shit like bluey or animal crossing, and he drinks apple juice from a sippy cup instead of beer. BARF.

I’ve lessened on my keyboard warring over babyjack in the past year but I have not lessened in being a hater. and I’ve said this before, but the baby-jack au already breached headcanon containment a long time ago when it’s not only so widespread that ppl take it for canon and it makes having any intelligent conversation about him nearly fucking Impossible, but it also lead to harassment and accusations of being a fucking predator, to anyone who dared find a whole grown man attractive. any potential jack ship, like jackharper? automatic grooming case to them. it’s like the fandom is just so dead set on this idea that jack really truly is a child in every aspect you can think of, and for what? if it’s just a headcanon, something you know is not part of the actual show, then don’t go Travis the Chimp levels of apeshit when you see him being treated like he is canonically 💀

unpopular opinion numero 3 which is slightly connected to 2:

✯ baby-jack and a handful of the domestic au’s are BORING (see disclaimer again ⇧), not just on a surface level to my suiting, but also because I feel like it just ..misses the point of the show?

the ragtag untraditional found family is now as nuclear and traditional as the Atomic Age. Dean and Cas are the most heteronormative “who wears the pants in the relationship” gay couple ever, Sam is demoted to the uncle that gets written out of his own family, Jack is just there to make his gay dads look cute and emphasize that they’re a gay family (while still being very heteronormative), and at least 5 of them could be found in a California gated community. everything that made any of them unique or defined their personalities is just scrubbed off, even for an AU.

so much of the later seasons focus on Sam and Dean realizing that they don’t have to make a hard splitting decision between the lives they want to live; that they can find a balance; be happy and have good things—namely families—without giving up hunting (and vice versa, that they can have hunting without giving up on family or happiness). everybody loves the gay hunters from S10(?12?) and what they represented for Dean, but I almost never see that be put into practice in the fandom.

THEY’RE ALREADY DOMESTIC!!! AND WITH THAT PERFECT BALANCE!!!! Season 13 quite literally gave Team Free Will a surrogate son to raise and established them as a family; highly untraditional, largely dysfunctional, overall not fitting of a family family, and yet they are a family still. Dean wears an apron and cooks and bakes for everyone; he built himself a man cave and established two separate family night events that they all ritually keep up; Sam has a morning jogging routine and visits his girlfriend every so often; Jack was taught how to drive, has normal chores like washing dishes, and gets groceries. And they didn’t just have that while fighting monsters—they had that while fighting a whole fucking archangel. Even if it did go down the gutter by the end, they still had it: domestic familial bliss and violent messy hunting without having to trade one for the other.

✯ I truly genuinely think Jack’s relationship with Dean is the best, most interesting and most misunderstood out of the three, and I also think that the problems with his relationship to Cas and Sam are hugely overlooked by the fandom—granted they are very small, especially if you’re comparing it to Dean, but they’re still there and I think we should bully Cas and Sam about it more. I shan’t elaborate because it’s 5AM and this was an impulsive add-on ❤️

✯ getting normal now…his plaid pattern jacket from the first half of Ouroboros is ugly as SHIT i have never liked it and don’t think I ever will. but I cannot deny it; he got that shit on.

✯ most unpopular opinion of all, I wanna do insane shit to his cervix 🙌

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dotthings · 4 months ago

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All right, here's the spn 5.18 rewatch Dean and Cas brainrot.

And this was only near the beginning of where that story's going to go!!

As Dean breaks, so shall Cas break. They're so entangled here and it's heartwrenching. Both of them have been moving towards despair most of S5, mirroring each other, both of them losing faith. Dean's losing faith in his brother, Cas losing faith in his father, Cas finds a liquor store and he drinks it, Cas losing faith in Dean is what makes Cas finally snap and temporarily go out of his mind.

The beatdown in the alley is exactly the wrong way for Cas to go about things, and that was the point. I can't cheer Cas on, and Dean didn't deserve that. It wasn't the way to reach Dean.

But I can feel how tragic this is. Seeing Cas spin out and break, and he has no precedent on how to handle the emotions coursing through him, he's still a semi-feral cosmic being, full of hurt and disappointment and anger. Cas's feelings are valid...but that doesn't mean every demonstration of anger is the right thing. While Dean is sinking into despair and we know he's feeling that he's disappointed Cas.

