#whenever I think of dean I think of 'MEAT MAN'

[fbfh]

thinkin about dean winchester. hhhng. aauugh. ggghhh. thinking specifically about Zachariah yoinking you into a little limbo dream world and using you as bait to try and manipulate Dean into doing what he wants. You're the carrot, and threatening Sam is the stick (one he hopefully won't have to use). Dean comes to sitting on a comfy sectional couch, watching a football game, beer in hand. he looks around, taking in the rest of the cozy, suburban house he's in, and he notices the smell of food cooking from down the hall. delicious smelling meats and pies and potatoes waft through the air, carried on a warm spring breeze. birds chatter outside. a lawnmower starts running down the block. it feels... peaceful. and not the kind of peace that makes him antsy, makes him want to fuck everything up and run off into his own destruction, but the dangerous kind. the kind he could get used to. He waits for the panic, for his blood to start pumping, for his instincts to kick into hunting mode, but they don't his shoulders fall slightly, his muscles relax, his gaze softens. he finishes his beer, and a little voice in the back of his mind wonders when the other shoe will drop. before he can get an answer, someone behind him takes the empty beer out of his hand, replacing it with a fresh cold one. those same soft hands come down to rub his shoulders gently for a moment as you kiss his cheek. you smell sweet, and your lips are soft. Dean looks over at you, and in that moment, he knows that every girl in every bar and strip club and magazine is ruined for him. you walk around to sit on his lap, and kiss him again.

"Hey handsome," god, even your voice is hypnotic. "What's the score?"

"Uh..." he fumbles, trying to reorient himself as he catches you up. You play with his hair for a moment, making it even harder to focus. It's when your hand falls gently into your lap, and he notices the sparkling diamond ring glinting in the hazy sunlight that he loses his train of thought. Your brow furrows for a moment, noticing his strange behavior.

"You okay?" you ask. His gaze lingers on your ring finger laying atop your floral lacy apron, then trails over to his own left hand. He's met with a matching ring. There's a heavy yearning in his heart, something deep and vast and complicated, and it's reflected in his eyes. He looks up at you after a moment, trying in vain to play it off.

"Yeah." He breathes, voice softer than you've ever heard it. "Never been better."

A beeping noise comes from the kitchen, and you get up quickly.

"That should be the pies."

You lean over and press a quick peck to his lips, and he leans in, chasing you as you pull away.

"Be right back." You smile, scurrying back into the kitchen. He watches you leave, watches you walk down the hall that's full of photos of the two of you, of your families. Happy, smiling, whole families. He watches you adjust the strings of your apron, and he watches the flash of metal peeking around your ring finger. That heaviness, that yearning starts to solidify from something wistful to something more dangerous, sinking through his chest. In that moment he fears he's found his way into a trap he won't be able to get himself out of.

[cassierobinsons]

whenever im like. maybe s*stiel shippers are right and s*stiel might have some meat to it i'm reminded of you being like "IT WAS LITERALLY NEVER SAM" in the tags of the post about the goodbye stranger clones and find peace within myself once more.

i think i only vaguely recall posting that but yeah that about sums it up. they can say whatever they like but ultimately they were all dean and not a single one was sam. he has never and will never want that man.

[diminuel]

Sometimes I wonder how some of Dean and Cas’ interactions would have changed if Dean had realized or even suspected that Cas might be into men. (Side thought: is he though? If it were someone else but Dean, would be he interested?)

Like, the whole ball handler - it’s a sports reference scene might have gone differently. Though would Dean even manage to come up with some sort of joke or would he have panicked at the mere mental connection between a balls joke and Cas’ sexuality?

I think the world is very much easier and safer for Dean to navigate (at least when it comes to Cas) if Dean can just default Cas into a “weird but straight dude” category.

This post is not going anywhere but I am amused by Dean potentially struggling to come up with his usual witty one-liners whenever Cas says something that someone might take to be accidentally sexual.

And then maybe if one day Cas picked up on Dean’s “meat man” term for something, Dean might suddenly realize that “meat man” might not mean what Dean thinks it means X’D

Alright, random thought has been concluded. Back to fanfic writing.

[self-loathing-angel-of-thursday2]

Beautiful Spouse’s Rewatch Thoughts SPN 11x17 Red Meat

“We’re already fighting shit? This isn’t a 2-parter is it?” uh oh spaghettios

��Yeah ok” “How are werewolves stuff transmitted?” They’re either born into it or bitten

“Fkn idiots” “Is she a werewolf then? Or he is? It’s a trap then” “like a wolf bar. If that even makes sense” “He ain’t walking around like that with a perforated bowel. Sorry” “goddammit” “They wouldn’t be walking very fast. Couple miles? That’ll take them about 4 hours” “perfectly cut sticks” “you’re going to hide from potential help?” sighs “Fuck you, man” “Was this a season they were planning to be done with the show?” No I don’t think so

“What did I say? 4 miles? Oh. They’re halfway out already” “Did they say anything about time? That’s not what I said I guess, but that was what I was trying to figure out” “the fuck is that supposed to mean?” “let me guess - the sheriff is one of them?” “hey they talked about the brain injury for once” “fkn weirdo” “this is fkn crazy, man” “oh yeah great” “what do werewolves eat?” hearts

“Do they have to be alive?” I don’t think so

“So I suppose they would have eaten him anyway” “I didn’t think that…he’s not necessarily a purebred, though? Can he change whenever he wants? Because Dean said something earlier in the episode about purebreds being able to change whenever they wanted” “Those are some massive gaps in the floor, man” “What’s that?” TV Show

“Didn’t she make that clear last time?” I think she told that to Sam not Dean, though

“You sure? Next time we watch the show, I’ll have to pay better attention to that” “thought he was going to fkn lick the blood. I’m glad they didn’t” “How do you kill a werewolf? Wooden stake?” Silver

“There was a wooden post thing on the ground; I wasn’t sure” “Isn’t Schedule IV pretty low on the totem pole? If that’s even a thing” “Did they pick just the perfect misty morning, or did they blast fog up in there?” “nobody stole or moved it? Hasn’t it been over a day by now?” “That was a super dangerous way to close the door” “How can you know if there’s frosty glass on every door?” “Did Dean just walk into it, or did he figure it out somehow?” “Oh hey, it’s that bitch” “convenient timing. That was elaborate setup” “US Hospital Association.” “except he was” “professional grade? As opposed to generic hospital grade?”

“Wait sam didn’t know that dean died”

[scoobydoodean]

Yep that's pretty much all it. Oh man. These people remind me of my conservative father who thinks my sister driving the car more than her husband when they're together means something beyond him not liking to drive and her loving to drive.

Dean also asks if Sam wants to drive a few times (including as early as 1.02) and I also don't remember a single time that Sam asked to drive for one reason or another and wasn't simply tossed the keys. Even in Swap Meat, when Sam is acting fucking weird (because he is Not Sam™️) when he asks to drive, Dean simply switches places in the car with him immediately. He literally doesn't care. Dean just likes to drive, and Sam clearly does not, or he would offer to do that more on their 5, 8, 10, 15, 18 etc hour car rides across the goddamn country.

I could just as easily start some stupid ass crit explaining how this makes Sam selfish—he wants Dean to be his chauffeur driving him around while he does not contribute and just expects Dean to do the driving whenever he wants to go anywhere wah wah wah let's all cry about how mean they are to each other over driving.

Second time I have seen the "Sam not driving the car = lack of agency" take still fucking hilarious.

[goldenraeofsun]

Day 23: Sleepless Nights

Dean 11:31 Hey sorry to text so soon But did you pick up an ID with my face on it after dinner?

Cas 11:39 No, but the restaurant called me a half hour ago. They found it while closing up, and they had my number on file from when I made the reservation.

Dean 11:42 Thank god

Cas 11:42 My apologies; I was going to leave you a message in the morning, as you mentioned needing to get up early. Also, what do you mean by “so soon”?

Dean 11:44 Dude Its been two hours since our date How soon do you consider too soon?

Cas 11:45 I’ve never given it much thought.

Dean 11:45 Seriously?

Cas 11:48 I text when it feels right. I don’t have a numerically-based system.

Dean 11:50 That’s insane.

Cas 11:51 Well, Dean, what’s your system, then?

Dean 11:52 24 hours minimum 1 week max unless they’re batshit Usually averages out to 3 days

Cas 11:57 What do you mean “batshit”?

Dean 11:57 You know Psychos Nut jobs One sandwich short of a picnic Dudes who say their spirit animal is Elon Musk

Cas 11:58 That’s an impressive array of synonyms, but it doesn’t actually give me much information.

Dean 11:58 Seriously??? Ok then Like, the guy who tried to pressure me into a threesome with his ex cause I’m bi Or the lady who practically drank a whole bottle of wine by herself and yelled at the waiter because he didn’t refill our bread basket

Cas 11:58 I see what you mean.

Dean 11:59 OR that guy who mentioned he was casually into cannibalism??? Who the hell drops that on a first date. Glenn Close wannabes, that’s who

Cas 12:00 I’m astounded you had that many bad first dates.

Dean 12:01 Those are only from this year!

Cas 12:01 That sounds horrendous.

Dean 12:02 Heh. Cannibal guy gave good head, so there’s that. Dude knew his way around some man meat, if you know what I mean

Cas 12:02 Unfortunately, I do. Excuse me while I wait a full week to text you ever again.

Dean 12:03 C’mon, I didn’t even tell you about my worst first date!

Dean 12:14 Cas?

Cas 12:18 Go on.

Dean 12:18 Thank fuck, I thought I actually scared you off

Cas 12:18 Despite appearances, I don’t scare easily.

Dean 12:19 For a nerdy dude in a trench coat, you’re made of pretty stern stuff, I’ll give you that

Cas 12:21 Thank you?

Dean 12:26 Don’t mention it ANYWAY worst first date in the history of first dates: The setting: Los Angeles, California, August 2017 Our hero, the dashingly handsome PA, Dean Winchester, has a date with a slightly less-attractive but still stunning guest star from episode 24 of Dr. Sexy, MD who will die three episodes later from a cerebrovascular infection of her spinal cord.

Cas 12:27 Technically, doctors should only use “Dr” or “MD”, not both. And that diagnosis makes absolutely no sense.

Dean 12:28 Shhh DSM had to let go their medical expert due to budget cuts in the 15th season

Cas 12:28 I cannot believe the abbreviation for that show is DSM.

Dean 12:28 Huh?

Cas 12:31 In the medical community, whenever you hear DSM, they’re almost always referring to the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders.

Dean 12:34 Hahahahaha Maybe I should buy a copy for the set Then they’ll get SOMETHING right

Cas 12:34 I hardly ever call any case hopeless, but in this case, I might make an exception.

Dean 12:36 Yeah that checks out But nobody watches DSM for the medicine The other stuffs the compelling bits

Cas 12:37 They'd better not be. It's a gross misrepresentation of the medical system. Firstly, their sterile fields leave much to be desired. I had to pause in the middle of the intubation scene.

Dean 12:42 Hold on You actually watched DSM??

Cas 12:44 Of course. You mentioned you worked on the show when we met. I'd be a poor date if I hadn't watched at least an episode. 

Dean 12:44 Oh my god you did homework for our date tonight??? You're such a nerd

Cas 12:45 Dr. Nerd, MD, actually.

Dean 12:46 Ha! You're still Dr Sexy to me

Dean 12:46 Shit that was the stupidest thing I've ever sent. Forget I wrote that. 

Cas 12:47 I think it's flattering :D

Dean 12:48 Thank fuck

Cas 12:52 It wasn't only to prepare for our date. You obviously care a lot about the show, so if I couldn't stand it, I figured it would be a good indicator of our compatibility. 

Dean 12:55 Holy shit. I never thought about it like that I used to tell people it was a guilty pleasure

Cas 12:56 What changed?

Dean 12:57 I got the job on set and everyone there doesn’t treat it like a dirty little secret Sure they know its stupid and shit, but it’s fun, stupid shit

Cas 1:00 I’m glad you like your job.

Dean 1:00 You don’t?

Cas 1:11 I like the mission of my job. But some days the death, pain, and petty workplace grievances make me question my choice. I chose emergency medicine because I was under the impression it required fewer people skills. I thought I would see more acute cases of broken bones, gunshots, burns, etc. But these days, half of my patients use ER doctors as their primary physicians because they can’t afford regular doctor visits for their chronic conditions. I even have a few “regulars”, which I never anticipated having.

Dean 1:12 Damn That sounds brutal

Cas 1:13 Not to mention my hundred thousand dollars of student loan debt.

Dean 1:13 Jesus Sammy’s in the same boat between undergrad and law school

Cas 1:14 But not you?

Dean 1:20 I never went to college

Cas 1:20 Good.

Dean 1:23 What?

Cas 1:25 It seems you didn’t waste your money or time, as you’re in a profession that makes you happy and supports a lifestyle you’re making work.

Dean 1:25 I guess so. I just never figured you’d be all aboard the high school drop out train

Cas 1:31 Usually no, not unless the person has a clear path ahead of what they would like to do instead. My brother transferred from a prestigious liberal arts college to a trade school for plumbers, and he has had no greater joy explaining to my uptight parents the latest thing he pulled out from a client’s septic tank.

Dean 1:32 He sounds like a riot

Cas 1:33

He also makes a killing. Apparently an equal number of people need doctors as plumbers, to my parents’ great chagrin.

Dean 1:33 I like him already

Cas 1:35 You’ll like him until he short sheets your bed and locks you in the wine cellar during dessert so he gets the whole Black Forest gateau to himself.

Dean 1:36 That’s HILARIOUS

Cas 1:38 I almost wet myself, Dean.

Dean 1:38 And you think that makes it less funny???

Cas 1:43 I should have known older brothers would take each others’ side.

Dean 1:44 Damn right It’s in the big brother handbook

Cas 1:49 Did you terrorize Sam too?

Dean 1:52 No And whatever he tells you about itching powder, a farting donkey, and superglue is totally a lie

Cas 1:53 Never mind. I don’t even want to know.

Dean 1:58 Yeah, nobody came out the winner that time Sammy always gave as good as he got though But you seem like the kind of goody two shoes who wouldn’t get your big brother back like he deserved

Cas 2:03 I was worse as a child. It didn’t help that Gabe had an almost preternatural ability to anticipate retaliation. My choices of pranks were never particularly inventive, so he saw them coming from a mile away.

