#and i feel like dean would know that feeling of obligation

[oddlittlestories]

Okay so I can’t find it but I saw a post about wishing at least one other character would acknowledge there’s a reason House doesn’t want to go to his dad’s funeral. And I wanted to say that I agree with this. And I think it’s the point. And that House as a show was also subverting expectations, so I wanted to talk a little about this.

So first off, I think it does really interesting things when you take a non-diegetic / non-in-universe approach to the show.

One, this was Supernatural era. You know, the show that sometimes categorized the dad (who would leave his child sons alone for weeks at a time, was sometimes implied to hit them, and openly shamed them especially Dean) as the only true hero. And also iirc a lot of shows and movies at that time centered around the theme of forgiving your abusive parent.

Two, in the previous season, we get an episode that canonically parallels the severe traumas of rape and physical child abuse.

Three, House never apologizes or forgives his dad. Yeah, he’s a misanthrope, so there’s a narrative excuse there, but he’s also allowed to do it. And he’s right about his dad not being his bio dad.

Four, for the above reasons, it is reasonable to view the narrative as being on House’s side. He goes because of extreme social pressures (which exist in the real world!) and, possibly, because his mom wants him there. But the narrative essentially says that his dad was a bad person and House shouldn’t have had to go. (With the possibly caveat of ‘[even shitty] funerals are sometimes a place to reconnect with living people you actually care about.’)

Part Two: Diegetic / In-Universe

House’s mom. This is really interesting, right? House’s mom is brought up over and over again. And the narrative thread is—she was abused, too. Should House connect with her? And if so, why and under what circumstances?

And what’s really interesting is, House doesn’t want to under the given circumstances. Because it means submitting to social mores he doesn’t agree with, including the circumspect of implying, “My dad was a good guy.”

But his mom doesn’t seem to see it quite the same way. “He’s not going to care [that we started late], Greg. He’s dead.” Essentially saying, this really isn’t about him. He’s dead.

So it’s this moral ambiguity again. Can and should House align with his also-abused mother? What would it cost him to do so? (And implied: childhood abuse can have lingering impacts forever, especially when people dismiss it because - the war is not over.)

To me, this episode is one of the examples where many characters take on roles as foils to expose a narrative theme. In this case: social pressure around “respecting your parents.” And I think it’s brilliantly done. I think when you have the overwhelming suffocating feeling of WHY ISN’T ANYONE LISTENING TO HIM

I think that’s EXACTLY the point

These motives are, to a degree, being placed on the characters. It’s extremely well-written, so it feels authentic, but to me it’s just as likely Chase would say “he shouldn’t have to go” and Cuddy with her mom would be more sympathetic. But the writers chose to unearth all the reasons each of them would put social pressures on House. And this happens to people in real life.

And of course, Wilson. It’s not inauthentic for Wilson. He’s doing two things at once. One, he’s playing out his own issues around social obligation. Two, he’s grabbing onto “I am socially obligated to be around House” like a lifeline.

Which leads us to the second theme of the episode, which is inherently true to the characters and deeply humanizing.

Complicated grief.

House’s grief is complicated because of social pressure. And he’s not sad his dad is dead—he’s sad that it changes nothing. Like he says to the kid with the facial deformity: “you can change your face, but you can’t change who your face made you.” House can change his circumstances. But he can’t change who they made him.

And Wilson’s grief is complicated because his girlfriend died suddenly, violently, unreasonably. And his best friend was deeply involved—in trying to save her and in her ultimate loss. He’s terrified of losing people and he almost lost them both. And because it’s Wilson, he represses, justifies, and misunderstands his own motives which makes everything harder. And it’s also deeply real. People compartmentalize. They misunderstand their own feelings.

So yeah! This episode is a twofer. One is meant to make you scream internally about the social pressures around funerals and abusive parents. The other is about complicated grief and mourning, and reconnecting despite and sometimes because of death.

The complexity gives me brain worms. I love this episode.

#this has been in my drafts for months #house md #season 5 #s5e4 #birthmarks #gregory house #james wilson

[castielmacleod]

Fics I will never write: IT GETS BETTER

Set in a canon divergent season 11, It Gets Better is a short fic exploring the abusive relationship between Cas and Dean, from Cas’ perspective. Traumatised from being nearly killed by the man he loves, struggling with agoraphobia, anxiety attacks, and depression, a broken-winged angel contemplates what it is he wants so he can decide if this is working or not. Character study with themes of trauma, self-worth, unrequited love, the paralysing effects of being trapped in an abusive relationship, and healing.

#Fics I will never write #Safeantidestiel #My posts #Not that I’m obligated to spill my guts on tunglr dot com but this would be coming from a place of authenticity. #If I could write it in the first place that is #This would be very depressing but it ends with Cas learning to play piano as an outlet #The scene is very clear in my head. Cas finally works up the courage to venture outside the bunker and ends up at this little pub #that has a piano and he goes and sits at it and finds a tune he likes #The pub is mostly empty except for the bartender really. And she comes over to talk to him because she plays piano too #And Cas says he’s actually never played before but *some ridiculous angel thing about music and notes and math* that let him figure it out #And it goes over the bartender’s head but she ends up teaching him the heart & soul duet and they play it together #Then she closes up the bar and tells him goodbye and to keep well and he stands there outside the door until she’s out of sight and then #breaks down crying. #And anyway some more things happen and then one day when Dean is out hunting Cas decides to leave the bunker for good #I am putting this in my fics I’ll never write series but I actually could see myself pushing to write this one. It’s meant to be short #Like not multi chapter or anything. And I need to get some of this shite off my chest anyway #Like I need to put how their relationship makes me feel into words beyond ranting tumblr posts you know #<— Cas and Dean’s relationship I mean #Tw abuse

[moonlightspencie]

bloodmoonlit

Description: Six years of friendship with more simmering beneath the surface. They thought they had no chance (but that’s romance).

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!Reader

Warnings: drinking (a lot of it tbh), both of em being massive dorks, 18+ pls bc it gets mildly spicy at the end

Word Count: 5.4k

A/N: glitch is one of the best songs on midnights & nobody can convince me otherwise. anyways i didn’t proofread this sorry but i’m selfish

She was a hunter. He was… Also a hunter. Classic meet-cutes get a lot less cute when you’re meeting over the corpse of a wendigo.

Dean looked at her with awe and wonder after watching her use a flamethrower to take down a few wendigos that had started in on him. She lowered it like it was nothing after they stopped screeching into the night.

“Hey,” she greeted with a little smile. “You’re one of the Winchester boys, aren’t you?”

“Dean.”

“You’re like a modern-day folklore story, you know that?”

He chuckled, sure to make a comment about the flamethrower at the first chance. He got her number at the second chance.

They made fast friends at that point, both relentlessly flirting. Both never quite sure to what degree the other meant it.

Dean always found himself making trips towards wherever she was more often that what may be considered necessary. She never intentionally ran into him, but if she saw that impala roll up to a case, she always obliged her time. Especially if that meeting happened in a crowded bar where she could relish in the feeling of his attention being placed on her rather than anyone else who would immediately say yes to a night at his motel. Those green eyes sparkling as he chatted her up like they were the closest of friends.

Until they were the closest of friends, of course.

“How’s, uh…” Dean trailed, trying to think. “Was it Matthew?”

She snorted. “Didn’t last long.”

“Why not?”

“Never do,” she said curtly, sipping at her drink. “Non-hunter relationships don’t exactly work for me. They end up with too many questions too quick.”

He hummed, looking down at his own drink. She watched him for a moment, letting herself take a moment to admire the way neon lights bounced off his face. He always seemed to look extra pretty that way.

“Situationships,” she stated as a start, “That’s what pretty much everything I get into ends up as. Whatever works in the moment, no real strings.”

“And yet you always talk about wanting to be tied down,” he said with a smirk.

“Always is a big word,” she replied with a laugh. “I think someday I’d like that. Just don’t think it’s compatible with who I am right now.”

“You think you’re gonna change?”

“I’m always changing. That’s life, right?”

He shrugged. “I don’t think I’ve changed much.”

She laughed.

“I’ve known you for a year, and even in that time you’ve gotten a little different.”

He quirked a brow. “How so?”

“Laugh a little less, but still seem a bit happier. More accepting of life as it is, I guess.”

He sat with that for a moment, then nodded.

“I’ve had to. Every time I get stubborn, I end up screwing everything up.”

“Hey,” she said softly, pulling him out of his own head before he dug too deep, “You’re always learning. Always growing. Don’t beat yourself up.”

He smiled softly, letting her words carry him out of that out. They tended to do that more and more as he faced everything the world threw at him. His affection slowly morphed into more, and he tried not to panic about it. He did what he always did best: buried it as deep as it could go.

She realized her own feelings shifting, but her realization slammed into her like a truck. They were supposed to be just friends.

It all started with little chance meetings which turned into weekly calls which turned into “Do you want to stay with Sam and I? We’ve got a permanent place now”.

She ended up moving in shortly after the boys did. Three years of knowing them, she never expected to be living with them. Especially after all they’d gone through.

Granted, she helped with some of it. She was there when they had to cram Sam’s soul back in his body. She was there for the rise and fall of Dick. She was there when Dean came back from Purgatory.

She just wasn’t constantly with them. Only a kind of side-character in their grand adventure. Now, however…

“I think that’s all,” she said, dropping a few bags on her bed.

“Oh, right, because this isn’t over-doing it at all,” Dean said, humor lacing his voice.

She narrowed her eyes at him, then looked back around the empty room.

“I just— I’m excited to feel at home. I haven’t had a real place in…” she stopped, sighing.

“Yeah, I get it,” Dean spoke up, slinging an arm around her shoulder. “I was so excited to have my own bed, you have no clue.”

“I have some clue. You sent me like fifteen messages about it within the span of ten seconds,” she laughed.

“I love that memory foam, what can I say?”

“How about you get useful and help me set up shop here?” she asked, smiling at him as he already started pulling items out of the bags.

The bunker was like a hunter paradise in her eyes. She got the chance to have a place to call home. She got her own room, a million lore books, Dean, a place to do some baking, her favorite mug…

Wait. She couldn’t find her mug.

“Dean, where’d you put my mug?” she called out before he even got to the kitchen

“Stop calling me out before I’m even in the room. It’s creepy,” he said with a chuckle, walking in.

“Can’t help it. I know how you sound walkin’ around in here.”

She turned from the kitchen counter where the coffee was brewing. He watched her for a moment, smile still stuck in place.

“So?” she asked.

He raised a brow. “So…?”

She sighed. “My mug?”

“Oh,” he exclaimed, walking further towards her to open the fridge. “Made soup the other day and didn’t have any clean bowls.”

He pulled out the soup-filled mug, handing it in her direction. She quirked a brow, looking inside of it.

“I ain’t cleaning that out.”

He sighed dramatically, walking towards the sink.

“Guess I’ll do it. Princess can’t handle a few chunks of chicken in her precious mug.”

She smacked his arm lightly, scoffing.

“You’re the one who put chicken in it in the first place. You know that’s my favorite mug.”

He smirked, silently cleaning it out for her. When he was finished he turned, handing it off as he leaned against the counter.

“If my coffee is soup-flavored I’m going to have Cas smite you,” she mumbled, pouring it full.

