#young sam and dean winchester

[ssa-atlas-alvez]

heyyy i have a silly little idea!

What if male!reader was the oldest Winchester brother and was dating Aaron Hotchner? idk just a silly little idea i had, Love your writing and make sure to drink lots of water!

Okay so I kind of took this and ran with it, I hope you don't mind aha

Also, reader's like 14 years older than Dean, so in my head he's John's kid from another relationship and is 7 years old when John and Mary get married (based on this timeline I found).

(I might come back to this and do another part at some point aha)

Warnings: John bashing, homophobia mentions

"Hey, you guys want to meet a friend of mine?" You asked, looking at your brothers. Sam nodded, Dean merely shrugged.

"Sure, whatever," He mumbled as he stood up. You held back a sigh, trying to remind yourself that he was just going through a rough patch at the minute. Normally, he took moving from place to place in his stride, but he was struggling this time. You couldn't help but think that perhaps he had connected with someone in Mississippi during the month and a half you were all there. Besides, he was only ten, so it was bound to affect him a lot - despite how much he pretends it doesn't.

Now, you had been in Virginia for the last three months (apparently it was riddled with monsters). You met him your first day here, he had asked for your number with a charm that made your knees weak - so you gave it to him. Despite the charges for texting, you did so every day.

Sam turned to you, "Are they a special friend, (Y/N)?" He asks quietly, unsure if you're going to be offended by the question.

"Yeah, he is Sammy,"

Sam grinned, "Like a special, special friend?"

You huffed a quiet laugh, "Yeah, kid, a special special friend,"

Sam nodded, satisfied with your answer.

"How old is he exactly?" Dean asked as he folded his arms.

"He's 28,"

"28?!" Dean's eyes widen, "Dude, he's so much older than you!"

"It's four years Dean, chill." You rolled your eyes slightly.

"I think it's cool," Sam chimed as he walked up to the pair of you.

"Thank you, Sam." You said, "But we need to keep this between us, okay? Dad can't find out, alright?"

"Why?" Sam asked, looking up at you. You sighed, crouching down to his height. He was only six, he didn't quite know everything that you guys did just yet. Or at least understand it to a full extent. He also didn't understand your dad's... beliefs, let's say, to a full extent either.

"Dad, he... he won't agree with it," You explained gently.

"Why?" Sam asked again.

"He's homofonic." Dean said confidently.

"Homophobic," You correctly gently.

"What does that mean?"

"Well, it's when someone doesn't like that a man and a man or a woman and a woman get together,"

"Like boyfriend and boyfriend?" Sam asked and you nodded, "That's allowed? I thought it was only boyfriends and girlfriends allowed,"

"Well, it was illegal for a long time," You explained, "But it's getting better,"

"Are you allowed to get married to another boy now?"

"Only in a few states," You said.

"Is that why you don't really tell people?"

"Yeah, that's why I don't tell people," You said, "That's why I haven't told dad,"

"Okay," Sam nodded, excepting this once more, "Is your special special friend your boyfriend?"

"Yeah, yeah he is," You said, smiling softly, Sam beamed up at you.

"Really?!"

You nodded, "Yep,"

"That's so cool am I gonna have another big brother?!"

You chuckled softly, ruffling his hair, "Maybe, Sammy, you'll have to ask him,"

"What's his name?"

"Aaron,"

"What's his job?"

"He works for the FBI," You said after a moment's hesitation.

"Are you serious?"

"Dean, I don't wanna hear it,"

"But he's a fed, (Y/N)!" Dean exclaims, following you through the motel hall.

"And?" You ask, raising an eyebrow.

"Seriously?" Dean shakes his head, "Dad'll go mental if he finds out."

"Exactly. If." There's a beat, "Besides, I'm a grown ass man, Dean."

"He's not gonna be happy when he finds out about this." He huffs, folding his arms.

"He's not going to find out about this, you hear me?" You said, "I already told you, no one tells dad, do I make myself clear?"

"Who died and made you king?" Dean snaps.

"Dean, I don't wanna fucking hear it, okay?" You reply, "I'm an adult. You're a kid. Now, get in the car,"

"I don't understand why dad gave you the impala." Dean huffed as he sat in the front seat.

"How about this, when you're old enough to drive, you can drive it and I'll let you have it, yeah?"

"Really?!" You watch as Dean's face light up and you nod.

"Yeah," You smiled slightly, "Now, come on, let's go."

Sam looked at you and gave a small shrug before getting in the car.