Dean 2:04 So Gabe is a plumber with a sweet tooth?

Cas 2:05 Yes?

Dean 2:06 You got any other ammo on him?

Cas 2:07 He also has an extensive porn collection of vintage Casa Erotica VHS and goes to some annual pornography convention in Vegas. My parents didn’t cut him off for dropping out of college because they were well aware of his alternative and, in their mind, Gabe chose the lesser of two evils.

Dean 2:11 Holy shit, Cas That’s what you LEAD with

Cas 2:12 Excuse me?

Dean 2:19 Next time you’re at his place, you’re gonna swap out half those VHS for Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood or Nut Cracker or a Nova documentary Just total boner-killers. He won’t see it coming. Heh Literally

Cas 2:20 Truly?

Dean 2:22 I don’t see why he would

Cas 2:23 Thank you. I might actually take your suggestion.

Dean 2:25 Do it! And then tell me how it goes. Sammy’s all the way in Seattle, so we haven’t had a real prank war in too long.

Cas 2:27 Aren’t you a little old for such childish behavior?

Dean 2:30 You’re older than I am!

Cas 2:31 I’m making up for lost time.

Dean 2:32 You’re unbelievable. Alright, Marcia, if you want to play it that way See if I help you when Gabe hides your stethoscope or dyes your white coat pink in retaliation

Cas 2:35 … he dyed it bright yellow, actually.

Dean 2:36 HAHAHAHAH

Cas 2:37 I looked like a YIELD sign.

Dean: 2:39 Please tell me you have pictures

Cas 2:43 I do, actually. IMG_215

Dean 2:44 What’s with the black stripes?

Cas 2:45 I added the stripes for Halloween last year. I was a bumblebee.

Dean 2:46 Damn Not even a sexy bumblebee?

Cas 2:49 Ah, but you can’t see what’s under my doctor’s coat.

Dean 2:50 An even smaller bumblebee costume?

Cas 2:52 No…

Dean 2:53 Don’t do this to me Lingerie?

Cas 2:55 I wore SCRUBS, Dean, because I am a medical professional.

Dean 2:58 You’re such an ass What are you doing this year?

Cas 2:58 I was thinking of wearing my usual coat and scrubs.

Dean 3:01 Booooo

Cas 3:02 What are you going as, then?

Dean 3:05 A cowboy! Tenth year in a row, baby. If it ain’t broke, yadda yadda yadda

Cas 3:06 But, having recently seen a new medical show, I was thinking of adding cowboy boots to my standard getup.

Dean 3:08 No way

Cas 3:08 Do you by chance have a spare pair I could borrow for Halloween?

Dean 3:10 Hell yes I do! But Shit, I have a 5am call time tomorrow Today? Fuck. I think I have to cut his convo short

Cas 3:11 Oh dear My apologies for keeping you so late! :o

Dean 3:14 Not your fault at all dude

Cas 3:15 I never even heard the story of your worst first date!

Dean 3:18 How about I tell you over dinner Friday? 7PM work with you? You chose the place last time, so I’ll pick this one

Cas 3:18 It’s a date :D

[impala1967dwinchester]

Kinktober- Day 1: Sam Winchester- Giant

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pov: Readers

Warnings: Smut, Macro Kink, pet names( Baby Girl, Sweetheart, Good Girl, and Princess), fingering, and teasing.

Summary: Suddenly the idea of Sam being so much bigger than her, especially during sex drives her crazy.

A/n- @firefly-graphics for dividers

WC- 2k

Main Master List//Sam W. Master List//Kinktober Master List

The first time that the two of us had sex it was great, I'll even say perfect. He took my virginity from me, but hell if I could go it all over again I would.

He was perfect slow, kind, everything you want a man to be in bed when he's taking away the last thing that makes you a girl instead of a woman.

From then on out every time Sam and I had sex it still felt like it was my first time. He'd take me in his arms, lay me over the bed's side, and slowly undress me. Undressing me from head to toe. No matter where the two of us were.

We could be on a hunt in the coldest part of the states or home at the bunker. Or even when things got heated, and we were both at the moment he'd take me right there.

He was slow and deliberate with his actions. Like I was some porcelain doll. I was his porcelain doll though, and he had made that very clear. By the way, he'd bruise and scratch at my body. The marks were hot, always no matter how long they all took to heal.

It was his way of marking me, making me his. I reviled in it. Now Sam was a huge man, I like to use the wore use only because that's the truth. He was a hunk of meat, and he used it to his advantage whenever got a chance to most recently though, something just clicked within.

Had me melting pretty fact in front of him. It had only been a few weeks since we last been on a hunt. Saying something needs to be a little bit more buff in certain areas. "Sam you look fine, actually you look pretty damn good," I said laying in bed. Perched upon my elbows giving me a rather delicious view of my boyfriend.

In this world, Sam had made it very clear that we aren't always guaranteed tomorrow, but we are today, and right now. So moments are taken with love and care around Sam and me. Never bringing an issue for me. The world ending had become a normal part of our lives, say like a holiday or a birthday.

He was standing at the end of the bed tying his second shoe. His long leg perched on the side of the bed frame. "Y/n, I know you think I look fine, but I'm only getting older here. And I need to keep up with you and Dean during hunts." Sam said. Pulling his foot from the bed frame.

He always wore these stupid jogging pants. Made him look like he was a space cadet, but I never said anything seeing as I wasn't one to go running, and if I did he'd probably make me. I only smiled and pushed off the bed with my shoulders. The sheets falling from my body and landing in an awkward pile at the end of the bed.

I sent out for a morning kiss. A morning kiss at exactly six in the morning, but nonetheless, I wanted my morning kiss from my boyfriend. He met me halfway, kissing my lips gently and soft. Barely brushing his over mine, he stood a good foot over me as he reached his hair and combed it through my hair deepening our once gently kiss. Into a more deep and heated one.

Pulling away from my lips, Sam winked and left me dizzy and dazed by his kiss. I didn't even notice him leave the room or hear the door shut. I giggled when it clicked in my head, falling back onto the bed. The plop making all my senses tingle.

There aren't many ways that I can't make Sam distracted and falling into my grasp only for me to drag him to the bedroom. For a great night under the sheets. While the moans, and groans of our ecstasy bang off the cinder block walls around us.

The morning time was and always has been a great time for some self-care and self-love. My version of self-love or self-care is most definitely different than say Sams for example.

Sam runs for his life. If he could take part in a marathon every weekend, he'd probably win every race. Me though, I'm different, I like the feeling of the way I react to the vibrations of my tiny vibrator. I like the way I rush the high, biting my own lips until I'm drawing blood or the way my nails dig into the sheets, and eventually my hand clenches the sheets.

How my body shakes as the vibrator makes me shake as I cum. I like the way I feel during and after my sweet high. I like the way that sometimes I catch pervy eyes watching me before he walks in from his shower or his run.

I like the feeling of being stared at. I like the feeling of weight between my thighs as I shake through my orgasms. What I love the most is how Sam will crouch down to his knees dragging me to the side of our bed, and throw my vibrator from my small hand, his large hand holding tight onto my tiny thighs. Demanding me to keep open for him.

This morning is no different. I hop off the bed for a quick second, pulling the sheets and making the bed into a more proper mess. Before grabbing my water from the far side of the side table. Setting myself in the middle of the bed. Digging through my drawers.

Pulling so many toys from the draw. Mostly I use my vibrator, the waves of release that have been caused by the lowest setting are staggering next to the amount of time Sam has caused me to quiver and cum on just his tongue.

If I don't get started anytime soon he gets back and I won't have time for my sweet releasing game. I use to have to use my phone, to watch our videos. The one's where Sams thrusting to me with such an unwavering force. The lens of the camera following up my body, it would stay on my breasts watching them toss back and forth over my chest.

Now though, all I have to do is imagine Sam running his sweet tongue over my swollen lips, and taking whatever he wants from me. I started up the vibrator, already having to kick my pajama bottoms. I slowly brought the low setting vibrator down from my breasts to the top of my clit. Lightly grazing the top of the vibrator over my clit. Just like that, the game was very much on.

My panties were socked in a matter of seconds thinking and gently rubbing over my clit. My heels had already come off the ledge of the bed, as I pulled my panties off to the side. The second the vibrations touched my clit, I couldn't breathe.

Breath was literally snatched away from my lungs, as I continued to imagine dirty new thoughts about Sam. Sam towering over me, grabbing me by my arms and sliding me over his large shoulder, before setting me down on our bed and devouring my pussy while his large hands grabbed at my tits.

"You might as well get noise-canceling foam for the damn door, baby." I heard Sam's voice but continued on with my motion trying to catch my high. So close, and I could feel it in my stomach the knot that was growing, and almost ready to snap. Like the old rubberband, kids play with it until it snaps nicking their fingers.

"I'd stand here and watch let you finish, but you and I both know I can't let you do that," Sam said kicking the door shut with his foot, I mewled as I reached closer by the second. Just Sams voice was enough to push me over the edge.

'Say the right things, Sam!'

He walked over and the closer he got the taller, and smaller I got underneath him. He was standing like always on the edge of the bed. The frame making it hard to see his face, but not hard enough to see the aching bludge. The thing I love the most when it comes to sex with Sam is he never seems to disappoint me in the pleasure unit.

The vibrator I was so into on;y seconds ago is still buzzing next to me. My legs were wide on our mattress, "Damn baby girl I've got to say you've soaked through our sheets." He says, not even bothering to kick off his running sneakers.

Right now he's going to fuck me. Later he can make love to me. Romantic love, but keeping the same roughness was the definition of sex with Sam Winchester. Perfect, and just heavenly.

My nipples rose with excitement as Sams's large hands grazed over my hip bone, and the side of my waist all the way to the tip of my budding nipples. A tease was Sam when he was going to fuck me.

Tease me, by dragging his jogging pant covered knee over my swollen lips and clit. Rubbing gently, but gently wasn't what I wanted neither did he. Moans always fell, but this morning it was pleas for more, and pleas for going faster.

"I don't know baby girl, you can't seem to keep what is mine out of your touch," Sam said taunting me. 'Total bullshit' He knows this is the routine, he leaves, he runs, he purposely comes back home early to 'catch' me. He likes it, like that I use my body to encourage a wave of sweet release at the thought of him.

"Pl-please Sam... Just y-you go fas-faster." A simple moan a simple beg enough for him to give in, hopefully. "Okay sweetheart, since you used your words like a good little girl." He said, removing his now wet patched jogging panted knee from my soak pussy. Instead, he dragged his hand down my body and teasing my still swollen clit with the tips of my slender fingers.

Nothing was more enjoyable than watching his finger me with his tongue sticking out. Trying his hardest to concentrate on the way I was feeling over his aching bulge. When his fingers sunk in, of course, one and a time. He let me feel every graze of every stroke until I was over the edge before he'd remove his fingers and suck at the leftover juices that dripped down to his wrist.

"Always taste so good princess. Like sweet chocolate heaven." I let the shivers that run down my body take over for a second as he now pumps two of his large and slender fingers into my arching tight core.

"Such a good girl, taking all I give you, I bet you won't wait for the third finger, or maybe you don't want that. Maybe you just want my dick so far that it fucks your brains up." Another taunt, another moan, and Another finger added to the mix.

He was the best at this slow waiting game.

"Sam... PleaseSam... Just please just take me." Always so dramatic a show for flare if you will, but he loved that about me especially that me in bed. "You want me all baby girl? Do you think you can handle it?" Sam asked hopping off the bed scrambling to get his sneakers and joggers off.

When he got back up he was rubbing my clit with the cock. I moaned and bucked into the wonderful sensation. "Oh, are you desperate, baby?" He asked in a dominating tone. 'you've got no idea' "Please, I know I can take it. I just want you- your cock in me please." I said bucking up against once again.

"Your wish is my command princess," Sam said sliding his full length into me with no hesitation.

Stanford Tag List: @wonderfulworldofwinchester//@samsgirl93//@stoneyggirl2//@ijustlearnedtolove-beep-bop-boop//@rach-12//@flamencodiva

Kinktober 2021 Tag List: @kvitka97//@rach-12//@dilflover//@winchestersbitcch-dm//

Completed on: 09/20/2021

Posts on: 10/01/2021

[ruinedsam]

Why Sam and Dean are insane

I've been thinking about Sam and Dean being unhinged and what they do whenever the other one is dead or (in danger of becoming) something Other, and I think it’s very interesting that Sam's actions are always incredibly destructive and end up hurting other people while Dean's actions always hurt himself and/or Sam:

- In "Faith" Sam talks Dean into going to the supposed wonder healer. He doesn’t know that for Dean to live someone else has to die, and later he feels sort of bad about it, but he doesn’t regret it at all.

- In "Mystery Spot" Sam goes full on unhinged, basically becoming a hunting machine and is prepared to kill Bobby because there might be a chance to get Dean back.

- At the end of season 3 Sam is ready to become immortal zombies with Dean, harvesting other people's body parts.

- After Dean dies, Sam is easily manipulated by Ruby, becomes obsessed with revenge, starts drinking demon blood and ultimately ends up starting the apocalypse because he can't let go.

- In season 10, Sam manipulates a man into selling his soul to get an audience with with a demon and has no problems torturing demons. In his quest to free Dean from the mark he ends up getting innocent people killed. In the end he frees the Darkness to get the mark off Dean, despite knowing it would have horrible consequences for the world.

- In “All Hell Breaks Loose” Dean sells his soul to get Sam back. Not only does he doom himself, but he also burdens Sam with terrible survivor's guilt and he knows that, because he has been tearing himself apart ever since he found out about John's deal.

-  In "When the Levee Breaks" Dean thinks Sam has become, or is about to become a monster, and is fine with Sam dying during detox (”Then at least he dies human!”).

- In season 6 Dean doesn’t see soulless!Sam as the “real” Sam, but something Other. To get his Sam back, he decides to put Sam's soul back in his body, despite being warned of the horrifying consequences it could have on Sam. He kills himself for an audience with Death and ignores everyone’s warnings, and Sam eventually ends up crazy and almost dies. (Yes, Cas broke the wall, but considering Sam spent half a season scratching on the wall, it would have broken anyway. And the fact that there are hell memories able to drive him crazy in the first place is on Dean who made the decision.)