She filled up another mug she’d pulled down in the meantime, sliding it to Dean.

“And yet, you still get me my coffee,” he said, pressing a kiss to her temple.

She hid a smile, shaking her head as she prepared hers.

“You know you love me,” he sang to her, heading towards the library.

She followed after, not even realizing what she was doing until she was halfway there. It was like they were attached at the hip.

They practically were over the following months, never not wanting to do everything together.

“Come on, Sam,” she whined. “You’re no fun.”

He smirked, attempting to leave the kitchen.

“Not all of us want to get plastered on a Tuesday night.”

“Speak for yourself” Dean said with a sparkle in his eye. He looked at Y/N. “You love getting screwed by me, right? Oh, sorry, with me.”

“Oh, yeah. My favorite activity, actually,” she said back with a smirk.

Sam sighed, rolling his eyes as he stood.

“I think I’m about done listening to you two flirt, anyways.”

“Aww,” she started, leaning closer to where he stood. “You gettin’ jealous, Sammy?”

“I’m getting grossed out,” he laughed. “Goodnight.”

The two at the table said a quick goodnight, turning back to their drinks and their jokes in an instant.

“Maybe we just need to sweat it out,” he jokes, brows dancing suggestively.

She laughed. “In your dreams, Winchester. We’ve gone almost six years without a slip-up, do you really think now’s a good time to break that record?”

He contemplated for a moment, fully believing it was a good time to break it. He couldn’t think of a better time with the exception of five-and-a-half years ago. But, he decided to actually use his brain.

“Guess you’re right.”

She smiled, pretending not to be thinking about the fact that she definitely thought she was all wrong. She really though that he should have known better than anyone that she believed records were made to be broken.

“I’m always right.”

“Now you’re dreaming,” he said with a chuckle, tossing back the rest of his drink.

He poured two shots, sliding one to her.

“Here’s to almost six years— what, like, five years and ten months? Something like that?”

She nodded. “July 7th.”

He stilled a moment, not thinking about the fact that of course she would remember the day they met.

“How many days is that?”

She hummed, playing into his little game as she pulled out her phone. She typed away until she got her answer:

“2119 days if I did the math right.”

“Nineteen or ninety?”

“Nineteen.”

“What do you say we have a special celebration if we get to twenty one ninety, then?”

She snorted. “What do you constitute as special?”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out,” he winked, tossing back his shot.

She mirrored his actions, then quickly typed away again.

“What do you know? 2190 is exactly the six year mark,” she smirked. “Alright. Deal.”

Weeks passed, and life was shockingly normal in that time. Well, normal for their standards, which still included all the things that go bump in the night. After a particularly long hunt, getting back to the bunker was a relief.

All three of them went to their respective rooms to get some rest, but, as had become a pattern, Dean went knocking on Y/N’s door. She opened with a tired smile, inviting him in.

They sat around, talking about whatever topics came to mind, listening to music playing in the background. When conversation fell quiet, an idea struck her like lightening.

“Come on, Dean. A little dancing wouldn’t kill ya,” she said, moving a little to the music.

He laughed, watching her from her bed. She held out her hands, and finally took them after a few seconds. She could be very convincing, he thought.

They jumped around the room in an un-choreographed, ridiculous, messy dance that left both of them giggling and out of breath. Her music wasn’t always his style, but he sure didn’t mind listening to her sing every word with a passion as if she’d written them herself.

“See? You love this,” she exclaimed as the upbeat song faded out.

“Only because you’re making me,” he smiled.

She laughed again, starting to turn when a slow song started going. He didn’t let her get far, however, pulling her back into his chest by the hand. He played it off all nonchalant at first, ignoring the smile on her face as a bit he always liked to play anytime he started being affectionate in an unconventional way.

“Really?” she asked.

She reached up, fingertips brushing against his jaw so that he’d look at her again. He smiled softly when she did, just watching her for a few seconds.

“You wanted to dance. We’re dancing,” he said, swaying along to the melody.

“Such a gentleman.”

He smirked, not letting up in the dance. She gave in, resting her head against his shoulder as the music played. He closed his eyes, resting his cheek against her and letting the smell of her perfume lull him in the dance more than the song could. Her gentle humming put a smile on his face that he was grateful she couldn’t see: he was certain he’d look like a lovesick puppy.

As the song faded out, she finally pulled away enough to see him again, both of them still moving as another faded in. She looked at him with a glimmer in her eyes. He took in a slow breath, watching her face for a few moments, their movements slowing. He wanted to kiss her more than anything. So, he took an action:

“I’m gonna grab a drink.”

He untethered himself from her, quickly making an exit to leave her alone and deeply confused.

She sat in the library a few days later, reading a book she found on werewolf mating habits.

“What do ya got, there?” Sam asked, walking into the room.

She glanced up, a brow raised. “You don’t want to know, trust me.”

Sam snorted. “Alright.”

“You need something?”

She closed the book, setting it down on the table.

“Yeah. Do you want to hang out? I just hooked up a new TV in my room.”

“Sure,” she shrugged. “When?”

“I’m making popcorn right now.”

She laughed, agreeing as she got up. She got comfortable in his room, back against the headboard of his bed. He walked in a minute later, handing over the bowl of popcorn as he settled in.

“Is Dean coming?” she asked.

“No. He went out for the night.”

“Ah,” she said softly after a beat.

Sam straightened up, looking at her.

“He didn’t invite you?”

She shook her head. “Nope.”

“He always does. Why not now?”

She sighed, settling into the cushions, still looking ahead.

“I think I freaked him out. We were in my room the other night, and I asked him to dance with me. He did, but then… I don’t know,” she shrugged. “After a couple songs he left fast and he’s definitely been pulling away from me since then.”

“Hey,” he called, grabbing her attention. “Anyone who doesn’t appreciate you isn’t worth your time. You know that, right?”

“Thanks, Sammy,” she smiled, looking down again. “I just keep getting in my own head.”

“When aren’t you?” he joked.

“You jerk,” she said, tossing a piece of popcorn at him. “I’m trying to be, like, open right now.”

“I know,” he drawled, leaning his head against hers.

She brushed a few pieces of his hair off her forehead.

“Maybe I just need to go out and have some fun myself,” she said after a moment.

He perked up.

“Dude, yeah!”

He stood abruptly, holding out his hands for her. She took them, standing slowly, and looking around the room for some stray confidence so that she wouldn’t back out.

“Tell you what,” Sam started, giving her the hope she wanted, “You go get ready, and we’ll head out together. I’ll be your wingman.”

She smiled. “That sounds great. I immediately wasn’t sure about heading off by myself.”

“I could tell,” he laughed.

She got ready in record time, putting on her favorite dress for good measure. They left the bunker, hitting a nearby bar that didn’t have an impala parked anywhere close.

“They’re just… giving me nothing,” she said with a sigh, slumping in the seat next to Sam at the bar.

“What do you mean? That last guy looked really into it.”

“He was. He was also into talking about his ex-girlfriend within the first few minutes of conversation,” she snorted. “I think I’m asking too much. I should just find someone and make out with ‘em.”

“You sure about that?”

She looked at Sam again, a smile breaking out.

“No. But if we do another shot, I might be.”

He sighed, obliging her only because he knew she’d do it without him anyways. They threw back the shots, and he wished her luck as she went off in search of someone who wanted nothing but a good time.

Well, kind of a good time. She wasn’t sure she really wanted to take some dude home.

She went onto the dance-floor, deciding she’d let someone come to her rather than prowling for herself, and got her wish pretty fast. A moderately attractive man caught her hand as she swayed around by herself, asking for a dance. She plastered on a smile as she agreed, letting him take the lead.

“What’s your name?” he asked over the music.

“Do you really want to know?” she teased.

He smirked. “Guess it’s more fun not to know, huh?”

She smiled again, pulling him down to her lips as they moved to the music. She closed her eyes, appreciating the ease at which she got what she wanted. The only problem is that she couldn’t help imagining it was Dean instead of Unnamed Bar-Goer.

Regardless, she justified that they were merely using each other, so who cares if she let her mind run a little wild?

She only backed away when he started getting a little handsy for her tastes. She thanked him for his time, walking away and back to Sam. He raised his brows when she came back.

“Hey, looks like you got it,” he said, watching her sit. “Also looks like you aren’t too happy.”

“Still giving me absolutely nothing,” she said with a sigh. “Not a damn thing.”

He chuckled. “Maybe this plan didn’t work out so well.”

“Still got to drink with my favorite giant,” she noted with a wink and nudge.

“Ha ha. Real flattering, thanks.”

He rolled his eyes, but let himself smirk when she wasn’t paying much attention. They sat talking at the bar for another hour or so before Sam decided to call it a night. She linked an arm around Sam’s as they walked out of the bar, definitely a little more drunk than she intended to get.

Dean walked into the bunker, spirits effectively dampened. His attempt to get his mind off of his I-almost-kissed-her moment didn’t work in the slightest, and now he was in a sour mood as a result.

His mood only worsened when he saw Sam and Y/N stumbling into the kitchen, the latter a drunken mess in an outfit he liked a little too much. He watched as Sam helped her into the room, practically propping her up against the counter.

“What the hell?” Dean asked as his brother got a glass from the cupboard.

“What?” Sam defended, filling up the cup with water.

“For one, why is she laughing at herself against the kitchen counter?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “We went out.”

He walked over to Y/N, handing her the glass. She sipped at the water, then set it down just as quickly.

“Done,” she cheered.”

“No, you’re not,” Sam said, picking up the water and giving it right back to her. “Come on, you’re going to be hungover tomorrow.”

She refused the drink, kicking off her shoes. Then, she turned to level her gaze at Dean as he sipped on a beer.

“And where did you go run off to?”

He raised his brows. “Does it matter?”

“Yeah,” she stated with finality.

“Out.”

“Get lucky?” she asked, more bitterness in her tone than she meant to let out.

“No.”

She rolled her eyes, then glanced at Sam again.

“Wanna go hang out and read? I found a book about how werewolves get it on,” she said, giggling as she ended the sentence.

“What?”

Dean spoke up again. “Since when do you go out and get drunk without a reason?”

She snapped back to him. “Since I was celebrating me. I’m done chasing after guys who don’t want— What was it, Sam? Like if they don’t appreciate me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dean asked back, setting down his drink.

“Sammy, I wanna talk to Dean by myself,” she managed to say, hardly looking at him.

“I don’t know—”

“Sam,” she cut him off, watching him.

He put his hands up in defense, walking out of the room. She watched until he left, then looked at Dean again. He glanced sideways at her as she swayed slightly while she stood.

“You know, those six years are coming up real soon, De,” she said, staring from across the counter.

“Are they?” he asked, wondering where this was going.

“Mhm. One more week I think,” she hiccuped. “Sorry.”

He furrowed his brow. “You’re drunk.”

“I tried kissing someone today,” she said, words tumbling out fast like she couldn’t control them. “I hated it.”

He paused, unsure why she was saying this. His heart hurt more than he thought it would, hearing her admit that.

“Why?” was all he could manage.

“Why’d you go out without me?” she countered. “You never go out without me, not since we met.”