It was a short drive to Aaron's apartment, Sam had asked questions the entire way about Aaron and your relationship (ever the curious mind), Dean had pretended not to care (but secretly did). And, soon enough, you parked the Impala and all piled out.

Aaron, as promised, met you outside, smiling. "Hey," He stepped closer to you but made no move to kiss you.

You smiled back, "Hey." Dean coughed loudly, "Oh, right, this is Sam and this is Dean."

Aaron turns to them, "I've heard a lot about you two, you're brother's very proud of you."

"Really?" Sam grinned.

"Of course kid," You ruffled his hair. "Come on, let's go inside."

When you were all inside, Aaron shut the door gently before kissing your cheek. "I missed you,"

"It's been a whole two days,"

"Two days too many," He said softly, Dean cleared his throat.

"Can you not in front of us?" Dean asked, "It's a bit gross,"

You blushed slightly, closing your eyes for a moment before turning to your brothers, "Sorry, go sit on the couch and watch tv or something," You said. Dean nodded, making his way to the couch, but Sam stayed. "What's up?"

"I have some questions," He said gently, looking up at you.

You share a smile with Aaron before you both nod, "Sure," You said - all sitting down at the small table, "What's on your mind, kid?"

"Um, so you're boyfriends?"

"Yep,"

"Is that dangerous?" Sam asked, gnawing at the skin of his bottom lip.

"What do you mean?" You asked gently.

"Well it used to be not allowed so people must have been against it. You won't get hurt for it, will you?"

Your heart melted, seeing the concern on your younger brother's face and you shook your head, "I'll be okay," You reassured, "I'm your big brother, I'll always be okay,"

"But Dean said on the way here that there's some people who are really really against it,"

You closed your eyes, making a note to yourself to talk to Dean about that later. "Yes that can happen sometimes, but I'm not going to let that happen to me, okay?"

"Promise?"

"I promise,"

"Okay, good." With this, he turned to Aaron, "Are you going to be my older brother too?"

[damnikindadontcare]

I will never forgive Supernatural for making Dean out to be the bad guy whenever they came across a teen who wanted to hunt/was already hunting and he pointed out that hey maybe this kid who who hasn’t even graduated highschool yet shouldn’t be hunting fucking monsters

[winchestergifs]

STACKEDNATURAL ⇉ 183/327

10.12 About a Boy Written by Adam Glass Directed by Serge Ladouceur Original Air Date: February 3, 2015

[saradean19]

Dean from the later seasons and Sam from the earliest. Dean becomes even more obsessed with taking care of Sam, claims that he is his property… 🚬

[normalbrothershow]

sam winchester + sophie lewis: abolish the family: a manifesto for care and liberation, 2022

[abitchandabastard]

deadbeat dean x young & impressionable sam

on the deadbeat older brother dean x younger naive baby brother sam train, who’s coming with 😈🙏

[deacons-cut]

GOD I love older!Dean and younger!Sam I will never be normal ab them <333 (might make Stimboards for them)

[jayjay-thejet-plane]

MORE “ABOUT A BOY” DEAN CUZ THE WORMS ATE MY WHOLE BRAIN

hi sorry im back, i cannot stop thinking about tiny touchstarved dean clinging to sam (he hasnt felt this safe since before mary died) and sam just carrying him around the bunker all day (they both pretend its the other who doesnt want to let go but its definitely both of them)

pt.1 pt.3

transcription below

D: This is boring, can we watch a movie or something?

S: … Sure Dee, do you want popcorn?

D: Yeah. And beer

S: Not giving you beer baby

D: … im not a baby

S: Sure you aren’t

[s0fter-sin]

one of my favourite aspects of supernatural that you very rarely see in paranormal shows is that sam and dean are already versed in the world they live in. there’s no sudden discovery of ghosts and demons and now they have to learn about them along with the audience; they are born into it and already know all about it. it allows the audience to follow their personal story instead of also trying to figure out this new world and its rules

the first season is full of knowledge we never see them learn; “w*ndigoes are in the minnesota woods or- or northern michigan. i’ve never even heard of one this far west.” […] “great. well then this [his gun] is useless.” (1x02), “you don’t break a curse. you get the hell out of its way.” (1x08), d: “it’s a god. a pagan god, anyway.” […] “the annual cycle of its killings? and the fact that the victims are always a man and a woman. like some kind of fertility right.” […] s: “the last meal. given to sacrificial victims. d: “yeah, i’m thinking a ritual sacrifice to appease some pagan god.” (1x11)