- In "I Think I'm Gonna Like It Here" Dean tricks Sam into getting possessed by an angel and is fine (maybe not fine, but he accepts it as necessary evil) with Sam getting mind-raped as long as he stays alive. It also ends up getting Kevin killed, but that is mereley a consequence while that action itself is a direct assault on Sam.

- "Red Meat" is basically the same thing as in AHBL, as Dean kills himself, totally prepared to die, uncaring about his own life, despite the suffering his death would cause Sam, and his plan in "Exodus" to return alone to the vampire caves was basically suicide py proxy.

The interesting thing is that Sam and Dean's actions directly tie in with their central issues. Sam is always afraid of becoming a monster, thinking something within him is inherently wrong and evil, and that he's a threat to the world. He should be deeply disturbed and ashamed of how monstrous his love for Dean can make him. "Out of the Darkness, Into the Fire”  makes it clear he is aware that he is unhinged and dangerous to the world, and he feels vaguely bad, but there is no guilt or shame at all. (”I unleashed a force on this world that could destroy it . . . to save you. And I'd do it again. In a second, I would do it again.”) Dean is defined by his devotion to Sam and is violently protective of him. It should disturb him greatly that he keeps hurting Sam, either by hurting him directly, or by throwing his life away which automatically means hurting Sam as well. Unlike Sam, Dean isn’t always aware of what he is doing. His self-worth issues keep him from realizing how much his death absolutely destroys Sam, and he is remarkably ignorant to the way he hurt Sam. After Gadreel, he never gets that what hurt Sam far more than Kevin's death is the horrible violation and betrayal by Dean's hands. But even when he does realize what he’s doing, he simply doesn’t care because Sam, the version of Sam that he loves, being alive comes before everything.

Like...this is INSANE. Their love makes each other monstrous in ways that fall directly in line with their greatest fears. They don’t just cross lines that society/morality has drawn, but specifically those lines that they themselves have drawn. They should be deeply disturbed and afraid of themselves but they aren't. Sure, there might be some guilt here or there, but that is not what keeps them up at night. (It’s sort of hilarious how Lucifer tried to guilt Sam about sacrificing the world for Dean, and Sam took the exact opposite from that conversation. What kept Sam up at night were not all the innocent people that were collateral damage but his perceived betrayal of Dean, the one time he didn’t go insane when he thought Dean was dead.) In the end it's all about having each other as they are, and that makes it all worth it for Sam and Dean. Even though it goes directly against everything they are.

They are so insane about each other I can’t - 

[boykingsofhell]

HBO SPN ASK GAME

Sam’s eyes flash yellow when you’re not looking. Piercing lamplight across sinking graves in swampland. Do you meet his eyes? Do you fear him?

Dean’s got twelve tattoos and counting, creeping out of shirt sleeves and snaking down long arms. He got the first one a year after John Winchester died. What do they look like?

Don’t tell Castiel his wings are phasing again. Don’t let him know he’s slipping. Are his wings ugly or beautiful? How?

Lucifer whispers to Sam in the early hours of the morning long after Cas took hell from him. What is he saying from the other side of the bed?

Sam and Dean’s scars are so numerous they’re overlapping, skin rough and patterned and rippling with unforgotten pain. Tell me about your favourite.

Sam carries a sharpened rosary and a handgun, an old photo of Jess crumpled beneath three one dollar bills for when he yet again forgets her face. He doesn’t carry a wallet. What else does Sam keep on him?

Mary whispers through the vents of the Impala long after she’s dead. Scraps of white nightgown get caught on all the sharp points between seats. Sam and Dean listen for her beneath the blare of their father’s rock music. What do they hear?

Cas’ eyes haven’t glowed blue in a long time but they haven’t stopped glowing either. What colour do you see, waking up to God’s angel watching over you? Don’t think about what made them this way.

Sam cuts scrapes his knee tumbling at age nine and doesn’t bleed red. What does Dean do? What does John do?

You can cure vampirism but you can’t cure the instincts. Tell me about Dean, bloody-steak-red-meat man promising himself he’s fine. Tell me all the way’s he’s not fine.

Sam wakes up soulless and feels nothing but relief at the cool earth beneath his fingers. Does he know his soul is trapped in hell? Does he want it back?

When Sam is eleven he recoils from the holy water at pastor Jim’s. What else makes him unholy? What else can’t he touch?

Sam doesn’t belong at Stanford and he knows it. Too many knives and not enough friends, grin sharp and alluring in a way he doesn’t notice. He studies harder and calls it penance, please, let him belong. He takes long walks at 3am and doesn’t return for days. Where does he go?

Twelve-year-old Dean gives his little brother beer when he can’t sleep. John notices the missing bottles and doesn’t care. What else doesn’t Dean tell John? What other secrets does he fail to keep?

A hundred years in hell and Enochian is more familiar to Sam than English will ever be again. When he cries out at night it’s in a language Dean doesn’t recognise. What is he mumbling that only Cas understands, averting his eyes because he speaks Enochian like the devil. Tell me something about Sam that Dean can never understand.

Sam and Dean have always been homeless, but hbo spn makes sure the viewers know it too. Tell me about Sam and Dean sleeping on the side of the road because all the motels were full. Tell me about looking for coins under the seats of the Impala for the washing machines and coming up short. Tell me something I don’t know.

Dean keeps his father’s jacket longer than he wants to, hides it in the bottom of a duffel where he knows Sam won’t look. What does he do with it when Sam does find it anyway?

Jack is born wrong and he knows it, tearing his mother apart with a violence he doesn’t mean. Wings drag heavy on the ground, eyes glowing gold and he can’t shut them off. He can’t leave the bunker during the day. Sam and Dean and Cas know what it is to be monstrous. What do they tell him, that comes from such bitter experience?

Demons can’t turn their black eyes off, teeth stained black by demonic smoke and mouths more like maws. Sunglasses and lipstick are essentials, and the brothers can’t help flinching whenever they see someone sporting both. What’s another tell for possession, and how does it affect Sam and Dean?

Demon blood isn’t the only addiction either of the brother’s have, Dean, who’s smoked a pack a day since his father’s death and Sam who picked up worse habits at college he never managed to shake. Does this make Dean more sympathetic to Sam’s demon blood addiction? Less? Does he still lock Sam in the panic room? Does he lock Sam in with himself?

Dean hates his father’s music and listens to it anyway. What does he wish he could leave behind? What music can he hear and not think of his father? (yes this is an excuse to drop your hbo spn playlists)

Angels are never quite there, vessels vibrating and flickering with the strain of holding their host. The smell of ozone portends their arrival. Tell me how the angels are viewed differently, closer to monstrosity and further from God?

Dean comes back in Lazarus Rising but he comes back wrong. He’s been in hell too long for it not to leave a scar of its own. Tell me what’s different.

Chuck who’s forgotten he’s God, who relearns divinity through angels and learns to fear them faster. Does he rebecome God? Does the song remain the same?

Free space: tell me a hbo headcanon for any character!

[autisticandroids]

i had incomprehensible/incoherent thoughts on consumehimnatural and i thought i'd share because idk where i'm going with this but i'm going... somewhere... anyway consumehimantural discourse is so interesting i think because one of the most consistent threads of the show re: monsters is the theme of the literal consumption of humans (werewolves, vampires, rougarous, eps with pagan gods usually define their monstrosity thru their consumption of people, etc)

this comes up a lot especially whenever a monster that used to be human is featured like in s1e2 & s14e16, also theee consumehimnatural thesis my bloody valentine, because it really is just how do you make a monster out of a man? you make him hungry. you make him so hungry he makes a monster out of himself.

& like i think it’s really interesting how what separates regular angels who are just kind of neutral antagonists most of the time (dicks but not necessarily inherently evil), from the grigori who are portrayed as true monsters (in the context of the show) is that the grigori are consuming human souls??? as if that was the most monstrous perversion the show could demonstrate (consumption being the ultimate corruption of an entire class of angels)

(and i guess as an aside, i always thought this was a particularly interesting route to take given that grigori have sometimes been associated with the passage in genesis about the creation of nephilim, so the show was drawing a veeery direct parallel there between consumption and sex imo)

and corporeality is tricky in supernatural but i think it’s interesting how appetite for anything is rooted, inherently, in corporeality/consumption being about having a body/vessel with which to consume things? ghosts in general kill but don’t consume people because they can’t, they're incorporeal. angels and demons, on the other hand, experience consumption thru vessels, but for demons this is familiar (they were human once) whereas for angels it’s new so it takes a while for them to want it

also with death 1.0 it is actually so interesting that we only know a few things about him and the most interesting aspect imo about his portrayal is that he eats food. and a lot of it! he enjoys it even! literally why??? because death is ravenous. 100% appetite. because death. in the end. claims everything, consumes everything. but death is not a monster, not really, so on screen he eats junk food, & not people.

and like, i know this is something that’s been discussed a lot, hunger/desire being construed narratively as inherently bad (particularly re: cas wanting dean) but that made me think about the way the show portrays its hollow masculinity as so purposefully defined by its specific, excessive, and insatiable appetites, especially for (heterosexual) sex and (heroic) violence, and also alcohol (but only beer and hard liquor), red meat not vegan bacon, etc...

narratively the show generally treats this masculine consumption as correct or appropriate (we get hints that perhaps it is not, but they never really follow through on it?) whereas monsters are clearly consuming inappropriately. and it’s reeeeally interesting to think about where tfw is in terms of consumption and appropriateness (food, intimacy, violence) anyway lol that's all i have but i have been thinking thoughts about this

i love all this. interestingly enough, masculinity on spn is defined by appetites but at the same time those appetites are closely bounded:

DEAN: Yeah, well, there's times I want to get slapped during sex by a girl wearing a Zorro mask. That don't make it a good idea.

even heterosexual sex must be desired extremely normatively to be acceptable. and desire for sex is more about identity maintenance than pleasure:

DEAN: It's been a while. But you owe yourself. It's nothing but a ground ball – you just got to put your mitt down. You are Dean Winchester. This is what you do. [emphasis added]

like dean is a real man because the sex he has is about identity maintenance for himself and the way other men see him more than it is about fun.

but yeah your overall point is very good and i'll be thinking about it for a While. like a While while

[herstarburststories]

He didn’t make it to 42

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Summary: it’s Dean’s birthday, you go to visit him with some news and things that need to be said.

A/N: Happy bday, De.

Warnings: so much angst, mentions of sex, hopeful/happy ending (?)

Dean’s dead. It’s Dean’s birthday and he’s dead. You can’t argue much.

Sam denied the demon blood inside him, and that didn’t stop its evil nature from growing and gasping for his fresh air to the point he was almost shocked alive. Dean denied his dad’s destructive methods’ results for the longest time, and that didn’t stop the cicatrixes in every emotion he had ever shown. You denied the absence of Dean and that didn’t stop the bricks cracking in your soul. There’s only so far you can go with your eyes closed.

So here you are. Standing in front of an empty grave. You are bigger than the dull tombstone, yet you can’t help but not to feel tall, at all. How can you even start to talk? Talking to Dean used to be easy even when it got hard and now you’re feeling like a lost kid in a supermarket. Your snide thinking spells out his name with venom, saying it isn’t easy for you to open your barmy mouth and spill out contrarian shit because this isn’t Dean, just another meaningless symbolism that Sam promises that will help. The real Dean died almost a year ago, he was burned in a hunter’s funeral, the flames dancing over his body as the smell of burnt meat invaded your nostrils. Whenever you try to remember his fragrance, that manly aroma which you loved to scent each morning, all your brain can come up with is the odor of his skin and guts burning. The smell lingers like bad perfume, it doesn’t matter how many times you wash yourself with his soap-- that only broke your heart worse.

But today is Dean’s birthday. He deserves a visit, even if it’s not him. Then you go and attempt to deal with the desolation, push it away just a little, and pick up something from the enormous pile of things you wish to tell Dean. You glance at the cold tombstone: Dean Winchester. 1979 - 2020. Beloved son, big brother, and husband. Hunter. A hero. Simple definitions that can never make it up for who he was and what he meant. You purse your lips and cough a little, a gentle wind touches your cheek so tenderly. If you were still a believer, you’d think this is some sort of sign, Dean’s presence or some other pious hoax. All you do now is to remain in quietude, a deep breath. Ultimately, your voice comes:

‘’You didn’t make it to forty two, huh?’’ You scoff humorless, reminiscing to the multiple days that Dean said he wouldn’t go past 35. He did live each year like it was the last--- you aren’t sure if it's such a good thing. If you carry on like your days are outnumbered, you are silently entertaining yourself until death's knock on your door. ‘’I always hated when you were right. Let’s be honest, you had the words of a pessimist and the wants of an optimist. Still, if you were to be right about something, it would be about a bad situation. A nest with too many vampires, how crappy the motel’s bedroom would be, or how that third glass of wine would make me tipsy. So yeah, I always hated when you were right. And look at you now! You aren’t right, you aren’t wrong. You are dead! And I’m the crazy girl screaming at an empty tombstone.’’

You let out a laugh empty of joy. That’s how a hunter’s life is: you die and people stop talking about you because it’s too sad or too long gone to hold any pity, meanwhile the ones who recall about you go loud with all the spirits in their heads. You put your hand in the pockets of the heavy leather jacket that once belonged to a green eyed man who would be turning 42 today, some strange force causing you to speak again.

‘’Wow.’’ You shake your head to the blue way you paint the scene until you notice that you never greeted him. ‘’Hey.’’ The simple word adds a comical insult to injury. ‘’Guess the dead don’t care about manners, huh?’’ You arch your eyebrows with a grin that demonstrates anything but happiness. ‘’Miracle died. Sam digged a hole next to the bunker and buried him there. He isn’t the same since you died, you know? Not the deceased dog-- Well, he wasn’t the same either. Always whining and scratching your door like a fucking cat, and sniffing your old boots. He made me company in your bed and I whined as much as he did when you didn’t come back home that day. He stood by the door most days, waiting for you to appear. I can’t judge him, I did the same.’’ You shrug, not caring about how risible that confession may look. It's true. You became as irrational as a loyal dog at some point in this sorrow. ‘’And Sam, your baby brother… I think he died with you right there, Dean. He didn’t try to bring you back as he promised, but I shouted and screamed so much. I said I would burn the bunker and throw Baby over a cliff if he didn’t-- if he didn’t let me try. I lived up to the mad woman title.’’

