#and burn their fucking house down and run away to sam. and then dean and cas can divorce over the ashes

[quietwingsinthesky]

domestic destiel with baby jack except that dean wants to kill himself the entire time because he feels like he’s trapped and can’t keep going through these motions that he doesn’t feel

#<3 i can make this work. i can make this interesting for me. #jack is also not actually baby he’s just shaped like that. he is also suffering and hates it #cas would be having a nice time except that no one else is and even if he doesnt know because theyre lying the vibes are rancid and bleeding #into him #sam is having a bad time too because dean is pushing him out of the picture to better fit the ideal of married life #even if all he’d rather do is live with his brother and chill and run the bunker #keeps saying ‘sam when are you going to marry eileen?’ wedding ring on his finger from when he dragged his vows from his throat for cas to #be happy. (sam broke up with eileen months ago. he just wants his brother back. he wants his best friend back. he wants to stop sitting on #the outside of their family. he wants to see his son as his son and not when he’s pretending to be a child.) #this is going to explode so horribly for everyone <3 #personally i think jack should finally lose it from how he has to play at being so much smaller and less than he is #and burn their fucking house down and run away to sam. and then dean and cas can divorce over the ashes #and then. maybe. they can move forward into a life they can be happy in. not one they force themselves to fit #spn #dean winchester #castiel spn #jack kline #aro!dean #tw suicide

[demonmary]

so. john kills mary au.

important canon notes : there is no yellow eyed demon. john and mary were heaven-arranged with the help of anna as mary’s protector to make sure that sam and dean were conceived.

once sam is born, anna’s watch is ended officially. but she’s fallen for mary and mary for her so she stays close by. she does not trust john. things are getting more and more volatile between him and mary. he’s getting physical. anna has been warned not to interfere, mary’s safety isn’t important anymore - sam and dean are already born. heaven stepped away.

so one night - things get bad. john is off the fucking rails and he’s dead sober and that’s worse somehow and god. he’s angry. and mary’s never seen him like this before and she’s scared and he’s so mad. and he has his hands around her neck and she’s dying. she’s dying. she’s dying and she doesn’t know why but she’s praying too. and with her last breath she calls for anna but it’s too late.

when anna gets there it’s hell. she sees john’s anger and she matches it. she doubles it. she sees his fury and she turns it righteous and she’s screaming with her true voice and john’s bleeding from the ears and crying blood and she slashes at his face with her angel blade and cuts him from cheek to forehead and he doesn’t even know what hit him. one minute he’s standing over his dead wife’s body and the next he’s pinned to the ceiling and this angel is going to kill him. she’s in his head too - replaying scenes of death and destruction from the war mixed in with mary in her wedding dress. the first time he split mary’s lip. mary in the hospital bed with dean in her arms. the time he threw mary down the stairs. mary with child. the first time he strangled mary. mary mother mary. mary dead mary. he can’t focus through the pain - the cut on his face burns like fire and he’s held to the ceiling by anna and the screams couldn’t get louder and then they do. anna loses focus on john and he falls to the floor and there’s burning blue white pure light and wing flashes and angel blades clashing and then john is burning. the room is filled with smoke but it’s. otherwise empty. anna’s gone. whatever came and took her is gone. and there’s just fire. john runs out of his room with mary and leaves her body behind and finds dean in sam’s nursery with him , hiding from the noise and crying and he tells dean to run. and they run. sam still in deans arms even though john’s there to carry them both.

john throws himself into hunting. not to avenge mary but for his own revenge. against the angel that dared to interfere. against the angel that left him scarred. against the angel that he tells sam and dean killed their mother. he keeps his boys close for a minute while he’s on the run from the law bc of the whole. strangled his wife and burnt the house down thing. there’s no I Need To Protect My Kids From Monsters delusion. really - he knows they need to be protected from him, actually, especially so young - so as soon as he meets bobbyandrufus he dumps the boys at the salvage yard for as normal of a childhood as two mostly retired hunters can give ‘em.

sam is actually really into the lore from a young age. he never knew his mom - not really - so he throws himself into learning as much about their family line and angels / the supernatural as possible. he digs into bobby’s stuff all the time , “helps out” with research even tho he’s soooo little. he asks so many questions.

dean doesn’t give a fucKkkkk about that. he’s enrolled in school and loves it. he’s playing sports. he’s making friends. he’s living his best little boy life. until he’s 12 and john deems dean old enough to enlist into john’s war on heaven. deans pissy at first because. this isn’t his life, where’s sammy why can’t he finish the school year . but john makes sure he knows the stakes. makes sure dean knows this is about killing that angel that burned down their family home and scarred john and sent them running. and dean is like yes. we have to avenge mom. and john is like ???? OH. oh yeah. oh yeah her too. this is about your mother obviously yeah. the angel that killed mom. since i didn’t do that that’d be crazy.

and for four years - dean and sam are separated while john trains him. and thinking about the little dean that leaves bobby’s house with a little suitcase waving goodbye to sam. and how different dean is when they come back four years later for sam. and how resentful of being left out and behind and deserted sam would feel. how he doesn’t even recognize the soldier their father turned dean into. they know not to ask about mom because john gets mad but they don’t start picking up on how Off it all is until they’re older.

canon timeline picks back up. john hunting with kids in tow. obviously no azazel , no psychic sam, - focus on anna and angels. for the most part he never encounters any bc john is shit at hunting. but once sam fucks off to college (major in theology!) he and dean stay in touch behind john’s back. sam is doing research for dean - they start picking up that john is hiding shit from them. stanford era dean hunting alone, but calling on sam for help tracking down anna. he finally figures out how to summon her

ohhh the confrontation there is soooo juicy good to me. anna in a ring of fire, dean standing across from the thing he thought killed his mother. he needs to be sure before he calls john so he calls her out. anna cannot remember the last time she was this angry (lies. it was when she was too late to save mary. it was when she was stopped from avenging mary’s death and punished for interfering). anna’s face falls and she’s sick at the thought of mary’s sons growing up thinking she was the monster. growing up idolizing their father. raised by a murderer. she sees mary in deans face though and she calms herself down and she. explains to him everything. she shows him. everything. and here’s how dean kills john can win. i've also thought about how that Confrontation would go. wild things wild thoughts perfect horrible aus

#john kills mary au #long post #abuse tw #lets talk about this i want to talk about my aus lets talk about my aus #zo.txt #my post about this au got more notes than a lot of my silly posts and it was literally just “john killed mary au” basically #maybe this isn't as niche as i thought it would be

[twofrontteethstillcrooked]

Trick or treat: 31 Oct. Suptober

"You," Cas gasped as Dean rose and fell again.

deancas post 15x18 au, spicy schmoop + humor 🌶🎃

also, Happy Halloween, everyone, and a big huge enormous Thank You to @winchester-reload for running Suptober aka the most wonderful time of the year 🧡

Oh. There. 

"Shhh," Cas said, bringing Dean's head down to his for another soft, filthy kiss. 

Dean allowed him to, but only because afterwards the angle was finally right as he eased himself down on Cas's cock, the heat inside of him so stunning he felt the pressure of it in his throat. 

The window, opened a sliver, let cool autumn air curl around his hips and the backs of his thighs where Cas's large, warm hands were helping brace him. Dean trembled and desire finely wrought as spiderweb raced along his bare skin.

"You," Cas gasped as Dean rose and fell again.

"Me what?" Dean leaned more weight on the heels of his hands, all of Cas solid and thrumming beneath him.

Outside, someone was crunching through fallen leaves – maybe the cagey squirrels who lived in the oak tree chasing each other away from acorns, or the postman delivering bills and catalogs. The crispy, wind-swept sounds, contrasted with the light squeaking of the bedsprings, were almost distracting; Cas's gaze never left Dean's.

"Missed you." Cas cupped Dean's jaw, his thumb brushing the hollow of his eye. 

It was always the sincerity that wrecked Dean, bubbled up in him like an ever-replenishing well. He fucking hated crying during sex and he wasn't gonna ruin the first he'd had in two weeks with tears. It was nice, he guessed, of Cas to help Sam and Eileen with a case, even if it meant Dean had spent thirteen days wondering how he'd survive if Cas didn't return. Or, simpler than that: Dean wouldn't. 

Never had before, he thought distantly, as Cas's right hand began to wrap around his aching cock. Why start now. He was only ever saved by Cas surviving.

"God," Dean said, voice shaking. "Please."

Cas was capable of being a tease, a reality that had proven on more than one occasion to be so delightful and indecent Dean would blush to even glance up against those memories. Today, though, Cas was going to be benevolent, the look he was giving Dean far too devoted to be dirty.

Dean squeezed his burning eyes shut and let his body uncoil, focused all his attention on how much he was surrounded by and filled up with Cas, their bodies relearning each other, rhythm a little imprecise and desperate and terribly, perfectly sweet.

Someone was knocking on the door, a million miles away. Let them wait. The leaves told of their giving up. Dean, for his part, wasn't going anywhere.

"Hush," Cas whispered, and as soon as his fingertips slipped against Dean's tongue, Dean came hot and sobbing, streaking Cas's stomach and chest with ghostly white.

Dean opened his eyes and ground down, stilled finally with Cas's hands on his hips as Cas came too, groaning softly, more courteous of anyone making their way from the yard.

The grin that split Dean's face was, he knew, goofy and sweaty and loved. "Hi," he said, leaning forward and touching his forehead to Cas's. "Welcome home."

Cas's returning smile was maybe less silly than shy, an expression that made Dean's chest hurt from adoration. Dean inelegantly half flopped off of him and made himself comfortable regardless of the damp and the sticky, and could feel Cas's silent laughter.

"Hi," Cas said, pushing a lock of hair behind Dean's ear. 

Lot of fucking gazing goin' on, Dean thought, even though he sure as hell wasn't gonna be the first to look away. He was happier than a pig in slop. Romantic sap, through and through.

"You are thinking very loudly," Cas commented, and Dean snorted.

Someone else was determined to interrupt. Their thump-thump-thump on the front door seemed to bump around the house like rattling chains and cold drafts were sure to follow.

A cacophony of very young sounding voices rose up to the bedroom window. "Trick or treat!"

Oh shit. "We gotta get up?" Dean heard the dismay in his own voice.

"You're the one who's been buying candy for nine weeks," Cas pointed out. He coughed. "We should probably take a shower first. And put on clothes."

On their bedside table an old-fashioned alarm clock Dean personally despised said the time was 5:45 p.m. "Those kids are fifteen minutes early. The official trick or treating time is supposed to be 6 p.m. to 9 p.m. Also," he sniffed, "it's not even dark out yet."

"So we have plenty of time to tidy up." Cas raised an eyebrow at him. "Unless your plan was to eat all the candy yourself."

Dean deflected him by asking, "The case went okay?"

"Yes, I swear," Cas said, squinting. "We already talked about this."

Dean propped up on one elbow. "Did we?"

Cas nodded. "I haven't actually been home that long. But we definitely had a conversation when I arrived."

"I must have," Dean said, looming closer, "been distracted." He didn't let Cas respond with anything other than an answering kiss. The blown-black look in Cas's eyes was equally satisfying to the way he shivered like a poltergeist had passed through him. Dean's mouth watered; there were, after all, better things to put in his mouth than grocery store chocolates. "Wanna take that shower now?"

#suptober23 #deancas #destiel #spn #snippetfic #fic #suptober

[talesmaniac89]

Charity Heist 7 - aka. The Scaredy Cat Stratagem

A Supernatural Heist AU - Masterlist

Pairing: Hitter!Dean x Thief!Reader

Summary: The Singer & Winchester Retrieval Agency is the best group of con artists in the world. But even though Y/N can crack safes, scale buildings and infiltrate even the most secure locations, she still can't find a way to deal with her all consuming feelings for the group's greek god of a hitter; Dean Winchester. How will she handle their next big heist, when she's forced to get up close and personal with the man of her dreams?

Warnings: Idiots in love, smutty thoughts, a lot of swearing and a ton of bad jokes.

Watch the trailer here

A/N: This story is 50% jokes and 50% dirty thoughts. No deep angst, just fun and action! Inspired by the series Leverage.

Y/N = Your Name

Start Here - Last - Next

Where were you? Who were you? What the fuck were you?

Your brain was still so far in the fog it was a miracle that you managed to make it downstairs without a damn lighthouse leading the way. Though somehow Sam’s voice in your ear, relaying orders for your every step on the way, kept you focused. While Dean’s eyes burning into your back had spurred you forwards as your fight or flight instinct kicked in. Getting you down the stairs quickly, yet safely. As if you were fleeing from the dangerously attractive weapon’s specialist who was just two steps behind you the whole way down.

Wait… Scratch that ‘as if’. You were totally fleeing. And you were woman enough to admit it.

One second, you’d been opening the door in the office which housed the closet-that-shall-not-be named. If closets that weren’t IKEA made even had names. And the next you’d been downstairs, rubbing elbows with the rich and the wicked. Wanting to bathe in sanitizer to get the stench of their particular brand of evil off of you. 

Successfully running away from your problems once more. Though you had no memory of your latest escape.

Luckily your training had been literally beaten into you since childhood. The joys of going with the mafia as your not-exactly-chosen educational institution instead of, y’know, school. But, it had come in handy for once. As Alicia, was still the star of your one-man show, at least externally. If not, your whole cover would’ve been blown. Just like your damned mind had been.

Why the fuck had you done that? 

At some point, somewhere between the seam in the wall where the safe was and the flimsy safety of the closet, you’d lost your mind. First half of it – and then the other half had set out on a fucking movie trilogy journey to find the first. 

Probably one involving a ring, some tiny hobbits and a wise old wizard. The big, cinematic ending seeing your sense of danger and survival instinct getting thrown into the fucking magma instead of the fucking ring. 

Reckless. Brainless. Stupid…

As Bobby would say; you were an idjit.

Making your way across the crowded floor, you bit the inside of your cheek to not flinch as Dean’s warm palm once more found your bare back. The trained mercenary falling right back into his role just as quickly as you did. Slowly escorting you across the floor, as if you were leaving the party elegantly. Instead of fleeing it like the bat out of hell you were. You were, after all, professionals. Even if you didn’t exactly feel like one. 

That had been dangerous. 

Not to mention the fact that the mafia had been right on the other side of the damn closet door. 

Ok, so maybe your priorities were slightly skewed. You were pretty sure that the amount of firearms the mobsters were carrying would’ve killed you faster than Dean’s lips on yours. But, hell, the biggest danger in your mind still seemed to be your lethally sexy cover date for the evening. Not the big honcho mobster, nor his questionable design choices and gunpowder style of accessories. 

---

Taking a shaky breath, you let the cool evening air shock you back into reality as soon as you made your way safely out of the den of thieves masquerading as a charity event. Allowing the fresh air, free of perfume, cigarette smoke and alcohol fumes, to sharpen your mind. 

Letting some of ‘Alicia’ fall to the wayside along with your plastered on plastic smile, you still had to keep your cover intact for a few more minutes. But, luckily, a little pout fit the arm candy character just as well when leaving a party. Alicia was, after all, a party girl hanging off of the arm of a man that daddy dearest totally wouldn’t approve of.

Shaking away the panic and reflection on the kiss that almost was. You instead refocused on the conversations that were actively playing out in your ear as you let Dean lead you out into the large driveway, over towards the waiting valet. Hell, you even managed to throw him a small, genuine smile as he shrugged off his suit jacket and placed it gently onto your shivering shoulders. Not one of Alicia’s smiles that had made your jaw ache and your cheeks hurt the whole evening.

“...That was way too close Sam! Who’s Bobby’s inside man? I’ll… I’ll ruin his damn credit score,” 

Charlie’s panicked voice and not-so-scary threats were enough to fully ground you and turn your small half smile into a full blown one as you relaxed the shoulders you hadn’t realized you’d been tensing. Next to you, the small chuckle disguised as a cough leaving Dean showed that your hacker’s frantic threat had removed some of the tension from his too. The flat palm against your bare back becoming softer, with calloused fingertips playing against your skin, as he led you the rest of the way over to the valet who already had your car at the ready. 

She was a sight for sore eyes. Though you did miss your bike, or even Dean’s Impala, it was always best to use less personal props for your heists. And hell, as you stepped towards the gleaming black Lexus waiting for you, you had to appreciate that she was a beaut. One already warmed up for your getaway, which made her even more beautiful in your eyes. 

Stepping towards the passenger side of the two seater, you allowed Alicia to slip back in place to throw the valet a small, flirty smile. Biting your lip to keep from laughing as the flustered kid rushed to open your door for you and let you sink into the luxurious seats of the car you’d borrowed for the heist.

Well… Permanently borrowed, would most likely be more correct. But hey, at least the former owner was a crook. So you wouldn’t be losing any sleep over it.

“Considering he’s an insider in one of the biggest, baddest mafia groups around, I don’t think he worries about his credit score Char,” You quipped back a few seconds too late. Jumping back into the conversation again for the first time since you left the boss’ office as soon as you slid into the shotgun seat of the luxury car. Watching out of the corner of your eye as Dean slid into the driver seat.

Keeping your eyes focused forward, you listened to the back and forth of the rest of your team to avoid the gaze Dean threw your way. The tension from earlier had returned with a vengeance now that it was just the two of you in the car. 