There's a bit of a Bobby parallel too--not that Bobby goes to the extremes Cas goes to. But Bobby's words as he snaps at Dean and tries to guilt him about giving up, is also a wrong approach with Dean. It's Bobby leaning on Dean so hard to be the repository of his hope, the keeper of his faith, and it's what Cas does too, and both lash out at Dean in different ways. So we can talk about Cas has a lot to learn and a lot more to go, and he does, I'm not saying Bobby is like Cas, but pointing out that even a middle-aged compassionate human with lots of experience with feelings like Bobby is imperfect. As is Dean. And Sam. And that's one of the show's long running themes.

I will point out Cas is holding back. Given his power levels what he does in that alley is incredibly dangerous, but the fact that he's snapping and yet will not actually do grievous lasting hurt to Dean. He never forgets who Dean is, he's dealing with all these feelings, hurt and disappointment, but not so far gone he forgets. And then he uncurls his fist.

Cas never does anything like that again, except when he is literally being mind-controlled, by a magic spell or angel brainwashing. S5 is the one and only time Cas lands a fist on Dean of his own volition. And let's not forget how Sam and Dean strike each other, of their own volition.

The Dean and Cas dynamics in this ep are also so utterly unhinged, from both sides.

"I gave everything for you and this is what you give me" actual canonical dialogue!!!

And Dean, who is lashing out at everyone he's close to in this episode, in different ways, with Cas he chooses a sexual taunt, he chooses to mock Cas flirtatiously.

"Well Cas, not for nothing, but the last person who looked at me like that, I got laid" and then he winks. And it's not a reassuring wink, or a brotherly wink, it's a full on saucy come-on kind of wink. And the way Cas glowers at him and shuts the panic room door!!!!

Also when Dean kills Zach, he does it with an angel blade, which he would have gotten from Cas. And that after the alleyway, Cas tells Dean in calm words, that his faith in Dean has faltered, instead of doing it with violence. It stings, but it's progress, and he is there, standing with Dean, despite Cas's claims of losing faith, and risks himself to disperse the angels so Sam and Dean can rescue Adam.

This ep is some raw, emotional Dean and Cas and it's one of the Kripke era eps that rewired my brain on that relationship, like The End.

#destiel #destiel meta #cas meta #dot rewatches spn #spn meta #Team Free Will

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ultravi0lence14 · 8 days ago

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WHEN ANGEL FALLS IN LOVE

dean winchester x angel!reader

TBD | angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, enemies to lovers, spn level violence, szn nine

summary: the angel’s have fell, and castiel finds himself running into the little angel he had mentored and kept under his (literal) wing for millennia. when you ask for help, castiel sends you to the winchester brothers as he attempts to adapt himself. with angel now living in the bunker, what happens when the line between love and hate becomes blurred?

ANGEL AND DEAN’S PLAYLIST

ANGEL’S PINTEREST BOARD

when angel falls

welcome to the bunker

sweet angel

change of heart

when angel falls (in love)

out of the woods

*promises

TAGS: @floralscented @deansbeer @titsout4jackles @haunteres @ostaramoon @starzify @fallbhind @rubyvhs @foolinthera1n @taurus0queenie33 @vaiieydoii @bitchykittenconnoisseur @galacticalllcafffeine @jasvtsc @pascal-rascal424 @annoyingstrawberryballoon @fayeisuppose @angel-inspiredblog @geisterfvhrer @bluemerakis @si1ver06 @drqstqr @wh0s-ra3 @supernatural-bangtanboys @whump-loverz @mostlymarvelgirl @d3anwinchesterswife @youdontknowe @oceanolokys @chxrrybobaby-sin @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing

COMMENT IF YOU WANT TO BE APART OF ANGEL AND DEAN’S TAGLIST

#supernatural #dean winchester #sam winchester #supernatural x reader #fluff #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #ultravi0lence14 #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester angst #dean winchester x angel!reader #dean winchester series

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chiisana-sukima · 5 months ago

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Hello, I love your blog and your thoughts on supernatural. Could you explain what you meant when you said it's "barely disguised kink." This sounds intriguing but I don't really understand.

So you know how you'll be reading along in, say, an AU longfic where Character A gets turned into a vampire, so you know there's gonna be some biting in it? And the first chapter where Character A bites the neck of their beloved Character B, you're like mm yes good.