almost every episode in the first season is a monster they’ve faced before that they then explain to the audience in a way that should feel patronising; like it’s the same speech given over and over again but instead, the audience almost feels included in the knowledge. it’s stated with such an innate confidence and comfort in said knowledge that it feels like we already knew it too; “spirits and demons don't have to unlock doors. if they want inside, they just go through the walls.” […] “the claws, the speed that it moves; could be a skinwalker, maybe a black dog.” (1x02), “it's biblical numerology. you know noah's ark, it rained for forty days. the number means death.” (1x04), “no no no, not the reaper, a reaper. there's reaper lore in pretty much every culture on earth, it goes by 100 different names.” […] “you said it yourself that the clock stopped, right? reapers stop time. and you can only see 'em when they're coming at you which is why i could see it and you couldn't.” (1x12)

they already know and, at least in the first season, already have what they need to kill whatever they’re hunting; already know to salt and burn bones for spirits, fire for a w*ndigo, exorcisms for demons, a silver bullet to the heart for shapeshifters. there’s only three times in the entire first season that they run into something new to them; 1x14 when sam gets his first vision that leads him to another psychic, 1x16 when dean calls caleb for help on the sigil he put together and he tells him about daevas, and 1x20 when they find out vampires are real- and they only don’t know that bc john thought they were hunted to extinction and not worth mentioning

(there’s also technically two half instances if you count one of them knowing something the other doesn’t - sam figuring out the tulpa in 1x17 and dean already knowing about the shtriga in 1x18 - but those still rely on sam and dean having prior knowledge)

even when they’re uncertain about facing something, it’s not bc they don’t know what it is; it’s precisely bc they know what it is and acknowledge that it’ll be a difficult hunt (“i don't know, man. this isn't our normal gig. i mean, demons, they don't want anything, just death and destruction for its own sake. this is big. and i wish dad was here.” 1x04)

so much of the tension in paranormal shows typically comes from the main character(s) not knowing what is happening to them/the people around them and having to find out how to resolve it. supernatural is unique in that it operates more like a police procedural. the tension comes from solving the clues and identifying patterns to figure out who (what) the killer is and intercepting before they can take another victim

it’s such a different tone to go for when compared to other shows that came both before, during, and after its run. it sets sam and dean on even footing with each other since they both have the same knowledge going in, and it puts them in a place of authority usually reserved for an outside character

the shows i compare spn to most is charmed, buffy and teen wolf; every main character in those shows are brought into the paranormal world knowing nothing, putting them on the same level as the audience, and they have their mc interact with others already knowledgeable about that world in order to overcome their problem/monster of the week. the audience organically learns about this new world as the characters learn about it. it’s a sound writing strategy that prevents “as we already know”-style exposition but something that complicates it is if your world building isn’t unique or intriguing enough, this slow introduction can become boring

we’ve seen shows like these before; sitting through the same tropes of characters learning to use their powers, struggling with no longer feeling normal/relating to the regular world around them, and not knowing how much they can trust the people already involved in this new world gets repetitive. all three shows eventually reach the same level of comfort with their new world that spn starts with but if the characters aren’t enough to draw you in, you can end up dropping it before they reach that point (and often, before the overarching plot can really kick in and evolve the show beyond the villain of the week format)

it’s the superhero origin movie in tv format; dragged out and overplayed. dropping the audience into an established world of course comes with its own problems but you also have the benefit of pre-existing established character dynamics that let the audience slot in like they’ve always been there instead of just getting to know all the characters while the characters also get to know each other

sam and dean already knowing about the supernatural lets the audience immediately get to the core of the story; the conflict between sam and dean, the search for their father, and the mystery of what killed their mother

[awaywardfatherswaywardson]

Endverse Dean and Stanford Sam this, late season Dean and early season Sam that, they're great okay BUT, for your consideration...

post series Sam (like right after the finale) and pre series Dean (when Sam is at Stanford)

[bluemerakis]

❝ SHORT STRAW ❞ ──── BLUEMERAKIS

synopsis. based on the episode “a very supernatural christmas”, john winchester’s absence gives dean the chance to reflect on the state of his life, where he realises he got stuck with the one parent he could’ve lived without.