He sighed, eyes closing as he braced himself against the counter. He heard her as she got closer, eventually leaning her head against his arm.

“I’m glad you didn’t go home with anyone today.”

He swallowed, unable to look at her. “Yeah. I— I was gonna try, to be honest, but…”

“I’m gonna throw up,” she said, suddenly moving to the sink.

He followed after swiftly, helping her as best as he could. He pulled her hair back gently as she emptied her stomach into the kitchen sink.

“You’re okay, sweetheart,” he said softly, rubbing her back with the hand that wasn’t holding her hair. “Get it all out.”

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, sniffling.

“I’ve seen you worse,” he said with a smirk. “That upset about what I said?”

If she had been a touch more sober, she might have realized he was joking. Unfortunately, she took it completely literally.

“I didn’t mean to. I just thought about you and some—”

“Whoa, whoa. Hold on, I wasn’t—” he paused as she stood again, running the sink to clear it out. He turned it off again, impatient. “What are you talking about?”

“What?”

He watched her as she straightened herself out, pulling down the skirt of the dress she was in where it had ridden up.

“You threw up over me mentioning—”

“Dean.”

“Why?”

She sighed, leaning down to rest her head on the counter.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“You kissed someone. I didn’t even get that far.”

“Why do you care?” she asked, standing again, and nearly falling over.

He caught her gently, but kept his hard tone as he responded to her.

“Why do you?”

“Because I just do, Dean.”

“You’re so freaking stubborn,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes with one hand.

“You’re one to talk. This is all your fault anyways.”

“Excuse me?” he asked, annoyance in his voice.

“It’s your fault,” she said, punctuating the phrase with a slap to his chest.

“Yeah? And how’s that?”

“You should’ve just kissed me instead of chickening out and running away like a little boy.”

He was stunned into silence, his anger dissipating and then quickly returning.

“If you hadn’t made me dance with you, I wouldn’t have been all in your face in the first place,” he shot back.

“You’re such a dick,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Six years of not chasing anyone but you, and for what? You’re acting like a bitch.”

“Well, jokes on you, sweetheart,” he exclaimed, opening up his arms. “Hasn’t even been six years.”

“Great! Let’s hope we never get there, then!”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“I’m not the one who ran off to get a hookup because I couldn’t handle my feelings.”

He scoffed. “Yeah, you just ran off to make out with someone because you couldn’t handle your feelings.”

“Why do you feel the need to make everything so difficult?”

“Because you’re the most difficult person I’ve ever met,” he said, voice raising to an octave you didn’t often hear. “How else am I supposed to deal with you?”

She groaned in frustration, pushing past him to leave. She stalked out of the kitchen, only making it so far as the hallway before she was getting pulled back.

“Stop it, Dean,” she all but yelled.

He rolled his eyes, pulling her closer and leaning down to kiss her. One hand found her face, a surprisingly gentle touch in comparison to how intense the kiss was. She felt like she couldn’t catch her breath, a smile on her face as he finally gave in. He pulled back a moment later, though not without an internal struggle.

“The douchebag at the bar kiss you like that?” he mumbled against her lips.

“Not exactly,” she sighed. “What took you so long?”

“You weren’t making moves either, loser,” he said with a laugh.

“You didn’t exactly make yourself out to be available, De.”

“And you did? You literally told me I wouldn’t get you in my wildest dreams a few weeks ago.”

She paused, a smile spreading to her face.

“Touché.”

“How about now?”

She quirked a brow. “You propositioning me, Winchester?”

“If I was, what would you say to that?”

“I’d say that I think there must be some technical malfunctions in the universe for me to get that lucky.”

He smirked, slowly backing her until she was pressed against the wall.

“Early celebration?”

“Only if we still celebrate when we hit twenty one ninety,” she said with a smile. “Gotta safeguard, here. Easier for me to make sure this doesn’t become a one-time thing.”

“You think I’d be able to stop after one time? It’s you,” he said, moving in closer. Her arms wound around his neck. “I’ve been holding out for six years.”

“Not quite.”

“Mm. Close enough.”

He leaned in to kiss her again, this time slow and soft. She kissed back, glad to finally know what his lips felt like against hers. He let his hands wander, holding to her hips and sliding down further.

“You look real pretty in this dress,” he mumbled between kisses.

“Was hoping you’d see it and like it,” she smiled, nipping at his lip. “Just don’t rip it if you decide to take it off me.”

He smiled against her as he leaned back in. He kissed her, deepening it immediately as one hand dragged down her leg. He slotted his own thigh between her legs, adding a little friction that had her gasping into his mouth. He started hiking up the skirt of the dress further. Slowly, purposely teasing her with it. Teasing himself just as much.

Then, heavy footsteps started coming down the hall. They separated quickly and ducked inside the kitchen, hoping Sam would walk past. Unfortunately, they were wrong.

Dean stood behind Y/N quickly, concealing a problem he didn’t exactly have time to fix.

“Hey,” Sam said softly, seemingly not noticing a thing. “I didn’t hear yelling coming down and needed a drink. You two all good?”

She nodded. “Great.”

“Awesome,” Dean said at the same time.

Sam nodded, giving a tight smile as he walked past.

“We were actually about to head to bed, so…” she said, looking at him as he stood at the fridge.

“Okay,” he nodded, nonchalant. “Night.”

“Night.”

Dean waved a quick goodbye, following after her quickly. They broke into his room, giggling like a couple of drunk toddlers.

“He didn’t hear yelling,” Dean said, closing in on her once the door was shut.

She reached for his belt, quickly undoing it as they got closer to the bed.

“He didn’t.”

He grabbed her by the waist, tossing her down on the mattress, slowly climbing on top of her.

“Wanna test and see if the walls in here are just as soundproof?”

She looked up at him as he finally tugged her dress up around her hips.

“I love a good experiment.”

She laid back in the early morning hours, not even bringing herself to be annoyed that she was being suffocated by a large man on top of her. Mostly because if Dean killed her that way, it certainly would suck, but what a way to go.

She sighed, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead as he rested against her chest. She ran her fingers through his hair until he eventually woke up with the sweetest sleepy smile point at her.

“Hey,” he said, adjusting himself to see her better.

“Hey,” she greeted, accepting a soft kiss. “I think we should’ve done that forever ago.”

“I don’t know. Might be like a wine situation. We let it sit so long that it got even better by the time we actually got some.”

“Very poetic.”

He smiled, a hand coming to rest on her side as he kissed her again. It was slow and lazy and altogether too sweet. She was almost embarrassed that she had to be there to witness how mushy that moment was, if not for the fact that she was on the receiving end of the mush. She pulled away from him first, leaving him to whine.

“You’re so dramatic,” she said in a whisper. “Whining?”

“You were doing plenty of that last night,” he smirked.

“Okay,” she rolled her eyes playfully. “Why don’t we get some breakfast. I’m starving.”

His hand started moving downward, inching up the shirt of his that she was wearing.

“I could eat.”

“Dean,” she warned.

He started scooting down the mattress slowly, not giving up.

“Come on. Kitchen.”

“Ooh, kinky.”

“Cut it out,” she laughed. “Kitchen for actual breakfast. I don’t waste time when it comes to breakfast.”

They made it to the kitchen for that breakfast successfully! Twenty minutes later, anyway.

“Hey,” Sam greeted, not looking up.

“Morning, Sammy,” Dean said, going straight towards the cabinets for cereal.

She realized suddenly that there may have been something she forgot in his room.

“Is that Dean’s shirt?” Sam asked.

She looked down, realizing that it was clothes she had forgotten. Sam paused, raising a hand.

“On second thought, I don’t want to know. Glad to know you’re at least not fighting. Just— Maybe some pants next time.”

She laughed, following Dean to the table as he set down two bowls of cereal. They all sat eating in a comfortable silence. Then a slightly less comfortable silence as Dean grabbed her thigh halfway through breakfast. Sam quickly excused himself after that, a knowing smile on his face as he left.

“So… We’re in the kitchen,” Dean said, leaning towards her. “I don’t think Sammy’s comin’ back anytime soon.”

After definitely not doing anything weird in the kitchen and then totally not feeling bad and scrubbing down the entire room for the day, things fell into a new rhythm. It was comfortable and surprisingly less of an adjustment than they were expecting. All of those years of relentless flirting must’ve made for an easy transition.

Dean cleared his throat a few days later, grabbing her attention as she lounged in the room he’d set aside for TV-watching (with the fun new addition of a couch).

“Yeah?” she asked, looking away from the screen to see him.

“Guess what?”

“Hm?”

“2190 days.”

She smiled. “Yeah? Is that today?”

He hummed, giving a nod.

“What were those special plans of yours?”

He raised a brow. “You really wanna know?”

She merely nodded. He paused the show they were watching.

“I, uh— I was gonna tell you how I felt if I didn’t chicken out.”

“You’re kidding,” she replied after a beat.

“I’m not,” he said with a chuckle.

“Man. Almost twenty two hundred days of a blackout before we finally lit it up, huh?”

He laughed. “That’s one way of putting it.”

She paused, turning to put her feet in his lap. He immediately, started rubbing her leg, enjoying the uninhibited ability to touch her.

“Wanna know something funny?”

He raised a brow in question.

“Years ago someone told me they knew we’d end up together.”

“Who? Bobby?”

She shook her head. “Garth.”

He rolled his eyes as she laughed, poking him in the arm a moment later.

“Got to give it to him, he’s always been perceptive,” she noted.

“Guess so,” he nodded, reluctant to admit it. “Freakin’ Garth.”

She watched him a moment, then retracted her legs. He looked at her, almost hurt with those big puppy-dog eyes.

“Oh, poor baby,” she cooed. “Don’t worry, I’m comin’ closer.”

She crawled over to him, settling in his lap. He ran his hands up her legs, a small smile returning to his lips.

“I can think of a few other ways we can celebrate today, you know?”

“Yeah?” he asked, leaning into the cushions.

“Five words: apple pie in the freezer.”

“Oh, baby, you know how to talk dirty to me,” he groaned, pulling her down for a kiss in a fit of laughter.

FULL MASTERLIST | BUY ME A COFFEE

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dean winchester taglist:

@deanwithscissors @hyunjaebaby

#dean winchester one shot #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester spice #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fic

[kaivenom]

Not you again

Summary: you are a hunter and went to solve a case on your own. Everything points that a shapeshifter it's in town, but after earing a familiar and obnoxious voice behind you, it's obvious that you aren't the only hunter on the case.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Warnings: kissing, sexual tension, not admiting feelings, enemies to lovers, bad language.

Masterlist

You were talking with some witnesses when you ear a voice behind you, a voice you know very well because how much it annoys you. Slowly, you turn around to greet them.

"Hi, boys." you try to sound as calm and nice as you can be.

"Son of a bitch, not you again." that's the kind of answer you expected to hear from him.

"Dean Winchester, i suppose that now i am a man then... well, then i have a bigger dick than you."

"You don't know how big my dick is." his condescending look made you even more furious with that marked jaw and deep eyes.

"I don't plan to figure it out."

"You wished you could do that."

"Hi guys, i don't know much more are you planning to do this but we have something in mind." Sam is always the voice of reason.

"Ok, thanks Sam, i am going to finish the interview with my witnesses."

"Oh no, you're not going to do that alone."