But then there's another big, lovingly described biting scene, and then another one and another one, and they all go on for many paragraphs with much loving description of how sensual, hot, and/or angsty it all is. And then you're like still yes good, but also "Oh! I get it now! The vampire plot is an excuse; the author has a biting kink!"

In a stunning show of 'start as you mean to go on', here's the first time we see adult Sam. He's shrouded in shadow behind a bright, idyllic picture of his military father and his dead mother, asking a loved one--who will soon die in an act that both is and is not his fault--if he has to do something he doesn't want to. It's spn, so of course the answer is yes, he has to.

And here's the first tasty vampire bite. The ghost is exacting punishment on men who have been unfaithful. Sam never has, so she sexually assaults him, and now, on a technicality, he can be punished because he's guilty of something he never did.

There's no way to make logical sense of this. On it's face, it's just plain stupid. Even on a thematic level, it struggles. She's afraid to go home, so is she Sam? She murdered her two children because of grief and anger. Is she John? She's wearing a white nightgown or slip or whatever. Is she Mary?

Is Sam thematically vulnerable because by going to Stanford, he's been unfaithful to John and Dean? Because by going back to monster hunting, he's being unfaithful to his commitment to have a normal life with Jess? Or is there nothing under the technicality that the monster about to kill him is able to do so because she kissed him against his will first? There's no real answer ever given. The justification for the inclusion of the sexualized violence seems to be merely that it's hot. In either the DVD commentary or on Supernatural Then and Now, I forget which, someone even comments that while they were filming the scene, everyone was jealous of Jared because he "got to" have the hot actor playing the ghost on his lap nuzzling up to him. And if I had a nickle for every iteration of this kind of weirdness over the following 15 years, I'd have way, way, way more than two nickles.

I don't want to make it about ships here, because I think the ship aspect is peripheral. It's not, I think, about kink between any two specific characters but between the creators and the viewers. The creators find a bunch of kinky power play hot or compelling or idek what, and expect us all to feel the same about it too. There are a bazillion kinds of kink of course, but a very popular one involves two or more people engaging in a stylized roleplay of transgression and punishment for the purpose of getting them off, and spn enacts that specific roleplay so many times it's just not credible to me that they are doing it purely for plot reasons.

Kind of gay to transgress so badly two men have to lock you in the basement to be pretend crucified, handcuffed to a cot, and then pretend tortured by yet another different man.

Kind of gay to have something so wrong with you that a man has to tie you up and order a third man to stick a belt between your teeth to muffle your screams while he fists you.

Kind of gay to have something so wrong with you, you have to be locked in a basement, handcuffed to a cot, have a man direct another man to presumably fist you while a third man watches and you scream and beg for--wait a minute haven't we done this all before??

Kind of gay to have something so wrong with you, you have to get double penetrated by two men at the direction of a third man with the assistance of a fourth man while-- Anyway, y'all get the point. This is way too much BDSM to be just about the plot.

And it's not just Sam. Dean gets forced to be the reluctant punisher even more often than Sam gets forced to be the punish-ee. And Cas may get tortured less often than Sam does but I think he probably gets humiliated more.

Despite the overlay of sexualized violence--and oh holy hell is there ever a lot of that overlay--I don't mean to imply that by "kink" or "getting off" I necessarily mean sexually though. There are a lot of nonsexual elements to kink that are equally, or sometimes more, important than just getting laid in a complicated, ritualized fashion. Often it's about comfort, safety, surrender, catharsis, intimacy, or other intense emotions that are too frightening, taboo, or embarrassing to experience in everyday life.

The term "Final Girl" has taken on a lot of other nuances since Carol Clover coined it in 1992, but originally it was used as an analysis of how men use the female protagonist in slasher flicks to experience emotions like fear and vulnerability that--because of toxic masculinity--they can't allow themselves to experience either in real life or even at the remove of a male hero in fiction. Spn, I think, is a very Men Who are Final Girls who are Still Men kind of show. There's so much crying, so much vulnerability, so much terror and loss of power, and so many heartfelt conversations about topics that most men will never broach IRL unless they're lucky enough to have a woman partner who will pull it out of them or maybe a sufficiently sympathetic nurse at their bedside while they're literally dying. It's this that I mean when I say it's about kink rather than whatever bullshit ethical dilemmas tptb are claiming they're concentrating on that season.