The older Winchester kept his eyes on you for a second, before just as quickly throwing the car into drive and getting you the hell out of dodge. Hot on the heels of the rest of your Scooby Gang who had made sure to trickle out shortly before you. With Charlie’s panic, and Sam’s calm matter-of-factness in your ear, you could almost forget you were alone with Dean in the car. 

Almost.

Luckily, or unluckily, depending on how you asked. Crowley decided to speak up to further ruin your mood and tear at your frazzled nerves. The cocky voice of your temporary team mate grinding on your already frayed sanity as he decided to take the downtime afforded by the getaway to further annoy you. As was, apparently, his true calling in life. 

“You’re lucky you had me there darling. If I hadn’t managed to get the boss back down to talk to Castiel, you might have lost that pretty little head of yours,” He drawled across the earpiece. Sounding like he expected some sort of participation medal for being able to rub elbows with the worst people you had the displeasure of ever meeting.

“First of all Crowley, don’t talk to me. Someone might think I actually tolerate you,” You gritted out. The last thing you needed, with your mind still halfway in the fog and your whole body on edge with nerves and adrenaline, was Crowley’s special brand of sass. His voice was 50% more grating than usual to your strained mind.

For a second you considered tearing out the earpiece and chucking it out the window of the speeding Lexus. Though the thought of Charlie’s heartbreak at losing one of her little toys stopped you from following through with the idea. Instead you settled on continuing your little attack on the devil you’d been forced to work with. To at least to get rid of some of the built up frustration from the close call and the closed closet. 

“Second of all, I know you might look down on me since I don’t have a doctorate in tea and crumpets from Hogwarts like you fucking do. But if I was taught one thing it was to think before I act. So if I break your nose as soon as I see you… Know that I have thought things through, thoroughly, and am more than confident in my decision,”

“Ouch, that hurts pet. You wound me,” The infuriating Scotsman chuckled. Sounding anything but hurt as you rolled your eyes at the window in lieu of the mobster himself. 

“Like you even have a heart to wound,” You spat back, just as Dean finally spoke up for the first time since his muttered curse at Sam back in the office.

“Shut up Crowley,” Dean’s voice was still rough and slightly breathless, but the hidden ‘or else’ behind the words, still managed to shut the big bad up for a little while. Which was honestly an impressive feat. Since Crowley never stopped talking. 

“What’s your ETA Dean?” Sam shot in, in a weak attempt at stopping Dean from promising actual bodily harm on someone who was technically on the payroll. At least until the heist was completed. Since you needed a guarantee he’d keep his mouth shut instead of turning turncoat the moment you paid up. 

“We’re one minute out. Do you think anyone noticed anything was off?” Dean’s voice was much more controlled when he answered his brother. Smoothly navigating the fast moving luxury car through the busy streets as he let his business-first mask fall fully back into place. Significantly decreasing the wordless pressure that had been resting like a heavy fucking blanket over the both of you since… Upstairs. 

“No, as Crowley said. We drew their attention. And no one noticed you coming back down. Cameras were doctored. So we should be in the clear,” Sam said, sounding confident in his cleanup job. Which meant you were just as, if not more, confident in your clean escape. 

The kid was a genius.

Didn’t mean you’d forgotten him calling you a kid though. You still predicted sippy cups and bibs in his near future. 

“Did you find the safe (Y/N)?” Sam continued. Dragging you back out of the early planning stage of how you were going to procure enough sippy cups without him noticing. 

“We’re good to go. Will brief you… Later,” You shot back. Hesitant to share anything that could be considered details when you had a possible enemy on the line with you. You trusted Crowley less than you trusted Chocolate Chip cookies to not be raisins in disguise. And you had no trust in those crumbly little bastards.

“So… Where to next?” Crowley shot back in when the line went silent as the rest caught on to the big mobster shaped elephant in the room. Choosing instead to watch as your car drove up to the designated meeting spot just as the big bad finished his question. Sounding like a clingy prom date that wanted to join an after party he clearly wasn’t invited to. 

“Us? Back to the bunker. You? I honestly couldn’t care less… Hopefully hell,” You grumbled as the car came to a stop and you reached for the door handle with one hand. Your other hand going up to turn off the earpiece to not deal with the annoying echo of hearing everything twice now that you were all face to face. However, before you could reach for either one, Crowley spoke up again. His cocky grin clearly visible through the car’s window. 

“Though I’ve heard it’s lovely this time of year, I think you still need me love,” Though you cut off your earpiece halfway through his sentence, you were still forced to hear every infuriating word as you slid out of the car and shot the man a glare when he let his eyes travel the length of your bare legs. 

“Only thing I need is for you to stop breathing…” You huffed as you tugged on the hem of your knee-length dress that still seemed too short around the constant Union Jack Flirt. Before taking two steps forward to stop Dean’s quick move around the car towards Crowley and you. The last thing you needed on a night as fucked up as this one, was for Dean’s ‘protect the family’ instinct to rear its ugly head again when you were still reeling from the almost kiss. 

Forget destroying you; it would pulverize you. 

“Like, right the fuck, now,” You added, for good measure, when the mobster only seemed amused by your annoyed words. His smile not falling even as you feinted a reach down for one of the throwing knives strapped to your thigh. 

Bobby would be furious if you killed a useful tool, which was what Crowley was; a tool. But… Maybe if you just wounded him? Just a little?

“Whoa, whoa… Remember. I’m one of the good guys tonight,” The villain cosplaying as a superhero in front of you said. His hands up in a gesture of mock surrender as he took a step back. Though you were 99% sure it was from whatever look Dean was giving him next to you, rather than your empty threat of making haggis shish kebab out of him.

“And when midnight comes around you’ll lose that glass slipper you call a heart and go right back to being bad again,” Dean jumped in, sounding more exasperated than angry as he reached for your hand and gently pulled it away from where you were seriously considering taking out one of your knives.

Just one little knife wouldn’t hurt Crowley all that much… No, that was a lie. You were an excellent marksman when it came to your throwing knives. It would hurt him, a lot, if you wanted it to. And you really, really did.

“Crowley… We’ll call you. The rest of you. Get the cars into the garage around the corner, we’ll drive back together in the van and get ready to debrief with Bobby,” Sam sighed, taking charge of the chaotic conversation like he always did. Which was probably why he was the one to be the lead on the field. The man not only had a stupid amount of law degrees, but he was also an expert at herding cats. At least when your rag tag group were the misbehaving felines he had to wrangle.

Giving the big guy an overexaggerated pout you dropped the handle of the throwing knife you’d been holding onto. And, at the same time, not-so-subtly, moved your hand away from Dean’s where it was searing hot against your skin. Keeping your eyes on Sam, you missed Dean’s hurt look, though you still felt his gaze on you. But you couldn’t risk looking into those forest green labyrinths that could easily make any girl get lost in them. You needed your mind to be clear. 

Bobby was a man who demanded details, and you couldn’t risk a certain Mr. Winchester short circuiting your brain before you’d shared everything you’d learned during your time in Mobster Land™ - The unhappiest place on earth. 

As with any father figure, Bobby’s disappointment was the scariest thing you knew. And you’d once hid out in an abandoned, supposedly haunted, amusement park for three full weeks with assassins hot on your heels.

“Yes sir, Mr. Boss Man, sir,” You groaned as you shuffled towards the van, or as close to a shuffle as you could get in six inch heels, and right into Charlie’s waiting arms. Stopping to let the redhead fuzz over every part of you and act like a worried soccer mom checking for scraped knees and bruises whilst talking a mile a minute. Leaving Dean, and the forest fire burning in his eyes behind as you wrapped yourself in your best friend’s frantic worry and focused on calming her fears.

Was it cowardly to use your best friend as a shield to hide from your crush? Hell yes. Did you care? Oh, hell no. You’d do it again in a heartbeat. 

----

The drive back to the cold war bunker you called your home and headquarters was luckily not as awkward as you’d feared. 

Mainly because Dean always demanded to drive when all of you were in the car. And Sam had an iron hold on the shotgun seat. Which meant Char, Cas and you were all piled into the back. Lounging in the miniature version of Charlie and Sam’s office that the back of the van had been remodeled into shortly after you… Procured it on another job. 

The military grade surveilance van was your home away from home. One you had affectionately nicknamed The Mystery Machine. Though it was a little less 1960's era hippie, and a lot more sleek, black and un-noticeable than its namesake. A kitted-out, mobile HQ on wheels. For easy, on-the-go security breaches and data gathering. 

Need a new identity? We deliver! Fresh and untraceable to your door in 30 minutes, or it’s FREE! Well… Not really. Iron-clad identities were expensive.

And though you preferred your Kawasaki Ninja whenever you got to use her, bikes really did make for faster getaways after all, you didn’t mind the Scooby van. At least it was big enough to house your full little family. So it was infinitely better than the two seater Lexus, where it had only been Dean and you. 

After all, it was thanks to the van that you somehow made it back to your impenetrable batcave safely; without another burning look from Dean. And, as soon as the car came to a full stop in the underground garage, you nearly fell out of the van doors in a mad attempt to keep that streak going. With a poorly thought out plan to run away from one of the best trackers and killers the world knew - in six inch heels. 

Still, your experience of running in heels had been put to good use, for the most part. You’d left the rest of your team standing; confused in the dust of your cowardice and shredded pride. But Dean had of course hurried after you. Probably wanting to throw out some weak excuse about adrenaline to not ruin the team’s chemistry. And you really didn’t want to hear it. 

He’d nearly caught up to you just as you reached your room in the bunker. Leaving you just enough time to make a mumbled excuse about changing out of your undercover gear and into something less… ‘Torture but make it fashion’-esque. Before awkwardly shutting the door in Dean’s face just as he parted those full lips that you’d been so damned close to kissing. 

You knew you couldn’t read too much into the adrenaline fuelled moment you’d shared in the closet. Fear did strange things to those of you who lived on the edge of the law. It was like a drug. One you both craved and needed to avoid. 

So, you’d done the big girl thing; you’d put your whole damn weight on the door like Dean was suddenly a B-grade horror movie villain ready to burst into your room any second. But, instead of demanding to continue the conversation, Dean had just stood quietly outside your door for a few minutes. Before you heard the unmistakable sound of his Oxfords walking down the hallway, back to his own room.

And, like the totally rational adult you were… You’d been left unsure if you were happy he’d given up, or heartbroken that he hadn’t tried harder.

---

Though you wanted to let cooler heads prevail and hide out in your bedroom, like the goddamn coward you were, you couldn’t. You still hadn’t clocked out for the night and Bobby would have your head if you didn’t show up to the debriefing. So, you quickly found yourself back around the table with the rest of your ragtag Robin Hood crew. Sulking into a beer bottle you couldn’t even make yourself touch. 

Past tearing the label into shreds that was...

Dressed in your favorite t-shirt and lounge shorts combo you did feel a little more at ease, but you could still feel Dean’s eyes on you. Which made you shift uncomfortably in your seat as your eyes focused on literally anything but the criminally hot weapon’s specialist.

He’d changed too. The suit was replaced with a pair of gray sweatpants hanging low on his hips and another one of his unlimited supply of slightly fitted band t-shirts that was riding up just enough to show a flash of his toned stomach every time he reached for his beer.

Which made it doubly hard to focus on the party debrief going on around the table as the group filled Bobby in over the speaker. First, because of the burning look that silently demanded for you to actually speak to him. And second, because gray sweatpants should be fucking outlawed. Because damn it. 

It was a goddamn Catch 22. 

You couldn’t look up without meeting those burning green eyes, and you couldn’t look down without being caught in a ‘my eyes are up here ma’am’-situation. And after feeling Dean’s obvious arousal as you rolled your hips against him in the closet, you knew the man would make those sweatpants work for him. The feeling of him against you had been… Mouthwatering, for the lack of a better word.

Aaaaand, there you went again. Back into the fucking closet. Damn it.

Keeping your eyes squarely on the speaker playing the part of Bobby, you tried to follow along as Cas shared the juicy pieces of information he’d managed to fool one of the higher ups in the whole charity scam to share with him. As always, Castiel had created miracles with that silver tongue of his. Easily cracking even the hardest nut. 

“So he basically told you everything huh? Including the whole account scam? How did you even manage to do that?” Charlie seemed starstruck as she looked at the grifter wide-eyed. Listening, enraptured, as the usually quiet, stoic man basically gave you everything you needed to move on with your plans, except for the account numbers. That was Charlie and Sam’s job.

“It’s easy,” Castiel shrugged. Though, of course it was, for the still quite mysterious man, who could get anyone to confess to sins as easily as you could scale a wall. Which was also damned easy. For you. So you couldn’t help but lift a doubting eyebrow as you waited for Castiel’s explanation of how easy it really was.

“Just a sympathetic nod in the right places, words that hint to me knowing more than I should… And of course reading the signs. He had a slight scruff and the designer suit he wore was a little crumpled. Clearly he’d been working double time. And, by the way his eyes followed the main boss around the room, he seemed displeased that he wasn’t receiving the praise he should be getting,” Castiel added when his initial statement was only met with raised eyebrows and wry chuckles from the rest of your group of master con-men.

“Yeah… Easy, right,” Charlie nodded. Her voice had a slightly higher pitch as she returned her attention to the papers in front of her. Suddenly seeming very interested in the blueprints as she mumbled something inaudible under her breath. Though it didn’t take a rocket scientist to guess what she was grumbling about; considering her own problems with the art of small talk.

“Next, you said we have the safe location locked down (Y/N)?” The smile on your lips quickly fell away as Sam turned to you. Kicking off your breakdown of your role in the job with the top item on your list, and the most important task you’d had during the party. The safe. 

That fucking safe was the reason for all your problems.

“Yes, it’s where I thought it would be. The back wall of the big boss’ upstairs office. Easy to miss too, a seam at the bottom of the wall is the only indication it’s even there,” The professional thief in you easily took over as you jumped into an in-depth explanation of the office’s layout. Since you had missed your chance to put up any hidden cameras once Sam warned you about the mobsters moving up the stairs.

“But… Unfortunately, since we had to make a quick escape, I couldn’t get actual eyes on make and model,” You sighed, feeling like a failure after Castiel had gone above and beyond. Technically, you’d completed your job for the night, but you still felt like you’d worked on a group project with the smartest kids in class and the only thing you had to show for it was a shitty cover page - drawn in crayon and totally coloured outside the lines.

“Not your fault kid, it’s all on me. Our insider’s on his way to a shiny new prison cell as we speak. You don’t backstab me or my family…” Bobby’s slightly rough around the edges form of comfort still made you feel a little less shitty on the gap in your own information. Even if it didn’t make up for the fact that you should at least have gotten actual eyes on the safe.

“Will not knowing the make and model be a problem for you on go-day?” He continued as you smiled at the speaker, knowing full well the big boss couldn’t see you… Probably.

“No way. I’ve yet to meet a safe I can’t crack. Just means my time estimate for the actual job will be wider. Could be a minute, could be thirty,” You said with a small shrug. And it was true. You’d gotten into harder places than a mobster boss’ safe. 

Plus, considering his decor choices, you were sure his safe would be childsplay. His prohibition era design decisions meant that there was at least a little bit less of a chance that it was a bio-locked safe. Though you’d prepare for the worst either way. Just because he decorated like a stereotypical goon didn’t mean he wouldn’t have the smarts to protect his assets. After all, he was at the top of a very large organization. Which wasn’t something you got with just beauty, and no brains. 

“That’s our girl,” Bobby shot back, making your sunken shoulders straighten a little again as you grinned shyly at the speaker. Praise from Bobby was hard to come by, so it only took a few words from the big guy to make you feel on top of the world again. 

Reinvigorated, you pulled the tablet on the table to you and continued your debriefing as you marked the escape and entrance routes you’d found in the house on the digital map shared with Bobby in whatever strange location he was holed up in. While the others filled in any additional details for you to add onto the map.

Your plan was coming together. 

You knew their weaknesses. You had their identities and information. And you knew, with 100% certainty, that you would be able to break into that damned safe. Now you only needed Sam and Charlie, your super hacking team, to get those account codes, build the plan and layout and find the backdoors into their servers. 

And, as Bobby jumped in with the info he had gathered for the turnabout angle on his own little solo mission, you knew you’d be ready to take them on from both sides at one time. 

These bastards were going down. But first…

Dean’s eyes were once more laser focused on you, now that the next steps were nailed down. You could nearly feel the shift as the mercenary was once more replaced with the man who still seemed hell bent on breaking your fragile little thieving heart with a conversation you really didn’t want to have. So, first you needed to do what you did best...

You needed to run the fuck away. And hide in your room like the coward you were. 

Start Here - Last - Next

Charity Heist: @foxyjwls007 @seppys-return-to-madness @stoneyggirl2 @ladysparkles78 @twinkleinadiamondsky @tmb510 @mimaria420

Dean Winchester Tags: @ria132love @woodworthti666 @defenderrosetyler @akshi8278 @justanotherwinchester @lyarr24 @torn-and-frayed @all-will-be-well-love @wearesuchstuff1 @thefridgeismybestie @adoptdontshoppets @screechingartisancashbailiff @septixtrash @punof-agun  @deandreamernp @justagirlinafandomworld @sexyvixen7 @justrealizedimmascifygurl @globetrotter28 @iprobablyshipit91 @mrsjenniferwinchester @leigh70 @djs8891 @pink-sparkly-witch @deans-spinster-witch

Forever Tags will be added as a reblog

#dean winchester fic #au!spn #dean au #au!dean winchester #tales89writes #hitter!dean #thief!reader #supernatural heist au #supernatural leverage au #spn heist au #dean winchester #supernatural #spn #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural dean #dean winchester heist au #mercenary!dean winchester

[theangiediary]

SPN rewatch 1x01: Pilot

notes and thoughts

Can't get over how ridiculously americana they made the Lawrence house 😭 literally Sam's baby mobile is baseball themed it's almost comical. "Sammy's ready to toss around a football yet?" 😞

I'm still confused by JDM playing the YED standing over Sam's crib? Because then John is immediately downstairs asleep in front of the TV? (which also. Lol, "not perfect until she was dead" indeed).