"Excuse me?"

"Maybe it's better to do this together now that we are here." Sam proposed.

"NO!!" Dean and you answered.

At the end, you three were obligated to work together because to open cases of presumed FBI agents in one town would be strange and very difficult to explain. Everything pointed to a shapeshifter but with this type of creatures it's very hard to keep track on their forms. While investigating you try to keep yourself away from Dean and his stupid perfect face.

You have no issue on accepting that you had an attraction on Dean but it's overshadowed by the fact that he has a horrible personality that makes you crazy and he always interferes with your cases.

He passed the next couples of days annoying you, following you everywhere he can and was the most insufferable person in all the world.

Finally you tracked the shapeshifter and went to the hideout with Sam while Dean waited outside. When you entered, you two saw a lot of teeth, blood and skin, that it's too much.

"There are two." said Sam and he was right, you needed to get out fast and warn Dean.

That night the three of you ended up sleeping with a silver knife. At some point of the night, you hear a knock on you door, you were prepared to kill but it was only Dean. You let the door open so he can enter, he was shirtless with a towel around his waist. He was incredibly sexy like that but you couldn't let your guard down, not tonight not with him.

"I see you didn't expected my visit."

"Of course not, and not like that, you killed the shapeshifter?"

"No."

"Then why are you here with just a towel?" this situation started to get you arroused and weirded out.

"Because i like it, because i can, because i know you would like it." he started to get close to you.

"Oh, i will never want that."

"Oh, you will... just like i want it too." your faces are now really close.

"I don't..." and his lips touched yours, at this time you couldn't hide your reaction anymore.

The thing was that all that situation didn't fit, something it's strange about it so you obliged yourself to distance from Dean. He looked at you seductively and let the towel get down. Definetly something isn't right, you took your phone and when you put the camera the eyes of Dean glowed, it was a shapeshifter.

He runned to trap you but you got to catch the sliver knife before and killed him, her, whatever she was. You went really fast to Dean's door, the closest to yours and knocked frenetically.

"Sam, please, finally i am having a good time with..." when he saw your face, the colour on his went away.

You where bathed in blood, that must scare someone but not Dean. That's when you looked inside the room and saw someone who looked exactly like you but was on black lingerie, your eyes go back to Dean again and realize that he was just on his underwear with a growing erection.

"That's not me."

"i..,you... me." for the first time ever, you saw Dean without a word to say.

The other shapeshifter noticed what was happening and was starting an attack, just like the other one did with you. In just a couple of minutes you killed it, Dean was not a big help on this, he was to stunned to talk.

"I...I can explain," he started to say but you interrupted him.

"i want a shower, i am covered in blood, i cant until i am clean."

That it's true, in part, you need to get out and think about what you saw. Dean Winchester, the one who always keeps bothering everytime he can, that doesn't seem to even tolerate your pressence was almost having sex with you...

The next morning you ignored him, Sam was weirded out about everything because he went for a snack in the middle of the night, you didn't say nothing except that you killed the shapeshifters. After leaving the motel, when you were about to leave, Dean set you aside.

"I want to explain."

"Ok." you almost felt your heart on your throat.

"She was very persuasive."

"She was me, and you hate me so i don't know how can she be persuasive."

"Are you stupid?"

"That it's a really weird way to explain things"

"Son of a bitch, i like you, damm it."

"What, How?"

"You are so smart and all day in your books, you are a little like Sam. Did you see how i treat Sam?" suddently memories of Dean trying to get Sam's attention passed thru your brain.

"Really?"

"Oh, don't say it like that, i didn't know how else i could get the attention of someone so intelligent."

"Well, i've been thinking for years that you hated me when i find you incredible atracttive, your personality crashed all posibility of thinking about us getting together and now..." at this point you were almost yelling at him, "when last night that shapeshifter entered my room with your aspect i couldn't resist...

You couldn't finish the question because he was already merging your lips together in a heated kiss. His hands carresing your cheeks and then slowly going down to your waist. His strenght made you start to walk back and end up pressed against a wall. The passion it's clearly visible and probably the frustation from last night, you could't control yourself and let out some moans which only made him groan and pressed your bodies together even more, searching for some kind of friction. His hands started go down to your ass, the situation it's getting too hot, you two were too horny and frustated but you need him to take a little revenge.

"Stop there, tiger." you searched for his hands and remove it from your ass.

"But... i thought we were solving things and maybe..." he looked like a lost puppy.

"Yes, and we will have that moment but you need to pay for all the annoying stuff you did."

"Then maybe you can come to the bunker and i can start to apologize."

"I take your word." you kiss his cheek and walk to the Impala.

#supernatural #supernatural imagine #supernatural x reader #spn #spn x reader #spn imagine #dean winchester #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x reader #misha collins

[kaleldobrev]

Dean Winchester Masterlist

A rebloggable Dean Winchester Masterlist for your viewing and reading pleasure. All stories are Dean Winchester x F. Reader unless otherwise stated

Authors Note: Will update this as I post more stories

Come on Tiger (823) | You convince Dean to come to bed

You’re Not Normal (College AU) (556) | The reader and Dean become friends in a weird way

Happy Father’s Day (1.2k) |It’s Father’s Day, and the reader has some news to tell Dean

One Day (1.2k) | The reader and Dean talk about their dream life away from hunting

You Don’t Mean That (Demon!Dean) (2.3k) | Sam and the reader finally find Dean and bring him back to the Bunker. Sam says not to talk to Dean before they cure him, but the reader has other plans.

I Love The Way You… (2.9k) | Dean wants to propose to you but isn’t really sure how, so he asks Sam, Jody, and Donna for help

Nightmare Cure (1.6k) | You struggle with nightmares. So Dean comes up with a way to help you.

Autumn Vibes (1.2k) | Dean creates a new recipe in honor of the fall season.

A Date with Dean: Lucky Strikes (5.8k) | Dean and you go bowling for this weeks date night. But decide to make it a little bit more interesting.

The Comforts of a Winchester (2.2k) | Having a nightmare sucks, but at least you have Dean to comfort you.

I Dream of You (1.7k) | Dean dreams of a life with you, but do you?

Pizza, Beer & Zeppelin IV (1.2k) | Dean is surprised to find out what your ideal first date is; and he’s more than happy to oblige

You Deserve Love (2k) | Sometimes Dean needs reassurance that you love him

A Small Part of You (2.3k) | Although Dean is gone, at least you’ll always have a part of him

I Love Her, That’s Why (2.2k) | Dean thought that he was doing a pretty good job at hiding his feelings for you…until Jack started asking questions.

You Make Me Happy (2.3k) | With you doing what he believes to be an incredibly reckless thing on a hunt, Dean finally realizes how much you really mean to him

Old Man (3.4k) | Dean never had a problem with the age gap between you two; not until now any way

Without Hesitation, Yes (2.6k) | After all these years, Dean finally asks you to marry him.

Spitting Image (2.8k) | You think Dean looks like one of your favorite characters. Dean on the other hand…doesn’t see the resemblance.

Come Back Home (4.5k) | After a relationship ending argument that caused you to leave the Bunker, you and Dean haven’t heard from/seen each other in over a year. Are there still sparks between you two? The better question is: Did they ever truly leave in the first place?

Daddy in a Different Way (2.5k) | A simple misunderstanding leads an older woman to believe that you and Jack are together, not you and Dean. But Dean does a “very good job” at clearing things up…But maybe not in the best way.

Pumpkin Muffins (930) | You and Dean decide to try new nicknames for each other

Days Like These (1.4k) | You and Dean decide to spend the day in while it’s raining outside.

Mutual Pining (4.3k) | Dean and you are in love with each other, and it’s obvious to everyone but the two of you

Please Don’t Leave (2k) | Dean’s lucky to have you in his life and honestly doesn’t know what he would ever do without you

New Record (1k) | Dean and you set a new record

Pillow Talk (1.2k) | A common theme of yours and Dean’s pillow talks happen to be about having that white picket fence and apple pie life

Happy Anniversary (Non-Hunters AU) (2k) | You and Dean celebrate your 18-year wedding anniversary

It’s Okay (1.8k) | Dean’s a little jealous that Sam still talks to you and not him

I Finally Get It (2.7k) | Dean thinks he looks like a character from one of your favorite slasher films. You on the other hand…don’t see the resemblance.

Genuinely Happy (506) | You and Dean enjoy a nice car ride together while you admire how genuinely happy he looks

Coming & Going (1.8k) | You want Dean to stay, but will he?

What Are We? (2.1k) | Dean and you do a lot of couple things together but yet…you’re not a couple, and you often wonder why.

Stupidest Person Alive (1.7k) | After a near death experience in which you almost lost Dean, you tell him that you can’t risk losing him again.

The Day Before (743) | Dean comforts you when you get a migraine

Once Mine (Michael!Dean) (1.3k) | Michael thinks him possessing Dean can be a win-win for the both of you

Knew You’d Come Around (Michael!Dean) (1.5k) | Michael’s happy you’ve finally come around

Comfortable? (516) | Falling asleep in Dean’s lap while he’s driving

Would You Like To… (978) | You and Dean have been dating for a few months, and now he’s trying to figure out how to ask you to move into his room

Midnight Confessions (1k) | You and Dean have a “heart-to-heart” conversation on the way to Stanford to pick up Sam

Hauled Up (1.5k) | Sam recruits you to try and convince Dean to stop hauling up in his room

When You’re Ready (1.8k) | A case hits you particularly hard and all you want to do is be alone

Never the Favorite (844) | You finally try and set the record straight

Screw Consciousness (410) | Taking a nap with Dean after a long drive

Things Overheard (2k) | Dean overhears a private conversation between you and Sam

I’ve Got Ya (162) | Dean trying to comfort you after a nightmare

Blush (389) | For the first time in your life, you can say you’ve made Dean Winchester blush

Taste (657) | Dean going down on you in the back of Baby

Under Control (2.3k) | Dean keeps reassuring you that he has everything under control in terms of the Mark. But does he really?

Not the Same (Endverse AU) (4.7k) | Part One | Part Two

Coffee Kisses (3.3k) | Part One | Part Two

Old Man / Age Gap Universe

Shiny New Toy (Demon!Dean)

Supernatural: Purgatory Masterlist | 3/? parts done

My Hero Masterlist | ¾ parts done

Dean dressing up as a cowboy for a case and using Old West style pick-up lines

Introducing Dean to phone apps

Going to karaoke night with Dean at a bar

Pretending to be married to Dean for a case

Eating Halloween candy with Dean

Being one of the only witches Dean can stand

Getting Dean the perfect birthday present

Dean still worrying about you even though you’ve broken up

Dean still answering your calls even though you’ve broken up

Finding out you’re Dean’s soulmate from Apocalypse World Michael

Wanted Posters (Incorrect Quotes)

Dating Dean Poem/Moodboard

#dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #spn #supernatural #spn imagine #spn one shot #supernatural imagine #supernatural one shot #dean x you #dean x reader #reader insert #female reader #fluff #smut #spn drabble #supernatural drabble #spn drabbles #supernatural drabbles #kaleldobrev dean winchester masterlist

[whimsyfinny]

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Charlie discovers the Winchester boys to be struggling with keeping the bunker tidy, looking after themselves and being able to do their job simultaneously. Luckily she has a friend who’s from a Hunter family that is in need of work and can help them with research. Or so she thought that’s what her job would be. When Dean sees your more domesticated side, his head won’t stop swimming with all the wrong ideas.