The sastiel-directed-by-Dean example above is my favorite for being the most overtly and unnecessarily sexualized (why does detecting the presence of a soul involve fisting?? what is the belt for; they usually just go ahead and grunt or moan or scream?? why the detail that Sam could've got up and left the whole time??), but here, straight from the pen of eventual showrunner Andrew Dabb, is my favorite for total divorce from making a lick of sense.

Kinda gay to shoot your load at another man during a fight over who gets to eat the foot long wiener.

#i am imagining impassioned meta now on why it was right for john to shoot sam over a hot dog #he had his reasons #(He did! i swear!)#it was to teach sam a lesson #also sam started it #and also the hot dog was delicious #spn meta #sam winchester #mostly #although really its about all of TFW #and everyone else on spn too #discussion of kink #cw sexualized violence #cw implied incest #(for trigger warning purposes)#although this isnt intended as ship meta #intricate rituals to touch not other men but your own emotions #saved

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wandering-winchesters · 2 years ago

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Don't Push Your Luck

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 2,707

Summary: After a bad argument with Dean, over the reader putting herself in danger, another hunt goes wrong. Will there be time to reveal the feelings that lie beneath the anger?

Trigger Warnings: SPN level violence, injuries and blood. Mentions of punching a wall, anger

A/N: It has been terribly long since I have posted and I am very sorry! Life has been utterly crazy and I have not had much time or motivation to write. Please let me know what you think!

Masterlist

Arguing with Dean was one of the most frustrating things in the entire world, once he was fixated on something it was nearly impossible to change his perspective on it. Which is how we wound up here, my chest heaving with exertion as I tried my best to calm my nerves. I can barely stop my body from trembling, anger pulsating through me enough to exhibit a physical response. My voice shakes when I try to speak, causing me to stop and take a few deeps breaths, unwilling to appear weak in front of my best friends brother.

“Just because you have been doing this longer than I have, doesn’t mean you can tell me what to do, Dean.” I respond, my voice as even and low as I can manage. A sharp contrast to moments before, when our raised voices carried throughout the entirety of the bunker. Rippling through the numerous rooms and corridors, alerting Sam to our disagreement. He had made an appearance, carefully placing himself between the two of us, but off to the side, just incase anything got out of hand. Not that it would get physical, but Dean and I have a track record of saying things that we shouldn’t when anger is raging between us.

“I never claimed I could tell you what to do, Y/N. But I know that you have been reckless, ignorant and foolish the last few times we have gone on a hunt. You throw yourself into places that you shouldn’t be, you take risks that aren’t necessary. And you’ve just been an absolute idiot!” He yells, his fist slamming into the wall beside him. I flinch, shocked by his sudden movement, his words stinging as they rush over my ears. I take a few steps away from him, crossing my arms across my chest and steeling my nerves, willing the tears that were pricking my eyes to fade.

“You really think you know everything, huh.” I reply, my voice shaky and thick with emotion, a single tear falls from my red rimmed eyes. I hurriedly brush it away and in that moment, I can see Dean break. His shoulders release and his face falls slightly, he runs a hand over his face letting a sigh of frustration pass his lips.

“Maybe you two should call a truce, it seems like enough damage has been done.” Sam chimes in quietly as he shoots Dean a look of disapproval, his earlier words hanging heavy in the tension filled air. Without a word, I turn on my heel, seeking refuge in my room. I can hear their voices as I flee, distant murmurs of a conversation that I have no desire to take part in.

By the time I close the door to my room, tears are flowing freely. I stifle a sob, my hands coming up to cover my mouth, as more course through my body. Reckless, ignorant, foolish and idiotic. All descriptors that Dean knew would strike a nerve, insecurities I have voiced to him in the past. Things that I had shared with Sam and Dean on one of our many late night dinner conversations, shared between the four walls of a rundown motel in the middle of nowhere. I could see the regret spreading through his features the moment the words left his lips, but there was nothing he could do to take them back. He spoke them into existence and there they would stay, a permanent stain on my subconscious. I let myself fall into the comfort of my bed, tension escaping my body. What was left was a void. My lungs that had been so full of air to scream into his face now merely pumped enough oxygen for a sigh to leave my lips. The argument was spurred on by a recent incident on a hunt from a few days back, the tension had been simmering, threatening to boil over all of that time. For whatever reason, today was the day where it became too much. The heat grew and the water overflowed. I had been jolted out of my thoughts by the slamming of the front door to the bunker, followed by Deans booming voice. Even though I knew it was coming, that didn’t make it any easier.