"It's okay, Sam." Besides the fact that this is heartbreaking, I also think it's interesting that John and Mary call him Sammy, while kid!Dean says Sam, only later switching to Sammy.

"You know how I feel about Halloween". No she doesn't! Or, she thinks she does, but he didn't give her the real reason!! False intimacy, babygirl you deserved so much better </3

Both of them turning down more shots. Sam honey you really found the most gorgeous, supportive, boring, healthy girl you could, huh?

"Crash and burn". I don't even have to say it... "Woah easy tiger" same same.

Dean's whole introduction to Jessica. There's a really good analysis about it (the subtle put down, the not so subtle objectification, the possessiveness over Sammy)... So much going on in like 2 minutes.

"He's always missing, and he's always fine". And yet "No, not normal. Safe." Two sentences later!! Sam is so full of contractions (x).

Dean calling it running away, Dad saying leaving, Sam saying "just going to college". Woof.

"Dad's in real trouble [...] I can feel it" 🥴 literally hear this all the time in action/adventure media, but about siblings/children, not parents??? It's not supposed to go in that direction hello?

"In almost two years I've never bothered you, never asked you for a thing.." & Dean seems surprised that Sam is interviewing at a law school. -> I think they originally did talk/call/etc, but it fell off around Sam's junior year.

"Miller shift"/"he's deer hunting, probably got Jim, Jack, and Jose with him" -> I go back and forth on whether John would have been a drunk, partly from the first one and Dean's reaction to it, but by the second Sam knows there's something wrong but he still uses drunk excuse, which makes me think maybe not, maybe that's just what Sam tells people to avoid talking about the supernatural and Dean knows he does this?

The way Sam smiles/laughs through the credit card scam convo... but then just stares open mouth at Dean riffling through the fake IDs.... The things he chooses to be indignant about are very interesting.

"Well that is exactly the kind of crack police work I'd expect out of you guys." Dean disrespect of the law is something that can be so personal 🤌 Sam's "yes they're dumb but why you gotta talk to them like that?" Perfect balance.

Dean's arm. Behind Sam. In the diner. & Synchronized "What do they talk about?" Again, it's been two years........ the things they share and the things they see differently are just. J2 I have questions.

Dean asking Sam to tell him why Constance did it even though they are both looking at the article. & "That bridge look familiar to you?" -> Probably not that deep, but if you'd like to dig I'd say Dean is trying to make Sam feel useful; I do actually think Sam is the better/enjoys research more, but I see these moments as a little bit of (potentially unconscious) manipulation on Dean's part.

"Does Jessica know the truth about you? Does she know about the things you've done?" So accusatory. I mean for a guy that's all "it's saving people! We're heroes!" this comes off very "Sammy did evil" here.

"Even if we do find the thing that killed her, mom's gone, and she isn't coming back." 😮‍💨 Annnd that's how you make a show people!!! The hook of this change at the end of the episode is 💯💯💯

Sam laughing at Dean diving off the bridge into the mud. What the fuck is wrong with you? (lovingly)

Points for the pro dirty!dean discourse, it takes him an. Odd amount of time to get "cleaned up".

He really did. He really did just grab that leather jacket off a bookshelf. Iconic. Legendary. Also John is a fucking slob 😭. I love him but that room...

"So come home soon okay? I love you" Jessica's voicemail being 1. so sweet 2. interrupted by Dean getting arrested 3. impossible, she dies the moment he relaxes in their bed. He never gets to say it back. He can never go hooooommeeeee.

"I know you got partners, one of them's an older guy. Maybe he started the whole thing. [...] (re: journal) This is none kinds of crazy." THIS IS WHY DEAN DOESNT LIKE POLICE oh my goddd that's his dad! His hero!! Obviously the Victor thing is yet to come but how often do you think this happened, police implying they're murderers together, maybe some bad touching/"the old man's using you..."

Sam's fake 911 call so that Dean could break out of the station. Again, the theme of him being Dean's little accomplice while being all "ooh I have to get back the Stanford for my law school interview" is so funny like he could have chosen any other "normal" life why the hypocrisy!!

"I'm not unfaithful. I've never been." "You will be." 🥲Kripke really said I'm going to make a character with so many bodily autonomy violations. From birth to death.

Also "I'm taking you home"/immediately following that up with him driving the Impala into the house like. No to get all Criminal Minds, but one could argue that is symbolic penetration.

Photo/prop parallels: Sam has the one of John and Mary, John had the one of John, Sam, and Dean, and Constance has the one of her and her kids. Dean has none.

"What were you thinking, shooting Casper in the face, you freak?" -> points for rock salt guns being a later thing John/Dean figured out.

"I'll take you home." Screaming. Again.

"Maybe I can meet up with you later huh?" Sam was the one to ask. Sam doesn't really give false platitudes, so did he really mean it? Was he planning to get back in regular contact with Dean, more than just check in calls?

The fire parallels. "Home". Attitude shift. John showing up at the beginning, only to "disappear" the rest of the episode, seen only in photos/what he leaves behind so it's like we're experiencing his loss with the brothers. Etc etc. Banger of a pilot, okay, I try not to be salty but anyone that says spn is bad television just like. Did not watch the same show. Yes, there's issues re:lack of female characters etc but come on. The story is solid.

---

Bonus: total SamDean physical altercations: 1 fight, 1 footstomp, 2 slaps, 1 wall slam, 1 very aggressive manhandling

#spn meta #kinda idk #im rewatching some eps and instead of spamming yalls dashes i made a condensed post :) #1x01 #writ tag

[heaven-s-black-box]

Adventures in Raising Winchesters- Bobby & Young!Winchesters

Return to File

Recovery date: September 9th, 2020

Description: Trying to raise a four year old and a ten year old, while stopping the apocalypse? Good thing Bobby Singer has a few good friends to lend a helping hand!

Notes: N/A

Word count: 648

Back to directory

“Alright, what are the rules?”Bobby asked, leaning down to Dean. He was on his way out the door with Rufus to follow a lead on one of the four horsemen.

“Don’t answer the door for strangers, call Jody if we’re in trouble, and call you if we aren’t sure about something,” Dean answered.

“I think you’re missing some rules boy.”

“Spend at least an hour outside, and don’t play by the cars?”

“And?”

Dean let out a resigned sigh. “Read every night because you’ll ask about it when you call.”

“That’s a boy,” Bobby ruffled Dean’s hair, “have Sammy try to help you. And don’t make it sound so bad, it’s only for the weekend. If I’m not back by Monday, Jody will come by to get you to school and watch Sammy.”

---

“No, you did the right thing calling me. Put Dean on Sammy,” Bobby sighed. It was around noon, and Sam had called him because Dean was having problems with something. “Hello Dean, what’s wrong? That’s alright, call Jody, she’ll help you. I don’t car- Hang on Rufus. I don’t care if you’re a big kid, ask for help when you need it. You better not burn the house down idjit.”

If anyone had asked Bobby Singer how he’d be spending his forties, raising two boys while trying to thwart the apocalypse was not it. A few years ago, he’d probably say he would be running the auto shop with Karen by his side. After her death a little over a decade ago, he’d probably say he’d spend the rest of his days hunting.

“Good, and have Jody call me when she gets there. No I do trust you, I just want you to be safe. I love you boys.”

“You’ve had the boys for what, a year? So much for finding them a better home,” Rufus laughed.

“Well it wasn’t like they had any other family, besides, Jody and her husband have been helping me. And my place isn’t too bad, so shut your pie hole.”

---

“Well, that was-”

“Creepy? Y’know I don’t even think creepy covers it. I mean how- no, who in god's name is Carver Edlund?! Or Chuck Shurley or whatever that creeps name is.”

“I dunno, but we’re gonna find out.”

---

“Dean, come on kiddo, we’re here.” Bobby reached over Sam’s booster to shake Dean carefully. It was late, about eleven at night, and they’d been on the road all day.

“Hm,” Dean groaned, stretching out and almost hitting Sam in the face. “Wh-Where are we?” he yawned.

“At a friend’s, I gotta do some work out of state for the week. So you’ll stay here while I’m gone, she’s got a little girl you can play with. You can meet her in the mornin’.”

“Mhm, can I carry Sammy?”

“Not if you wanna stay upright, no. But you can help by grabbing your bags.”

---

“Well, this has been enlightening,” Bobby scoffed, as he stabbed the demon they had tied up. He turned to Rufus. “So you wanna pray, or should I?”

“Dude, I would rather die than pray to tha-”

“You called?”

“What the FU-” They both yelled.

“What did we tell you about dropin’ in like that bird brain,” Bobby yelled.

Castiel only tilted his head, and said, “I do not believe my vessel possesses the brain of a bird.”

---

“Hi Mr. Cass,” Sam said, as he waved at the angel in the doorway. He was at the kitchen table doing homework. “Bobby and Dean are out back.”

“Thank you Samuel.” He nodded and headed towards the back door.

“It’s Sam!”

---

“What?”

“Well, I mean… Look it’s less than ideal for us to.”

“No, you just said that Lucifer and Michael’s vessels are fucking kids! Not just any kids, my boys! Who have already lost everything. So you stay the fuck away from them!” Bobby yelled at Zachariah. 

#researcher s's recovery #supernatural #bobby singer #dean winchester #sam winchester #fluff #angst #oneshot #SPN oneshot

[self-loathing-angel-of-thursday2]

Beautiful Spouse’s Rewatch Thoughts SPN 01x09

Home

“You know it’s serious business when they change the intro.”

“Don’t piss off Dean like that”

“The fkn digital white balance on these old digital cameras is soooo bad.”

“Imagine the jumpscare if you opened the closet and someone just hacked the lady down right there.”

“The kid doesn’t like this house. I don’t like this house - sorry bitch.”

“Like the chair is going to do anything. Just buy a lock for the closet if you’re that worried, but that would be weird and you could lock someone inside the closet”

“Those are some seriously large rats if they’re rats”

“Oh no. The chair moved. Yeah that won’t fuck up the kid for life.”

“This is the box full of Dean pictures right?”

Laughed at the little girl screaming “I don’t even know. She waited so long to scream; I would be scared too but still”

“Way to be a bitch. He’s not fkn saying anything about what you’re seeing. Dean is trying to talk to you, but Sam you’re not explaining anything while going through your shit”

“Dun dun dun”

“What do they call this arc? The Special Kids?” look how scared Dean is 

“I think Dean is scared, but I don’t think Dean would be that easy to convince to go back home.”

“SWIRL MARKS”

“I thought the house was burned to the fkn ground, but a flammable box survived the fire?” “JUICE JUNKIE” “Two random dudes show up in front of your yard, but then they leave and are yelling in your yard. And now they’re camped out in their car stalking this lady.” I don’t like this part. Kitchen sink thingies scare me.

*whispering* “it’s migrating to the garbage disposal” “fuck yeah dude” Missouri Moseley!

“Why would anyone go to Missouri for the truth?” “Yeah, that’s not fucked up at all” Laughing at how Dean was a goofy looking kid

“JUICE JUNKIE” “I can’t stand Sam’s half-whispering talking shit. I can’t stand it. I don’t think I ever noticed it but it’s fkn weird man” “Why are there no shelves in the fridge?” “I would never have thought to check in the fridge.” “The ghost retied the safety strap back onto the fridge but the strap was loose when the kid was found.”

“Any reasonable person would have told them to fuck off” “I thought the whole house burned down and had to be rebuilt?” Laughing at how Sam doesn’t understand “that was a weird voice too”

“Just burn down the house again a 2nd time; it’ll make the spirit go away.” “Is it in the spell to punch a hole in the dry wall? Can you take an electrical box out of it’s box instead? It’s more work but less destructive”

“Just some strange lady telling you to leave you to leave your new house.” “By the time we hear a 2nd tap, there’s already a 2nd hole in the wall. When he’s going in for the 2nd tap, there’s already a 2nd hole.” “Yup. She’s fkn dead now. She won’t actually die but yeah” “You had one job to do, Sam. Another L for Sam. Dean had to save him again like he does every damn time.” “Let’s just kick a fkn hole in the wall.” “That would be really easy to test if your house is possessed. It’s also really good for the drywall industry.” “Don’t bother closing the fridge. We need it for mood lighting.” whispers “the mood lighting is good for my skin”

“Obviously, the strangers had a party while you were gone.” “You would have been cleaning that until morning. No way that they just finished.” 🎶somebody is gonna scream right about now🎶 never mind

“Nice” “They did an episode of American Dad like this where Francine was haunted by the ghost of her sexual satisfaction” “Let me just bang on the window and scream to the creepy guys outside my house still. No big deal.” “They had to make Sam carry the kids since Dean did it last time, right?” “See now Dean gets to carry Sam out of the house twice.” “Don’t bother asking why they didn’t have guns on them earlier when she was originally asking for help. He needed to go back to get the gun then run back inside. It seems inefficient. Plus, isn’t Dean always packing?” “it’s mommy.”

“Did she evict the 2nd ghost or something?” “I thought they put the things in the walls? And there was the white smoke?” “Can’t figure that out on your own there buddy?” “Idk if I like how they played on the Sassy Black Lady trope, but I do like Missouri a lot.” “Aiding and abetting! Why is she helping John?” “You would have seen her, too, John, if you were there.” FUCK JOHN WINCHESTER

“The truth about what?”

#beautifulspouserewatchesspn #supernatural s1 #supernatural #supernatural rewatch

[sortasirius]

What the Fuck Happened to the SPN Finale?

Okay so here it is, my Charlie Kelly style manifesto.

Before I get into it, I recognize that I will look like this to many of you, and that’s okay, I understand:

Secondly, your personal Takes about the writers don’t interest me, I don’t need to hear them. This, as I’ll explain, is going to remain a writer positive blog, and that’s the end of it.

Third, and most importantly: some of what I’m going to talk about is fact, and some is highly educated speculation. I will notate what is speculation, just so there’s no confusion or hot takes in my inbox that I’m a conspiracy theorist or stirring shit up for no reason.

A list of what I’ll be discussing

The episode in regards to the rest of the season

The episode issues: length, editing

Scene placement and speculation of scenes cut

The scrubbing of Jack, Cas, Eileen

Network involvement and general timeline of when things were cut

Misha: theories on where he was, official company line, why we can’t expect to hear anything directly

The silence of the cast post episode (in Misha’s case, mid episode) and what this might mean

Jensen speaking with Kripke about the ending: why it doesn’t mean what you might think (also why kripke remained positive on the ending)

Walker, and why this episode had a major shift

Why the network would do this or get involved

Why the writers of the show simply aren’t the bad guys here, and what I “want” out of this post, since I know it’ll get asked

This is very long and under a cut, but I hope you’ll give it a read.

The Episode In Regards to the Rest of the Season

So, I’ve discussed this already here, but it’s the most obvious thing to me, and that’s the way this episode simply doesn’t fit with the rest of the season.

These people in this room have, truly, been nothing but consistent when it comes to their arcs, especially this season, and the marked dropoff in quality for the finale episode is just too sus to discount to me.  Dabb’s whole focus has been character-based.  In his seasons, we’ve moved far away from MOTW and bro-codependency, the found family taking it’s place.  Does it really sit right to anyone that that was all thrown away in literally the last episode of the entire show?

This is speculation on my part, but as a writer myself, there is no way I would be happy or willing to stamp my name on something that I didn’t think would, at the very least, wrap up the season+ character arcs that I and my team had been crafting.

And before anyone comes in here saying, “well GOT did that!”  Bruh.  The writing was on the wall for GOT long before the final episode.  You could tell that the showrunners just wanted to be done (not only from the plot, but from the fact that they lobbied for a shorter season).  Miss me with that, it doesn’t apply here.  Andrew has, besides Singer and J2, been with the show longer than anyone.  He cares, he is meticulous and detailed, and this ending feels worse than anything Bucklemming has ever written, let alone Dabb.

Additionally, I’ve seen a lot of people say that Dabb was never behind Destiel, that it was all Bobo and Meredith and no one else.  That is reductive to the point of insult of the work Dabb has done to get this greenlit.  This man did not write the s13 Dean grief arc to be slandered like this.  That being said, YES, Bobo and Meredith were the leads on the DeanCas arc this season, but ANDREW IS THE SHOWRUNNER, TO GET EVEN THE CONFESSION APPROVED BY THE NETWORK HE WOULD HAVE TO HAVE THEIR BACKS.  AND HE DID.

Finale Issues

So, now that we’ve gotten the fact that this episode doesn’t hit on any of the major themes the show was barrelling towards all season, let’s discuss the fact that the episode is just...weird.

Not only is it shorter than any other episode (I think with the intro and the credits/crew thing at the end, it was around 38 mins), but it was also...idk, 90% filler?