──── warnings. heavy angst, cussing, john winchester hate.

word count. 2.3k

THE JAWS OF NEBRASKAN WINTER don’t know mercy. Its gaping maw looms over the desolate city of Broken Bow, where it whispers an icy tale that settles deep within Dean’s bones—a narrative that just feels like it belongs. And its haunting familiarity is the only reason that it doesn’t sting—doesn’t maul him like an unwelcome trespasser.

Because the cold. . . it just belongs.

Snow streams out in a relentless flurry that cascades over the city, blanketing every architectural peak and worn-down road in sight. Dean’s settled himself against the frost-kissed pane of the motel’s window, nose practically pressed to the glass as he scales the infinite white that nestles into the landscape. But he’s not worried about the way the world gradually seems to disappear—not when the stone-cold bitch had branded him a target at the tender age of four.

The universe is a predator—or at least, that’s what John Winchester always says. It has a knack for the weak and the vulnerable, and will swallow you whole given the chance. Dean doesn’t think of himself as weak, but it’s difficult to deny that he’s vulnerable when his father seems to have no trouble making collateral out of him—formulating plans that leave his neck exposed to the unpredictable fangs of chance, time and time again.

A time like now, where he was left alone to both protect and lie to Sammy while his father was off chasing some false sense of justice. The thought makes him scoff, the hypocrisy of it all squirming beneath his skin like an itch that will never ease away. But he shifts against the windowsill, anyway because it does something to ward off the urge to scratch. To scratch and scratch until he’s raw with the stinging truth that the world doesn’t do justice.

Ain’t no justice in living, only vengeance. Regret. Guilt.

For a man that had spent a good deal of Dean’s so-called childhood snapping the eldest Winchester out of naive daydream and into realist survival, John Winchester sure seemed caught up in the myth of a hero—always trying to save the freaking day. And just for once, Dean hopes, dreams, that his father would one day realise that nobody needed saving more than his own two sons.

But only idiots dream. Dean doesn’t—not anymore. Dreams are reserved for those who don’t know who they are, those who’d like to imagine they could be more. But he knows exactly who he is, what his father had raised him to be:

A lamb awaiting its eventual slaughter.

Dean was a bargaining chip. Expendable. Whenever trouble cornered the Winchester trio, it was always Dean placed on the offence with a gun forced into his palm, while Sammy had his father’s hand to cradle his. Now, the feel of a firearm’s grip felt more comforting than any other means of the very limited support left at Dean’s disposal, the tinge of gunpowder always lingering where his father’s presence couldn’t.

For a second, his head lowers to his lap, where he cradles the gun he knows better than either one of his parents. His eyes trace over its frame, then down the ivory grip—lightly worn by years spent strangling it in search of emotional support. He huffs dryly. Where the prospect of flying bullets should normally have him watching his back, he felt protected. And where his father was supposed to be present, covering his ass, Dean knew that he was never more vulnerable than at John Winchester’s side.

Within reach.

Heaving a deep sigh, the grip on his colt tightens carefully, eyes lifting skyward once more—like the view of the frozen world beyond the window pane would numb the concoction of emotions that fester within him. Quench the fire that he feels igniting at the mere thought of the mess he’d come to call his life.

It doesn’t work.

This fire—the one that consumes him—it doesn’t snuff out under one or two breaths of composure. It doesn’t just fade away. Not unless he does, first. He could try to convince himself that he’ll never be consumed by the type of rage that drives his father to the brink, but he’s not so sure that he could escape something so primal—something written in stone by the same cursed DNA that courses through his veins.

He tracks the way the snowflakes flutter through the air. Their fall from heaven is majestic, almost hypnotising. He finds himself admiring their resolve—the way they fall with collected grace even after the atmosphere discarded them to the pitiful ruins of humanity below. The imagery resonates with some neglected part of him. His jaw clenches at the ache that creeps into his chest, his fingers tightening around the colt’s grip—like he’d be able to gauge the feel of his father’s hand from the countless times he’d manned this gun before Dean.

But he doesn’t know the feeling enough to recognise it.

As the cold settles into the air, it uses all its might to mock the comfort of a blanket, but does little to soothe the chill rattling Sammy’s teeth from some other corner of the room. And it does everything to remind Dean that he’s very much alive. He’d never needed the reminder, not when surviving was the sole objective of his existence. Not when his father’s voice sat nestled in the back of his head, abrading his thoughts like a frostbite that would never heal as it drills him with the responsibility to protect his brother at the cost of his own existence.

Because Dean Winchester didn’t exist for his own convenience. It was always for John Winchester’s.

Behind him, Sammy’s voice, soft and devoid of the hope Dean thought was his only his to sport, filters through the stagnant air of the room.