There is a knock on my door, quiet yet enough to alert me to their presence. I ignore it, unwilling to budge from my place underneath the sheets on my bed. The desire to speak with either one of the Winchester men tonight was at a resounding nonexistent. My silence is not accepted, however, another knock follows. There are a few seconds of silence before Sam’s voice travels through the door. “Y/N, it’s me. I just wanted to check on you, talk for a bit.” He sounds upset, concern flowing through his tone.

“I’m fine Sam, I don’t want to talk.” I call back, willing him to listen and not press me for more social interaction than I have energy.

“Okay, you know where I am if you need anything. Goodnight, Y/N.” I respond in turn and wait for him to leave, confirmation comes in the form of his footsteps retreating down the hallway.

My sleep that night is filled with numerous nightmares, each one worse than the last. A spattering of different conclusions to the hunt that had spurred on the argument with Dean. I had pushed him out of the way of danger, throwing myself into the path instead. Something that I had done for both of the boys numerous times, a fact that I was not ashamed of in the slightest. They were needed and had jobs to do. These nightmares were all of the numerous ways that the night could have ended if I hadn’t put myself in the path of death. Dean’s body, slumped against the wall, his final breath being drawn as Sam and I stood helpless in the room. Sam replacing Dean in the path of the bullet and both of them meeting their demise. Over and over, the nightmare repeated, changing slightly each time. No matter how many times I woke up, every time I returned to sleep it continued.

I pull myself into a sitting position, the last nightmare had been the worst. I had been helpless and forced to watch Dean be tortured by the monster of man that had us cornered. I had watched him bleed, watched Dean beg for him to spare Sam and myself. I jump as my door swings open, soft barefoot steps resounding through the otherwise silent bunker. My eyes land on Dean, disheveled and tired. His sweatpants hung low on his hips, the handle of the Bowie knife that he often uses, clutched between his fingers. I blink, staring back at him, hurt still fresh in my mind.

“I-uh, you screamed my name. So, I had to make sure you were okay.” He mutters, shame present throughout his features. The hand that isn’t holding his knife, comes up and rubs the back of his neck, before falling back to his side.

“I’m fine, just a dream. Sorry to wake you. Go back to sleep, we have to be up early tomorrow.” I respond, my voice even. I am unwilling to show him any weakness or emotion, the fight still hanging fresh between us. He nods, but hesitates in the doorway to my bedroom. I can see that he is searching for the words and I pray he doesn’t find them, I can’t hear them tonight. He nods once again, murmurs a goodnight and shuts my door behind him.

—

I manage to make it through the next morning with zero interaction with the older Winchester, both of them are distracted by preparations for the next hunt. No words are exchanged at all until we are an hour into the drive, the radio on but low as Dean focuses on the road ahead of us. I pretend to be oblivious to his glances through the rear view mirror, unwilling to be the first to speak. But I notice. I notice the way his eyes land on me, scanning my face for any hint of emotion. I notice the way he has destroyed his bottom lip, by the constant anxious biting. I notice the way his hair isn’t combed into place like it normally is, how his appearance in general is disheveled. He didn’t sleep last night. Good, he deserves to be upset by the things that he said to me.

“Y/N?” Sam calls, and I turn to look at him. The look on his face leads me to realize that he had been talking to me and I had not heard him.

“Hmm? What’s up?” I ask, giving him a small sheepish smile. His eyes are questioning but he doesn’t speak on it, simply repeating his earlier statement. “According to Bobby, he thinks we are dealing with a Harpy.” I groan, letting my head fall back against the seat of the Impala. A harpy hunt is one of my least favorite, something I have only encountered a couple of times before, but I have the scars to prove it.

“You can stay behind at the motel, if you prefer.” Dean chimes in, “Sam and I can handle it.” His words catch me off guard, it was an offer that was by no means wanted.

“I can handle myself, thanks. It’s not like this is the first hunt I am participating in, Winchester.” I bite back, my voice cold. Sam shakes his head, in a manner that displays the smile tugging at his lips, even though I can’t see it.