You are crestfallen, pacing on top of where the eldest Winchester - Sam’s brand new nomination -  supposedly was buried. You know your boots barely touch an infected land, there's no deceased man under your steps. The dead thing is in you.

‘’I spent days dragging your body everywhere and nowhere, anywhere I could catch a crumb of relief in hope to bring you back. But I couldn’t. Jack could, but that ungrateful idiot doesn’t wanna follow his grandpa steps and get too attached to mere humans, the creation or whatever. As if we are just some skin and bone to him, as if you are just another human.’’

You sit down on the tombstone, some tender solace in being close to a thing that's supposed to represent him, like sleeping hugged to a pillow or waking up to a photograph of his. Your nails sink against the gelid concrete at the thought of screaming into the sky for the new God that seemed as deaf as the last one. His calm answer to your burning pain. How he dared to tell you he knew what he was doing— as if he was the original lord and not a three years old. You can't make him do it, so you hold on the fury of some overthrown nation.

‘’Anyway, I couldn’t bring you back. Your body, well, you know how human anatomy works. Your body started to smell like death. We tried to stop with human and magic ways, and it wouldn’t work because you were dead. You should’ve seen the doctor’s face when we got you in that fancy hospital tha night. I think we traumatized the doctor with so much violence and trauma. She didn’t even give us a false hope or anything, you know? She just asked about organ donation of what was left. She just wanted to take every little thing out of you, as if you were just another accident on a Tuesday night.’’ Your shake your head as the memories and your points start to mix, it's hard to discern things and keep a straight line when you have an open wound in your insides. ‘’Well, they couldn’t bring you back to life, and neither could Rowena or whatever I looked for. Don’t be mad because I tried, Winchester. You know I’m too stubborn for my own good. I had to try.’’ you refuse to apologize, yet adds the playful words in his eulogy. ‘’But then your body started to stink and God, how could I continue to be so violent to your corpse? That was when I decided to listen to you for the first time and to Sam, so I let you go. I hate you for asking that.’’ What an ambiguous, contradictory truth to bare. You are glimpses of a person for months because of Dean Winchester, still have the energy to argue his selfless logic, just to love him even more. He's got your devotion, but man you can hate him sometimes. ‘’I hate you for going on that stupid hunt. I hate you for being dead, you giant idiot that I love so much.’’ You can't bring your mouth to say loved. "I was always telling you to let the past go and now I’m in love with a dead thing. What a comic way to end our history. I told you that Miracle died, right? I don’t know if dogs go to heaven, but I hope he’s in there with you. I wonder what your heaven is like. I bet it has Whiskey.''

Your dry chuckle makes your notice the tears in your eyes, glistening your orbs as they go like a waterfall to be absorbed by the thirsty land after leaving your cheeks.

"Sam and I-- We tried to make some sense out of this cruelty, but we can’t. You are dead and I can’t seem to put it past me. I still sleep in your bed, and I can still taste your body burning on the roof of my mouth in the quiet nights. I cried this morning because someone asked for a burger, can you believe that? It was so stupid since I used to shake my head and argue with you about cholesterol. Suddenly I was crying at lunch in a restaurant because some stupid kid asked for a burger with extra bacon. They sang Happy birthday to this dumbass child, and I interrupted with my awful crying, and wished that you were celebrating your birthday and not that kid. I guess you could say I wish death upon an innocent child with a problematic eating routine.’’ That was a whole new level of low, as if you are the one wrapped with the sentiment of laying six feet under.

‘’Everyone tells you about how grief is singular and particular with similar emotions that bring people who went through this together. They even have that crap stages thing and all that. You know what they don’t tell you?’’ Your mouth shuts for a moment, like you are waiting some response. You nod as if whatever you were expecting is handed to you. ‘’Grief can be fucking ridiculous. Who cries because of a burger full of oil and cardiac diseases? Who cries because they found a grocery store recipe under her dead boyfriend’s bed? Who falls on the ground screaming in the middle of the mall because they saw a flannel? Who? Those things are so stupid.’’ You smile like there's no tomorrow and the laugh leaving your lips is a treacherous tone. Perhaps you just aren't build up to express joy anymore. ‘’You see it in the movies and in the books and you think, you know, you think to yourself that grieving is being sad on special dates and randomly remembering the loved ones because of some screaming memory, like a flannel or their perfume. Thing is, it’s not just that. All your body seems so small, so tight for all the ache and agony inside it. Your senses go wild, you are not just one person in one place. You’re just the pain everywhere, like being pulled apart and you beg to jump in the fucking grave with them. At least you would be together, at least you would feel like one person and not suffering edges of a broken earthy thing. And--And you start remembering things you didn’t even know you had mesmerized. I look at the ceiling and remember you saying you’d paint it someday. I look at the kitchen and remember me screaming at you for giving Miracle the rest of the food. I smell Sam’s clothes and started crying because hey, they don’t smell like alcohol. You don’t iron them while drinking anymore, so of course they don’t smell like cheap beer.’’ You are chuckling through the tears and it only makes it more monstrous. ‘’Everything is you now that you are gone. Every man has something similar to you, every garden is green as your eyes, and each step sounds like you are coming home. They didn’t prepare me, not for this.’’ You said breathless. A soft single follows. The knife cuts both ways; the empty breeze and the words hurt. Where's the middle term? Where's the limbo? Where's the only safe place for you to rest your weary head?

Out of nowhere, you blurt out, ‘’I can’t masturbate,’’ I know it’s something stupid and even selfish to say, but I think you’d like to know. I can’t masturbate. That’s a part of the whole losing someone process that people are too ashamed to discuss, or maybe they don’t have the urge to be touched anymore because after someone you love dies, after someone-- the hands who touched are dead and cold, you become a haunted object. That’s how I feel most days, like I’m a haunted house because you touched me and now you’re dead and some days I believe I am too.’’ You look around the places. It's beautiful. It's lonely. It has trees and flowers and green. Not as green as Dean's eyes, but it doesn't matter anymore. He doesn't even have eyes at this point. ‘’Well, I can’t masturbate. I can’t touch myself. And I can’t ask someone else either. I tried and ended up punching the guy, Dean. I swear. I panicked when he was between my legs and just punched his nose. You’d have liked it, you were always the jealous kind. I won’t admit that, but I thought it was kinda hot. Especially when you got possessive in sex.’’ A dirty grin appeared on your lips, the echoes of luxury lasting in your eyes for a brief moment. ‘’I don’t think I can be cared for anymore, honestly. Sam tried to hug me when Miracle died and I… It was like I wasn't there. I got frozen in time, and I live in my sleep. In my nightmares you are alive. I  dream about the day you died every week and I used to wake up screaming, but now those nightmares are the only proof you were alive now that you’re as dead as the police report says this time. It was the most painful, calamitous moment for you and I swear it was a nightmare for me, but then I realized that at least I had you there, egoistical or not, I made my nightmare into a dream.’’ You aren't sure which opinion Dean would have on that. Would he understand? Would he shake his head? You wish you can ask him just this one more thing, just beg him to write it down for you on how to be without him here.

You raise on your feet, glaring at the name craved in the concrete. The tears go by still, although they're as usual as the blood in glir veins at this point. ‘’Death is so silly. What it takes, anyway?" Each word conquers more inches of pure wrath. ''People die because they stumbled on their own feet and hit their head somewhere, or they drove their car too close and too fast to the cliff, or because they were giving birth, or because they dated the wrong person, or because they were hunting a fucking vampire and got impaled. What are the chances? How stupid, and idiotic is death? Always creeping and waiting to bite and chew a piece of you-- Taking every scrap of you from me like that’s its right.’’ You are screaming, starting to kick and punch the tombstone with any piece of straight you have. Your limbs hurt and the blood is visible, but you keep going. ‘’YOUR STUPID DOG DIED, DEAN! AND YOU DIED! AND I DIED! SAMMY DIED! YEAH, IS SAID SAMMY! GO AHEAD, TELL ME ONLY YOU CAN CALL HIM THAT.’’ Another punch, your knuckles are ripped. Another kick, your boot as a hole. ‘’DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT.’’ Kick. ‘’SAMMY, SAMMY, SAMMY!’’ A punch to each name. Anything to get a reaction, to get comfort. Anything. ‘’YOU CAN’T BECAUSE YOU ARE DEAD.’’ Gasping for something you don't need anymore, sweet oxygen, your eyes are on the tombstone again. And the definitions. And the trees. Your body is sore and aching. It is the kind and coercion no person wants which you needed; the freedom of feeling outside the exact pain that was inside. ‘’You can’t because you are dead. I’ve been playing some sick games in my mind, you know? Sam stopped hunting and had his closure. He was always better at letting go than you and I, but he’s still hurting. I never saw him hurting so much. I think he knows you won’t come back this time, how could you make us promise something like that?  Well, my twisted game is a bunch of misleading what ifs. What if you hadn’t gone after John? What if you hadn’t gone on that last hunt? What if you had stayed with Lisa? At first I didn’t like her much. Jealous, I admit that. But she grew on me. She gave you something I couldn’t back then and I’ll always be thankful for that. And even though it would rip me apart, I’d rather you to die at sixth after living your suburban dream with her. Have another kid besides Ben, maybe a girl this time, and just have that apple pie life. You and Sam would live close and your kids would always play. They’d be as close as brothers. Maybe I’d get a guy and bring my own kids and we could’ve a barbecue and everyone would be happy. But we don’t get soft epilogues here. It ends how it starts, right? Bloody and desperate. I thought maybe, maybe Lisa could understand what’s going through my head now. I drove to her new address and parked close to her house. I must have spent hours there, thinking if I should come in or not, If she somehow remembered after Castiel died or if I could make her brain work again if I told her the truth. But then I just drove back home and fell asleep wrapped in that stupid lumberjack flannel of yours. The one I always mocked, yeah? She may understand me, but I know you wouldn’t want that. You want her, you want me and Sam to be happy. I don’t know if I can do that, Dean. It’s like myt brittle soul shrewd and my body is just waiting to collapse.’’ You signed, overwhelmed by the battle without an anthem. The victory with no triumph. Is it still a win when you don't have someone to come home too? ‘’Your dog died, it’s the first birthday you didn’t live to see, and I bought all the things you told Mrs Butters you wanted for your birthday because it’s your birthday. I just don’t know how to celebrate it with you dead. People stop counting after they die, right? They just say he’d have been 42 or he died at 41. They give melancholy smiles when they wake up and check the day on their phones and a woe atmosphere swallows them for the rest of the day. Then they get better the next day. I think everyday is your birthday.’’ You attempt to wipe away your tears, which only causes your pulsating hand to stain your face red. ‘’Dean, for the first time, what died stayed dead! Congrats.’’ Once again, a hysterical laugh. ‘’I wish but no. What died didn’t stay dead, you are alive, so alive in my head. I swear you are there some days. I wake and watch the door, so sure you’ll come back. Sam says I’m living in delusion and I have to wake up and keep going since that's what you would want. That's enough to make him keep going, but it only makes me angry. Everyone we know and some strangers looks at me like I'm a house on fire and no longer a warm home, like I'm a car accident. They think I don't notice but I do.’’ You look at your boots, the whole is rolling out blood like your hands. You feel closer to Dean. How sick.

‘’Help, I’m still right where you left me." You plea, his love lingering like a bruise. ''I think gravity is overwhelming and it keeps me here. Sometimes it’s like I’m one of those dusted books Sam used to read. Or those Bukowski ones that you hid, so we wouldn’t see how smart you’re. You tried so hard to hide your intelligence because you didn’t think you were entitled to it. You saw yourself as the protector and never the valuable one for protection. You, the man who made an EMF out of an old radio, who rebuilt the Impala from the ground multiple times, and who knew patterns better than any detective. The man who showed me I could rely on someone other than myself. The dude with a lopsided grin, tough hands and a heart of gold. I miss you so much. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were singing all those classic rock songs and Taylor Swift pop hits, while I drove here. I would think you were home, smelling like guts because you wanted to eat before taking a shower after a hunt. I would think that you are in the Deancave, waiting for me to curl up on your lap to watch Scooby Doo or Doctor Sexy MD until we aren’t watching anymore. If I didn’t know better I would think no death could take you from me. There would be no tear us apart in our vows.’’ The only thing that keeps your organism working is that Dean died knowing how much you loved him. You never let this talk for later or never. No tomorrow is promised. That's a nice comfort, maybe that's what will help you to let go in the future. ‘’But yesterday your stupid, skink dog died and I lost the last living thing that I had from you. You know what’s more angerting? I cried and Sam cried and I noticed we were the living things you left behind and all we have is each other. All your closets of backlogged dreams were left for us-- so yeah. Sam is done hunting and he’s met a lovely girl, and they are moving in like in your domestic dreams. I’m taking care of the family business like your other contradictory dream and making sure Sam is safe enough to be normal. Because I have to, we have too. Stupidly enough, I still wait for the day you’ll burst out the door and tell us to hit the road again. I still watch every episode of your dumb tv shows to make sure I’ll know everything that happened when you ask. I still drive around in your car and close my eyes when the street is calm, only picturing you driving as Baby’s engineers go wild but those are my hands on the steering wheel. If I didn't know better, I’d think you are still around. But I know better. I still feel you all around. I love you.’’

Your monologuing ends as astutely as it stated. You get up, press a kiss to your ruined for the next weeks hands and place it on the rock with writings. You turn around and walk back to the car that you parked near, only in case of Dean wanting to see Baby. How knows? You and your clandestine faith. You lick your lip and get in the car.

You swear you the AC/DC cassette wasn't there before, but when you turn on the car and the radio it starts playing. It's the first true smile that comes to your mouth, it's bloodstained and you look like a shameless woman. With that you can deal.

It hurts a bearable hurt for now. You didn't think it was possible. Maybe someday.

The end.

(she takes a little longer to arive in heaven than sammy. his baby brother says that women are most likely to live around six years more than men. it doesn't ease him up, though. dean waited sam for too long, his platonic soulmate. and now he has to wait his romantic one too? the eldest Winchester considers it the best earthly present when the he sense you around, that smell of orange and apples. it's you, he knows before even turning around. he can't wait to love you again. your name rolls off your tongue so naturally, as if you had seen each other just yesterday: ‘’hey, y/n.’’)

But then again, nothing ever really ends, does it?