“Dad isn’t coming, is he?”

The question catches him off-guard, halting his thoughts in place. But Dean’s been caught in this situation enough times to automate a response that doesn’t require an ounce of consideration, his attention steadfast on the snowfall beyond the window as he says, “he’ll be here, Sammy.”

There’s the soft rustle of clothing that Dean guesses is the worked up arms of his little brother forming a tight cross along his chest, a hopeless scoff blaring through. “No, he won’t,” Sam mumbles bitterly, meekly, but the part of Dean that knows the truth latches onto those faint words as though they’d been blared from the rooftop. Because it’s a truth that he already owns, and the lie that neither of the brothers would ever buy—no matter how hard he tried to sell it on his father’s behalf.

Dean’s breath hitches in his chest, his teeth reaching for the skin of his cheek as his gaze staggers from the window pane. His head drops to drink in the view of his lap, his lower lip falling loose with a silence that had always felt more natural than finding the right words. He knew what to say—what he was supposed to say. But he didn’t know how to mean it. Didn’t know if he could, anymore.

Behind him, Sammy finds his voice once more. It’s dull—too dull, a sound that no kid his age should ever be able to recognise, let-alone produce. “He won’t be here because he never is,” he says glumly, but he simmers into a silence that begs Dean to differ. Disprove.

He doesn’t. He doesn’t even look at him—can’t bring himself to. And then there’s a soft shuffle of boots that retreat into the quiet gloom of the room, the sound heavy enough to paint the image of heartbreak that Dean had been trying so hard to avoid.

A few seconds of tense silence pass, and when he finally finds it in himself to spare his brother a glance over his shoulder, the movement feels heavy. Reluctant. There’s nothing he could say that would bring Sammy any sort of comfort. If he knew how to do that sort of thing, he’d know company other than firearms and a routine outside of safe-guarding beside the motel’s windowsill. He didn’t know how to nurture, only how to protect. But his little brother needed more than that, and he couldn’t give it.

He watches as his brother finds the creaky bed pressed against the chipped walls of the room. The younger Winchester kicks off his boots near the foot of the bed, the corners of his lips downturned with a frown that doesn’t take much practice. It sits on his face like it’s natural, now, moulded by the hands of desolate acceptance.

Sammy’s eyes catch his briefly, and suddenly, the brown in them seems darker. Duller. It doesn’t linger for long before the younger brother reaches across the mattress to pull the comforter back, discarding Dean into the rear to be forgotten along with the rest of the day’s disappointment as he settles himself into the sheets. His back is deliberately turned to Dean, like he deserves the shun for being void of miracles. It stings him, but he has to brace against it because their life was no fairytale. And there’d never be a spell to break the curse that seems to bind it.

As he watches over Sammy’s curled up figure beneath the sheets, Dean realises, then, that being stuck with a father like his meant that not even the nativity of childhood was safe from the truth of John’s absence. The only shelter that existed in their lives was the physical ruins below which they slept. But there was no—and would never be—anything durable enough to shield them from the wrecking ball that was John Winchester.

Dean would know. He had tried, and it had cost him enough. He was sure that as the years went by, it’d eventually cost him everything.

“It’ll all be better when you wake up,” he says suddenly, eyes fixed on his little brother with the hope that he’d spare him some ounce of acknowledgment. Forgiveness. But he doesn’t turn. Doesn’t even stir. He swallows thickly before continuing to push a narrative he knows doesn’t cut it—one he feels obliged to deliver. “You’ll see. He’ll be here,” he says firmly—he doesn’t know why. He knows the truth, and it’s exactly why he doesn’t promise.

It would be the hundredth one he’d broken on account of his dad.

But Sammy has been through enough disappointment to not get his hopes up, so he says nothing. Does nothing. But Dean notes the way the steady rise and fall of his figure becomes more drawn out, like he’d finally found a sleep peaceful enough to escape the woes of their life. And he doesn’t probe him further because he deserves that much, at the very least.

He turns his attention back to the window, watching a view he knows won’t change. Nobody was coming. Not tonight—possibly not for the next few days. Who the hell knows, anyway? He slips a glance over to the cupboard near the motel’s doorway, where a couple of gifts he’d stolen from a house down the road takes temporary refuge. He plans to lay it out beneath the tree for Sammy to find come morning and play it off as gifts from their dad.