"I am aware that you've done this a hundred times Y/N, but maybe a little caution wouldn't hurt.” Dean says, his knuckles turning white from his grip on the steering wheel of the impala.

“Don’t push your luck, Winchester.” I mutter, returning to looking out the window of the Impala.

Unfortunately, Deans words would ring true. The anger and desperation I had to prove him wrong, land me in a very sticky situation. I threw caution to the wind and wound up paying for it ten fold.

—

“Dammit,” I cuss, a gasp leaving my lips as I struggle to pull myself into a sitting position. Every nerve ending in my body is on fire, screams of protest are rising from deep within me. The hard wood wall of the old house provides support as I slump against it, my hands cradle my abdomen, pressed tightly against the gaping wound, that was caused by a violent stabbing moments earlier. I listen carefully, searching for any sign of the boys.

In the fight with the Harpies, we had gotten separated and I was unsure of where they were, or if they were still alive. A wave of pain rushes over me and I let out a groan, blinking rapidly to try to clear my field of vision that is rapidly fading around me. “Y/N?! Where are you?” Dean yells, his voice traveling through the house, panic evident. I try my best to draw enough oxygen into my lungs to respond, but it is a losing battle. My lungs are on fire, along with the rest of my body. My ribcage is a vice and I cannot inhale enough to begin to speak, let alone yell. All I can do, is sit and wait. Hope that he finds me in time. Frantic footsteps fill my ears, barely heard over the rushing of blood through my head. A small rush of relief floods my body as Dean rounds the corner, our eyes meet and he crumples. His face is defeated ever so briefly, before he puts on a brave front, his eyes scanning my body an explanation of the amount of blood surrounding me. He’s at my side In record time, his hands gently prying mine away. He surveys the situation quickly, before pressing the fabric of his flannel against my stomach. A motion that pulls a guttural scream from my lips, I beg him to stop but he doesn’t, his lips pull into a tight smile and he brushes the sweat soaked hair from my forehead.

“Hey, sweetheart. It’s okay, you’re going to be okay, I’ve got you.” He murmurs, searching around frantically for something, anything to add to the flannel that he already has pressed against my body. I glance down and quickly realize, its even worse than I could have imagined. The material he had pressed against me moments before, was already soaked red.

“No, look at me. Right here.” He says, gesturing for me to focus on his eyes and not the blood soaked flannel.

“Guess you were right after all,” I whisper, a small laugh that quickly turns to a cough leaving my lips. Once I catch my breath, I continue. “ I was being reckless.”

“Stop, don’t think like that. I am so sorry for what I said, but we can’t focus on that right now sweetheart, we gotta get you out of here.” Dean says, his eyes growing sadder with every passing moment. “You think you can hold pressure on this while I carry you? Can you do that for me?” The desperation in his voice pains me, I know I don’t have the strength to do what he asks, but I nod anyways. I know that if he doesn’t do everything he can, he will always blame himself for my death. So I will try, I’ll try for him. I grab onto the flannel and pull it against me with all of the strength that I possess, as he carefully picks me up. His attempts to avoid causing me pain are useless, every step and motion causes a wave of nausea and dizziness to overtake me, but I do my best to not let him see.

“Dean, I have to tell you now, just incase,” I stop myself, unable to finish the what if scenario that is playing in my head, outloud. “Dean, I love you, always.”

“Hush, I’m not confessing my feelings to you until you are better.” Dean says, his breath catching in his throat as he focuses on each step he takes.

I can’t tell you how we made it to the Impala. My eyes are closed for the majority of the journey, only opening when Dean demands that I look at him. His voice begs me to stay with him, stay awake. Stay Alive.

—

“She lost so much blood, what if- if she doesn’t wake up?” I can feel a hand grasping my own, gently stroking my skin. Dean’s voice is there, he’s talking to someone. Warmth is covering my skin. It is almost peaceful, until it is interrupted by my nerves screaming out in protest. A groan leaves my lips and the hand on my own jerks away.

“Y/N, sweetheart, can you hear me?” It’s Dean again, I can feel the mattress shift underneath me as he sits on it, his hand coming up to stroke my cheek.

“Sweetheart is new, what happened to idiot?” I whisper, my throat dry and my tongue faltering to enunciate the words.