Slow burn, enemies to lovers, smut

Warnings: None (Yet) in chapters to come there will be smut (and lots of it) and possible violence/blood/gore

Chapter Word Count: 1566

—-MDNI—-

A/N: My first Supernatural fic so I hope it doesn’t suck ass. Only proof read by myself, so pls let me know of any errors so I can correct! Also I know at this point in the series Dean is more serious, however I love pre-Hell Dean so imma bring some of those vibes in here. This is also posted on my AO3.

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Please Read the below first:

Prologue

Chapter 1

I’m Not Your F*cking Maid

Chapter 2

The journey to the bunker was pretty uneventful, with Sam and Charlie chatting amongst themselves in the front of the car whilst both myself and Dean sat miserably next to each other in the back like a couple of criminals who’d been arrested. The chains on my handcuffs jangled as I rubbed my sore knuckles; the skin raw, bruised and red from either my own blood or - most likely - Deans. As I did, I could feel a red hot glare burning into the side of my face from the older Winchester, as though he was in disbelief that I even had the audacity to feel any pain or discomfort right now as dark red scabs formed on his nose and cheek. We pulled up next to the bunker, and I didn’t get much chance to look at the surrounding scenery as the moment we were parked, the golden retriever duo up front hopped out, slammed their doors shut and threw ours open, Sam gently yet firmly grasping my elbow and pulling me to my feet whilst Charlie did the same for Dean. We were marched into the building and we soon arrived in what I assumed to be the kitchen. Sam pushed gently on my shoulder, urging me to take a seat at the table to which I obliged with Dean following suit and taking a seat opposite me. We stared each other down from across the table for a few moments, the atmosphere growing thicker by the second as his brilliant green eyes pierced mine.

“Enough the pair of you!” Charlie exclaimed, throwing her hands up. “Look, I’ve got some things to say before we release you both back into the wild. It won’t take long,” she sighed and rubbed her temples. “I wanted to introduce you guys to (Y/n) because I thought you would get along! With your shared interest in hunting, bootcut jeans, rock music and most importantly - pie.”

Dean and I shot each other a quick glance before looking away again. Charlie continued.

“You’ve had one disagreement, and even though I was impressed by the performance it definitely didn’t warrant the carnage. You’re both adults, so act like it and stop bickering like children. You’re going to be living and working together now so you’re both just going to have to suck it up and move on.”

Sam stepped forward; “I agree with Charlie. (Y/n) you have no idea how much of a help you being here is going to be. We’ve been going around in circles for months and we really need a fresh pair of eyes. Plus you get free food and board, if that helps,” he grinned slightly trying to lighten the mood. I humoured him and softened my eyes, raising my eyebrows in acknowledgment to the pros of staying here.

“Right,” he clapped his hands together, “we’re going to remove the tape and you’re both going to be civilised. You promise?”

I gave Dean one final long, hard stare before nodding.

”Good,” Sams soft cool fingers grazed my cheek as he pulled up the corner of the tape, gently peeling it back until it was removed and I could finally take a deep breath. Meanwhile, Charlie approached Dean and in one swift movement ripped the tape from his mouth in under a second.

“FUCK!” He cried out as he tenderly touched his now extra sore swollen lips. I couldn’t help but smirk.

“Right, I’m going to go and get (Y/n)s belongings from the motel room she’s staying in and check her out then I’ll be right back with all her stuff. I’ll see you guys later!” And before I could even protest for her to take me with her, she’d turned on her heel and hightailed it out of the bunker, leaving Sam to undo our cuffs and set us free.

“That bitch,” I sighed, huffing a strand of hair out of my face. Sam knelt before me, that kind look in his eye ever twinkling.

“(Y/n) I promise you that you're safe here. It’s warded to the teeth and full of everything we need to survive. We’ve got you,” he patted my knee before taking my hands in his, using a small key to finally undo the cuffs right before they clattered to the floor. I leant down to pick them up, and by the time I’d sat back up to place them on the kitchen table, he was already beside Dean doing the same for him. His own cuffs removed and rubbing his wrists, he stood, looking from me to Sam a few times before speaking.

“Well I’ve already suffered enough today so I’m going to spend time coming up with a better excuse as to why I look like this,” he gestured to his beaten face and turned to leave, mumbling a quick ‘see ya later’ to Sam before leaving the kitchen. Sam stood awkwardly for a second, before declaring that he was going to get some lunch for everyone and also scurried away, leaving me completely alone in alien territory. I was still sat at the table as I began to look around.

This place was a dump.

How did these grown ass men live in conditions like this? The dirty dishes were piled so high that it was a surprise they hadn’t toppled over yet. Empty beer bottles cluttered the table and countertops, the bin was overflowing with bulging bin bags dumped right next to it without being taken outside and the smell was starting to make me feel a little nauseous. How does Sam expect us all to eat and live together in conditions like this? It was like living with a couple of wild animals. After a few silent moments to myself I released a breath I’d been holding whilst I pondered. I ran my hands through my hair and laughed at myself in disbelief. I’m gonna have to clean the fucking kitchen. Without giving it a second thought and running the risk that I’d change my mind, I scooped my hair into a high ponytail using the bobble on my wrist and pushed up my sleeves, finding a pair of rubber gloves under the sink. Let’s clean this bitch.

*

In the space of about an hour and a half (a gruelling hour and a half), I’d washed and dried the dishes, putting them away in their respective places, taken out all the trash and lined the bin with a fresh bag, scrubbed and disinfected every surface and had even mopped the floors. The smell of rotting trash was dissipating and the urge to claw off my own skin had gone. I’d propped the mop against the wall and stepped back to admire my hard labour when I heard a door open and close, the entering footsteps heading my way. Sam emerged into the kitchen, a stunned look on his face as he walked to the table slowly, placing about 6 bags of ‘groceries’ on its surface. His mouth opened and closed a few times like he was searching for the right things to say.

“You’re welcome,” I cut in, hoping to help him find his words.

“Yeah, thank you! I’m sorry, I didn't know what to say - you really didn’t have to do this. It’s embarrassing that you were even put in a situation where you felt you had to,” he grimaced a little, only now realising what a horror show it was that they were living in. “But seriously thank you, I really appreciate it,” he smiled and I couldn't help but smile back. Sam was sweet and easy to like - unlike his Neanderthal brother. I felt like I could trust him.

I peeled my gloves off, threw them in the bin and approached the kitchen table where Sam was pulling out a case of beer.

“Here, you deserve one of these,” he said, handing me one. The bottle was nice and cool on my hot fingertips, my warm skin instantly relishing the coldness.

“Thank you,” I smiled before popping the cap and taking a long, well deserved drink. I savoured the moment, genuinely appreciating Sam’s gesture. Although all nice moments comes to an end, and soon Dean was striding into the room bold as brass, seating himself at the table and helping himself to a beer without so much as a hello. It wasn’t until he’d drained half the bottle in one gulp that he realised the kitchen was clean. He grinned and looked at his brother.

“Hey, nice job Sammy! It looks great in here, I owe you one,” he raised his bottle as if making a small toast whilst Sam’s eyes flicked to mine.

“Uh, Dean… this wasn’t me. You need to thank (Y/n) for that,” Deans grin faulted slightly as he looked between the two of us before it returned. I couldn’t help but raise my eyebrows in suspicion. His forest green eyes pierced into mine as he almost purred his next sentence.

“Well, Sammy, it looks like we’ve bagged ourselves a maid. Does she cook too?”

I slammed my bottle on the table, much like I did earlier. Only Sam flinched.

“I’m not your fucking maid,” I snarled, resenting that shit-eating grin on the older Winchesters lips. He chuckled, the sound coming deep from within his chest as he rose to his feet.

“Sure thing sweetheart.”

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Taglist: @creative-writing92 @suckitands33

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Chapter 3

#dean x female!reader #dean winchester x you smut #dean winchester x reader smut #dean x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean x you #dean x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester smut #dean winchester x female!reader #enemies to lovers #Dean Winchester enemies to lovers #eventual smut #slow burn

[iamnotoriginalphil]

One Touch (Leonora Lesso x f!Reader)

Synopsis: With the gift of prophecy, you see something that shakes you on your first meeting with a certain Dean of Evil

Words: 1.9k

Warnings: very brief smut

Since the day you’d been born you’d been gifted with second sight. A single touch of bare skin and you could see the future of someone. Although it was patchy, and didn’t always work, any vision you’d had had yet to be wrong.

You’d seen all kinds of things. Births, deaths, marriages. First kisses and last kisses. Inane domestic bliss and sword fights. You never knew what was going to come, but you got one glimpse of their future.

Only one, though.

You’d never understood how it worked. Some people you’d never seen anything with, others it had been the first brush of skin, some not until longer into knowing them. If it wasn’t at first touch you’d wait, wondering when it would happen, if it would happen.

It wasn’t much of a power, a sort of one and done thing. Most unimpressive. Still, you’d been called to the School of Good and Evil in order to help assess the future of the students. With the newly merged schools, you had to assume it came from an uncertainty about the new future. You were only too happy to oblige.

Dovey had led the charge to get you settled in, freely offering you her bare hand. Nothing at the first touch, but she’d smiled, not disappointed in the slightest. It was nice, knowing she wasn’t harbouring disappointment at your inability to perform.

It didn’t go so well when meeting Lesso.

“And don’t mind her if she’s a little cold towards you,” Dovey was saying as she swept you down the hallway of the School for Evil, “she wasn’t on board with this. Thought it was a waste of time. Not that she’s particularly warm on a good day.”

Her laugh was high and airy but you could sense the frustration underlying it. You knew exactly the sort of people she was talking about, the kind that wormed their way under your skin until you wanted to scratch yourself bloody just to be rid of them.

With an elegant hand, she knocked on the door in front of her. Not bothering to wait for an answer she pushed the door open, stepping in. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself, and followed.

You immediately had to take another deep breath. You knew the School for Evil had uglification as a required class but clearly the dean had failed those when she was a student. Resplendent, leaning back in her throne like chair, heavy wooden desk barring any from coming closer, her irritated gaze passed from Dovey to you. You pressed your lips together, trying to calm your heart.

“Why have you brought me this, Dovey?” she asked, turning her head back towards the other woman. Her voice was surprisingly low, husky almost, sending a shockwave through you. You did your best to school your features, but the sound of her voice was the most perfect example of evil you’d ever heard. Inciting and welcoming, asking you to come closer.

“I thought it would be a good idea for you to meet our new-” Dovey began to say.

“Our new Cassandra?” She lifted an eyebrow at you. You felt your cheeks heat up at the comparison, perfectly able to recall the downside of Cassandra’s gift. But people did believe you. You had to believe that.

“Lesso.” The note of warning in Dovey’s voice was appreciated.

“It’s very nice to meet you,” you said to her. Her eyes swept over you again before turning back to Dovey.

“You know my feelings on the matter,” she said, carefully controlling her anger.