One of the lovely humans in the POLOL server did the legwork here, and broke it down:

This is weird, y’all.  Most series finales are LONGER than normal (Lost, SOA, Longmire are the ones I can think of off the top of my head), and for the final episode to be this?  I saw more than one person point out that we only really needed 19 episodes, what was the point of 20?  AND THAT’S EXACTLY IT?  WHAT WAS THE POINT OF THIS FINAL EPISODE IF THIS WAS ALL WE WERE SUPPOSED TO GET?

It simply doesn’t make any sense, the first half of the episode was rushed, a final monster hunt gone wrong, but in the second half?  Nothing really happened?  Sam lived his entire life and Dean just drove around.  It doesn’t make sense to have all the emotional arcs left unaddressed in an episode that definitely needed some kind of spark.

Here’s the speculation I have: the episode seemingly went through a lot of changes between the initial inception of the final season and when we actually got it, but I think it would have been passable (as in, we wouldn’t be sitting here asking each other why each arc feels incomplete) until the editing room got ahold of it.  The only think that makes this episode make sense is network fuckery.  Truly, that is the only thing.  It explains the weird, cuts, the rushed pacing of the first half followed by nothing in the second half, the double montages of “Wayward Son” back to back, and Dean just...driving around for the last half of the episode.

Scene Placement and Speculation of Scenes Cut

Before I get into this section, the info of the shots in the episode I have come from a source that @occamshipper​ got a week or so before the finale.  She’s talked about this here.

So here’s what Min was given:

1-5: 1 INT MEN OF LETTERS – DEAN’S ROOM Dean is greeted by Miracle

6-10: 6 INT MEN OF LETTERS – HALLWAY/SAM’S ROOM Sam has his routine

D1 1 11-15: 15 EXT FARM HOUSE Establishing

N1 1/8 16-20: 19 Dad’s journal, marker, drawing of masked man in journal.

21-25: 23 INT IMPALA – PMP Driver picks the music

N2 1 3/8 1,2 26-30: 28pt2 INT BARN: A face from the past

28pt3 Sam and Dean say goodbye

28pt4 Shot early for technical reasons, presumably the overhead shot

N2 31-45: 41 INT MEN OF LETTERS – SAM’S ROOM Sam’s alarm goes off D4 1/8 1 46-60: 56 INT N7glasses for Sam, laptop.

So...it all fits right?  It all tracks with the actual episode, where it lands, etc.  The issue is between shots 29-40 which were apparently “too big to spoil.”  Uh.  Where are they?  And where’s 28 pt4?

After Dean dies, the next scene is Sam burning him, then shot 31, the shot of his alarm going off.

So.  Where are those 11ish shots?

PLUS we have the boards, which are scenes we KNOW were actually shot:

As well as scenes for 20 that were shot in 19.

It’s just...weird, it’s weird and again hits on the fact that the episode is so short and like 80% montage.

The Scrubbing of Jack, Cas, and Eileen

So now we have to reckon with the fact that Eileen was last mentioned by Sam after she got snapped by Chuck, Jack’s last mention is that he’s off being God somewhere, and Cas’ last mention is a ~knowing look~ between Dean and Bobby.

I’m sorry, make it make sense:

????????  That’s the end if it?  They don’t need to be discussed after this???  It’s just simply not something a writer would do, they would not introduce these characters, these arcs, without thinking there’s going to be some kind of follow through here.

So not only were three major characters (including two leads and both of the original characters’ love interests) completely wiped from the finale episode, it was as though Sam and Dean never even needed them, which just...ain’t it.

So why Eileen and Jack too?  Why not just take Cas out of it if they were afraid of the gay?  Because, ultimately, the episode went back to Kripke’s original story: just the bros, they only need each other and no one else.  They don’t want anyone else, they don’t need anyone else.  Easier to go back to something they knew was successful than trust the writers and their audience and take a big leap.

Alex even said he shot for 20 with “some of the guys” here.  What happened to that footage?

The complete 180 of it all still shocks me, I still cannot believe that we were essentially at the finish line, and the network just stopped short, and decided to go run another race, at the expense of the arc of this fifteen year legacy show.

Network Involvement and When Things Were Cut

Okay, now into the juicy stuff.

So I’ve pretty well established that network fuckery is clear, but how much did they get involved, what was the original intent?

Well again, we may never actually know what Andrew’s original script was, but I think, at the least, it would involve Dean speaking his truth to Cas and Sam living a life with Eileen.

Now, it seems today, that Misha said that Jimmy Novak was supposed to be in the finale in one iteration of the script, and while initially my brain was like “that truly makes no sense and he’s either straight up lying or telling a half truth,” I think what may be happening is Misha talking about as much as he can right now.

So Jimmy right.  Weird as fuck.  Why would he been in the Roadhouse and not Cas?  My current thought (this is about as reachy as I’ll get) is that Jimmy had no lines, could he have been in the Roadhouse as a red herring, like it said “Jimmy” in the script but it was just Cas in human clothes, a way to get around the network saying Cas couldn’t be in the final scene.  Also, you’ll notice that Misha didn’t say that Cas wasn’t supposed to be in the ep at all, just Jimmy in the last scene.

All this to say, there have clearly been multiple versions of the script, getting lighter and lighter with Cas and Eileen as the network pulled further and further back.  Remember, Dabb has to get things approved before they get shot, and if the network kept asking and asking and asking to cut Cas and Eileen, he had to find a way to work around it.  Granted, I still think that if we had been able to get a Dabb script that wasn’t torn to shreds in editing, it wouldn’t be so bad.  It may not be what a lot of us wanted (Dean speaking his truth to Cas and a reciprocation), but doing everything he could to give it to us in subtext or visual clues.

Plus, in all honesty, my man can’t keep his story straight anyway.  He said twice in his panel that the Empty and offscreen Heaven ending weren’t his original ending either.

In addition, remember that Jensen did ADR post episode 18, AND said in a meet and greet last weekend that Dean’s reaction to Cas’ confession was “cut down.” (Source here).  Many of us clowns got excited when we first heard about ADR, because we thought it would be upping the ante on Dean’s reaction, but I remember being a little sus when it was just crying.  My speculation on that is that they cut out Dean actually SAYING something, @winchestersingerautorepair​ spoke about that here.

The biggest sins were, in my opinion, committed during editing, where the network got too gun shy and sliced the episode until it was nothing but a heartless bro-fest of a finale, not mentioning anything about the other major characters that we all love, and letting the boys just suffer in separation until Sam died and finally joined Dean in Heaven.  The editing came by cutting all the major emotional beats between anyone other than Dean and Sam, leaving the skeleton of the story intact, just shorter and less...poignant than it was ever supposed to be.

Misha

We know Misha was in Vancouver, we know he quarantined, but we also know he wasn’t in the final scene, when he spoke about being in the last moment of the show months ago.  We were not crazy, he was there, he quarantined, and, in all likelihood (speculation but fitting with the timeline), he actually may have shot something (not much, but something).

I have sources here, here, here, and here showing where Misha was at that time.

Remember, the man was completely open about coming back until they finished shooting (look at this thread).  The switch happened, just like everything else, halfway through them shooting.

Please also remember Jake Abel posting his “Where’s Misha” video here.  Jake isn’t malicious, he isn’t being nasty here.  Misha was there, and everyone that’s trying to convince people he’s wasn’t just...isn’t telling the truth about it.

This is one of the things that makes me really mad, because they’re literally attempting to gaslight people into thinking, “oh we were totally wrong he was never supposed to be there” WHEN HE WAS THERE, WE KNOW HE WAS THERE.

So we’ve already heard from several people (Meghan Fitzmartin, Jay, a PA on the set of 19 (WHO WAS NOT WORKING FOR 20), Misha himself) that this was all down to Covid restrictions.  Ultimately, as this post says, we’ve heard FIVE versions of where Misha was.  None of it makes sense, but the Covid protocol seems to be the company line that others are repeating.

You may ask: why?  Why lie to all of us when we have questions?  Why, in Jay’s case, say that we’re all spreading false lies to stir up trouble, when we just have questions and things that do not make sense.  Simply?  Warner Brothers is absolutely massive.  These people have their careers to protect and are likely all under NDAs.  They want to work for WB again and don’t want to burn bridges, including Misha.  It sucks, but that’s why it’s unlikely that we’ll hear someone come out and say, “yeah we’re lying to you.”

Silence of the Cast Post Episode

So this is...probably the worst part of all this, at least in my opinion.

The guys had all been pretty excited about the end of the show (especially Jared, but Jensen’s panel last week was Jensen as happy and jokey and positive as I’ve ever seen him.  He was so excited about episode 18, about what it meant for Dean and for Cas, and I just cannot buy that he would have been that excited unless he thought there was something more in the episode.

Misha live-tweeted the episode, and was watching it with his kids.  It’s well known that Misha and the kids don’t watch the show because it’s too scary, and let’s ask ourselves, why would he have them watch an episode that he’s barely even mentioned in?

He also stopped live-tweeting at a very specific point in the episode (Dean’s death) and has not mentioned Supernatural since then. 

None of them, not Jared, Jensen, Misha, or even Alex, said anything about the episode for nearly 36 hours, when Jensen posted a salty photo on instagram.  It’s just...not what you’d expect for the end of a 15 year show, when the cast and crew are so close to the fans, so close to each other. 

My theory?  They didn’t know.  They thought Misha was, at least, going to be in the episode in some way, and when he wasn’t, they decided not to say anything.

You really think that Jensen “Heller” Ackles would have been so excited about the end of the show last week if he thought Cas wasn’t going to be in it at all?  Nah son, doesn’t make any sense.

Even today, in Jared and Misha’s panels, they seemed sad and...more than a little careful, both saying that there were things they couldn’t say, both talking around things that we all have questions on.

Jensen Speaking with Kripke

So this is where a lot of people are getting fodder to take shots at the writers, saying that Jensen hated it from the beginning, but I don’t think so.  I actually think I know what Jensen went to him about, and it wasn’t the lack of Cas or the weird pacing or the montages (which I don’t think were there when Jensen got the script); I think it was the manner of Dean’s death.

I know a lot of people were upset about that, upset with how...normal it was, coming off an episode where they literally beat God.  I actually didn’t mind it, I thought it was an interesting thematic take to be like: you can be a hero all your life, but sometimes shit happens, and you just die.

But imagine how hard that was for Jensen to read.  He would run to Kripke for that, because for him, Dean dying by being impaled by a piece of rebar had to be tough to swallow.

So, why didn’t Kripke say that?  Why didn’t he say, “oh well he had a problem with Dean’s death, none of that other stuff was in the script.”

Guys.  Why would he get involved?  He’s not going to burn bridges any more than anyone else is.  He said the ending was good because it’s the easy thing to do, it’s simple, will cause him no problems in his career, and he can just ignore the people trying to engage with him on it.

Walker

Something else to talk about is the major shift this episode had from the rest of the season: the shift from Dean to Sam.  I am NOT saying that Sam isn’t important, he definitely, absolutely is, but it was DEAN who really needed to wrap up his arc, Sam just needed to move on, get married to Eileen, become the leader he was always meant to.  So what changed?  What was with the shirtless scene, the Austin number and random case there, most of the episode being heavily Sam focused, going through his entire life in a montage?

Anyone else notice the 375 Walker promos, or Jared’s little spiel about Walker and how he hoped SPN fans would “come along for the ride.”

It’s...kinda obvious?  CW wanted to appeal to who they think the key demographic of SPN and Walker is: rural areas in the South.  It would explain a lot, why so much editing, why so Sam focused, the Austin number, the number of Walker promos, all of it.

I’m not saying this is fact, I don’t know that it is, but it is a little suspicious that even in Jared’s panel today, he talked A LOT about Walker and how he hopes SPN fans will watch it.

Why Would the Network Get Involved?

Simply put: $$$

If they think Walker can be the new SPN, and that those crazy SPN fans liked it originally, it’s a lot safer to go with the “original intent” of the show than do something risky (like making one of your two original leads queer).

And?  They don’t care.  They don’t care that the episode didn’t make sense, they don’t care that all the emotional arcs were left hanging, they don’t care by (potentially) smashing together two of Dean’s monologues (one to Sam, one to Cas) that it came of as...gross. ( @curioussubjects​ wrote a beautiful post showing how part of that death speech was likely meant for Dean here).  They don’t care, they never have, they just want to make their money and move on from the too-loud fandom that fought for representation too hard for too long.

It can’t help but feel insidious, which, honestly, it might be, but it really all comes down to the next cash cow, which, they think, is Walker, even at the cost of the fifteen year legacy show.

The Writers and What I Want

So here it is, all this weird, sus shit laid out on the line.  And you know what?  To me, there is no way to blame the writers, because they didn’t want this.

I don’t think Dabb and Bobo would have gone ahead with the confession in 18 without thinking that there would be some closure to that arc, they wouldn’t have done that not only to the fans, but for the sake of their own story as well: no writer wants to start something that they can’t finish. (And this applies to both Cas and Eileen).

Here’s a basic rundown of what I think happened: they had a clear arc from 18-20, ending in reciprocation at some level from Dean, Sam marrying Eileen, Hunter Sam as the new Bobby, Dean in heaven with Cas and big roadhouse reunion at the end. Covid prevented a good amount of that. Network had to stare at big gay 18 for six months, got cold feet. Thought about Walker, target audience and alienation of the rural areas if it went full gay. Misha quarantined and likely shot something (not much), he was then cut by execs and went home. They likely added in lines referencing Eileen and Cas to make it clear but more subtextual. They wrap, editing gets it and hacks it to pieces, so we get a shorter episode that’s mostly montages and jarringly bro-centric with nothing else. Arcs are left hanging. Dabb gets episode but it’s too late, there’s nothing he can do. Actors aren’t told so they can continue to do positive PR for the ending, they all found out at the same time we did: hence almost complete silence about the finale.

And you know what?  They warned us.  I talked about it here, but they’ve been telling us all season that Chuck wasn’t the writer, he’s the network.  I don’t think, still, that they thought it would be cut up like this, into something so unsalvageable that it’s been panned by almost everyone, even people who didn’t care much about Dean and Cas.

Finally, a masterpiece can be ruined by editing, and while I’m not sure even the script they ended up shooting on was a masterpiece (due to the network meddling already), but to me it’s blatantly obvious that it’s no one but the network that caused this, that took away closure for Dean, Cas, and even Sam.

So what do I want?  Nothing really, there’s nothing we can do, but I wrote this mostly to show people that the writers are not your enemy.   In fact, to the people trashing them?  You’re doing exactly what the CW wants you to: blame the obvious targets, blame Misha, blame Jensen and Jared, blame Dabb.  Scream and yell at them on Twitter and about how the show is ruined because of them.  The network keeps their engagement levels high, they don’t get as targeted for their behavior, and just keep moving along.

Just, please, think about who did this,  Mourn the show, be angry, but not at the people who fought tooth and nail for this for literal years, not the people who wanted it more than we did, not the people who cannot say anything because of their careers and the NDAs they’re bound by.

Someone is going to spill eventually, but until then, we just have to wait, and continue to be loud.

#my writing #my meta #supernatural #spn #spn finale trash fire #MY MANIFESTO IS DONE

[wormstacheangel]

Suptober Day 1: Harvest

wc: 1.7k tags: fluff with the side of tiny case fic, established relationship, spoilers but cw they are drugged with cider,

It was a long hunt. One that they accepted as their last one, but, of course, they can never sit still enough not to take an easy local hunt. By local, he means a two-day trip away, but still, they saved a couple of old folks from a ghost, which was fun. Dean sure enjoyed getting thrown around until Cas finally burned the dentures.

Like he said, long hunt.

They stayed at a nice little Airbnb overnight. During breakfast, their waitress told them of the Harvest Festival a town over. Cas was still a little bruised up, but Dean convinced him to go, at least to try their famous apple cider.

“We’ll make a day of it! Just me and you.” With that, Cas agreed, taking Dean’s waiting hand across the table.

The festival was lively when they arrived in the afternoon, with more people than they expected considering the small town they were in but apparently when they say famous they meant it. The tents lined up with food from funnel cakes, donuts, chicken, and some pumpkin spice beer that Dean chugged down even though it tasted like shit.

They eventually ended up with bags filled with treats and souvenirs to take home to the kids--Sam and Eileen fall into the kids’ category. They each held a bag while Dean held Cas’ hand tight in his own, dragging him around from seller to seller, buying and tasting as he went.

“We should start heading home, or soon you’ll be too full to drive.” Cas teased as Dean finished off their bag of apple crisps. “You think we’re feeding an army.”

“Considering how Jack eats, we might as well be.”

“He gets that from you, you know.”

They continued their banter as they made their way out of the festival and to the parking lot.

Then they were stopped by a woman wearing a volunteer pumpkin shirt, “Aw, leaving so soon? Don’t ya wanna stay for the fireworks?”

That quickly took Dean’s attention, brightening up his whole face so much that once again, Cas couldn’t find it in himself to refuse. Instead, earning himself a small kiss on the cheek as a thank you before being was dragged to the car to drop off their items.

Once back in the festival, they walked around until another volunteer told them about the amazing view of the fireworks at the middle of the corn maze.

“It’s a small maze, but in the middle is a little hill. So it’s usually first-come, first-serve. But I haven’t heard of anyone taking it as of now.”

Once again, Dean was easily hooked in and took Cas along for the ride. Not that he was complaining. He enjoyed watching Dean get excited over small things, things he wouldn’t have permitted himself to get excited for before. Of course, it helped when Dean hooked his arm around Cas’s waist to tug him close, whispering, “Ever kissed someone in a corn maze, Cas?”