“You almost died and I couldn’t bear that thought, that’s what happened.” Dean says, his hand brushing over my skin. I open my eyes, squinting at the sunlight pouring in through the open blind. It takes me a second to realize that I am in fact in a motel and not the bunker.

“Who knew you had feelings, Winchester, thought you were all tough and no mush.” I say, moving to push myself into a sitting position, but quickly regretting that and abandoning the motion. He laughs, a clear and full sound. One that lifted my spirits ever so slightly.

“It’s no fun making you miserable, Y/N, not when you are already miserable. So I need you to get better, okay?” He says, pressing a very unexpected, but desired kiss against my forehead.

“Now who’s being the idiot?” I meet his gaze and smirk. He shakes his head, still smiling at me. He presses another kiss to my forehead, the breath he lets out through his nose rushing over my skin. “I love you, too, Y/N. Always have, always will.”

Tag List: @roseblue373 @jc-winchester @hobby27 @mishreem

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ananke-xiii · 3 months ago

Text

Don't mind me, ranting about "Sex and Violence".

I have a bone to pick with the episode “Sex and Violence” because I find the writing dishonest and confusing. It’s the infamous “siren episode” and I specifically want to talk about sirens because what the fuck?

FIY, I've tried to limit myself to figurative language but sometimes I'll get quite specific so be warned because I'll touch upon controversial themes in SPN.

Let's talk about sirens.

The episode tells us that the siren has targeted at least three husbands who are all in jail because they’ve killed their wives (we actually see one of them brutally murdering his wife) and who were all clients of a club named “Honey Wagon”. It’s pretty soon established that these men had extremely high levels of oxytocin in their blood and that at least one of them has confessed to Sam and Dean that he had killed his wife for “Jasmine”, an exotic dancer he had met at said club, because she represented everything he has ever wanted. So it’s not about the money and not about the sex, it’s about desire.

So far so good, I like that the club is called “Honey Wagon” because it makes me think that the writers know what they’re talking about since the sirens’ song is also called the “sound of honey”. What’s more, the siren seems to use the names of Disney princesses as their aliases such as Jasmine and Belle. Sam refers to them as “Dream Barbie”. In other words, the writing is telling me that the siren plays on their preys’ fantasies. Okay, cool.

I also vibe with the introduction of the high level of oxytocin as a symptom of the siren’s contact with their victims. Oxytocin is connected with sex, yes, but also with childbirth and its aftermath and breasts are a symbol pertinent to the siren-related imaginary. It also makes me think that what these men are desiring (which is apparently not sex) is bonding. Also, as a FYI, sirens can also be men. With beards.

But the episode is indeed called “Sex and Violence” so we gotta talk about the sex part, too.

We literally see on our screen the siren having sex with a man named Larry and we know the siren also had sex with the first guy who we saw at the beginning of the episode killing his wife. We also see the siren kiss Larry and Bobby is wearing an apron that says “Kiss the Cook”, thus we’re visually given a little hint that it’s not gonna be about sex. Or is it?

At the risk of sounding pedantic, I’ve gotta ask: is it the sex or the kissing? How exactly is this siren making men do what they want? The big plot-twist of the episode is founded on the discovery that the established assumption (the siren uses sex to lure their victims) is incorrect: it’s not the sex, it’s the saliva. And I mean, I guess cool for the siren, do your thing Belle, but, like, why did the siren need to have sex with the three men if all they needed was kissing them? Crickets.

The siren tells Sam and Dean that they like to watch when someone kills for them and we have seen it TWICE that this is just not true. Then there’s that thing, you know, that thing where they called whatever the siren is doing as spreading a “supernatural STD” and then Dean gets it because he shares a bottle with the siren. And THEN Sam gets it as well because the siren literally spits into his mouth what we’re supposed to think it’s saliva, but it really, really, looks like when a snake sprays its venom towards its prey and also when… there’s a sex-related subtext blank we’re expecting to get and I’ll get back there in a moment.

I just wanted to note how confusing the episode is: first the STD implication, then the saliva, and finally the seed imagery. Writers, honey, you gotta pick your battles because you’re sending very mixed and harmful signals out here and I’m not following you anymore.

So the (queer) sex subtext. I must state that the siren goes for both Sam and Dean. Dean goes alone to the club with Nick (this is the siren’s name in this scenario) because Sam convinces him thinking it’s a good idea while he stays at the lab with the hot doctor. Here is where I think the dishonesty lies.