“There’s no requirement for you to undergo the same treatment as the students,” you said, before Dovey could come to your defence, “if that’s what’s making you nervous.”

“I’m not nervous,” she scoffed.

“Then I suppose you wouldn’t mind testing my sight,” you said. Looking back, that was where you went wrong. You shouldn’t have egged her on like that.

She rose from her throne fluidly, and only then did you realise she had a cane. You tried not to think about that too hard but her steps were accompanied with a metallic click. She held out her hand to you, head tilting to the side as you reached for it.

Her hand was warm in yours which was the only sense you got before you were somewhere else. You were lying on your back, spread out on a large bed and between your legs was a mass of coppery hair. Your fingers were buried in it as a deft tongue swept through your folds. Glittering eyes looked up at you before lips wrapped around your sensitive bundle of nerves, making pleasure roll through your body.

Gasping, you stumbled away from Lesso. You felt shaky and the ghost of her mouth was still between your legs. You pressed a hand to your eyes, taking a moment to collect yourself. It wasn’t the first time you’d been a player in the visions, but it was the first time you’d experienced a vision such as that.

“What did you see?” Dovey asked, her hands gentle on your shoulders.

“Just…” You couldn’t say it out loud, you couldn’t, “lessons.”

You knew your shaky voice hadn’t gone unnoticed by either woman. When you finally could bring yourself to look at Lesso her gaze was intent, interested, and if it had been any other vision you might have been feeling gratified by her change of heart. As it was, all you wanted was her searching gaze off you.

“Lessons?” she asked, and you knew she was incredulous at your explanation.

“A fight broke out,” you said, “you… handled it.”

You weren’t sure how much they were believing of your answer but you knew this would be a secret you took to the grave. How could you admit that you’d seen her between your own thighs, the vestiges of the pleasure still in your body? You couldn’t.

“I should um… I still need to unpack.”

You fled from the room, ignoring the surprised noises from Dovey. You raced back over to the other school, climbing the stairs two at a time, desperate to lock yourself away in your room. You wanted Lesso out of your head but you could still feel the ghost of her tongue on you, the heat pooling in your lower stomach. The way she’d been looking at you, it was like she wanted to devour you.

You did your best to avoid her after that. Move in day came and went, students sent to see you as their teachers saw fit. It was easy to lose yourself in the future of others, but in the back of your mind it was still there, the image of her, the feel of her, the pleasure so quick to surface when you were least expecting it.

Just that short image was enough to have you touching yourself in bed, when the doors were locked and the students were sure to be asleep. You hated yourself for it, but you were desperate for release, to not be haunted by it. If only that worked. It was as if the feeling had made it’s home in you, waiting for the moment your prediction came true.

And come true it would. They always did.

On one particular night when you were determined not to give in to the temptation of your own fingers, you found yourself walking through the garden. You wanted her out of your head but you knew the likelihood of that happening was low. You tilted your head back, closing your eyes to drink in the scent of the flowers around you.

“I didn’t take you for a coward.”

You blinked your eyes open, knowing the voice before you turned. It was like it was burned into your skull, the way that voice sounded in your ears. Husky and deep, rich like satin but rough like velvet. Many a night you’d wondered what it would sound like moaning your name.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, Lady Lesso,” you said, finally looking at her.

Her eyes were bright in the moonlight, pinning you down as she slowly advanced towards you, each step sure and steady. You bit down on your lower lip and her gaze zeroed in on it.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” she said.

“I thought you didn’t want me here,” you said, “smarter to make myself scarce.”

“I might believe that,” she hummed, “if I hadn’t seen your reaction to whatever vision you had about me.”

“I told you-“ you began.

“That it was a fight during lessons, yes, I know.” She stopped close enough for you to smell the ink and blood and winter wind on her skin. “You were lying.”

“Why would I lie about that?” you asked, almost trembling under her gaze.

“My question exactly.”

With the head of her cane she tilted your chin up until you were looking her in the eye. You had to swallow past the lump in your throat, wanting to draw back, to cower, but she held you in place.

“So I suppose now I have to wonder whether you’ll tell me, or if I’ll have to guess,” she said.

“Why does it matter?” you asked, voice barely more than a whisper, “I thought you didn’t care.”

“I care when it warrants such a strong reaction from you,” she said, “shall I guess?”

“You won’t-“ you began to say before she pressed her finger to your lips. You squeaked, head jerking back as she laughed.

“I think perhaps you saw me in what you’d consider a compromising position,” she said, “a position requiring far less clothing than I’m currently wearing. A position where I’m moaning.”

“Someone was certainly moaning,” you muttered under your breath.

Her smile spread over her face and her eyes sparkled with delight. You cursed yourself for not being able to stop yourself from saying something. Of course she’d heard you. Of course.

“You saw me in bed with someone,” she said, “now the question is why you wouldn’t just tell me that. Were you worried I wouldn’t like my partner?”

You felt your cheeks heat up, not able to look at her anymore. Her fingers made contact with your chin, turning you back to her, and her face was closer than you were expecting. Her breath ghosted over your skin and you tried to suppress a shudder.

“Who was it?” she asked and god help you there was no resisting that voice. You squeezed your eyes shut.

“Me.”

“I thought it might be,” she said.

You opened your eyes, not sure what to expect. She didn’t look nearly as disgusted as you thought she might, but she was definitely looking at you like she was going to ruin you. Your tongue darted out, wetting your lips and her eyes followed it, darkening. Heat pooled in your stomach again.

“We’re going to have such fun while you’re here,” she murmured.

Her kiss was like a promise, leaving you breathless and desperate for more. Before you could touch her she was drawing back, letting you go, slipping back into the shadows, her chuckle the only thing left behind.

She was definitely going to ruin you.

#lady lesso x reader #lady lesso #lady lesso imagine #leonora lesso x reader #leonora lesso imagine

[perplexedflower]

Waking Up With The Shield - 1/3: Don't Go Baking My Heart

Fandom: WWE.

Category: F/M.

Relationship: Dean Ambrose x Female Reader.

Type: One shot.