“You know I haven’t, Dean.”

That did it for Cas. A promise of a spectacular kiss that will put the fireworks to shame.

At the entrance of the maze stood a cider cart, and Cas made a beeline for it. “I at least wanna be warm if you are going to make me walk around in the cold.”

“On the house.” The saleswoman winked at them, and something uneasy passed through them, but they ignored it as she motioned them to go right on in that the fireworks should be starting soon.

They took their hot cider and walked right in, taking hold of their hands as they walked through the maze in comforting silence. Watching the sky above them change from orange and pinks to the dark night sky.

When the maze opened up to a clearing, Dean started to run—taking the small space on top. It was tall enough to see over the cornstalk and watch the lights twinkle from the festival up ahead. They could even see groups of people exiting the maze from their left, and for a second, Dean wondered why they didn’t run into anybody on their walkover. It looked like a lot of people were going through the maze, but nobody passed them.

That thought was quickly dismissed as the first firework lit up the sky, cheers from the crowd echoed the loud boom, and Dean felt secure with an arm hooking around his shoulders to bring him in closer. So they sat there watching the firework show and polishing off their now cold cider until Cas couldn’t wait another second.

Gently, he turned Dean’s face just enough so they could start the kiss slowly. The snap crackle pop of the fireworks above their heads just kept lighting up the fuse between them until Cas asked for them to find another place to spend the night.

“Should we go now?” Dean kissed down Cas’s jaw, feeling the hastily nods instead of seeing it. “Okay. Okay, let’s go.”

They both stood up and took one last look at the view before they got down. Turning left, where they were sure they saw the other folks exit from before. Every few steps, they pulled each other for another kiss-- smiling into them like giddy newlyweds--until they started to realize they’ve been walking for way too long.

The fireworks had long been over, and they soon realized it was their only source of light. It soon became so hard to see anything that they didn’t dare let go of each other’s hands. They tried to go back to the hill to see if maybe they could see the trail from there, but it was like it never existed in the first place.

“Fuck!” They turned the corner to find another dead-end. “Isn’t this shit for children!”

“You know we haven’t seen or heard anyone in a while. Not since-”

“We came in here. I know. I was thinking the same thing earlier when we were on the hill.”

“Why didn’t you say anything then?”

“Cause you stuck your tongue in my mouth and impending doom took a backseat.”

They started to run, calling out for help as they did, but it only felt like they were going in circles.

Then Dean yelled, “Hallelujah!” When a flashlight shined into their faces.

“There you two are. It’s time to go.” The old man sounded so relieved to find them. He didn’t look sinister. He didn’t even make it sound like they were gone for that long. “You two okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah. We got lost, I guess.” Dean shrugged, watching as Cas stared ahead of him.

“Many people do. But they always find their way out, though.”

They followed the man out of the maze while Dean’s knuckles brushed alongside Cas’. They were listening to the man recite a memory when suddenly Cas tugged at Dean’s arm.

“Dean.” It was a shocking gasp.

“Cas?” Dean turned around to watch; Cas’s eyes rolled to the back of his head before dropping like a ragdoll. “Cas!”

And just like that, Cas was out to the world.

Dean fell to his knees to take Cas into his arms, but it was useless. He was heavy, and Dean’s body was starting to tingle, his muscles becoming weaker with every passing second.

“Don’t you worry about your little friend.” The man flashed his light on Dean’s face. Blinding him, but Dean kept glaring up at him. “Just like you, he won’t feel a thing.”

“What did you do to him?” He tried to growl, but it came out too breathless for it to be threatening.

“Same thing we did to you. Same thing we do every year to a couple of tourists.”

Dean could feel himself slipping out of consciousness, but he kept trying to shield Cas from whatever was coming.

“Don’t fight it, boy.” The man walked over to him, raising his flashlight high above his head. “Hate it when they struggle.”

And with a single hit, Dean was knocked out. Falling over Cas. Hoping that at least he gets killed first this time around.

Dean woke up again when he felt someone kicking his legs with little to no effort. His arms were numb, and he realized it was because they were pulled back and tied around some huge boulder.

“Dean?”

Dean recognized the voice and happily groaned out a complaint. “Hate small towns. Creeps. All of them.”

Cas chuckled in relief. “Glad you’re okay.”

Dean blinked a couple of times before his eyes focused, looking across from him to find Cas in the same position as him. Cas looked dirty, a few scratches on his face from being dragged, which made Dean furious—tugging at the ropes that hold him back from checking for any more injuries.

“Fuck! Shit! You okay? They hurt you?”

“Not as much as they did you.” Dean didn’t feel much pain besides the stretch on his shoulders and a raging headache. “I guess that’s not true. You have a swell on your head.”

“Yeah, well, I went down swinging. Unlike you.” Cas didn’t look amused, but he looked concerned. Dean followed his gaze, looking for an explanation or a way out. “I guess we’re either bait or dinner.”

“I’m used to being bait.”

“And I’m used to being dinner. Well, aren’t we a match made in heaven?” This time Cas glared, and weirdly enough, it made Dean relax a little. “Okay, so what’s the plan?”

The plan was simple, while Cas may not be a full-powered-up angel, he was still an angel. And he was stronger than an average human. So with a little more force, Cas had his arms free, rubbing his wrist while shrugging at Dean, “I always see humans do this.”

“Yeah, cause it hurts, so if you can just-” Dean motioned for his arms and Cas quickly reached to untie him. Then, when they were both free, they once again started to look around the empty cornfield. “I say leave now and call for backup; come back in the morning.”

“Considering we have no weapons, I think that would be for the best.”

“So much for date night.” Dean took Cas’s hand, and they quickly started to get themselves out of there. Running like maniacs as they pushed through the endless corn.

“I actually enjoyed myself today. You know, before the whole being drugged and left for dead part.”

“Really? That was my favorite part.” Dean joked, squeezing Cas’s hand as they made their way to safety. “You think all the stuff we bought was drugged?”

“Won’t stop me from having another donut.”

“Man, I love you.”

#suptober21 #wormstachewrites #fic #destiel #deancas #sorry its so late. work today was draining emotionally #established destiel #case fic

[quietwingsinthesky]

Let Jack do some biting and exploding as a little treat. He needs it for enrichment in his environment! Alternatively this is his “hormone driven teen age rebellion/angst” phase. Or he’s threatening to run away and live with Sam.

Assuming you’re referencing my anti-domestic destiel au: yeah 🥰 jack is in just the worst situation here, and he put himself there, sure, he agreed to it, thought it would be okay. but crucially, to me, he also thought it was temporary. and that the love he would experience as Dean & Cas’s actual baby wouldn’t differ that much from what he gets as himself. And when it actually is different, when they treat him different, (maybe there’s more kindness in Dean when he’s holding someone that looks more like a child, maybe Castiel’s more attentive and knows how to handle him better because after all, he planned, he took classes, for a baby) that’s rough! horrible and frustrating!

and since they’re all pretending this is fine and makes them happy, he spends more time than he should playing along and feeling worse and worse about himself. I think things should start breaking around him. His toys all crack and twist into terrible shapes. Blood stains show up on his baby blankets. He cries and glass shatters. (He’s trying so hard to keep it in, but it’s not working, he’s upset and he doesn’t even have an outlet to talk about it or anything because Dean and Cas are fully treating him like the toddler he’s taken the shape of.)

I really think Sam would be his saving grace here because Sam is a reprieve from having to keep up that appearance and act. Sam treats Jack as his son, yes, but also as an adult, because that is what Jack is, fast growth cycle and odd birthday count or not. He doesn’t want to be a child. The window for that has passed. He’s grown up.

(I swear that Jack’s part in this isn’t just me being frustrated with his literal infantilization in popular fanon as a character who’s very obviously (to me, anyway) coded as autistic. I swear. It’s not all that. Just. Most of it.)

Jack running away with Sam would be such a way to kick off the falling apart of this “perfect” life that Dean and Castiel have constructed. Their son up and fucking leaves, goes to live with Sam because he can’t stand how neither of them look at him and actually see who he is rather than who they’d prefer him to be. Maybe jumpstarts a few realizations about the fact that they aren’t seeing each other truthfully either, that they’re both miserable and need to split up before they lose their friendship that’s so important to them as well.

(and of course, for extra drama, Jack should burn their house down. What better way to signify that the Normal Apple Pie Life is coming to an end then a housefire. Dean walks in to check on Jack during the night and instead of a baby, there’s Jack standing there next to his small bed, eyes burning gold and neither of them can say anything before the whole room explodes into flame. (Which Jack is very upset about. He didn’t mean that to happen. (He’s glad that it did.) He just lost control.)

but also just in general even outside of this au, jack should be allowed to bite people <3 it’s good for him <3 he gets his bloodthirsty urges to tear out people’s throats from his dad! (sam)

#anti domestic destiel au #<- if you cant tell from how i talk about jack and the whole. name. here. this is really me deconstructing that whole idea that’s been #created in popular fanon. because it frustrates me. the weird pushing of sam to the sidelines for pure focus on romance and the near #ubiquitous infantilization of jack and the way it tends to flatten dean and castiel both to fit the romantic roles. #you know. it frustrates me. what if this was horrible instead. what if this was a glue trap and dean and cas and jack are all suffocating. #jack kline #dean winchester #castiel spn #sam winchester #spn #like i dont want to tag this destiel because it is Not. the whole point of it is that its Not. #but at the same time their relationship is the focal point so???? #ask

[idreamofplaid]

Whiskey and a Cabin

Square Filled: Skinny Dipping for @spnkinkbingo; Free Space for @spnfluffbingo; In Vino Veritas for @spndeanbingo

Characters: Dean x Reader; Sam mentioned

Rating: Explicit

Summary: The right mood, the right place, the right woman, and some whiskey help Dean realize the truth about what he wants. 

Word Count: 3628

A/N: It took me weeks to deliver the fluffy Dean smut I promised to everyone who voted for it. Life intervened. My muse left, and then she returned. So, here it is.

Whiskey is not my friend. I mean, yeah it’s gotten me through some tough spots. Hell trauma, an apocalypse or two, and boatloads of guilt. But last night, it turned on me.

This wasn’t the first time you helped Sam and me on a case. You’re the best damn psychic I’ve ever seen, even better than Pamela. You’d think I’d learn after what happened to her, but there’s no denying your kind of skills are helpful.

It was just a celebration of the end of another case and everybody still alive. That’s all. A few beers that turned into a few shots. Sam bowed out, like he usually does, after a couple of drinks. I should have known when I gave him the car keys, and sent him back to the motel, that I’d wake up in your bed. Hell, who am I fucking kidding? I did know. I knew, and it’s exactly what I wanted. 

This is the hard part. It’s time to leave town, and I don’t know when I’ll see you again. This could have happened before. I’m surprised it didn’t. Well, I’m surprised I didn’t try. I’ve gotten hard more than once watching you move, and thinking about the way you moved with me last night is making me hard again. 

I can’t do this. I can’t think about wanting to see you again. I can’t think about those sounds you made while I was buried deep inside you, and your body was tightening around my cock milking every single drop out of it. 

I stuff my hands in my pockets, and my fingers hit my cell phone. Damn it. I at least want to hear you again, maybe set something up for the next time I’m in town. I scroll through my list of contacts and stop when I get to your name. My thumb hovers over it, and I remember the way your hair smells like strawberries and flowers. I tap the phone against my forehead a couple of times. 

What the hell am I doing? My life is on the road with Sam killing monsters. There’s no room in that for a girlfriend. What woman in her right mind would sign up for that? I fling my cell phone on the bed and get up to finish packing. 

I’m shoving my shaving kit into my duffle when there’s a knock at the door. I zip my bag up, roll my eyes, and head for the door. “C’mon, man, you gotta do better than this. You’re slippin’ Sa…”

My mouth probably fell open. I’m pretty sure it did. It’s not my brother standing there; it’s you, and you walked into the room like you belonged there, like you’d been invited. I mean I would have asked you in, but….you were already there.

“Don’t look so surprised, Dean.” You got right up next to me, so close I could smell the sweet fragrance of your skin.

I watched you run your fingers straight up the center of my chest and play with the top button on my shirt before you let it go and dropped your hand. “Did you think I was just going to let you leave without even a good-bye after last night? And I know you would have. Don’t try to deny it. I’ve known you too long.”

I didn’t know what to say. Words usually just roll out of my mouth around women. Sometimes it’s too easy, but I had no idea what the hell to say to you. I couldn’t just stand there looking like an idiot though. I didn’t want you to think I was dumb.

I ran my hand through the hair at the back of my neck. “I wasn’t gonna just...leave. I was about to call you.” You smiled at me, nodding your head in that silent “Uh, huh. Right.” kinda way. “I was, Y/N..because I want to see you again.”

You sat down on the bed next to my duffle, looked at it and ran your hand over the canvas. When you turned back to look at me again, you had that irresistible flirty smile on your face. “Are you saying that because I took advantage of you last night, Dean?”

I swear I felt the beginning of a blush making my cheeks warm. “You...you didn’t…’take advantage’ of me, Y/N.” If there was anything left that I could have pretended to pack, I would have, just to give my hands something to do, but you were too close to the bag.

Last night was a little hazy, but I remembered all of it. I could pretend I didn’t remember, but I doubt you’d let me get away with that, and I don’t want to. I don’t want to pretend that things weren’t the way they were between us, like I wasn’t the happiest I’ve been in a long time. Maybe it was the happiest I’ve been ever.

There was no flame burning in the fireplace, but the logs were still there. We were deep enough into spring that it wasn’t cold enough for a fire anymore, but it was still nice sitting on the floor in front of it with you. The logs might not be burning,  but I could smell the earthiness of the hickory. I liked it. It made this place you’ve created for yourself seem even more like a home somehow.

You poured more whiskey into my glass, and the bottle clinked when it touched the rim. The sound seemed almost festive, if those kinds of things happened in my life. For me, it was a little sad. It reminded me I didn’t have moments like that, couldn’t have them.

I let my mind wander for a second, longer than I should have. You looked so pretty sitting there on that rug that I know you picked out special just for this spot, just so the floor wouldn’t be bare. Uncovered floors felt temporary. They were as is. Nothing about them said “I’m going to stay here. This is my home.”

Being in a place that felt like this, like it had some roots, and being here with you, was making me feel things I usually kept buried deeper than the bones in the graves me and Sam dug up, but I couldn’t salt and burn this feeling away.

I should have stopped drinking, but it felt so good being here with you. It felt comfortable, and all those things together were enough to get me to start talking. You asked an open ended question, the kind I usually deflect in a heartbeat, but I didn’t this time.

“What are you thinking, Dean?” I watched your lips close around your glass as you took another sip of your whiskey. It was the Crown Royal kind you like with some flavor in it, but I didn’t even care that it was something I’d never drink, and why do I remember the kind of whiskey you like?

“Dean?” You were smiling at me and I was way too lost in this moment for my own good. “I asked you what you’re thinking”

I smiled back at you. It felt good to be smiling, for real, not pretending to be okay or trying to be funny to make myself think I was okay. This really felt good. “This is nice.”

It wasn’t the most original thing I’d ever said, but it was true. The next thing I said was better. It was so much better. I opened up that vault inside me where I keep my more complicated life feelings locked up and let them pour out.

“You’ve really made something for yourself here, Y/N. It’s the kind of place a  guy could picture himself staying for awhile.” You didn’t say anything. If you had, that might have stopped my grand confession, but you didn’t; and I kept going.

“I think about being somewhere like this, a lot.  I think about having a home and somebody to share it with. Somebody like you.” My eyes found yours, and for the first time I noticed just how pretty they are. I mean, I knew. You’re a beautiful woman, but I don’t think I’d ever seen you before like this. You weren’t just a potential one night thing, or at best a string of nights. 

I’d never thought before about waking up beside you for something really wild, like a whole week, because I was never anywhere long enough for that, much less something, permanent. And I knew, even though I never admitted it, that permanent was something I wanted. It was something I wanted, and right now you were making me ache for it.

You put down your glass and scooted closer to me. The way you were biting yur bottom lip made me want to taste it.

I tasted your lips last night and most of the rest of your body too. The memory of just how sweet you are is still on my tongue if I think about it, and it makes my mouth water wanting more of you.

I swear you can read my mind. That look in your eye, it’s like you know what I’m thinking. Not that it’s all that hard to figure out. I hope you’re remembering last night the way I do.

You lean over to the nightstand between the two beds, open the drawer, and pull out the motel’s notepad along with the pen they provided. Then you start to write something on the top sheet. That’s one of the things about you that makes me absolutely crave you; I never know what you’re going to do next.

I move a little closer, trying to see what you’re writing. Finally, I give up and ask, “Who’s the note for?”

You keep on writing while you answer me. “It’s for Sam, so he knows I’ve taken his brother for a couple of days.”

When you finish writing, you hold the pen and notepad out to me. “Now, tell him you’ll see him back at the bunker.”

I look at the page and what you’d written there. “Sam, Dean’s going to be staying with me for the weekend. Don’t worry. He’ll be well taken care of.” Y/N.

That last sentence was making my cock twitch. I took the pen and wrote: See you back at the bunker, Sammy.

You tore the sheet off the pad of paper and put it on top of the table where Sam would be sure to see it. We both knew it was rare for my little brother to miss anything. I stood there not moving, a little in disbelief about what was happening.