The scenes are structured in a way where we have Sam/Dr Roberts and Dean/Nick and both are bonding scenes between the characters. Via these scenes we’re heavily inclined to think that the siren is Dr Roberts because hey, women are evil bitches, you know? So the writers are being a little cheeky here with their “gotcha” moment and seriously? No, it’s 100% not me having misogynistic ideas about women and femininity, it’s 100% you and I know it’s you ‘cause you’re desperately changing your cards to write something edgy an shocking when it’s mid at best.

Before the “wow, shocking” reveal that the siren is Nick we’re led to think that the siren’s Dr Roberts because of the hyacinths. Nick told Dean that he had found hyacinth petals on all crime scenes and these are the same flowers that Dr Roberts has in her office. Dean calls Sam to tell him this important piece of info and says something like: they’re from the Mediterranean, from the same island where the siren myth comes from.

Now maybe I’m missing some siren-related symbols that have to do with hyacinths but, to my knowledge, there’s none. Is Dean confusing the island Zakynthos (to my ear the two words might sound similar) with the myth of Scylla (Scilla bifolia being the name of the blue hyacinths in the episode which has nothing to do with the sea-monster Scylla) and Carbides? What the hell is going on here?

I think that’s again the writers being “ihih we're so smart” ‘cause what hyacinths are most famously associated with is the myth of Hyacinthus himself, a (male) lover of Apollo who got killed by Zephyrus because he was jealous of their love and because Hyacinthus didn’t choose him. From the blood of the dead lover Apollo created the name-sake flower.

So this is a story about jealousy! So if we want to draw a parallel with the info that the episode has provided us so far who’s otherwise engaged with Dr Roberts with the pretext of looking for missing vials of blood while they’re happily having sex while Dean is left alone and unchosen? What the writers are telling me, basically, is that Sam is Hyacinthus in this story. All "signs" point there and the siren has targeted him.

Except not! Because Hyacinthus is a gay love story and Nick is a man! Don’t you see? See it! It was a ruse!

After calling Sam, who doesn’t believe that Dr Roberts is the siren (by the way, Sam does have a passion for new-in-town doctors with supposedly dead husbands), Dean tells him he will handle things by himself only to call Nick, like, not even two seconds later. Please let’s all remember that Dean is not a real federal agent and he’s calling one for help (Nick’s not a fed but Dean doesn’t know it yet). This isn’t a smart move Dean, like at all. So is he already been infected? Well, we don’t know! By now we have zero idea how the siren actually operates, all because the writers wanted to be smart and knowledgeable about Greek mythology and hey, since we're here, let’s also insert some queer subtext with incestuous undertones, why not?

Because this is the crux of the matter: if we don’t understand the queer subtext and/or if we take the episode at face-value, we’re left with a confusing half-assed episode where 1. the real plot-twist is that the plot has literally changed to serve the parallels with the theme of the episode (it’s Dean’s jealousy over Sam and Ruby, let’s face it, this is what they were aiming for) and 2. A metaphor for getting STD is connected with sex with strippers, with direct contact with saliva via kissing and via spitting or whatever the siren does to Sam and with indirect contact via sharing of the same bottle. If we do get the queer subtext we have to understand Nick and Dean’s sharing of the same bottle as code for them having dub-con sex (like all the previous men we’ve seen on screen), consequently Sam also is forced into decidedly non-con sex with the siren via his “turned” brother (hence the seed imaginary).

I mean, I know I’m watching Supernatural but this is bad writing on all levels. You can’t just masquerade this stuff as mythology, you need to own up to your writing choices and commit to them, otherwise I feel like you’re cheating and you’re being deliberately confusing to hide your dishonesty. No, thanks, I'd much prefer "Ouroboros" where Greek mythology is used cleverly and with precise intent, where it's 100% clear how the MoTW operates and where the writers were not misleading us but wrote a coherent story that wasn't dishonest at all, rather open to multiple interpretations that make sense within both the plot and the themes of the episode.

#supernatural #spn #sam winchester #dean winchester #spn s4 #spn meta #sex and violence #siren episode #tw: noncon #tw: dubcon #tw: incest #tw: murder #tw: blood #tw: violence

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