Words: 1,497.

~~~~~~~~~~

I slowly opened my eyes, only to find myself enveloped securely in a pair of tender arms; I turned my head to the side and saw Dean, his eyes closed, still peacefully asleep. My arms were wrapped around his bare chest while both of his hands rested on my waist and thighs. In the bedroom reigned a powerful mixture of aromas, combining love and passion, with a hint of sweat. Although I could still smell what was left of my own perfume on my skin, the one scent my nose picked up on was Dean's cologne against his neck and collarbone, the fragrance intense yet soothing. As I breathed in his scent, I closed my eyes and held his body closer to mine, the palms of my hands resting on his back; I nestled my face against his chest, seeking warmth and serenity in the crook of his neck.

Just as I did so, I felt a faint grip on one of my arms, shortly followed by a gentle stroke: when I turned my gaze to my left, Dean's smiling face appeared, his eyes now open, meeting mine with softness.

"Good morning, baby." He whispered sweetly as he combed my hair with his fingers. "I see you woke up before me... for once."

I chuckled lightly at his comment, before I reached for his hands and intertwined my fingers with his; it had become a habit of Dean to be the first one awake, no matter the day, as he greatly enjoyed preparing breakfast in bed for the both of us.

I know he likes cooking breakfast for me because it makes him feel useful and allows him to add a loving touch to our relationship, and even my life in general, and I'm extremely grateful for such an affectionate gesture... but he never seems to realize that he doesn't need to feel obliged to do it every morning. I thought to myself as I stared into his eyes. I've already told him plenty of times before, it's not necessary for me to be any happier than I already am or even to make me understand how much he loves me, I know he does. But every time I argue with him about it, he insists and still ends up being the one to take care of breakfast... I wish we could switch roles, for once.

Dean leaned closer to me, sticking his face against my neck to kiss it tenderly, which pulled me out of my thoughts.

"Hmm... I can smell my cologne on your skin... It's hot." He said, his voice slightly muffled as his nose sniffed my collarbone.

"No wonder, I spent the whole night snuggled against you." I told him with a smile, my cheeks slightly pink. "We were practically glued to each other all night long... Not that it bothered me."

Dean chuckled as he lay his head on his pillow, closing his eyes, and a yawn escaped his lips. Still properly adjusting to the bright rays of sunlight that were peeking through the bedroom window, I gently rubbed my eyes. Then, with a chuckle of my own, I reached for his cheek as I tilted my head slightly.

"But enough of all that." I stated with assertion. "What do you say I make us breakfast in bed today?"

My question coupled with my enthusiastic tone led Dean to open his eyes back and wide.

"I would really like to do it, this time around." I continued with a smile. "Besides, it seems you're too tired to take care of it, anyway."

"I don't really know, [Y/N]..." He answered hesitantly.

"What, do you not trust me with it? Or are you simply too obsessed with that little ritual of yours?" I asked him in a teasing tone.

"Nah, don't be ridiculous." He replied in an attempt to be nonchalant, though the faint blush on his face betrayed his voice. "I don't even know what you're talking about, I'm not tired."

The very second he finished his sentence, his mouth opened wide and came out a yawn, which he tried his best to conceal by turning his face to the side, as if to hide it from my eyes.

"Come on, Dean..." I laughed as I spoke.

With a gentle hand, I grabbed his face once more, lovingly caressing his skin.

"All I'm asking you is to let me do it, just this once. You always take such good care of me, I just want an opportunity to give it back."

Dean turned his head back to face me, his eyes staring into mine deeply: and, after a moment of silence, he closed his eyes and sighed.

"Alright, fine." He said with a smile and a slow headshake.

"Thank you love!" I exclaimed happily.

I leaned forward and left a soft kiss on his lips as a token of my gratitude.

"Now, I know the quality of the breakfast is obviously not going to be as premium as when you do it, but I'll do my best to reach your level of excellence." I said jokingly while I shifted into a sitting position on the bed.

"I swear I won't be too harsh on you." He said back, just as playfully.

I pecked his lips with mine one last time, the sensation of his rough beard rubbing against my skin sending shivers all the way down my spine, after which I stood up from the bed; I outstretched both my legs and arms while a yawn escaped through my mouth, then made my way out of the bedroom, heading for the kitchen. As I walked to the door, I passed by our large full-length mirror that was attached to the wall and caught a brief glimpse of myself: my hair was completely disheveled, my oversized t-shirt was sliding off one of my shoulders, and my limbs were covered with marks the bedsheets had left all over my skin.

After having exited the bedroom, I set out for the kitchen, which was just as messy as I was: the counter was littered with beer bottles from the previous night, the majority of them being empty, which I proceeded to throw away before I grabbed a cloth and cleaned the surface of the counter. I took this time to clean other corners of the kitchen, though without wasting too much time. And then, after a few minutes, I finally got down to cooking breakfast for Dean and myself.

Once I was done, I took an empty tray and filled it entirely, with both food and drinks of a wide variety, which I knew would satisfy him just as much as it would me. With the heavy tray in my hands, I carefully made my way back to the bedroom, assuring I would not break anything; I walked through the open doorframe with a glowing smile and my eyes landed on Dean, who was still comfortably lying in bed, his eyes closed.

"Your breakfast is ready, sir." I solemnly declared before I chuckled.

He opened his eyes upon hearing the sound of my voice and an excited smile shaped his lips when he took notice of the tray in my hands.

"That's... a lot of things, baby." He told me with genuine surprise.

"I know, I know." I said as I felt a faint layer of blush spread across my face.

As I approached the bed, Dean outstretched his arms and moved his body on the bed, sitting with his back straight so that he would be in a more comfortable position to eat. I could see by the look in his eyes that I had managed to impress him, and this filled me with a great feeling of pride and happiness.

"Here you go." I said while I set the tray down on the sheets, over his legs.

I began to arrange the bed a little in order for us to be physically at ease by flattening the sheets and setting the pillows to the side, when he unexpectedly reached for my face and kissed my lips gently, catching me by surprise and leading my skin to grow yet even redder. After he pulled away, he stared deeply into my eyes, his thumbs brushing my cheeks.

"Thank you, sweetheart." He said sincerely. "I know I always insist on being the one to take care of it...  but it really means a lot to me to have you prepare breakfast for me this morning."

With a shy smile, I sat down next to him and slid my legs under the blanket, squeezing them against his.

"You're more than welcome, Dean." I told him with an affectionate smile. "I'm happy to do it for you, too."

While displaying a smile of his own, he brought me closer to him, close enough for me to rest my head on his shoulder, before he pulled the tray toward him.

"Now, let's get down to it, shall we?" He asked enthusiastically. "I'm starving."

#dean ambrose #dean ambrose x reader #dean ambrose x you #dean ambrose fanfiction #dean ambrose fanfictions #dean ambrose one shot #dean ambrose one shots #dean ambrose imagine #dean ambrose imagines #wwe #wwe fanfiction #wwe fanfictions #wwe one shot #wwe one shots #wwe imagine #wwe imagines #the shield #female reader #perplexedflower

[according2thelore]

ohhhhh man now you’ve got me brooding over es!sam. it never occurred to me before that among them, he would end up feeling always the square peg in a round hole. the pride and resilience and hope he carried like medals in the first seasons gave him a sense of value and esteem, and i can’t imagine how it feels to be thrown into this inevitability where none of himself remains and in fact the bits he tries to hold onto are an irritant to the quid pro quo in a way nobody will outright honestly explain to him. rather than saving himself and his brother and the world like he thought he would at the end of it all, everywhere he looks is just another form of loss. ls!boys would lap up his es brother, the eager (and adorably naive) hunter with ideas and brawn and something to prove, so much of the same flowing through the blood of all 3 of them, but imagine the grief es!sam feels walking through the cold echoing hallways of the bunker, everything just a nauseating maelstrom of weapons and lore books and charts, no john, no mary, no jess, no wives and no children, no living friends, no presence or interest in the world he always dreamed to blend into, and nobody at his side to truly understand or feel that grief with him. and on top of that the things he feels about dean, complex and ugly and heavy to hold, have somehow been tugged out of him into the open in the future and locked behind a door he has no key to and even touching the knob burns his hand - the derision/amusement of the ls!bros even if they don’t intend it as such, the constant knowing smiles like he isn’t THEM like they don’t know how it feels and how much it suffocates him ohhhh man look what you’ve done to my poor heart with these snippets

YES!!!! ANON!!! YOU GET IT!!!!

first off, your writing is gorgeous?? holy shit?? eating all of your words they are in my mouth now i am sorry

but YES

he would def feel like the odd man out (depending on the season ES!Sam is from) because the other three love the life. they find joy and purpose and meaning in the hunt in a way sam lost. the hunt is a tool. a means to an end.

i think it wouldn't take long for LS!Sam to see the bunker, with the dozens of empty rooms--the shell of a home, only echoes and blades and the collected sum total of knowledge of people long-dead--and ask the group, "is this fucking it?"

no one knows what he's talking about (ES!Dean is so excited because he gets a kickass bunker AND a garage AND an armory AND sammy forever??), but sam is shaking because there are shirts folded in some of the empty rooms' dressers. dead men who thought they'd come back, a physical reminder of every goddamn person they've lost in the endless quest for vengeance. everything sam left for.

"is this all i fucking get?" ES!Sam snaps. "an underground crypt? no wife. no kids. no job. no fucking friends? did the hunt really fucking bury us?"

and everyone goes deadly fucking silent. LS!Dean has to leave the room because it's everything he'd always feared LS!Sam thinks. sam has always needed others more than dean does (or at least, that's what dean thinks, we literally see contradictory evidence in the show but okay). LS!Dean's afraid that sam has always resented him for the way their lives ended up, for dragging sam down with him.

and ES!Dean is crushed because this is his dream. he gets to save lives. he gets to carry dad's legacy. he gets to keep sam, all the unnecessary fluff--a mission to keep them together, girls, obligations--removed. and sam is disgusted by it.

LS!Sam just stares at ES!Sam blankly. he's annoyed with him, before something smaller, something pitying, slips into the shape of his mouth. he gets up to follow LS!Dean, leaving ES!Sam to wallow in his own sick. in this moment, Sam can't even empathize with himself.

and ES!Sam is sitting in the blast radius of his own fury. no one will look him in the eye. LS!Dean looks sick before he leaves the table. no one will answer his questions. no one even tries.

LS!Sam keeps trying to say, "this is what i want, sam. i don't mind. i love what i do, and i love doing it with dean." and all sam can hear is i gave up. i couldn't get out. i'm coping. don't destroy this glass house with a hammer because it's the only home i have left.

and ES!Sam still aches. because ES!Dean is already choosing another sam. LS!Dean looks at him like he has the power to kill him. LS!Sam looks at him like he pities him, which is the deepest cut of all.

poor sam. poor sam who doesn't want to die for this. poor sam who doesn't get us, who isn't us.

LS!Dean, ironically enough, is the closest ES!Sam gets to compassion, but it always feels like blows directed at himself. yeah. it sucks, kid. it fucking blows. i wanted you to get a wife. to get out. i...i tried. i'm sorry. it's more self-recrimination than care.

but GOD! ES!Sam goes for a run and sprints until he throws up because he sees the packed strength of LS!Dean's arms, the crow's feet at the corners of his eyes. he sees the easy way LS!Sam&Dean laugh with each other, the way they talk with looks alone, the naked adoration. he sees ES!Dean and aches and aches and aches and aches and aches. he needs something he doesn't have the words for, something he's terrified to name, because does that mean that he's giving up? does that mean that he's the fucked up one--perverting this easy life that they all clearly adore?

and even the joy he finds--talking with LS!Dean in the kitchen, sparring with ES!Dean in the gym, enthusing with LS!Sam over texts--there are moments. small ones. where sam realizes that the person talking to him kind of stops, content. he's already part of this system, of this unit. sometimes the pauses feel patronizing. or excited. or so full of tension that sam is already hardening in his jeans. or sad. and it's confusing, but sam is walking down the empty hallways, passing rooms of dead men and seeking out his brother, always his brother, always.

GRAH!!! lonely ES!Sam. bitter ES!Sam. joyful ES!Sam. jealous ES!Sam. possessive ES!Sam. ES!Sam choking on the things he doesn't understand--the things he can't--that have made their lives the way they are.

thank you for this ask, anon! it was beautifully written! and now i am also thinking about this! perpetual motion machine of devouring ES!Sam whole!

-lizzy

#ask box #lizzy answers #ES/LS verse #anon <3

[v3nusxsky]

Do you think maybe you can write a Lady Lesso x Reader? Maybe one where reader is a teacher and she’s completely worked to the bone and while she’s in a meeting with Dovey and Lesso, she passes out? Maybe Lesso shows her a bunch of care and Dovey’s like “..I didn’t know she could do that..”

-anon

Just for you| fluffy

*Authors note~this is such a cute idea I love it sm Drabble coming up*

Trigger warnings~ over worked r

Prompt~ see ask^^^^

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

You were busy, that was an understatement and a half. It was that time of year for the school's librarian where every student and their mother was trying to get books and book computer times, the library constantly full and sometimes students trying to break the rules and be loud. It was maddening and a lot for just one person to keep track off, especially when you have a list as long as your arm from people who want the same book at the same time. Some students not taking the news the book was already loaned out to someone too well. That was the exact reason you were called for a joint meeting with your secret girlfriend and her counterpart.

Leonora knew you were over working yourself and stressing yourself out, but you looked as if you hadn't slept in weeks, you were pale and you looked thinner. Had you been eating? She wasn't sure because of how hectic things were you'd both not really been able to see one another. She couldn't help but feel the guilt when she spotted the dark circles under your eyes, she knew you only really slept well when you were with her, your past was certainly something else and she had missed the signs of you slipping backwards into this spiralling darkness.