The smile on your face was indulgent and a little amused. You were enjoying this, enjoying me not quite knowing what to do. You closed your hand around my chin, fingers on each side of my face, and kissed me. I could still feel the warmth of your mouth on mine after you pulled away.

You gave my ass a pat as you walked by me on your way to the door and said, “C’mon, lover, I’ve got plans for you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your house is off the main road, surrounded by trees with a lake out back. It’s a cabin, but not like any cabin I’ve ever been in before. You’ve got a real kitchen with real cabinets, instead of rough shelves some hunter nailed to the wall just to be functional. There’s a place to eat in the kitchen too. As in, there’s an actual table where you have home cooked meals, instead of something just dumped out of a can.

Your bed is like a dream. You don’t sleep on cheap motel sheets that can be more accurately described using the word threadbare than thread count. Add you, naked and beautiful, to the mix; and it’s better than a dream.

I’m still lost in memories and possibilities of what we could have here together when you walk up behind me, put your arms around me, and rest your hands flat on my chest. I feel you lay your cheek against my back for a few seconds before you turn your head and put a kiss on my shoulder blade.

I turn in your arms and pull you up against me; it feels like you’re even closer than when you were behind me. Maybe because my cock is more than a little interested in resuming last night’s activities when it’s pushed into you like this. I lean down to kiss you, knowing exactly where I want this to go.

The way you kiss me is warm and soft, but there’s fire behind it. You’re everything I want, even the things I don’t let myself think about. Sex is the easy part, but you make me feel. You make me want to hold you always, and that’s a dangerous thought.

You’re the first to break the kiss and take my hand in yours. “C’mon, Dean. I didn’t get to show you the deck last night.”

I follow you outside, and the view out there is unbelievable. It’s hard to believe you live here; you get to see this every day. This is your life.

Your hand is still in mine, and I can picture us sitting there on your deck, sipping a couple of beers and watching the sun go down. Something else is on your mind though, and I don’t have the first objection to that.

You push my flannel back off my shoulders and drag it down my arms. It falls to the wooden floor behind me. You’re looking me up and down, making a big show of licking your lips.

“You’re wearing too many clothes, Dean.” You pull at the front of my t-shirt, and I get the hint. I strip out of it, and you make a point of running your eyes over my naked chest. “Still too many clothes.” You say it with a certain gleam in your eye that I’ve seen there before.

I look around, feeling self conscious, like I’m expecting people to appear out of the trees. There’s nothing but pines and water. This is a private show.

I take off everything I’m wearing until there’s not a stitch left on my body. You run your hand down my side. As it gets lower, you move it around to my back so you can cup my ass and squeeze.

My body likes that. It likes that a lot. “Are we going to do this right here?” I ask you.

“Yes, Dean, we absolutely are.” You bite your bottom lip. You’re being all flirty and seductive with me, and I love it. Your teeth let go of your lip, and your tease your fingertips across my chest. “Just not yet,” you say.

I watch you taking your clothes off while my cock gets harder. You’re going to make me wait, and that’s hot. I’ll wait to come for you. I can’t believe I just said that, even in my own head.

You take my hand and lead me down the wooden steps of the deck. When my toes hit the grass, it feels good; but not as good as you look. Your hips curve just right, and your ass is so full and round; I can’t wait to get my hands on it. The way you walk, almost like you’re drifting over the ground, is so graceful. Fuck, but you are beautiful.

Just watching you has made me completely hard by the time we get to the lake, and I follow you into the water. It’s warm enough that my dick and my balls stay full and heavy. When we’ve reached a place where the water is up to my chest and lapping at my nipples, making them hard too, you stop and turn to me. 

The water has completely covered your breasts so I can’t see them anymore, but I can feel them. I cup them in my hands below the waterline and flick my thumbs over your nipples. The sound that comes out of you is breathy, needy, and one of the sexiest things I’ve ever heard. It makes my dick bob in the water.

“Kiss me, Dean.” You say it through those beautiful hot moaning sounds you’re making. I wouldn’t deny you anything, and this is such an easy thing to give you. I want you so bad right now. There’s nothing but the feel of you in my arms as my lips close over yours, and the warmth of the sunshine on my shoulders.

The taste of your tongue is sweet on mine, and the deeper the kiss goes, the more I want you. You jump up and wrap your legs around my waist, and I grab your ass with both hands to hold you up. Your kisses are getting more intense, and I want you so much now, my cock is throbbing. I’m sure I’m leaking a steady stream of pre come, but it’s impossible to tell. You grind your hips against my aching cock, and I let out a groan louder than I meant to, but who’s going to hear us? We can make all the noise we want.

You’re kissing along my jaw and squeezing your thighs around me. “Take me, Dean. Right here. Need to feel you inside me, stretching me open.”

“Baby girl, you’re gonna make me crazy if you talk like that.” I’m almost gasping for breath at this point, at least if feels that way.

“Then stop talking,” you tell me. “Fuck me right now. Here. Under the sky with nature as our witness. Do it, Dean.”

I lift you up higher; you take my cock in you hand and position me at your entrance. Then I lower you down onto me. You’re so tight and feel so good I could almost cry from the relief and rightness of it.

I’m lifting you up and down, helping you ride my cock, while the water sloshes around us. You reach down between our bodies to stroke your clit and throw your head back, urging me on the closer you get to coming. “More, Dean. Harder.”

For once, I’m glad Sam nagged me about using the gym in the bunker. “We have it” he kept saying. Right now, I’m damn glad I wandered in there on a few occasions. I need all the balance skills I have to navigate the uneven bottom of the lake while I thrust up into you for all I’m worth.

Your pussy is grasping at my cock, choking it, challenging me to last a second longer. I will because you’re gonna come all over me before I let myself go. When I feel your walls start to clench around me and your nails start to tear at my back, I know I’ve got you.

“That’s it, baby. Mark me. Show me how good it feels.” I drag across your sweet spot and push into you as deep as I can. Your body shakes in my arms when you come.

The sound of you saying my name while you come undone is more than I can take. I fill you up, shooting my load inside you; and when I’m done, I drop my head onto your shoulder. “Y/N...that...you...are incredible.” I’m talking into your skin because I haven’t raised my head yet.

Time passes, I don’t know how long, with us wrapped around each other just like that. The next thing I’m aware of is your fingers combing through my hair. Ilift my head to kiss you again, and I can feel something shift inside me. It clicks into place.

Everything I said last night is the total truth, but there isn’t a drop of whiskey in me now. I could stay here with you, want to stay here with you. With that thought in my head, I walk out of the lake carrying you all the way back to the deck.

When we get there, I notice the folded up quilt and the pillows stacked beneath one of the windows. You had this planned all along. “Can you stand, sweetheart?”

Your head has been laying on my shoulder, and you turn it to kiss me right beside my neck. “I can make it,” you answer softly. 

My body has been separated from yours for awhile now, but when I put you down to spread out the quilt and pillows; I feel the loss of that contact in my gut. I need to hold you again.

I get things set up as fast as I can, sit down on the quilt, and pull you down with me. You lay back and put your head on a pillow first, and I can only hope you’re as eager as I am to feel our bodies wrapped around each other again.

It’s probably been less than two minutes since I let go of you, but that still seems like too long when I take you into my arms again. For a little while, my life is perfect. The warm sun overhead dries our skin while I run my fingers lightly up and down your back. Your head is on my chest where it belongs, and a bird singing is the only sound. I want to freeze this moment forever.

“Dean?” I kiss the top of your head.

“Yes, baby.” My fingers are still moving on your back while I wait for you to ask your question. “Do you think Sam would be okay in the bunker by himself for the next week?”

I feel a big smile spread across my face. “Oh, I know he will.” This is definitely the start of something. 

Everything: @gambitwinchester @princessmisery666 @peridottea91 @logical-princey @beenlovingromansincedayoneish @fangirlxwritesx67 @waywardbaby @atc74 @tumbler-tidbits @fandom-princess-forevermore @crashdevlin @jules-1999 @cosicas-cuquis @queenoftheunderdark @dean-winchesters-bacon @timelordy-fangirl2 @sweetness47 @hobby27 @awesomesusiebstuff @kickingitwithkirk @becs-bunker @sandlee44 @supernaturalgrandma @volleyballer519 @kdfrqqg @lizette50 @sorenmarie87 @lovealways-j @mrswhozeewhatsis @spnbaby-67 @wayward-and-worn @asthesunwentdown @vulgar-library @thinkinghardhardlythinking @petitgateau911 @calaofnoldor

Dean/Jensen: @deansyahtzee @flamencodiva @deanwinchesterswitch @feelmyroarrrr @focusonspn @akshi8278 @ladywinchester1967 @sgarrett49 @wingedcatninja @coffee-obsessed-writer @adoptdontshoppets @ellewritesfix05 @weepingwillowphoenix

Voters: @just-call-me-kim @siospins @jamzm @deandaydreaming​

#spnkinkbingo #spnfluffbingo #spndeanbingo #dean smut #dean fluff #dean x reader

[waywardsummoner46]

(Un)Pleasantville

A/N: Second one shot, yay! Definitely toying with expanding this as well as my Lucifer!Sam and Michael!Dean fic. I’m open to requests and let me know if you want to be added to my tag list (never had one before, oo this is exciting). As ever enjoy the fic and let me know what you think!

Word count ~ 1620

______________________________________________________________

Alright so, not to sugar coat anything but this was an absolute nightmare.

  You, Sam and Castiel had gotten word of a hunt - well more Sam but that’s besides the point - and had left yesterday. You’d paused at a gas station outside of a place called Charming Acres but the dude at the counter said something was off about the place… so naturally (or supernaturally) you all went to check it out. And a dude’s head just completely blew up out of the blue after he came in for his phone?

  Pulling into the town itself, now that was something. You felt as though you’d walked into a 1950s sitcom about some cheesy, lovesick marriage story. Something that you’d like to stay well away from. Consequently, you met a cheesy, lovesick couple called Justin and Cindy Smith who said they’d heard absolute zilch about any deaths and “this is a very close-knit community, nothing goes on here without everyone knowing” blah blah blah.

  Anyway, the strangest thing for you wasn’t the clothes, nor was it the 1950s behaviour, no, it was the fact Justin didn’t seem to recognise what a phone was. You silently ogled at him but he paid no attention to you. So now you definitely thought something was off about this place. 

  After that fateful encounter, you all stumbled upon the local diner “Harrington’s” who was run by the Mayor Chip Harrington and his daughter Sunny. You thought Sunny was a very sweet young woman who honestly looked like someone you’d get along with, however you noticed her head perked up once conversation about Conrad (watermelon head guy) started. Castiel so delicately stated, “Oh no! His head exploded” rendering everyone in the diner speechless.

  The Mayor stuttered for a moment then questioned “Excuse me?”

  “Like a ripe melon in the sun.”

  Whilst this confrontation was happening, Sunny gave you and Sam milkshakes, as Cas had refused earlier, so you were busy trying not to spit it out as you found that conversation hilarious. Chippy boy gave you the information where Conrad was last seen and then you all took off but not before Sam abruptly said “Alright, you know what? We’re leaving, bye.” And that was that.

  When you’d all arrived at the boarding house, a too cheerful Ms. Dowling greeted you at the door, and creepily said she knew you were coming because it’s a small town and things travel fast. Honestly, what is it with these people? From there, and after a brief explanation on why you all were there, she showed you to Conrad’s room and said he moved in a few weeks ago.

  Being your observant self, you came to the conclusion that the bed had been barely used but there were passionate and just plain disgusting letters under the mattress addressed from Sunny (so maybe she wasn’t so innocent, neither were you).

   At the same time Sam suggested you all stay overnight and divulge and investigate more thoroughly in the morning and yet his almost desperate tone of voice put you on edge. Obviously, you were all tired and weary but Sam was just on a whole new level of “oh this is amazing, we should stay here because it’s so cool”. So reluctantly, you and Cas agreed but not before exchanging an uncertain glance with each other, the intuition of a teenager and an angel right?

  Sam and you were sharing a room since Cas had insisted on his own, and instantly something changed with how he addressed you. “(Y/N), please take your shoes off, you’ll ruin this lovely carpet,” and “(Y/N), sweetheart, don’t you think wearing something a little more lady-like would be more appropriate, hm?” 

 All you could do what was sit and stare because not once had Sam ever been this pedantic or pathetic and he certainly had never called you “sweetheart”, so too baffled to engage in intelligent conversation, you went to bed just after Sam as you were too busy burning incredulous holes into the back if his hairy head. Struggling to grasp sleep, you softly whispered a “What the fuck?” and thank god Sam didn’t hear you because you would’ve absolutely hated the outcome.

  The next morning you were woken up quite rudely by an angel banging on your door. Blearily you struggled out of bed and opened the door, rubbing your eyes. “What time is it?” You said.

 “Time to get up, get dressed and Sam-Sam?”

 Noting Castiel’s confusion, you turned quickly in what was once Sam’s direction only to find your lovable older brother had disappeared to Chuck knows where. Great, man hunt at ridiculous o’clock in the morning. Cas immediately raced down to the stairs to seemingly find Ms. Dowling leaving you rushing to change into something more appropriate that pyjamas.

 Descending the stairs you notice the front door open and a frantic looking Castiel waiting in the Impala, waving for you to get in. Shouting a quick “thank you!” to Ms. Dowling, you sprant for the car and sat in Sam’s seat.

 Castiel started the car and you asked “So? We know where he went?” 

  “I’ve been told he left this morning saying he was going on a walk to the diner and wanted a milkshake, but only after screaming at Ms. Dowling who had her eardrums blocked with ear plugs,” he said. You nodded, absorbing the information and pondered why Sam would just up and leave for a milkshake.

  “Cas, you don’t think that there’s something wrong with the milkshake? Or like, this town in general? Because I do and Sam was being a real overbearing douchebag after you left yesterday and acting completely out of character.”

 He didn’t hesitate to nod his head, “I must admit, the strange customs have piqued my interest and Sam did drink quite a lot of that milkshake yesterday so it might be a possibility that there is a supernatural force going on here.”

  He looked like he wanted to say more, but you’d turned a corner and arrived just before the diner. Castiel left the car and went to inspect whilst you decided a smart move would be to ring Sam’s phone… only to find it ringing in the back of the car. Typical frustrating Winchester. 

  Placing your hands on your head, you massaged your temples and tried to think of any reasonable explanation as to what on earth was going on. 

 You heard the driver’s door being opened and looked over to see Castiel already turning the keys in the ignition. “He’s gone to Mr and Mrs. Smith's house,” was the only explanation you received.

  Suddenly determined, you nodded and said, “Alright, we’re getting somewhere, onward!” So, the car started and picked up speed, as you made your way to the Smith’s house you took a chance to observe the area a bit more.

  It was definitely something outdated and old-fashioned but the people did look happy, even if the shops were called something despicable like “The Rainbow Restaurant". It was very bright and colourful and you didn’t doubt that even if a thunderstorm hit, these people would still be acting on top of the world.

  Upon finally reaching your destination, you took notice of the white-picket fence and the massive garden. The house was huge and definitely unnecessary for only two people. Regardless, you and Cas sauntered up to the door and knocked three times respectively. On the third Cindy opened the door with a clear smile on her face and a very pleasant scent of lavender perfume. “Hello, can I help you?”

 You and Cas glanced at each other before he answered, “First of all, I’d like to offer my condolences for your husband's death but we really need to know-”

  He was cut off by a very confused Cindy Smith who said, “My husband? Honey, I think you might be mistaken. My darling husband is in the kitchen, fetching his newspaper. Justin, dear, come say hello!” 

 Again, Cas looked like he wanted to continue but a very familiar, moose-like voice interrupted “Coming darling! Won’t take two slices  of a carrot cake!” It was, unmistakably, Sam.  You gaped and stared questioningly at Cas in silent question. He merely returned your look.

  Moments later, Sam appeared in the doorway. Wearing a pair of glasses. A ponytail. And a fucking cardigan. A cardigan, because why the hell not? He wrapped his hands around Cindy’s waist and looked at us in confusion. Or sorry, at Cas in confusion, but when his gaze landed on you his face went more stern. 

 “Young lady, do you not remember what I said about un lady-like clothing? Because those denim jeans and that ridiculous jumper are hardly suitable for my daughter, little miss. I suggest you get in this house right now and put on that lovely dress your mother bought you,” he basically seethed.

  Now you were definitely the equivalent of a fish, with your wide mouth and wide eyes. You managed to compose yourself a bit before stuttering “Sam?”

 His eye twitched and there was no warning before he grabbed your arm and pulled you in the house then promptly dragged you into the sitting area. He guided you to the sofa on the left of the fireplace and very softly explained, “My sweet honey, I know that this is hard for you, but your mother and I want what’s best for you. Now, be a good girl and wait here until your mother and I have finished our pleasant conversation with our new neighbour, hm?” Then he planted a kiss on your forehead and returned to Cindy’s side to continue conversing with Cas.

  All you could think was: what the fuck?