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Starburst's footnote: It just didn't feel right to make an author's note on the top. I wanted it all only to be an arrow to the story. So, this is my side note: it's six am and I'm up writing this after inspiration kissed me with a bruise in the middle of the night. Or more like grabbed my throat. Anyway, I had to write and finish this one to post today, even pushing sleep aside. Hey, we are writers, that's what we do! I've been watching the show since I was eleven and I cried like a baby with the finale. This series was just so important and crucial to molde aspects of relationships for me. The song marjorie by Taylor Swift was used here, and so was the line "you got my devotion/ but man, I can hate you sometimes" by Harry Styles. I told you guys I would use it somewhere! A special thanks to @msmarvelouswinchester​ who helped me with her encouraging and opinon. You are the best! And with all of this I wanna say: Happy bday, Dean Winchester!

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[waywardnerd67]

Sweet Slice

Title: Sweet Slice Summary: (Y/N) is new to Lebanon escaping the big city life when she gets a job at a local bakery. Things get complicated when her past returns and her boss gets in the middle. Pairing: Dean x Reader Rating: E - Everyone Warnings: Angst/Fluff Word Count: 2173 Squared Filled: Baker!Dean Bingo Card: @spnaubingo​ A/N: The sandwiches described are from the grocery store my mom works at. They can be found at http://www.straubs.com/category/sandwiches

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Staring out over the horizon, (Y/N) watched as the sun peeked over rising into the dark sky. Black and navy faded into beautiful pinks and reds as a sign of a new day. Breathing in the cool morning air, she threw up a few silent thank yous to whatever higher being was listening to her. Grateful for a new day, a new start and a new life for her. Carefully standing on the rooftop, she climbed back in through her single window and started mapping out her day.

(Y/N) had only lived in Lebanon, Kansas for three weeks. Finding a studio apartment above the only bakery in town that was owned by the handsome Dean Winchester. She gave him almost all her savings for the first month's rent and went in search of work. In a town of only two hundred-fifty people finding a job was harder than she expected. Until last week, when she approached Dean about the next month’s rent and offered her a job on the spot.

Now, as she pulled the hair out of her face and wrapped a red bandana over it (Y/N) headed downstairs for her first day at Sweet Slice. Approaching the kitchen entrance she could hear Led Zeppelin playing through the store speakers and pans clanging against one another.

“Morning boss.”

He looked over his shoulder a wide smile spreading across his face, “Good morning, let me get this pie in the oven and then I will give you your mission for the day.”

(Y/N) chuckled watching as he finished the pie he was working on. No one would ever believe from looking at Dean that he was a baker. His broad shoulders, muscular arms gave off the impression he was a tough guy. There were a few scars on his forearms she could see from the sleeves of his flannel being rolled up to his elbows. His large hands and thick fingers were the most deceiving as they gently and delicately handled creating the lattice pie crust on top.

“Ready?”

His husky voice brought her out of her daydream as she nodded following him to the other side of the kitchen. On the long table were various deli meats and cheeses along with a variety of breads then seemed to be freshly baked.

“I’ve always had this idea of not only offering specialty pies and baked goods but also to have a lunch hour with sandwiches on some of our breads. Today, I was you to just come up with some sandwiches for the menu and I’m going to taste test them for lunch.”

She smirked, “So basically you want me to make you a sammich?”

His laughter was infectious filling her body with a joy she hadn’t felt in a long time, “Yeah, I guess so. One of the perks for being the boss. If you need anything just holler at me.”

(Y/N) grabbed the pencil and paper on the table and started writing down some ideas she had. Sandwiches were something she knew all about being from New York. As a teenager she had worked at her local deli making sandwiches and giving the old mob men trouble as they flirted with her. The memory sent a chill down her spine. It was in that deli shop she had met Wyatt and her life changed forever.

Shaking her head, she went back to her list of sandwiches and began constructing them. A few of them, she had to have Dean bake up a few hoagie rolls because regular bread would not be right for them. By noon, she had assembled six different sandwiches for them to enjoy. She waited to garnish them until right before they sat down to eat. Dean had taken his flannel off wiping the sweat from his face from being near the oven.

His eyes widened as they glanced over the sandwiches plated in front of him, “These look awesome and I’m starving. Let’s dive in.”

The first sandwich was an Italian Sub that was on a fresh hoagie roll, spread with a mayo mustard blend and topped with salami, top round roast beef, baked and glazed ham, provel, dill pickle, onion, pepperoncinis and shredded lettuce. The noises coming from Dean as he devoured his half made her cheeks burn.

The next couple of sandwiches were simple ones with meat, cheese and simple lettuce, tomato, pickle toppings that could be offered cold or warm. The fifth sandwich was one her grandmother made for her every Sunday. Layers of baked and glazed ham, hard salami, mortadella, and provel topped with an olive Italian dressing blend on fresh baked focaccia bread.

“Now that sandwich sent my taste buds on an adventure. Whew!” He chuckled, finishing the last bite.

The final sandwich was her take on a grilled cheese sandwich. She had called it The Cure All making it whenever she had a particularly bad time of the month or a wicked hangover. On sourdough she placed two slices of cheddar, a layer of jalapenos, two slices of american, a layer of bacon, topped with caramelized onions.

Dean admired the sandwich for a moment before taking a large bite from it. His olive eyes rolled back as he closed them chewing slowly. She watched as he swallowed the bite and his full lips pursed together blowing out a gush of air.

“Wow, I think that may be the perfect sandwich and our signature sandwich to kick off a lunch special.”

Her cheeks were aching from smiling, “I guess I can add sandwich creator to my severely lacking resume.”

“If I have my way, you will never need a resume again and stay with me forever.”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth a few things happened all at once. Their eyes snapped up connecting immediately. Her heart leaped within her chest with a bright, burning hope she has not felt in a long time. While Dean’s cheeks flushed crimson.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean… not that I wouldn’t want to be with… um. Crap.” He put his head in his hands, “All I’m saying is you’re amazing and wonderful for what I have gotten to know of you these last few weeks. I think we would work great with one another.”

There was something deep within urging for her to reach out to him and after five years of being with someone who only pretended to care for her and use her she had kept herself guarded. Looking into Dean’s eyes, she could see the kind of man he was. The kind of man to sacrifice himself for the ones he loves. The kind of man to go out of his way to care for someone. The kind of man that would protect those closest to him fiercely and without regard to his own well being.

(Y/N) reached across the table placing her hand on top of his, “There is nowhere else I’d rather be than right here with you.”

It was in that moment that everything changed for them. They became partners in every way they could in their lives. Sharing the business together, his home together, building a life together over the next year. Until her past caught up to her in the little bakery in Lebanon.

It was a normal Tuesday as Dean and (Y/N) prepared for their normal lunch hour. Their business doubled from them adding a sandwich and slice combo. Some of their normal morning customers had picked up a pie or two for that evening so when the bell rang signaling another customer, (Y/N) thought nothing of it walking to the front counter.

“There you are my sweetness. I’ve been looking for you for a long time.”

She froze in her spot, the familiar raspy voice knocking the wind out of her. Looking up, standing in the middle of the empty bakery and locking the front door was the man of her nightmares. Standing nearly a foot taller than her, his jet black hair was slicked back and dark brown eyes narrowing in on her.

“H-How did you…” The words would not come out as fear struck her mind instinctively backing up towards the door leading into the kitchen.

His menacing smile spread wider, “You know I have my ways. You know when I want something I get it. No matter what.” He took two steps towards her as he spoke.

The same desperate fight or flight feeling kicked in pushing her feet towards the kitchen yelling, “DEAN!”

Before she made it two feet through the door a pair of thick, leather covered arms wrapped around her waist. She let out a piercing scream before Wyatt clamp his hand over her mouth. He walked them back through the door holding her tightly against his body where she could not kick or push herself away.

“You’ve always been weak and pathetic, but that’s how I like my women. You can’t fight me.” He snarled into her ear.

“But I can.”

She looked up wide eyed as Dean appeared in front of them stepping through the door. He was holding up a large iron skillet never once taking his eyes off of Wyatt.

“Put (Y/N) down now.” His jaw clenched as he spun the skillet in his hand.

Wyatt laughed pushing her into the front case. She cried out as shards of thick glass sliced and embedded themselves into her skin. She glanced up just in time to roll herself over the glass that had shattered as Wyatt’s large body flew back towards her. Crimson filled her vision as she looked down to the floor. Bile burned up her throat as the sickening cracking of breaking bones echoed throughout the room. Her vision darkened as the last thing she saw was the door crashing open.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Every inch of (Y/N)’s body throbbed. She could hardly lift her eyelids, her vision blurry from exhaustion and her glasses missing. Trying to speak, she coughed and a large hand engulfed hers. Instinctively, she flinched pulling it away. Squeezing her eyes shut terrified she would see Wyatt sitting beside her.

“(Y/N), you’re okay. You’re safe.”

Her eyes snapped open tears freely flowing down her face, “D-Dean…” she croaked.

“Shhh. Don’t try to speak until you’ve had some ice chips.” He stood grabbing a cup and feeding her some ice, “After Sam and I took care of Wyatt, we had to rush you to the hospital. You lost a lot of blood and one large piece of glass embedded itself into your back.”

Dean became quiet looking down at their hands clasped together, “W-What hap-pen?” she whispered, eating some more ice and the cold soothing her burning throat.

She was surprised to see his eyes shining with tears, “We almost lost you and…” he looked away from her wiping his eyes.

“And what, Dean?” Her stomach churned and knotted a thousand thoughts running through her mind.

“And it wrecked me. I didn’t want to imagine life without you and when I did it gutted me.”

(Y/N) reached up wiping the few wayward tears from his cheek, “I’m right here because of you. Thank you.”

Her hand slipped down to his chest gripping his shirt and pulling him towards her. Every move she made was agonizing but worth it as his lips pressed against hers.

“I will always be here for you.” He whispered as she nodded her forehead resting against his.

Lying back she asked, “What happened to Wyatt?”

A low growl escaped Dean’s lips, “He and his buddy are currently in a cell hopefully getting to know their new roommates intimately.”

She wanted to know everything, but exhaustion was consuming her. Her eyes closing as Dean sat beside her on the bed humming her favorite Zeppelin song and lulling her to sleep.

Over the next several months, between her physical recovery and mental anguish as she relive her life with Wyatt to detectives and lawyers. (Y/N) slowly started getting her life back to normal. Dean accompanied her to New York where Wyatt and his goons were all put on trial for what they had done to her. After the guilty verdict was read, (Y/N) felt a great weight lift from her shoulders finally feeling free to live her life in peace.

When they arrived back in Lebanon, they noticed the vacant building across from the bakery had been sold and a new sign was being lifted into the air to attach to the store front. As the tarp fell to the ground, they both stared up completely stunned at what they saw.

The sign had a cake with a halo above it that read Angel Cakes Bakery. A tall, dark hair man stood admiring the sign before glancing over to them. He gave a small wave walking back into the building while (Y/N) looked over to Dean.

His jaw set in a strong line before muttering, “Son of a bitch…”

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[queen-of-deans-booty]

It All Goes Downhill

Characters: Dean Winchester x Virgin!Reader,

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: angst, mental illnesses, no self esteem, depressed!reader, MDD (major depressive episode), panic attack, not taking care of oneself, not eating/bathing, bed-ridden depression, minor fluff at the end

Summary: You’re getting used to life at the Bunker with four men you’ve come to know. You think you can handle this new change of pace, but when Dean takes you to grocery store, the worst happens... then it’s all downhill from there.

Part One

Part Two

Author’s Note: This is the third part of six parts of the commission for @sea040561​

Over the past few months, you and Dean have been getting closer to each other. Nothing has happened between you two because you’re scared he is just going to pull away as soon as he knows you’re pining for him. Who wouldn’t like him? He’s tall, handsome, funny, caring, a great cook, a good listener, and such a strong man. He is the complete package, and you’re… well… not. If he found out you like him, then he would just distance himself from you.

You’d rather have him as a friend than not have him at all.

The other men in the Bunker have been good to you as well, and you’re glad that Jody pushed you to do this. It’s certainly not where you thought you were going to be at this point in your life, but you guess there are worse ways to end up. Your mind can think of a thousand ways that your life can take a turn for the worst, but you’re trying to stay positive here… and that’s very hard for you to do.

Your sister loved to tell you how much of a pessimist you are, but you never minded. You’ve been one for as long as you can remember. You’re pretty sure you were born with a frown on your face. Nonetheless, you're actually happy in the Bunker. You help out where you can, help with research and chores, and try to do your part. It’s not fair to anyone if you don’t do at least something to help out. The Bunker is a big place, so there is always something to do.

You’re in the kitchen right now cleaning when Dean walks in. He is only wearing a thin t-shirt and jeans, and your mouth waters at the sight of him. Get it together, Y/N. Stop acting like a hormonal teenager. It’s not fair that Dean can bring that side out of you. You thought she was gone for good, but one look at him and she is back just like that.

“Hey, want to take a break?” he asks.

“And do what?” you wonder as you stand up.

You take off the yellow gloves you put on and toss them into the sink to wash later.

“We’re running low on supplies here. Want to go on a run with me? Sammy gave me a list,” he says and holds up the list.

“Oh, groceries,” you fit the pieces together. There is one thing you hate more than anything else in this world, and it’s going grocery shopping, or just shopping in general. You hate all the stares you get when you go, but if Dean is going, then how bad can it be? “Um, okay.”

“Great. Meet me at the car when you’re ready,” he grins and heads to the garage.

You’ve always had anxiety whenever you go to the store because you can feel people’s stares and judgements whenever you pick up something. If your cart is too empty, then you’re scared you’re not getting enough things. If it’s too full, then you feel like you’re too fat for everything that’s in there. However, this grocery shopping trip is a lot different than the ones you’ve been on because you’re shopping for five people instead of just one--and four of them are very hungry men. Dean is going to be there, so you hope you don’t have anything to worry about.

You clean yourself up as much as you can before heading out to the car where Dean is waiting behind the wheel. When he sees you he smiles, and your heart does a flip. You ignore your aching thoughts as you get in. The car doesn’t have seat belts, but you know you’re safe whenever you’re with Dean.

It doesn’t take him more than twenty minutes to get to the store, and you two walk inside. You’re only focusing on the wheels of the cart going round and round because if you look up, you’ll see everyone staring at you… judging you. Dean doesn’t seem to notice as he picks a side of the store to start with, looks at his list, and starts grabbing things.