A bitter part of him aches in protest, but he swallows it down. This was bigger than him. This was about Sammy. If Dean couldn’t protect his own relationship with his father, he could only try to ensure that the same didn’t happen with his brother—not because John Winchester deserved it, but because Sammy deserved to know the type of love that Dean never seemed to qualify for. Not that his planned stunt made it real. Not that it was any of his father’s doing. Dean didn’t even think their father would know what to gift either of them if he’d even taken a chance to think about it.

He scoffs sourly. Screw ‘im, he declares silently, turning his attention back to Sammy’s sleeping figure. He could stay gone, for all Dean cared.

There was nothing fundamentally important about John Winchester. Everything a father should do, Dean could do. He did do them. The only thing his father could still exist to offer was a physical presence to provide comfort, protection. But then again, Dean had never, in his short time of existing, come to know the man as being capable of anything such as that. So, truly, his father’s absence was not an absence at all. Only a truth.

The truth that with or without John Winchester, Dean would survive.

And then the coldest truth of them all strikes his heart like an ode to John Winchester’s cruelty:

Dean could not miss what was never there.

But Sammy—bless his brother—in all his naive goodness, could. So, for him, Dean would spend the rest of his life trying to breathe life into his father’s absence—to keep the man real beyond the occasional and rare sighting of a year. To keep his memory alive, or, at least, the portion of it that actually deserved to live.

With a heart that staggers beneath a burden that should’ve never been his to bear, Dean’s gaze strays from Sammy’s sleeping figure to fixate the window before him once more. The pane is more transparent than his dad had ever been with either of them, giving way to a view that would always be barren; fatherless. And if Dean squinted hard enough, he could almost picture that his father was right here—in the reflection that looked too much like his own, but would always hold a trace of the worst part of himself.

A trace of John Winchester.

He stares a little harder and recognises the furrow nestled between his brows, and the way his jaw strains with the tension of untold truths. The way his eyes glint with distrust and careful calculation. The buried anger that pulls his lips into a taut line incapable of providing affirmation. Praise. The look of judgement that had been cast upon him by his father to the point where he could not feel anything else toward himself—mirrors never reflecting anything beyond a scowl.

In a picture that looked so much like the man he’d never live up to, Dean could only hope that—caught up in the faux-fest of playing his father’s role—he wouldn’t turn out to be exactly like him.

a/n: idk i was on some sad shit period shit when i started this. I just kinda chose violence and decided that if i must suffer you all will suffer too. read this too many times n became blind to errors so you are blind too and don’t see them ok? cool bye

tags — @gibson-g1rl @bohemianblasphemy @fallbhind @titsout4jackles @ultravi0lence14 @angelicjackles @starzify @rositaslabyrinth @littlesoulshine @figthoughts @walkslikesummeractslikerain @daylighted @honeyryewhiskey @deansbbyx @jasvtsc @maddie0101 @lieutenantchaos @spn-reader @bakugotypecrashout @jaydensluv @youdontknowe @lixiesbrowniess @ilovedeanwinchester4 @spoontriestowriteandfails @beelzebzb @piptoost @lunaleah @kr804573 @idontwannabehere78 @lanasgirlfr @cas-only-angel @nperoconelcositoarriba @alidiggory92 @idk-123-0 @mahi-wayy @tuxedoe @cassiecourtemanche @rositaslabyrinth @samslovebug @viluren @h8aaz @bejeweledinterludes @soldiersgirl @cowboysandcigarettes @emeraldcrs @jensenacklesballsack @wa1ks @multiversefanfics @beausling

want to become part of the taglist for future dean winchester works?

other works — supernatural masterlist

© bluemerakis ─ do not plagiarise or steal any of my works.

layout inspo from most talented bree <3 @titsout4jackles

[shipping-all-ships]

Sam and Dean complaining that Michael's physical projection looks exactly like Adam so it's weird when they go all "sex eyes" on each other.

So Michael switches to young John Winchester instead.

[lonewolf638]

pre-stanford sam & dean ⇄ dial drunk, noah kahan.

DEAN Well, it's a two-way street, dude. You could've picked up the phone.

(SAM stares at him sadly.)

[winchestergifs]

STACKEDNATURAL ⇉ 183.5/327

10.12 About a Boy Written by Adam Glass Directed by Serge Ladouceur Original Air Date: February 3, 2015

[deanwinchestersgirl8734]

[all6pistols]

Kid Winchester with the mark of Cain? Why? Because it was a funny thought

though id do a quick doodle of those boys while my poll was still running