#justin smith!sam #justin smith!sam x reader #supernatural x reader #sam winchester x reader #sam x reader #Sam Winchester #castiel x reader #spn x reader

[mishastoesies]

layout of MY widower arc:

jack is born and he’s a baby. sam and dean walk into the nursery guns raised and they see a crying baby. dean moves first, puts his gun away and holds the baby and tries to get him to stop crying

dean calls the baby “cas jr.” while he’s trying to get jack to stop crying and sam is like [sam noise] dean his name is jack. look at the wall for two seconds

dean lets jack hold his pinkie, jack grabs it, and gives dean a little baby handprint scar around it. cue dean’s glib little “got a killer grip there, slugger” while he’s actively trying not to cry

dean carries jack in a sling while watching cas’ body burn. everything else about that scene remains the same. the yellow curtains were INSPIRED

when they get back to the bunker, dean pours all of his hard liquor down the drain. and when he’s done with that, he goes into the kitchen, grabs the wine he uses for cooking and the six packs of beer he keeps around and pours those down the sink too

 enter... the hell zone: dean has baby insomnia, grief nightmares where cas burns on the ceiling when he manages to sleep, hallucinates cas everywhere, and the withdrawal symptoms are VERY bad. shot of him crying for three seconds, taking a deep breath, and soldiering on

during ALL of this, sam is trying to be there for his brother but like... the monsters did not Stop just because dean acquired a baby. cue sam becoming the de-facto On Site Adult for the wayward sisters, especially alex who becomes sam jr., and also doing more witch stuff with rowena because yknow. dean’s busy with the kid he’s allowed to fuck around and he’s PRETTY sure he won’t have to do any finding out (spoiler: he does find out, but that’s a season 14 sam thing)

SPEAKING of the wayward sisters, dean has an epiphany during one of his more lucid moments and looks at jack’s makeshift nursery and is like “the bunker is... not a good place for a kid” so he takes himself to sioux falls and crashes with donna and jody for a few weeks before he can get him a Home

mary tries so hard to give him baby advice but it’s all terrible advice from the reagan era because yknow. thats where she’s from. “you don’t need a carseat, when you were jack’s age you slept on the floor of the impala” “by the time he’s two you can just drop him off at the park and let him play” “are you MAKING your own baby food? i did the same thing! i fed you and sam blitzed up pop tarts a couple of times!”

gabriel shows up early and nearly sends dean into Mystery Spot 2.0 because he’s convinced that dean knocked cas up. this is the first time we get confirmation of jack’s true form looking like cas. dean gets yelled at for a good 3 hours when he says “no no no, jacks not mine, he’s the antichrist” because thats gabriel’s NEPHEW how DARE he say that

when cas comes back, dean runs to him, spins him around, and kisses him on the lips. dean is weeping during this. cas is shocked, and pulls away, and this leads to: the awkward era. 

during the awkward era, cas is 100% in love with dean and dean is 100%  in love with cas, BUT they both don’t want the other one to make a “hasty decision” - cas thinks dean’s just emotional from having to be a single father for months on end and is latching onto him as a result of that, and dean thinks cas is only being nice to him because of jack and couldn’t possibly feel the same way as him

dean can go back out on cases now, and cas is relegated to stay-at-home parent because he wants time with jack. dean avoids them because he thinks that he’d be unwelcome and intruding on them. cas secretly wishes dean was with him the whole time. 

this continues until dean gets got by one of those offshoot-djinn that make you see worst nightmares instead of idyllic dreams. his worst nightmare, surprise, is cas dying again. dean and cas have their very emotional conversation in the middle of the night about this, dean says “i can’t do this without you”, cas says “i don’t want to do this without you,” cue emotional sex scene, and in the morning, they’re once again in-sync and acting like an old married couple, taking care of jack together and being a liddol fambily

while all of this has been happening sam has embroiled himself in witch politics, having become the leader of a growing reformist faction in the community that wants to reconcile with hunters and work to stop larger threats, and he’s pretty sure that rowena’s betraying him because she’s out for power and power alone, so he decides to fake his own death using rowena’s resurrection trick and some illusory magic (here we recast sam as ryan ross from panic! at the disco) to go undercover and see what she’s been saying 

(spoiler: she HAS been double-crossing him and readying for a hostile takeover with her own group. sam now needs allies, powerful ones too... who can he call on? that’s right. gabriel thee archangel. yes my version of season 13 ALSO has horrible sabriel bait! you’re welcome!) 

the angels’ plan to kidnap jack is 100% worse this time because they effectively want to take this very small baby and use him as a generator to keep heaven running. they don’t view jack as a person with potential, they view him as a battery. cas and dean are now on the run from heaven itself, and who can they call on to hide them? who left heaven after deciding the angels were just Not That Compelling? that’s right. chuck. 

chuck in THIS version has a soft spot for his grandson and takes them in, BUT they have to share a house with becky. becky loves the baby, and jack, who is now one year old, loves becky’s pet cat and becky’s three year old daughter. 

scene were dean and cas are lying in the guest bedroom of becky’s house and dean is like “i didnt want this for us. i wanted us to be normal” and cas is like “dean, i don’t want normal. i want you. i’d go anywhere for you, i thought you knew that” 

claire comes to visit them often, even when they’re at becky’s house. the first time claire visits is when dean is alone in the bunker with cas still dead, though, and after she punches dean in blind anger, she holds jack and is like “yknow, i always wanted a baby brother.” when she visits at becky’s house she brings cas a dean funko pop and is like “i got it at the hot topical :)” 

there’s so much more to this but this is like... the main part of it

#baby jack truthing #supernatural #dean winchester #destiel #this is so obnoxiously long and for WHAT. for WHAT #and i cut myself off at 20 paragraphs but there's MORE. kill me

[holylulusworld]

Hit it off king of hell style

Title: Hit it off king of hell style.

Summary: You are done running after Dean, so you take Crowley’s offer and hit it of king of hell style.

Square filled for @spnquotebingo​​​​​: “Son of a bitch!” - SPN

Word Count: 1,3k+

Pairing: Demon!Dean x fem!Reader, former Dean x fem!Reader, Crowley x fem!Reader (platonic)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: angst, language, pissed reader, Y/N is just done, drunk reader, flirty Crowley, mentions of smut, cheating, jealousy, overuse of the word ‘fuck’ and sonofabitch, mentions of deaths, fingering, implied smut, kidnapping (kinda)

Divider by @firefly-graphics​​

SPN Quote Bingo masterlist

“Crowley,” you mutter under your breath, eying the demon warily while he steps closer. 

“Grasshopper,” Crowley smirks, sitting next to you to order his favorite poison. “How have you been? Did your partner in crime leave you hanging again?”

“You know exactly that Dean ran off again,” you down your next drink, hissing when the amber liquid runs down your throat, burning deliciously. “I’m just done running after that sonofabitch!”

“I see,” nodding thoughtfully Crowley orders another drink for you. “I’ll have a single malt,” he dips his head to look at you. “Do you want something better than this-“ the king of hell shoves the drink the bartender poured him away, nose scrunched up in disgust.

“Do you have better stuff?” you quip, not interested to leave your bar stool or the dingy bar in the middle of nowhere anytime soon. “Guess you only want to use me to control his demonic ass.” snickering you down your next drink. “Burns so good.”

“I know he told you to not come back,” the demon sighs, patting your shoulder. “Must be hard. Squirrel is not Squirrel any longer, Grasshopper. He’s all rage and bloodlust. Not that I would mind a little massacre here and there, but Dean is bad for business.”

You snicker at Crowley’s pained expression. “What did he do? Did he piss in your cornflakes or something?”

“Something like that,” the demon grumbles. “I tell Dean to kill an unfaithful wife, and he kills the guy signing the contract. What will happen if people hear I can’t control Dean? No one is going to sign shit any longer.”

Cradling his face in his hands Crowley huffs. “You should’ve known better, Crowley. Dean is a timebomb with black eyes. Before he was unpredictable but now – he’s just-,” you shrug, not finding the right words. “An asshole.”

“I second that,” Crowley laughs when you order another drink and a Piña Colada for him. “How about we fuck him over and have some fun, Grasshopper?”

“I don’t think so,” licking your lips you look at Crowley who tries to look taller. He stretches his neck, groaning as something cracks. “We can have a few drinks, though.”

“Deal,” holding out his hand Crowley looks at your hand. “Grasshopper, you must shake my hand. That’s how you agree to a deal.”

“I won’t sign any deals with you, king of hell,” growling the words you hop off the barstool. “Did you come here to get my soul or shit? Do you honestly think I would sell it for Dean, the guy who just railed a waitress and let me watch?”

“You watched?” you roll your eyes at Crowley’s words. “Seriously?”

“No, I did not watch. Why should I watch my ex fuck a random chick? I got better things to do, like drinking and giving a shit on his demonic ass. Just wish I gave him the boot sooner.”

“Broken heart?” Crowley carefully tries. “Come on, Grasshopper. Let’s hit it off king of hell style. We can have a few drinks and I promise to not let you sign any deals.”

“Fine, whatever. Got nothing else to do,” you grasp for your jacket and purse. “You will pay for my drinks.”

“Of course, my lady…”

“And then he went off to play house with Lisa, that yoga chick he barely knew,” you slur, giggling as Crowley tries to down the girly drink you ordered for him. “Can you believe he left my cute ass to play house?”

“I would’ve never left you, Grasshopper,” Crowley nods to himself, imagine getting you in his clutches, a collar placed around your neck, his name hanging from it. “How about you come with me, and I’ll show you a whole new world?”

“Nah, I got a nice drink, some peanuts, and a good view at the bartender’s ass when he bends to pick up shit,” you smirk. “Dean can go and fuck himself, or anyone else around.”

“He hurt you – huh?”

“Demon or not, we were still married, and he just told me,” you mutter, leaning closer to Crowley. “We ain’t married anymore, sweetheart! It says, ‘till death do us part’.”

“He did?” brows furrowed Crowley watches you throw a few peanuts into his face. “What?”

“That’s all your fault,” poking your finger into Crowley’s chest you growl at him. “It was you telling him about that fucking first blade and Cain. He got the mark because of you, Crowley. Don’t act all innocently now.”

“I didn’t know he would die,” Crowley shrugs. “At least not through Metatron’s hands and so soon.”

“But you knew about the consequences and said nothing. All of it only to howl at the moon with a feral demon called Dean Winchester. That’s pathetic for a king of hell. You should retire or get a hobby,” you grunt, ordering another drink. “Give me my poison.”

“I think she had enough,” the demon watches you slip off the chair to dance to the music in your head. “What are you doing?”

“Dancing, Crowley!” you smack the back of his head, grinning as he doesn’t fight back. “That’s for ruining my marriage, sonofabitch! If I wasn’t drunk, you’ll be dead by now. But I’ll leave this to Sam…Sammy.”

“Moose? Did you call him?”

“Nah, he would ask how it went and I am not in the mood to explain his big brother is busy fucking his way through the state of-“ blinking a few times you look at Crowley. “Where the fuck are we?”

“A bar?” Crowley smirks when you slap his cheek. He would never admit it, but he has a thing for dominant women. “Ouch, that tickled Grasshopper.”

“Stop calling me that, Crowley. You promised we would hit it off, but this is just hanging out at a bar with better drinks,” you sigh. “Maybe I should find a dick to ride for the night.”

“Oh-“ the bartender clears his throat, almost dropping the bottle of Whiskey in his hands. “Is she single?” the man whispers in Crowley’s direction. “I don’t want an angry husband to chase after me with a baseball bat, or gun again.”

“Not a chance,” Crowley growls. “If anyone gets her in his clutches, it’s me.”

“DREAM ON!” a deep voice bellows. “Did I not tell you to bring her back to my brother?” Dean grunts, watching you sway to the music in your head. “This-“ jerking his head toward you Dean narrows his eyes, “doesn’t look like bringing her home. It looks like getting her drunk to take advantage of my wife.”

“Ex-wife,” you mutter, pointing your index finger at Dean. “You said it yourself, we aren’t married anymore. You dicked down that chick and I can fuck Crowley if I want to.”

“You won’t!” Dean closes the distance between you with three longs steps before he grasps for you to throw you over his shoulder. 

“Lemme down, you sonofabitch,” you lift your head to ask Crowley for help. “You’re a fine bar buddy, Crowley. You can’t just let him take me.”

“Sorry, Grasshopper?” Crowley shrugs, laughing when you throw insults at him. “I can’t control a timebomb. You should know that.”

“What do you want?” wiggling on the bed in the messy motel room Dean brought you to, you try to break out of the ropes. “Let me go, asshole!”

“You will not speak until I’m done with you,” the demon tuts. “If you open your mouth again, I’ll gag you with my boxers.”

“What the fuck!”

“Final warning, sweetheart,” sliding his index finger over your lips Dean smirks when your breath hitches in your throat. “I think that I’ll put your mouth to better use later.”

“Hmpf…” his finger slides past your lips into your mouth, swiping over your tongue. 

“Always loved your mouth around my dick,” he muses, shoving two fingers into your mouth, slowing starting to move them in and out. He smirks, loving you look up at him, pupils lust blown.

“Do you want to say something, Y/N?” you hate he smirks down at you when he removes his fingers. “I bet,” he leans closer to lick over your cheek, “when I’m done with you sweetheart, you know how it feels to hit it off Dean Winchester style…” and just like that, he shoves his fingers into your slicked cunt, curling them. “Yeah, I think you’ll know…”

Tags in reblog.

#spnquotebingo #Hit it of king of hell style #dean winchester #crowley #demon!dean x reader #crowley x reader #implied smut #implied cheating #dean winchester fanfiction

[waywardrose13]

Night and Day

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 4263

Warnings: Language, witch!reader, mentions and implicaitons of sex, angst, some fluff, not enough editing to satisfy me

Summary: You hid the fact that you were a witch from the Winchester brothers for years. After a run in with an old mentor of yours causes your secret to be revealed, the brothers find out that not only are you a witch, but one of the most powerful in the world. When Dean is given the task to kill you in exchange for his brother’s life, you must face the fact you lied to the man you loved- the same man who hates witches with a burning passion.

A/N: My tags haven’t been working lately. I’m going to put my tags in a reblog. Comment or shoot me an ask letting me know if you got a notification or not. Oh, and also- surprise!

“Dean, I’m serious. We gotta get up.”

You gently nudged at your boyfriend. A smile played on your lips as you felt his arms tighten around you. He whined and let out a long sigh.

“Five more minutes.”

“You said that twenty mintues ago,” you scoffed, smirking down at him. He groaned and lifted his head to look at you.

“You’re a joy killer,” he said. 

“A joy killer?” You asked. You raised a brow as your smirk grew. “Really?”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Dean said.

“Right. Okay big boy, up and attem, let’s go. We’ve got that case in Ozark.”

Dean groaned again. “We just got back from a case two days ago.”

“Comes with the job description, honey,” you said. You swung your legs out of bed, placing your feet onto the floor. As you stood up, Dean suddenly wrapped his arms around you again, pulling you back down onto the bed. You squealed as he squeezed your sides, his lips latching onto your throat.

“Wanna stay here with you,” Dean said. He raised his head to kiss your lips. You ran your hand through his hair, his fingers running up your side, raising to cup your breast beneath your shirt.

“Dean, we don’t have time for this,” you said. He peppered kisses along your throat and collarbone, settling on the pulse point below your ear. “As much as I love doing this, we really need to get up.”

Dean halted his movements and lifted his head to scowl at you. He pushed himself up and off you, walking over to the dresser.

“Alright, fine,” he huffed. “Joy killer.”

***

“Of course, it has to be fucking witches.”

You winced at his words. You had been in Ozark for nearly a day now. After interviewing two of the victims who survived the attacks, you had also spoken to the detectives on the case before investigating the victims’ homes. The victims claimed to have been attacked by a shadow figure. The other three victims had been slaughtered in their homes, while the two survivors suffered severe lacerations and what seemed to be burns. You and the brothers were stumped for a while, until you found a hex bag hidden in a vase in one of the homes, and another hex bag stuffed in a couch cushion in the other.

You always hated witch cases. Not only were they dangerous, but they were also conflicting. You were a natural born witch, coming from a long line of witches on your mother’s side of the family. You had the gift of sight, also known as psychic abilities, and you had practiced witchcraft since you were thirteen.

When you had met Dean Winchester, it had been on a ghoul hunt. In those three days, you instantly felt an attraction to him that you couldn’t describe. You never thought he would be interested in you. You saw the women he’d frequent, and you weren’t like them. You were in shape, hunting keeping you fit, however you had some stretch marks, love handles, and thicker thighs than you would’ve liked. You also weren’t the prettiest woman in your opinion. You weren’t ugly, but you were always self conscious of the way you looked. You were sarcastic, cursed like a sailor, and reserved. You had always kept a wall around yourself ever since you were younger, sprouting at early ages due to things you had experienced and seen. You were twenty-four, a virgin, and a bit awkward at times.

Not at all Dean Winchester’s type.

But after meeting up with the Winchesters a few more times, you and Dean slowly became closer, until one night after a hunt, Dean had confessed his feelings for you. He was hesitant at first due to the ten year age difference, but your relationship had quickly blossomed. He was your first real relationship, the first person to ever be with you entirely, the first person to ever hold your heart.

Which is why you never told him about yourself.

Dean hated witches. It was a fact everyone knew. If you were to tell him that you were, in fact, a witch, he’d not only break up with you, but you were afraid he’d hunt you. Although you had never used your abilities for anything other than good, you weren’t entirely sure Dean would be able to trust you after you kept it from him for so long.

You were one of the most powerful witches in the world. Numerous covens have tried to recruit you, but you turned them all down. You were nomadic by nature, a free spirit, and you didn’t want to use your abilities to do someone else’s bidding. So you stuck to yourself. You kept off the radar and hoped your protective hex bags shield sigil tattoos worked. When Dean asked about the tattoos, you had simply told him they were more sigils for protection- like the anti possession tattoo. He believed you without a second thought.