“Can you get three of the big rolls of ground beef for me?” Dean asks without looking at you. “The biggest ones you can find.”

“Okay,” you mutter.

You head over to the section where the meat is and find the ones he’s asking for. You grab three big rolls of the ground beef, but you stop short when you feel a presence behind you. All three rolls are in your hands, but you’re not focused on that right now. The person who is standing behind you isn’t even looking at you, yet you feel their eyes on you. You can only imagine what they are thinking about.

Look at the fat girl holding three rolls of ground beef. Does she have enough? Save some for the rest of us.

Tears threaten to spill over your eyes, but you rush out of there before they could. You place the rolls in the basket, and Dean moves onto the next section. Every single time you pick up something to add to the cart, you can hear those words inside your head, taunting you and bullying you into thinking you’re not good enough for this. Your anxiety spikes bigger than it ever has before, and your throat starts to tighten.

Dean has his back to you when the first wave of your panic attack starts. There are other people in the aisle, but they aren’t looking at you as well. If they aren’t, then why do you feel their eyes on you? Your breathing picks up, black spots form in the corner of your vision, and your lungs feel as if they will collapse at any moment. You’re dazed and confused, and that causes you to knock into one of the shelves, knocking the products on the floor. Dean looks over when he hears the noise, and he jumps into action.

“Y/N! Are you okay?” he rushes over to you, forgetting about the almost full cart.

Everyone else has now stopped to watch, and that only makes you feel worse about yourself.

“Can’t… breathe… panic…”

Those are the only words you can get out right now. You’re on the floor surrounded by the products that fell, everyone is staring at you and Dean, and you just can’t seem to get enough oxygen in your lungs.

“Okay, look at me. I want you to focus on me,” he says calmly. “Just feel me.”

He places his big hands on both sides of your face, and you try to focus on the heat radiating from his palms. The green swirls in his eyes are mesmerizing, and they momentarily bring you to reality. Your hands are in ight balls as your nails dig into your palms, but it’s like you don’t even need that to be better. Dean is helping you all on your own.

His mouth is moving, but you can’t hear what he is saying. All you can hear is the sound of your breaths, all you can see is the color in his eyes, and all you can feel is his warmth. Tears spill over the side of your face when you take a big deep breath, finally allowing yourself to get some much needed oxygen into your system.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper painfully.

Dean pulls his hands away and smoothes down your hair when he noticed the crowd forming.

“This isn’t a show, people. Move on,” Dean snaps. Everyone else jumps into motion and scatters so that it’s just you and Dean. He turns to you and takes your hands in his. “I’ll take care of you.”

You want to be happy that he’s here right now, but it’s only going to get worse from here. Every single time you have a panic attack, a major depressive episode follows right after it. It sucks, but you can’t put that burden on Dean. All you can do is just nod and pretend like everything's okay despite your whole world crumbling down.

You haven’t left your room as soon as you and Dean got home. He understands you need time and space, which is why he isn’t concerned all that much. He hopes you can get better, so all he can do is wait right now. Sam is helping his brother unpack what he bought, and they are talking about what happened to you in that store.

“It’s like I saw a completely different person. I didn’t even know she had bad anxiety otherwise, I wouldn’t have asked her to come with me,” Dean sighs.

“You can’t blame yourself, Dean. Anxiety can happen even when you’re the only person in the room. Trust me, I had it for years after Dad died. All you can give her now is space. She’ll ask for help if she needs it.”

Sam is only partially right. You can’t ask for help because you don’t want to put your issues on another person’s shoulders. The only way you’ll get better is if Dean forces himself to help you because there is no way you'll ask for it. Dean expected you to come out of your room sometime that night, but you hadn’t. He isn’t a stranger to panic attacks and anxiety, but he doesn't know how bad it can get for you.

So, when the next day comes, and you still haven’t come out of your room, he becomes concerned. You had cried yourself to sleep last night, and you have been sleeping ever since. When you get into a major depressive episode, you tend to sleep for long periods of time since you don’t have the energy to do anything else. You stop caring about everything else and just sleep your problems away because it’s the one thing you’re good at.

“She still hasn’t come out. Should I check on her?” Dean asks after lunch time.

“Yeah, I would,” Sam nods and takes another bite of his sandwich.

Dean shuffles to your room and knocks quietly. When there is no answer, he opens the door only to see there is a large lump on your bed covered by blankets. He knows it’s you and he knows you’re sleeping otherwise you’d greet him. Sleeping for this long is bad, so he has no other choice but to wake you.

“Sweetheart, you need to wake up,” Dean whispers and brushes your hair out of your face.

“Go away, Dean,” you mutter and turn away from him. He sighs and leaves your room only to return with a plate of food and some water. “Dean, please go away.”

“At least eat and drink this, okay?” he sighs and places the food and water on your nightstand.

He stays where he is for a few minutes before leaving you alone. You stare at the food only to turn away from it and fall back to sleep. You stay like this until it’s dark again. Dean hasn’t seen you all day since you refuse to come out of your room. He has no choice but to check on you only to see you bundled up and sleeping. The food and water has been untouched by you, and that only saddens him. You’re not taking care of yourself, but he doesn’t know how to help you.

He grabs the plate and glass before quietly leaving your room. He has to do something or else you’re not going to survive this.

Eight days have passed, and he hasn’t seen or heard from you. You have locked yourself in your room, refusing to speak to anyone. The only time you leave is when you have to go to the bathroom, and even that is limited. You only drink water when it’s absolutely necessary, but that’s it. You don’t eat, you don’t speak, you don’t even take a shower; you only sleep. Even Castiel and Jack have noticed how depressed you’ve become.

“Okay, we need a plan,” Dean says to the other men in the war room.

It’s come down to meeting together to talk about your health and well-being.

“I don’t know what there is to do. What can we do if she refuses to let us help?” Sam sighs.

“She’s not doing well. I can feel how she’s feeling, and I’m shocked she’s lived this long,” Castiel says the brutal truth.

“Is she going to be okay?” Jack asks sadly.

“I can’t just sit here and do nothing. I’m going to get her shower and then we’re going to clean her room and make it better. She needs our help, and I’m way past the point of asking permission,” Dean declares.

The rest of the men agree, and Dean heads to your room. You can lock the door all you want, but there is a key for cases like this. He uses it to enter your room, and you just groan at the intrusion. The room doesn’t smell too great since you haven’t left it and have been basically living in our own filth.

“Seriously, why can’t you leave me alone?” you whimper.

“We’ve left you alone for nine days, Y/N. It’s time you get up and shower and take care of yourself.”

“No.”

“Come on, you’re getting up,” Dean says and grabs your arm.

You have no energy to fight him, so you have no choice but to do what he says. He is the puppeteer, and you are his puppet. He pulls the covers back so you can get out of bed, and even all of this takes so much energy out of you.

“Why can’t you just leave me alone?” you sniffle.

“I wouldn’t be a good friend if I did. Come on,” he urges.

He takes you to the bathroom that is less than twenty steps from your room. The bathroom is like a locker room with many shower and toilet stalls, a place to bathe, a bunch of sinks, and everything else you’d need to make this a community bathroom. As soon as you are out of your room, Sam, Castiel, and Jack go to work cleaning it for you.

“You need to take a shower and clean yourself,” Dean instructs.

He turns on the facet to the bathtub and waits until it’s full enough for you to be submerged to your shoulders. He goes to take your shirt off, but you jump away from him with wide eyes.

“No, I won’t let you see me naked.”

“Y/N, you need to clean yourself. This isn’t good for you.”

“I can’t let you do it.”

“Fine, but if I leave, do you promise me you’ll bathe? Properly? Please?” he sighs.

You can’t say no to him and you can’t disappoint him even though you know you have.

“I promise,” you whisper.

“Okay.”

He leaves some towels and a change of clothes for you by the door where they won't get wet and leaves you to it. You strip down until you’re bare and get inside the warm water. You have to admit, it is nice to finally get soap on your hair and skin. Your teeth need brushing, your face needs cleansing, and you’re pretty sure you need to do at least two-three rounds of washing your hair and body before it’s at least presentable.

You’re not sure how long you’re in the bathroom until you hear Dean knock on the door.

“Y/N? Are you done? Can I come in?”

“Okay,” you say numbly.

You’re already in the change of clothes that Dean left for you, so when he opens the door, you know you’re okay to be seen by him. He takes the towels away from you, but he lets you keep the one wrapped up in your hair. He escorts you back to your room, and you almost cry at how nice it looks.

The boys really did their best to make it livelier in here. It smells like lavender, the sheets are washed, the floor is vacuumed, and everything looks as if you hadn’t camped out in here for a week straight.

“Come on, you need to eat something.”

Dean lets you brush your hair in your room before taking you to the kitchen. There is already a meal waiting for you when you take a seat. Sam brings you some water, and you gulp it down gratefully. You know he is waiting for you to eat something, so to please him, you take a bite of your sandwich, and wow, that is really good.

“I want to help you, Y/N, but I can’t if I don’t know what is wrong,” Dean says as he watches you eat.

“Most of the time, nothing is. Sometimes I just fall into depression and it’s very hard to bring me out of it. I’ve had to do this alone, and sometimes, I go months of being like this. I have Major Depressive Disorder and Panic Disorder. I should have told you before I moved in, but you were just so nice to me. When I get anxiety attacks like I did at the store, I fall into depression. It can happen anytime, anywhere, so there are no warnings. I want to get better, I just don’t know how.”

“Well, I know one thing to be true. You’re not alone, I can help you. You just have to let me.”

The past week has been hell for Dean since you weren't there by his side. He realizes that he likes you a lot, a lot, and seeing you in so much pain brings him pain. He’s never dealt with someone who has PDO and MDD, but he is going to learn how to help, for you because he’d do anything for you.

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[meganlpie]

Always Sam

Based on this request from Wattpad:  Dean x demon reader the reader got turned into a demon by Crowley and is now the strongest and most feared demon now and is back for revenge and it is dean’s fault it happened because he had to choose between sam and y/n and now y/n is in love with Sam

Here you are lovelies! The first of the new requests! I do not own ANY Supernatural characters. They belong to the writers/creators of the show.

Warnings: ANGST! Mentions of death, demons, SPN magic stuff. Ya know. 

Pairings: Sam Winchester x demon!reader, enemy!Dean Winchester, mentions of Crowley. 

*F/N= fake name

You watched with a glare as once again, Dean rushed to Sam's side. Even as you were lying there dying, Dean went to Sam. You understood that they were brothers, but you had saved both their lives on countless occasions. But, as always, when given the choice between Sam or someone else, Dean ALWAYS chose Sam. Always. So, you accepted the fact that you were going to die knowing that, if there was a chance, you were going to haunt Dean Winchester for the rest of his life. That was your last thought before everything went dark.

         It seemed like mere moments later that you heard an accent you knew very well beckoning you back. "Open your eyes, Y/N. See the world as I do." You grumbled a bit, thinking you may have been dreaming, but opened your eyes all the same. Unsurprisingly, you saw Crowley staring down at you. However, you were surprised that you were in an unfamiliar place. Everything came rushing back to you as you sat up.

         "Am I-?" Crowley smirked as he continued your question, "In Hell? Give the hunter a prize. Although I don't suppose you'll be doing much hunting anymore." You glared at him, swinging your legs over the side of the bed. "Why aren't I being tortured like the other lost souls?" you snapped at him. Crowley chuckled and shook his head before conjuring a mirror.

         "Because you're tortured enough, Y/N." You glanced in the mirror and blinked, only to jump back when black eyes looked back at you from a body that wasn't yours. "A demon?" Crowley nodded. Thoughts bounced around your head as everything came crashing down around you. This was the one thing you never wanted. "Sorry about the meat suit. The boys gave you a hunter's funeral. No body for you to go back to."

         The very mentions of the Winchesters brought back your anger. Not at Sam. But at Dean. It was his fault you ended up here. His fault that you were a demon now instead of in Heaven or, better yet, alive! You ground your teeth as anger filled you in a way it never had before. The need for revenge was stronger than you'd ever felt when you were human.

         "That's it, Y/N. Give into it." You glared at him, but he merely chuckled. "This why you're already a demon. Your anger. Your resentment. It all twisted your soul and made you into the very thing you always hated. But you have power here, Y/N. Power you never dreamed. And once I teach you how to harness it, you can do practically anything." Crowley's words sound like honey and you imagined all the ways you could enact the revenge you so desperately craved.

         "What would you like to do with your new demon status?" Crowley asked. You blinked up at him with furrowed brows. There was only one answer. "Make Dean Winchester suffer."

         "Perfect," came Crowley's reply with a grin.

*time skip*

         It took months of planning, but finally you were ready to get your payback. You harnessed your powers so quickly and ferociously that every demon in Hell, other than Crowley, feared and respected you. But now it was time for you to return to Earth. "I'll be checking in," Crowley told you and you left.

         Finding the Winchesters was easy enough. The second part of your plan was a little more difficult. Getting Sam to fall for you. After losing so many people, Sam did not fall easily. But you were determined and, to make matters better, Dean "introduced" you to his brother.

         "Hey, Sammy! This is F/N. F/N, this is my brother Sam." You stuck out your hand and smiled. "Want a drink?" Dean asked and you nodded. He walked off, leaving you alone with Sam. You started up a conversation and, at the end of the night, you found yourself in Sam's motel room. That was the beginning of the end for all of you.

         For weeks after that, you and Sam texted and called whenever he wasn't hunting. Occasionally, if you happened to be in the same vicinity for "work", you and he would meet up for dinner or coffee or even just a night of passion. It was never the same thing twice with him and you hated to admit it, but you enjoyed it. Still, you plans for revenge were never far from your mind. You didn't know that Dean was keeping a close eye on you.

         You were out with Sam one night when it all came crashing down. Sam took your hands in his and met your gaze. "I love you," he stated so seriously that there was no mistaking that he meant it. Those words threw you. You hadn't been expecting them so soon, if really at all.

         "Sam I-I-" you couldn't form the words. You were a demon. Demons didn't love. Did they? You wouldn't have a chance to say anything more though because the door was practically kicked off its hinges. "Dean?" Dean walked in with his gun pointed at you.

         "Move away, Sam. That's not who we think." Sam merely stared between you and Dean. You chuckled lightly and shook your head as you looked down at the floor. "So, you finally figured it out, did ya, Dean?" you asked. You picked your head back up, flashing your black eyes.