“Okay, so now that we know what we’re dealing with,” Sam began. “We need to find out who. After doing some digging, I found that all of the victims attended the same addiction recovery group.”

“So you think the group is somehow linked to the murders?” Dean asked.

“It makes sense,” you said. “They all had this one thing in common. That’s what we always look for, right?”

“Right. There are only three people left in the group who have not been attacked. Since it’s a support group, anonymity is a requirement. But luckily for us, we have fake badges,” Sam said. “Marcus Wainwright, Brienne Tarly, and Astrid Waters are the only people who haven’t been attacked.”

You froze at Astrid’s name. You knew that name. She was the leader of a coven who tried to recruit you years ago. You turned them down because of the craft which they practiced.

“Who’s the leader of the group?” You asked.

“Uh…” Sam looked at the files. “Astrid.”

“I think it’s her,” you said. The brothers looked at you in question. You mentallykicked yourself. You said it before you could think. “She’s the leader, right?” You tried to cover yourself. “What if she used this group as a way to make sacrifices to whatever that shadow is?”

“That actually makes a lot of sense,” Sam said. “Carla, one of the victims I talked to today, said that Astrid would always try to get the group attendants to recruit more people. Apparently Astrid was always trying to bring more people into the group. Almost like she was obsessed with it.”

“She was trying to get more people to sacrifice,” Dean said.

“Exactly,” you said.

“Okay, let’s find this bitch.”

***

Astrid still lived in the same cottage as she did all those years ago when she tried to recruit you. Cobblestone walls covered in climbing ivy. Black shutters hung off the gothic windows. Various leafy plants grew around the sides of the house. The broken path led to a great wood door. The negative energy rolling off the house made you nauseous, and it took everything in you not to pass out.

You were only sixteen when you met Astrid, only just beginning to truly tap into your true potential when other witches began to feel your energy.

“You’re strong,” she had told you. “Stronger than me. You would be a valuable asset to any coven. A threat to witches below your strength. Others will want to harvest that power for themselves. We can keep you safe. I can keep you safe.”

You could feel her energy was dark. Her aura was an ominous black, a stark contrast from your pure white. You knew she was lying immediately. You threatened her. You were stronger than Astrid, and that pissed her off.

“I can fend for myself, thanks,” you had said.

Astrid had simply smirked at you, patting your hand gently. “We’ll see about that, my dear.”

You never thought you’d run across her again. You had hoped that you wouldn’t run into her again. Not only was she incredibly dangerous to you, but there was a high chance she would spill your secret, and you would not only lose Dean forever, but you would lose your life.

Swallowing back your fear, you trudged through the woods alongside the brothers. You knew you needed to do this. Innocent people were dying. If this was your last night on Earth, you wanted to be able to save them at least.

The three of you ducked below one of the windows. Dean peeked inside, trying his best to stay as hidden as possible.

“She’s in there,” he whispered. “She’s… at an altar. She’s chanting something.”

“Guess we found our witch,” Sam muttered. “Nice, Y/N.”

You gave him a weak smile.

Dean got up in front of the door, gun in hand. You and Sam waited for his call.

“Okay, on three,” he said.

“One… two…”

“Three!”

A new voice echoed around you, the door of the cottage violently swinging open, a gust of wind knocking Dean off his feet. Astrid’s cackle filled the air, and suddenly you began to feel woozy. Dean’s eyes fluttered shut, Sam falling down next to you. You knew it was Astrid, and you tried to fight it off, but soon succumbed to her power as well, your world going dark.

***

“How exciting!”

Head pounding, you awoke to the sound of a female’s voice. Trying to move, you soon found yourself unable to. Your eyelids felt heavy, and your limbs felt numb.

Opening your eyes, you found yourself staring up at the ceiling of the cottage. Astrid’s silver head was bent over you, bright emerald eyes staring into yours, a crooked, elated smile on her face.

“My oh my, I never thought the day would come,” she muttered to herself. A long nailed finger stroked your cheek, and you flinched away.

“Don’t touch her, you bitch!” You turned your head at the sound of Dean’s voice. You smiled weakly immediately at the sight of him, finding yourself incredibly tired.

You felt drained.

You tried to move your hands, finding them strapped to the table you were currently laid out on. Your flannel had been removed, as were your jeans, leaving you in only a tank top and panties. You shivered in the cool air. You hated being exposed like this in front of anyone that wasn’t Dean.

“What are you doing?” You asked weakly. “Let me go.”

Astrid laughed. “Please. You fall right into my hands and you think I’m going to let you go?” She asked. “You’re smarter than that, little fox.”

 “Why are you doing this?” Sam asked. “Why did you kill all those people? Why did you sacrifice them?”

Astrid looked surprised. “Oh my, you’re a smart one, aren’t you?” She smiled at Sam, holding a mortar and pestle up over you. She crushed something inside, muttering a few incantations.

“The shadow makes me stronger. The more it's fed, the stronger I become,” Astrid said smoothly. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m a strong witch. Stronger than your average natural born, much stronger. However, there are only two people in the world who are stronger than me.”

Astrid gave you a pointed look. 

“The shadow makes me stronger, as I said, but without the power of the other two witches, I will never be the strongest. If I were to siphon their energies from their souls, I would be the strongest witch there ever was and will ever be.”

“Pretty egotistical, eh there, granny?” Dean said. Astrid sneered at him.

“You’ll be the first one to die once I’m done with her, honey,” Astrid said.

“That is if I don’t kill you first, sweetheart.”

“If you only knew what I would be capable of,” Astrid snapped. “One witch has kept herself hidden. The Scottish bitch never can be found.”

“Rowena,” Sam said. 

“Oh, you know her?” Astrid said. “Yes, Rowena. Now, the other witch. Well, I met her years ago. She was just a wee lass of sixteen at the time, but she was already so strong. I knew she was going to be a problem for me. I tried to recruit her to my coven, but she was smart. Too smart. I’ve been trying to track her down for years, and I’ve never been able to find her.”

Astrid let out a dreamy sigh. “And then, by the grace of God, she fell right into my hands.”

“If you’ve already killed her, why take the souls of innocents?” Dean asked.

Astrid scoffed. “Oh no, dear. I haven’t killed her yet.”

“Well what’s the hold up? One less witch to worry about. You’ll stop killing innocent people.”

Astrid laughed. She looked down at you. “No idea how you’ve been with the man as long as you did. If I heard that, I’d run for the hills. Or stab him in his sleep.”

“Don’t touch him,” you hissed. Astrid grinned.

“There’s that fire,” she said. She smeared the green paste she made over your chest. You let out a small cry as it burned your skin. She painted a pentacle on you, muttering more incantations.

“Unfortunately, to siphon all of a witch's power, the siphoner cannot kill the siphonee,” Astrid said. “Someone else has to do it after I prepare her, then I could siphon it.”

“Well let’s make you a deal,” Dean said. Your lip wobbled. “If I kill the bitch, letting you siphon her power, you will never kill another person.”

Astrid smiled wickedly. “Really?”

“Sure. One less witch and we save some people.”

Astrid laughed. “Oh that’s too good. I’ll make a blood vow. If I break it, I die.”

“Fine.” Dean nodded at her.

“Give me your word, hunter,” Astrid said.

“I give you my word.”

“That no matter what, you follow through,” Astrid continued.

Dean sighed. “Yeah, fine.”

“Dean,” you said softly. A tear leaked from your eye. “Please.”

He looked at you curiously. Astrid cut his bindings, letting him free.

“He’s not the brightest bulb, is he?” She asked you, laughing.

“Where do I find her?” Dean asked.

Astrid handed Dean a knife. It had a curled handle, various sigils carved into it. She stepped back, folding her arms over her chest. 

“Go ahead.”

“You deaf?” Dean asked. “Where do I find the bitch?”

Astrid smirked, running her tongue over her lips.

“Right in front of you.”

The blood drained from Dean’s face. Tears streamed from your eyes now, leaking down your temples onto the wood beneath you. Astrid killing you was one thing. Dean killing you? There was nothing worse you could think of.

“Y/N?” He said. “No fucking way. She’s not a witch.”

“Isn’t she?” Astrid asked. “Go on, Y/N. Show us a little trick.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, wishing this was all a dream. Wishing that you would wake up and you’d be back at the bunker in Dean’s arms.

But when you opened your eyes, Dean still stood there, that curved knife in his hand, Astrid’s evil grin plastered on her face, a shocked Sam watching from his confinement on the wall.

“Fuck you,” you hissed.

“If you don’t show him-” she walked over to Sam, hand on his head- “I blow his brain apart.”

You took in a shaky breath, eyes focusing on the windows. Suddenly, your eyes glowed purple, and the windows shattered. The glass floated up into the air, spinning around and around, wind whipping everyone’s hair. It only lasted a few moments, and when the glass stopped spinning, a heart floated six feet off the ground. It slowly moved towards Dean, and once it reached him, you blinked, eyes going back to their normal E/C, the heart falling to the ground, glass shattering once more, mimicking your own heart.

Dean looked up at you in shock.

“You did that?”

“It’s her best party trick,” Astrid said. “Y/N here is an artist. Unless, of course, she’s blowing a werewolf to pieces with a simple flick of her wrist, or growing a thirty foot tree with the blink of an eye.”

“No,” Dean said lowly. “You lied to me.”

“I was afraid,” you said. “You hate witches. I thought you were going to kill me.”

“You fucking kept this giant ass secret from me!” He yelled. “You lied to me for years! All that time we’ve been together, you’ve been fucking

“Dean, please-”

“How do I know anything you said was true?”

“It all is! You know everything about me, Dean! I just never told you this!” You urged. “Please, Dean. You know me. You know I’m a good person.”

“I don’t know shit,” he hissed. “Have you ever killed anyone?”

“What?” You asked.

“Have you ever killed someone?” He snapped.

“No! I’ve never-”

“Eh, eh, eh,” Astrid said. “Don’t lie to the poor man anymore, Y/N.”

You let out a sob. “It was an accident.”

“An accident?” Astrid exclaimed. “Bursting a man into flames was an accident? Killing a father of four was an accident?”

“Yes!” You said. “I didn’t mean to. I didn’t know how to control myself, I-”

A sharp pain suddenly seared inside your head. You gasped, eyes squeezing shut.

“What are you doing?” Dean asked. Astrid grinned.

“Punishing her,” she answered calmly. You screamed as the pain became so intense, white flashed behind your eyes and your whole body went rigid.

“Stop!” Dean yelled.

The pain was gone instantly. You panted, chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath, sweat mixing with your tears.

“Slit her wrists, Dean,” Astrid whispered. “You swore.”

Dean took the few steps he needed to be right next to you. He looked at the knife, then at your wrist, then at your face.

“Won’t she just heal herself?” He asked.

“Those cuffs around her wrists contain sigils that will prevent any self healing or harm to another person,” Astrid said. “It limits her power. It’s why she hasn’t broken out yet.”

Dean swallowed thickly. He looked at you, eyes searing deeply into your own. An anger burned behind the green you loved so much. It scared you. That anger had never been directed towards you before. 

But there was something else as well. Despair. Dean was torn. You were a witch, a powerful one, and you had lied about it for years. On the other hand, Dean was in love with you. He loved you so much, it scared him.

“Do it,” Astrid said. “Do it, or I kill him.”

She was bent down beside Sam now, lips near his ear, eyes burning purple. Dean looked between you and his brother. You knew he’d never choose you over Sam.

“Do it,” you whispered. You nodded at him, giving him a soft smile. “It’s alright.”

“How can you say that?” Dean asked. 

“I’ll find my way back to you someday,” you told him. “If not, I’ll simply wait for you.”

Dean bit his lip. “I wish you had told me.”

“I thought you were going to kill me,” you admitted. He shook his head, leaning against the table. He cupped your cheek, thumb wiping away a stray tear.

“Baby, you’re a good person,” he said. “Sure, I hate witches.”

You winced.

“But I could never hate you.”

You blinked a few times. “Even though I’m-”

He pressed his lips softly to yours. His eyes were misty, brows pulled together. 

“I could never hate you,” he whispered against your lips.

“Do it, Dean!” Astrid urged. “You’ve got ten seconds.”

“Dean, don’t do it,” Sam said. 

“It’s okay,” you whispered. “I’ll wait for you, my love.”

Dean shook his head.

“Five seconds,” Astrid warned.

“I love you, Dean. It’s okay,” you whispered. 

Dean looked down at the knife in his hands. He caressed your wrist, bringing the knife down against your skin.

“Three seconds!”

He gave you one last look, moving the knife back-

“Two-”

He jerked the knife-

“One!”

You expected the sting of the blade, but only felt the release of the cuff. 

“Man, you should have had some sort of spell on that shit,” Dean said. He smiled darkly at you, giving you a wink. Using your other hand, you flashed your eyes purple, burning the other cuff off.

“No!” Astrid yelled. “What have you done?”

With a simple flick of your wrist, Astrid was flung away from Sam. She crashed into the opposite wall. You slipped off the table, bare feet hitting the cold floor. A wind blew through the cottage, blowing your hair back from your face. You stalked towards her, all the while a smirk grew on your lips, your fingers tingling.

“I haven’t let myself go in so long,” you said. You lifted your hands, seeing the purple glow in your palms and beneath your fingertips. You cocked your head. “All this pent up energy…”

“Y/N-”

“It’s almost like snapping a rubber band,” you muttered.

“Y/N,” Dean said slowly. 

Using a blast of power, you forced Astrid’s arms against the wall. Keeping them there, you raised her up until her feet dangled off the floor. You did the same to her ankles, the strain causing her skin to bruise immediately.

“Y/N, wait-”

You forced her head back, a sickening crunch resonating inside the cottage.

“So much power… can be dangerous,” Astrid gasped. Blood dribbled from her mouth and nose, pouring out of her eyes like tears. You forced more pressure upon her, crushing her further. “I was your mentor once… don’t let it consume you… keep your soul pure…”

You crushed her further, your brow raising slightly. You smiled wickedly at Astrid, a dark chuckle leaving your lips. “Rich coming from you,” you said.

“I let it consume me,” Astrid told you. “Don’t… follow in my footsteps.”

You hadn’t used your power like this in years, not since Astrid was your mentor. It sizzled in your veins and made you feel more rushed than ever. It was almost euphoric, the way your body burned with power, power that came from the Earth beneath your feet. 

You missed that feeling.

What you didn’t miss, however, was the creeping feeling of darkness. It would intrude your thoughts and darken your mind. The risk of using that much power was the potential that it could consume you, and you would flip darkside.

Like Astrid did.

“See you in hell.”

Using once last surge of power, Astrid let out a guttural scream as her whole body turned an odd shade of red, eyes nearly popping from their sockets, blood streaming from any open source, before she stopped moving.

Letting your power retract, she slumped to the floor.

Dead.

You blinked, letting your eyes return to their natural colour, turning to face Dean.

“You gonna kill me now?” You asked.

Dean swallowed thickly, giving you a small smile.

“No.”

“Why not?” You said. “I’m a monster, right? You hate witches. I am witch. Pretty self explanatory.”

“I’m not going to kill you,” Dean said.

“You can’t pick and choose the monsters you kill and don’t kill,” you said. “You came here to kill a witch. I killed her, now it’s your turn.”

“I’m not going to kill you,” Dean repeated.

You gritted your teeth, sighing deeply. “Fine.”

You walked over to Sam, looking over your shoulder at Dean. With a simple flick of your wrist, Sam was released from his bindings.

“Do it, Sam.”

“Why?” He asked.

“I haven’t let myself go like that in a long time,” you said. “I forgot how tempting it is to give in. I want to do it, Dean. You need to kill me before I do.”

“No,” he said.

“Do it!” You yelled. “Do you really want me to flip? You want me to become like her?” You pointed to the woman you had just killed.

“You won’t,” Dean said. “You’re not like her.”

“Yes,” you whispered. A single tear slipped down your cheek. “I am. I killed that man when I was sixteen because I almost let it win. Who knows what else I could have done if I did.”

“Then we lock you up in the dungeon,” Dean said. “And we bring you back. But you’re good, Y/N. I know you better than anyone.”

Your lip wobbled. 

“You still love me?” You murmured. “Even after finding out?”

Dean smiled warmly at you. He took your hands in his, massaging the backs of yours. “Sure, I was pissed you didn’t tell me. Still am, quite frankly. But you’re my girl,” he said. “I know you. I know the kind of person you are.”

“You hate witches,” you pointed out.

“Eh, maybe they’re not so bad,” Dean said, giving you a lopsided shrug. “I mean, I know this one witch. She’s pretty hot, really good in bed-”

“Dean!” You exclaimed, slapping his chest playfully. He laughed, kissing your forehead, bringing you into his chest.

“What can I say? What you did was pretty badass. Not my fault I’m into that.”

You shook your head. “Okay, big boy. If you’re not gonna kill me, let’s go home.”

Dean took a deep breath, leaning down to pick you up bridal style. You gasped, wrapping your arms around his neck to steady yourself.

“Come on, Sabrina,” he said. You gave him a bitch face, making Sam laugh.

“Really?” You asked.

“Oh, I’ve got more,” he said. “Do you have a pointy hat? Or a broomstick? Were you always this color, or were you born green?”

“Yeah, this is gonna be a long ride home,” Sam muttered.

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