         "What do you want with Sam?!" You rolled your eyes, flashing them back to the color they were. "Okay, so you haven't figured it out. You know, for such a good big brother, your instincts were certainly off this time. Too bad. This makes my revenge a lot less satisfying."

         "Revenge? For what?" Sam asked, holding out his hand to try and get Dean to lower the gun. "You mean you don't know?" you asked innocently before facing Dean again. "Tell him, Dean. Tell him how you always choose him over anyone else. Tell him that it's because of you I'm like this. You know, you could have at least left me my body to come back to. I miss my body." Dean looked confused for a moment before lowering the gun slightly. "Y-Y/N?"

         "BINGO! Give the man a medal!" Sam stepped in, blocking Dean from your view. "Y/N?" Your anger melted slightly as you looked at the giant of a man in front of you. "Yeah, Sam. It's me. Has been." Sam stared at you for a minute. "But why? How is this Dean's fault?"

         "You really don't know? Think back to when I died. The hunt we did. Your wounds were superficial! Dean could have saved me, but instead he chose you! He always chose you! I died angry and resentful and hurt and because of that, I came back as a demon!" you shouted, making Sam jump and causing Dean to raise the gun again.

         With a flick of your wrist, you sent the gun flying. "You know that wouldn't work on me anyway," you stated as you calmed down, moving once more to bring Dean into your line of sight. "You know," you continued, "This wasn't how I planned this. I was supposed to kill Sam, but I can't do that now."

         "Why not?" Sam asked. You turned to him with a smile. "Because, despite everything has done to me, you aren't him. And honestly? I…I care about you, Sam Winchester. I don't know if it's love. I don't think demons can love, but whatever it is, it's close to it. So, I have a better idea." Sam raised a brow.

         "You come with me and I leave Dean here to wallow in his misery." Sam opened his mouth in surprise. But you never got to hear an answer. You felt the bullet from the Colt before you heard it. How could you have forgotten about that damned gun? You crumpled to the ground, knowing you were going to die for real this time. The only one who could save you now was Crowley and he was nowhere around.

         Sam was by your side in an instant. "Y/N," he whispered, his voice cracking. You let out a wry chuckle. "See? I told you." Sam looked confused for a minute. "He will always choose you, Sam. Your life over everything, even your happiness." You groaned a little as the meat suit began dying. "You know, I think I do love you. Tell Crowley that when you see him again, okay?" you managed to mutter before the body finally gave into death.

         Sam sat there, cradling the body that temporarily been yours as his eyes filled with tears. "Sam?" Dean questioned but Sam didn't want to hear it. "Don't, Dean. Just don't." Sam got up, scooping you up in his arms, ready to burn your body once again. He walked with a heavy heart as he his mind raced and his heart was torn between his brother and the demon he'd come to love. A demon that only the King of Hell could bring back to him.

(a/n: How’d I do? It’s been a bit since I wrote anything SPN. I hope you like it!)

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Supernatural Tags: @jotink78​

[chips1977]

WARNING : I'm just an addict ... addicted to music. There are people who are born to make music, o8 thers are born to hearing. Whenever was part of this second group. Maybe it's. a habit, I gotta use, even if it 's rock, jazz or the quiet storm. Great pictures of the things I love - music, painting, books, photography, architecture, design, women, and more. I love music more than lasagna. Better to burn out than fade away. The older you get, the better life gets. But time also seems to be accelerating, the clock running too fast. So, looking at those early days, everything is very slow, stretched, and great significance. The most recent time, I spent busy with simple things.People think rock and roll is only about teenage rebellion, but why can not exist old rebel too? THE RESIDENTS is my Biggest Addiction, and,THE RED KRAYOLA, OLD TIME RELIJUN-ARRINGTON DIONYSO,R. STEVIE MOORE,SHRIMP BOAT,SMEGMA,THE SUN CITY GIRLS, LEGENDARY PINK DOTS,MINIMAL COMPACT,FRANK ZAPPA,CAPTAIN BEEFHEART,THE VELVET UNDERGROUND,THINKING FELLERS UNION LOCAL 282,THE EX,CAN,FAUST,WEEN,TELEVISION,THE MODERN LOVERS,SNAKEFINGER,MILES DAVIS,SUN RA,KRAFTWERK,ANAL MAGIC & REV. DWIGHT FRIZZELL,MICHAEL YONKERS,MOONDOG,THE WORK,RAYMOND SCOTT,THE GO-BETWEENS,SLAPPY HAPPY,ART BEARS,NAKED CITY,HENRY COW,SKELETON CREW,JOHN ZORN,FRED FRITH,THE FIBONACCIS,BONGWATER-MARK KRAMER,SHOCKABILLY,BAND OF SUSANS,THE PAINTEENS,STUMP,RENALDO AND LOAF,CERTAIN GENERAL,THE THREE JOHNS,CHROME,PRIMUS-LES CLAYPOOL,EUGENE CHADBOURNE,ESKIMO, MINUTEMEN, MISSION OF BURMA,FUGAZI,BLURT, GLAXO BABIES,THIS HEAT,THE SEA AND CAKE,SAVAGE REPUBLIC,TUXEDO MOON, XTC,U.S,MAPLE,THE PAPER CHASE,DANIEL SMITH- DANIELSON FAMILE .......  Other musical priorities are: HENRY FLYNT, THE FEELIES,PERE UBU,THE CLASH, JOY DIVISION, PROTOMARTYR, CAR SEAT HEADREST,THE BETTER-BEATLES, DARKSIDE,THE MEMBRANES, THEATRE OF HATE, NOCTURNAL PROJECTIONS,THE LINES,CARDINAL,CLEANERS FROM VENUS,THE JAZZ BUTCHER, ELVIS COSTELLO,THE MONOCHROME SET, TELEVISION PERSONALITIES, ALTERNATIVE TV, GONG,ANNIE ANXIETY, THE DEL-BYZANTEENS, WALL OF VOODOO, BUTHOLE SURFERS, RICHARD DAWSON, MAC DeMARCO,WOVEN HAND,16 HORSEPOWER, DAVID EUGENE EDWARDS,SHELLAC, SLINT-PAPA M-DAVID PAJO, LUNGFISH, OM, EARTH,THE BOOK OF KNOTS,LOUNGE LIZARDS-JOHN LURIE,ANTON FIER-GOLDEN PALOMINOS,PETER BLEGVAD,PETER HAMMILL,TOMAHWAK,FANTOMAS,MR. BUNGLE, MIKE PATTON, SUICIDE-MARTIN REV+ALAN VEGA,AARON FREEMAN,JAPAN,STEREOLAB, SPACEMEN 3, SPECTRUM, SWELL MAPS, SILVER APPES, SWELL,MORPHINE, HAWKWIND, DEVO,FLYING LIZARDS, MAGAZINE, RALPH CARNEY,ROBERT WYATT, JOHN WILKES BOOZE, KEVIN COYNE, DAEVID ALLEN, SLEEPYTIME GORILLA MUSEUM, MX-80 SOUND, SOPOR AETERNUS & The ENSEMBLE of SHADOWS, THE AUTEURS,MAN MAN, DAMIEN JURADO, DAVID DONDERO, CHAD VANGALLEN, LONG FIN KILLIE, MAGIC TRICK-TIN COHEN, CHRIS COHEN, DAVID BAZAN,VAMPIRE RODENTS, JON WAYNE, PRAM,THE OLIVIA TREMOR CONTROL, PAVEMENT, PATTI SMITH, FUGS, PEARLS BEFORE SWINE-TOM RAP, UNITED STATES OF AMERICA-JOSEPH BYRD, FAMILY, GODZ, BONZO DOG DOO DAH BAND,PENTANGLE,THE INCREDIBLE STRING BAND, SLOVENLY, CHEER- ACCIDENT, TARWATER, COIL,THROBBING GRISTLE, SHAWN LEE, CLUTCHY HOPKINS, JURYMAN AKA IAN SIMMONDS AKA WISE IN TIME+SANDALS, ZOOGZ RIFT, THE BOOKS,NEW THRILL PARADE, CHRIS KNOX , DAVID KILGOUR,THE BATS,THE CLEAN,THE PIN GROUP, CRIME CITY SOLUTION, ROWLAND S. HOWARD,TOM WAITS, VIC CHESNUTT, JOE HENRY, ALEJANDRO ESCOVEDO,THE TAPE BEATLES,THE GUN CLUB, MAGAZINE,THE DENGUE FEVER,THE PAPER CHASE,THE FIERY FURNACES,THE MICROPHONES-PHIL ELVRUM,GARY WAR,RAILROAD JERK, KARL BLACK- SOCK HEADDED PETERS-LEMON KITTENS,THE MUSIC TAPES,THE SHAGGS, BOBB TRIMBLE, FISH AND ROSES, DIABLO SWING ORCHESTRA,POP D`ELL ARTE,MLER IF DADA,TOM ZÉ, WALTER FRANCO,OS MUTANTES,CAETANO VELOSO,MILTON NASCIMENTO, ARNALDO ANTUNES,VINICIUS CANTUARIA,JORGE BEN,CAZUZA,CEREBRO ELECTRONICO,CORDEL DE FOGO ENCANTADO,ROGERIO SKYLAB,OTTO, MOMBOJÓ,CRIOULO,MAX CASTRO, METÁ METÁ, ATALHOS, ROMULO FROES,WADO,ORQUESTRA IMPERIAL, LENINE,APANHADOR SÓ,MUNDO LIVRE SA,NAÇÃO ZUMBI, ALÇEU VALENÇA,ANT- BEE, BILL FAY,RON SEXSMITH,EL GUAPO,DAVID GRUBS,TORTOISE, SAM PREKOP, GASTR DEL SOL,HENRY KAISER,HOME & GARDEN, BOB DRAKE, MY DEAD IS DEAD, AKRON FAMILY, SWANS,THESE IMMORTAL SOULS, UNREST WORK & PLAY,THE TAPE BEATLES,THIS KIND OF PUNISHMENT,SWOLLEN MONKEYS (Ralph Carney) LIARS, SNAPPED ANKLES, CAVERN ANTI-MATTER, GANG GANG DANCE, THE DAMAGE MANUAL,THE BLACK ANGELS,SCOUT NIBLET,DIE FORM,LONELADY,COP SHOOT COP,WAR ON DRUGS,THE MONKS,TIM HUEY,TRACHTENBURG FAMILY,THE TRIFFIDS,THE CRUEL SEA,THE MEKONS,THE METOD ACTORS,THE SOFT BOYS,THE MISTAKES,THE MOUNTAIN GOATS,THE NEW CREATION, BRUCE HAACK, LOREN MAZZACANE CONNORS,GLEN BRANCA,ALBERT MARCOEUR,LOS ANGELES FREE MUSIC SOCIETY, SHELLEY HIRSCH,NEW YORK GONG,THE POLYPHONIC SPREE,LYDIA LUNCH,LOVE, LUCIA PAMELA,FATIMA MIRANDA,SAFETY SCISSOR S,RICHARD HELL & VOIDOIDS, SACCHARINE TRUST, ADAM FORKNER of [[[[VVRSSNN]]] YUME BITSU, ROY MONTGOMERY,RUN ON, LOVELY LITTLE GIRLS,SAFETY SCISSORS, BRIDE OF NO NO,TONE DOGS,TREAT HER RIGHT,TRIPOD JIMMIE,LIFTER PULLER,THEY MIGHT BY GIANTS,GANG OF FOUR,THE POP GROUP, WIRE, JOSEPH K, ORANGE JUICE, RAIN PARADE, THE GREEN ON REED, THE RENDERS,SOUL COUGHING-MIKE DOUGHTY, MAZARIN, KARATE- GEOFF FARINA, SECRET STARS,THE CHURCH, BLANK DOGS, FROG EYES, JOAN OF ARC, PURE X, YUNG WU,WAKE OOLOO, SPEED THE PLOUGH, DRIVE BY TRUCKERS, CAMPER VAN BEETHOVEN, MARTIN NEWELL, ERLAND and The CARNIVAL, CRIPPLED BLACK PHOENIX,CALIFONE,RED RED MEAT, LOW, Eels, LOWER DENS,THE BLACK HEART PROCESSION, KING MISSILE, THE NOTWIST, CLINIC, QUICKSPACE,THE COMSAT ANGELS,THE ASSOCIATES, EZRA FURMAN and THE HARPOONS, EFF BARZELAY, BORN RUFIANS, FERGUS & GERONIMO, CHAIN AND THE GANG-IAN SEVENONIOUS-WEIRD WAR-THE MAKE UP,ESCAPIST,MOONFACE, DEAN BLUNT,COLLEEN,ZERO 7,THREE MILE PILOT,LIFE WITHOUT BUILDINGS, CLOUD CULT,BLACKOUT BEACH,PINBACK,ARIEL PINK,MAGIC HOUR,MAJOR STARS, MAPS & ATLASES, MEGAFAUN,MENOMENA,TAME IMPALA, AMPS FOR CHRIST,ARBOURETUM,TRUE WIDOW,NANA GRIZOL,TIMBER TIMBRE,THE, IMPOSSIBLE SHAPES,THE LOVE EVERYTHING,THE MAE SHI, DEAD SKELETONS,THE SHIPPING NEWS,NEW WET KOJAK,GIRLS AGAINTS BOYS,LES SAVY FAV,GERMAN SHEPHERDS,SILKWORM,DIANOGAH,31 KNOTS,90 DAY MEN, 17 PYGMIES,PARENTHETICAL GIRLS, GUN OUTFIT,VAMPIRE RODENTS, PUMA JAW-PINKIE MACLURE and JOHN WILLS, SLUG GUTS, DOG FACED HERMANS, GOD IS MY CO-PILOT, THE SKULL DEFEKTS, CUL de SAC, PELL MELL, FOR CARNATION, MARVIN PONTIAC, ARIEL PINK, FLAT WORMS, AMEN DUNES, IDDLES, WAXAHATCHEE, WOLF PARADE, SUN KILL MOON, NATALIE PRESS ,CHELSEA WOLFE, SHILPA RAY, INCA SILVER, IBEYI, ANGEL OLSEN,THE COMET IS COMING,SLEAFORD MODS, VAGABOND, SUUNS, MADONNATRON, BIG THIEF, FAT, SHAME, SAVAGES, ICEAGE, OMNI, PARQUET COURTS, WHITE FAMILY, LYDA HUSIK, SHARON VAN ETTEN, dEUS, MITSKI, LAUREL HALO,JULIA HOLTER, MARISSA NADLER, JOSEPHINE FOSTER,TRACY BRYANT, MALE GAZE, TY SEGALL,THEE OH SEES, TYVEK, GOAT, WAND,YUCK, THE MOONLANDINGZ, VIET CONG, OUGHT, ALLAH-LAS,THE FRESH & ONLYS, WHITE FENCE, LAURA MARLING, EMA, PHAEDRA, LHASA, FIRST AID KIT, JANE WEAVER, WYE OAK, CAROLINER AKA CAROLINER RAIBOW ... E gosto de viajar, andar de bicicleta, de comboios, de animais.... não gosto de pessoas superficiais... sem cultura.Gosto de dança, de arte o que quer que isso seja!. Não gosto da monotonia. Gosto de criticar no sentido positivo. Não gosto de sonhar em ficar rico. Gosto do “Vive cada dia como se fosse o último “. Não gosto de despedidas. Gosto de pormenores.Gosto de perfumes. Não gosto de mentir nem que me mintam, não suporto hipócritas.Gosto do mar. Não gosto de quem não acredita em nada e não se importa com nada e tem a profundidade de uma colher... Gosto de viajar, gosto de ajudar e de saber que pude ser útil a alguém em qualquer coisa. Não gosto da efemeridade da vida e da constante lembrança da proximidade da morte. Não gosto de não perceber. Não gosto de atrasos e de quem não é capaz de cumprir as suas promessas, não gosto de quem volta atrás com a sua palavra e ainda menos que voltem atrás comigo. Não gosto da cusquice.Gosto de amigos e da camaradagem, não gosto das” amizades “que se perdem por coisas que no final das contas não significam nada... Gosto de palavras e de conversas sem fim... Gosto de pessoas originais, com humor,com ideias próprias... e com classe. Não gosto de carinho quando estou nervoso.Gosto do campo. Não gosto de seguir a onda.Gosto de coisas pouco claras, mas bem esclarecidas. Gosto de dominar. Não gosto de brincar com os sentimentos dos outros.Gosto de toques e de trocas de olhar, de demonstrações de carinho e de cenas sensuais. Não gosto de ficar bêbado até dizer a verdade. Gosto da grandeza das coisas simples, e gosto de coisas complicadas mas não gosto de complicações... O comum não me atrai, gosto normalmente de coisas que passam despercebidas... Gosto de gostar e de não gostar de tudo isto e muito mais...

[adhdeancas]

Sunset Sound: God is Dead?

I might start updating twice a week because I am writing this story at BREAKNECK speed. this is my favorite chapter so far. enjoy! (special thanks to @friedchickenangelwings once again for sticking with me and my incessant rambling about this story at all hours during holidays)

Fic Summary:  Everything is the same up to the end of 15x20. Chuck has been “defeated,” but it was all a farce. When Jack absorbed Chuck, Chuck easily took over the 3 year old’s body and acted as if he were defeated. Chuck!Jack then had the Rusty Nail placed in the barn where Dean died, and with Cas gone, Dean didn’t fight it. Chuck did reimagine Heaven, but he’s fed the same lie to them all: that everything is perfect, they are free, they are in real paradise. Except it’s all an illusion insulated by blue skies and endless horizons. Because, just like the Good Place, people make Heaven into Hell for each other. And there’s nothing Chuck loves more than the natural order of tragedy. He “let it slip” to Bobby that he brought Cas back, when he really left him to rot in the Empty. Dean has to find his best friend before it’s too late, and he has to keep a happy face for everyone else, because Chuck is watching. Always watching. 

“You know?” Dean shakes his head. “What’s going on?” 

Charlie leans back against the bar. “Well, after Ash and I found each other-” they give a cute little nod of the head in sync, dorks, “through the frankly shitty wifi they’ve got up here, we got to talking.” 

“Yeah, we realized some shit just didn’t add up. Like angel radio.” Ash spins around and ducks into his backroom, coming back with a laptop that’s way more advanced than it was last time. Dean raises his eyebrows at it. “Yeah, man, it’s sick, right? Charlie upgraded my systems, it’s bitchin’.” he reaches past Dean’s shoulder to give Charlie a fist bump (enthusiastically returned) and Dean backs off. 

“Yeah, bitchin’,” Dean repeats with a grin. He’s too dumb for these people. But he sure is glad they’re on his side.  “Well, hey, show me whatcha got.” 

Ash nods and taps his temple. He mutters to himself and pulls the system toward him while Dean watches anxiously. Ash pauses and looks at him. “Dude. Gimme a second? This setup is a lil’ more complicated than your blackberry.”

Dean snorts and gives him space, followed by Charlie. “Dude. you’ve been dead too long. Blackberrys haven’t existed for like… ten years.”

Ash gives him a genial middle finger and Dean grins. Charlie sits up on the pool table and Dean leans against it next to her. “Listen, Charlie, I gotta. I gotta say sorry, again, for…” He clears his throat. 

“Dying?” Charlie asks lightly.

“Uh, yeah.” 

“Not your fault, Dean.” She shrugs, and she actually manages to look cheerful. Damn, Dean loves this chick. She puts her hand on his shoulder and shakes her head. “Seriously, Dean. Let it go! I have! Seriously, I got to spend a few years with my high school girlfriend watching Lord of the Rings - she was a cheerleader - and sneaking out to design some fucking world-altering programs with Ash! Being dead, for me, it’s kinda amazing.” She smiles at him. “Guessing you don’t feel the same though, huh?” 

Dean swallows. He doesn’t know how much he wants to say about that, but being dead… it definitely sucks. And not in the good way. “Guess it just feels like I got more to do. Now, at least.” Now that Cas is… and heaven is…

Charlie looks like she doesn’t know what to say. Luckily, they’re interrupted before she has to think of something.

“Eyo! Sorry, amigos,” he leans over backwards to look at them. “Found it.” 

Charlie jumps off the table and grabs Dean’s hand. After a few steps she shoves him with her shoulder until he bumps into Ash’s back. Dean bounces off his soft form and clears his throat. “Sorry,” he mutters, throwing a death glare back at his surrogate sister. She flashes him a smug grin before focusing back on the computer screen. 

Ash recovers from getting jostled in time to point. “Yeah, so, we got word on Angel FM that this Jack kid is goin’ real Jim Jones over here.” He holds a finger up at several paragraphs as he’s flipping through them. “Preachin’ all kinda love and peace and hippy commune shit, but if somebody even questions it, he snaps. Naomi no-likey,” He smirks up at Dean and points to a group of cuss-words even Dean barely uses. “Rough translation.” 

Dean shakes his head. “That doesn’t sound like Jack.” Jack, especially Jack-with-a-soul, almost never got mad. I mean, he’d spent quality time with Lucifer without blowing up. The kid is level-headed to a fault. “Anything else?”

Ash frowns at him. “Y’know, going through angels’ personal phone calls is a lotta work.” 

Dean rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, you’re a genius. Got anything else?” 

“Ash, what about the human rumors?” 

Ash looks at Charlie and they have a silent battle of wills, but Dean’s too impatient to see who wins. “What human rumors?” 

They pause and come to an agreement. “Fighting. People fighting. Couples. Families. Friends. All over, since the reboot. People are happy, but… it’s like earth. People can talk - people can fight.” 

“And?” Dean raises his eyebrows. There’s something they’re not telling him, and he thinks he knows what.

Ash raises them right back. He’s not about to divulge. “Hombre, this ain’t earth. People are supposed to be happy. If they ain’t… like a glitch in the matrix, y’know?

Dean grunts. “Anything else weird on the radio? Anything at all.” 

Ash’s sigh sounds labored. He leans back in his chair and wobbles, obviously sorting through all the enochian bullshit he’s read over the past… whenever. “Meh… I got… I don’t know, God was singing?” 

“Singing? Singing what?” Dean leans in, intent. If it was Taylor Swift, Beyonce, maybe Lizzo… 

Ash cocks an eyebrow. “Folk shit. Indie music.” 

That’s what Dean was afraid of. “Shit.”

“Why? What does that mean?” Charlie grabs onto his arm. 

Dean’s worst fears, that’s what. “It means that ain’t my kid. It’s Chuck.” 

“Who the hell is that?” Ash stands up as Dean walks away, cursing every stupid atom that had decided to make this dumb universe. Although, he guesses, that was Chuck’s purview too. 

“He’s god! God before the reboot I mean, the dick who up and left and only came back to screw me and Sam over. Fuck, I thought we’d finally gotten out from under his thumb! Now, apparently, he’s just using my kid for his meat-suit.” Dean takes a deep breath. This is bad. Worse than bad-bad. 

“So… what do we do? How do we nuke God?” Charlie asks the question like it’s normal, just another Saturday afternoon. 

Dean thumps his forehead onto the nearest table. Sure, sure, good, great. They were back to square fucking one. “I don’t fucking know,” 

“Alright, break it down. We need more mojo, right? How do we get more mojo?” 

“Well, angels are the next best thing, right? Maybe if we get them all together, they’re obviously not psyched about folk-God, or whatever,”

Ash points at her like she’s a genius. “Alright, yeah!” 

“Guys, there aren’t enough angels left to even try.” Dean feels hopeless. There’s nothing to do. They are literally out of options. There’s no hope. 

“Well, where can we get some more angels, then?” 

Dean stands up. “I know a place.” His heart feels like it’s being squeezed like a lemon. It’s a crazy idea. It’s practically impossible. And probably suicide. And he’s gotta find a way. “We gotta break open the Empty.” 

“The Empty?” Ash looks skeptical. Dean smirks. 

“Yeah, angel/demon afterlife. We punch our way in there and we’ve got juice for days, man.” He spreads his arms out, asks the question. 

Ash glances at Charlie then back at Dean. He sniffs and nods. “I’m in.” 

Dean looks to Charlie, who scoffs. “Duh. Of course. So what, we get in and say pretty please help us kill your dad?” 

A warm feeling spreads through Dean’s chest. “Well, we’ll have a little help on the inside. Cas.”

“Castiel? The angel dude?” 

“He’s dead?” Charlie’s voice has much more concern than Ash’s. Dean nods in response to both questions. It still makes him feel like he’s swallowing glass to think about it. “What happened?” 

Dean looks down at his boots. It’s only the scene that keeps playing on repeat behind his eyelids. Cas crying, holding onto his shoulder, telling him… telling him goodbye. Telling him that. “He saved me.” he starts, expression guarded. “He made a deal.” 

Ash grunts and nods, ready to drop it. Charlie stays quiet too, but she clearly wants to say something. Dean’s thankful for the drop. He doesn’t know what he’d say if they asked more. All he knows is that he needs Cas back. And he needs to talk to him. He needs to tell him that - that he wants him to just stay fucking put, damn it. That he needs to stop dying on him. And that he can’t just go and say something like that and then leave. It’s a bitch-ass move. 

“Yo, Deano?” 

Dean jerks his head back up. “Yeah. Sorry.” 

“How do we jail-break ‘em?” 

“Guessing we’re gonna need some serious magic shit. And since we can’t get to Rowena…” 

Ash breaks into a wide grin. “Pamela? I’ll give her a call.” 

Pamela is “busy,” so they have to wait for her to finish up with Jesse before she can come by. Dean has to hand it to her, it’s just about the most Pamela thing in the world to put off their realms-saving work for a heavenly hookup. Dean hangs around talking for a bit, filling his friends in on the latest on Earth, but he can’t concentrate. Ever since they’d decided the next thing is to get into the Empty, he can’t relax. He takes his beer and goes outside to wait, settling down on the Roadhouse’s front step to watch for Pamela.

After a bit, Charlie plops down next to him, a soft grin on her lips. He returns it half-heartedly before looking out across the clearing. She leans her head against his shoulder. A few minutes pass in comfortable silence before she turns into him. “So we gotta get into the Empty.” she sighs. Dean nods glumly. Just his fucking luck. Even heaven is ruined. But at least… at least they’ve got a shot. “And get Castiel.” 

Dean frowns and pulls away to look at her. Maybe it’s just his paranoia, but he hears some deeper meaning in her voice. “The guy died for me. I gotta,” he presses his lips together, hating himself for the half-lie he’s telling. Cas deserves better. Charlie just nods and watches, like she’s waiting for him to keep going. When he manages to talk again, his voice cracks. “We gotta get him, Charlie.” 

Charlie pulls him into a side hug. “I always said he was dreamy, that angel.” She points out. Dean snorts. He remembers. He’d blushed like an idiot after she said that the first time. 

“Yeah.” He mutters. Okay, so she knows. That he and Cas are… that Dean’s… good. Cas deserves recognition. He deserves someone to talk about him. For Dean to talk about him. But then Charlie just hasn’t spoken, and he feels like he needs some explanation. “I… there were other guys, before him.” He continues, clearing his throat. His mind wanders to Benny and Lee, Crowley. “But he’s… he’s it.” 

He risks a look at Charlie and she is just staring at him with a fond smile. She surges forward and kisses his cheek, squealing. “Yes, I fucking knew it, you bisexual dumbass! Bi, right?” 

Dean laughs. “Yeah, I guess- wait, you knew?” 

Charlie looks around, like Dean’s a dumbass it was so obvious. “Well, yeah, dude. Game recognize game.” She motions between the two of them and he scoffs. That’s right. Gaydar. That would’ve been nice to have for the last, oh, 12 years? “We’ll get him back.” 

Dean pulls Charlie in for another hug and leaves her tucked under his arm until a motorcycle pulls up and Pamela gets off, shaking her hair loose like a blind slow-motion model in a porno. She grins at the pair on the steps like she can see them. “Take a picture, you two. It’ll last longer.”

“How did you-”

She throws a hand out in dismissal. “Please, I can feel ogling from a mile away.” She pauses, laughing at the embarrassed silence Charlie and Dean are sporting. “Nah, I’m just joking. I do the hair-shake for a reason. I deserve a good stare. Hell, it’s half the reason I own this motorcycle.” She throws her helmet in the general direction of the motorcycle and greets her friends. Dean can’t decide whose hug is more flirty, his or Charlie’s. 

“Alright, bitches. Let’s séance some shit.” 

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