Even as you spoke your words were slow and sluggish but what Leonora wasn't expecting was for you to stand and excuse yourself before collapsing on the ground. The red head was instantly up and on her feet, not registering how unlike herself these actions were, nor did she care right now. She settled you on to your left side and began to trail her fingers comfortingly through your hair. This wasn't her first time dealing with these episodes as you call them. She knew just what to do and how to help you. Meanwhile Dovey just stood their watching as panic filled her. She didn't know how to help but clearly the Dean of Evil did? That didn't make much sense to her but all she could do is stand there and watch.

As you came back round you noticed your girlfriends hands in your hair and her soothing words which caused you to instantly roll over and place your head in her lap, snuggling further into the comfort. "Mmm Nora" you whimpered happily as your eyes were still closed due to the headache from hitting the cobbled floor. "I know Dove, can you stay awake for me sweetheart? You hit your head love, Nora just wants to make sure you're absolutely okay" she murmured back as you whined in protest, your head hurts why can't you just sleep? "I know love, for me please?"

You agreed to stay awake but only if you remained in her arms, which she was happily obliging with. Dovey still watching in shock at how caring she was being to you. "I believe we need to rearrange this meeting Clarissa, she's in no fit state to continue" her tone left no room for any protest not that you would, you felt like rubbish. "Nora bed" you whimpered and the older red head shushed you, "soon sweetheart just stay still a little longer for me okay?" You nodded before whimpering, that hurt.

"I uh I didn't know you could do that" Clarissa mumbled causing the red head to bite back, "I'm evil not cruel, I do own a heart just reserved for special people like this one here. Now I think it's time I take my Girlfriend to rest in our bed." Was all she offered before helping you stand and lean into her side as she guided you out the room, leaving a dumbfounded Clarissa.

Word count~ 705

#anon answered #v3nusxsky answers #fanfic #anon requested #lady lesso #sfgae #leonora lesso #lady lesso x reader #lesso x reader #lady leonora lesso #lady lesso x you #leonora lesso x reader #dean of evil #dean of evil x reader

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

DAY THREE: Warm Food w/ Sick!Dean Winchester

a/n: Ah late late late, I know I know, but this whole flu business has been kicking my butt, but now I feel significantly better to start uploading again, even though they may come slowly still seeing as though my life never sleeps! Here's this hurt/comfort, sick!fic madness!

masterlist | comfortember masterlist | AO3

TAGLIST: @alina02 @louderfortheback

As bad as it sounds, one of Dean's many flaws is that he refuses to accept help or admit when there's something wrong with him, but it wouldn't take a genius to figure out that he was sick. Nose red with irritation and mucus, his forehead was scalding to the touch, his voice scratchy due to it's dryness.

At first, the man had insisted that he was fine, even though you had to put up with almost an hour of him sniffling before he had gotten up to finally blow his nose. You had tried to tell him that his beer wasn't very hydrating, but he didn't listen until he had ran to one of the many bathrooms in the bunker, inevitably throwing up his guts. You were with him every step of the way, rubbing his hunched over back as he dry heaved.

He leaned on you the whole way back to your shared room, gently setting him down on the bed as you undressed him. "I don't think I have enough energy for that tonight, sweetheart." He said teasingly. You shot him a glare as you tugged off his heavy boots. "Shut it, Dean." You said halfheartedly, worry twisting in your gut as you kept a close eye on him. "Baby, you don't gotta be worried, I'm fine." He then proceeded to cough into his elbow, the sound real nasty as you winced. "Just lay there Dean, I'll be back." He just grunted, rolling over onto his side. It was the first time that whole day that you hadn't heard any complaints come from him, that was what made you nervous.

You rushed to grab a bunch of medicine, most of the brands ranging from nightquil to ibuprofen. Gripping a Gatorade tightly, you hurried back to your room where you found him already passed out asleep. You shook him awake, handing him to gel capsules before handing him the electrolyte filled juice. He quickly fell asleep again all the while you snuck away to the bunkers kitchen where you proceeded to make chicken and rice soup, figuring it would be something easy on his stomach and it most definitely would help ease some of that nastiness in his throat.

You were satisfied with yourself to say the least, already feeling the '#1 Girlfriend' badge weaseling itself onto your night shirt. You had always enjoyed taking care of Dean whenever you could, but it was mostly when he allowed you to do so, sometimes even begrudgingly coming from his end. You were hoping he would be able to sleep for a little bit longer, but alas, you heard wretched coughs echo down the hallway, alerting you of his presence. You quickly scooped some of the food into a bowl, wetting a hand towel and throwing it over your shoulder. You didn't care that it soaked your shirt as you padded your way back to where your boyfriend laid.

"Deano," You called out softly. "I made you some food. It should help." He only groaned in retaliation, remaining unmoving. "Baby, please sit up for me." You pleaded. He easily obliged, letting out tiny sounds of discomfort as he manuvered on his achy muscles. "Thank you." You said in quiet satisfaction. He looked weak and tired, the lamp illuminating the side of his sullen looking face.

You brushed some sweat soaked hair off of his forehead and you gently held the bowl in your hands. You scooped some of the rice and broth onto the spoon, shoveling it into his mouth. He swallowed it, letting out what sounded like a sigh of relief as his body sunk against the headboard.

"Thank you, sweetheart."

#comfortember #comfortember 2022 #dean winchester comfortember #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean fanfiction #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester hurt/comfort #dean winchester x plus size reader #plus size reader #plus size!reader #x plus size reader #chubby reader #x chubby reader #fluff #general audiences #sick dean winchester #fanfiction #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester oneshot #dean winchester drabble #dean winchester blurb #dean supernatural #dean winchester supernatural #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction

[corinthianism]

last kiss | sam winchester (1)

pairing: sam winchester/f!reader additional tags: best friends to lovers (?), fluff, angst

summary: you and sam were inseparable; two like-minded souls brought together by a life of saving people and hunting monsters. when the world is about to come to an end, he's forced to make a choice, one that might just haunt you forever. - set in the season 5 finale

masterlist | next chapter | ao3

CHAPTER ONE: SAVIN' ALL MY LOVE

Trusting a demon, especially the king of crossroad demons, was not what you had in your itinerary for saving the world… but perhaps you should’ve known. After all, being a hunter wasn’t exactly a cut-and-dry profession, especially when you’re working with the Winchesters. Still, you were wondering if being left in an abandoned house with Sam, while Dean and Crowley, of all people, tracked down Pestilence’s demon assistant, or as Crowley liked to put it, “the horseman’s stable boy”. Leaving Sam out of such an important mission left a bad taste in your mouth, but you knew that your best friend wasn’t exactly the most trustworthy candidate to save the world right now.

Not after what happened with Ruby. 

You grimaced. Best not to think about that too much, unless you wanted to match Sam with a cranky, scrunched up face of your own.

“Keep an eye on him, would you?” Dean pulled you aside before he left with Crowley. “If I know anything, sweetheart, it’s that he sure as hell listens to you more than he listens to me.”

You let out a long breath through your teeth as you glanced at Sam, who was, unsurprisingly, drinking his feelings by the fireplace. There was only so much to keep you busy in a place like this, so you decided that you might as well join him.

“Got room for one more?” you asked gently, not wanting to irritate him further. He gave you a look, which you had affectionately called “Sam’s kicked puppy look”, and huffed before scooching over to let you sit on the worn-down couch next to him. “This reminds me of Cedar Falls.”

Sam laughed quietly, shaking his head, “This is nothing like Cedar Falls.”

“True, but it made you laugh,” you grinned victoriously at him. “Penny for your thoughts, Sammy?”

He took one big sip from his bottle of whiskey, and turned to face you, his eyes doing that thing where it got bigger and sadder and you couldn’t help but give him whatever he wanted. What an asshole. The corner of his lips turned upward into a tired smile, “You don’t really wanna know that.”

“Actually, yeah, I don’t,” you rolled your eyes. “But I did kinda grow up with you and I’m your only friend besides your brother and an angel, so I’m morally obligated to know.”

That earned you a scoff from him, but he spilled the beans anyway.

“It’s Dean. I mean, I know he’s not exactly wrong for not trusting me right now, but trusting Crowley?” he ranted, his voice growing tighter and louder in frustration. 

“He doesn’t trust Crowley,” you made your point as softly as you could, knowing he was thinking of a million possibilities right now. You didn’t want to add to that. “He just doesn’t have any other option at the moment.”

“He does have an option though, and it’s not working with a demon. Trust me, I know firsthand that it doesn’t end well.”

You probably made a face at the mention of his “firsthand experience”, because he chuckled again and took another swig of his drink. 

“Well, on the bright side, you got me. And that’s about as good as it can get, Winchester,” another small smile from him. “I think we need more drinks. For me, I mean,” you commented, happy with your small victory. You stood up once again to get the mini-cooler in the other room. He nodded in agreement, going back to spacing out as you left. Taking one last look at him, you couldn’t help but imagine the weight he must’ve been carrying. You knew him. You knew him deeply, and that made things suck even more. 

Of course, there was no other solution besides burying the emotional damage every world-ending problem left on you. There was no time for heart-to-hearts in the life of a hunter. For now, the only real help you could give Sam was to lend him an ear and to toss him a few more drinks.

A flash of blue in your peripheral told you that you found what you were looking for. Cold mist pleasantly greeted your skin as you opened the cooler up, finding it full of ice and an assortment of drinks. “Leave it to the Winchesters to save the world but also somehow always be fully stocked up on alcohol,” you smirked, pushing the lid back down and picking it up to bring it to the living room. 

Sam’s voice made you stop in your tracks. He was talking to someone. On the phone, you thought.

“What if you guys lead the devil to the edge… and I jump in?”

What?

You found yourself inching closer, just to see if he would say anything else.

“It’d be just like when you turned the knife around on yourself; just one action, just one leap,” he persisted, voice heavy with desperation.

Everything he said after that was a blur, but you figured he was talking to Bobby. And God, you hoped the old man talked some sense into him.

“Was that Bobby?” you finally walked in, setting the cooler down on the floor. Sam straightened up, shoving his phone back into his pocket as he heard the clipped tone in your voice, no matter how much you tried to sound casual.

“Uh, yeah,” he mumbled before furrowing his brows. “How much of that did you hear?”

“Just enough to call you an idiot,” you crossed your arms, unimpressed.

“You sound like him,” he rolled his eyes, facing away from you and sitting back down on the couch, as if he could avoid your incoming sermon if he wasn’t actively looking at you.

“I damn hope so, because he’s the only one here with any sort of sense! Do you even hear yourself, Sam? We just managed to convince Dean not to say yes to Michael, and now you wanna let the devil ride your meatsuit? What’s wrong with you?!” you yelled at him, setting the cooler down so you could focus all your energy into conveying to him that he was, in fact, an idiot. “No, Sammy. I won’t let you do it. I won’t… I can’t.”

He must’ve noticed the panic in your voice; how the anger melted away into fear. Sam was familiar with that tone. It was what he heard in Dean’s voice nearly every goddamn day for the past two years. He just hadn’t expected to hear it from you. Even when he was sneaking off to meet with Ruby, you stood by him, protecting him from the worst of Dean’s paranoia. When it all came to light and his brother’s fears came true, you still held his hand like he had knocked over a vase instead of starting the apocalypse. He knew he didn’t deserve your kindness, and yet you still gave it to him so freely.

Hearing that desperation from you, it squeezed his heart in a way that made him forget how to breathe. The alcohol was already tearing away at his system, forcing only his most basic instincts to push him forward. Those instincts told him to look at you, to not be a coward and not be the reason for your worry. He hated making you worry.

Something wet trickled down your cheek and as you brought a hand to wipe it away, Sam had already turned around and seen the second tear fall. You hated being seen like this. It was weak, it was juvenile. You kill demons and vampires and shifters, for fuck’s sake. There was no time for crying your heart out.

But the possibility of a world that didn’t have Sam Winchester in it was enough to stop even you, in your tracks.

“Hey,” Sam pulled you out of your thoughts. “Look at me.”

“I don’t want to, asshole.”

He only smiled. Damn him.

Setting down his bottle of whiskey on the floor, he grabbed your shoulders, “I’m not gonna do it, not unless we all agree. It’s like you said, we don’t have a lot of options, so we need to make our own.”

“Why is killing yourself an option?” you argued, struggling to look him in the eye as if he was already dead. Like he was just a figment of your imagination designed to haunt you and taunt you for words left unsaid. He was still here with you but your mind, treacherous as it was, was already imagining his hunter’s funeral. How the wood would burn and how you wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about him in hell. The chance of him dying, of losing him, had always been a real thing but now, more than ever, it felt real. 

“It’s me or 7 billion people,” he pointed out gently, swiping his thumb over your cheek to wipe a tear away. “I’m not that important of a person, but I can make an important decision. That has to count for something, right?”

“We’ll find something,” you promised. “I’ll find something.”

He smiled again at your determination, “That’s my girl.”

He pulled you in close. Underneath the smell of whiskey, you could smell the minty soap he always uses. You breathed it all in, trying to ignore the fact that learning his new plan felt like being splashed with ice cold water. He seemed to notice you tense up, because he spoke up again, “Do you wanna dance with me?”

“What?”

“It’ll be just like Cedar Falls,” he offered teasingly. “And besides, it’s just you and me here anyway.”

The corner of your lips twitched upward at the memory, “We have no music.”

A beat. 

He stood up, making a show of clearing his throat. Liquid courage was truly something else.

“A few stolen moments is all that we share,” he began, grinning stupidly at you. Though Dean was usually the singer between the two (as much as he tried to deny it, him belting out Toni Braxton in the shower told you all otherwise), Sam wasn’t bad at holding a tune. He gave you that look, telling you that what he was doing was just for you, and only you, as he guided your hands to rest on his shoulders, “You’ve got your family and they need you there.”

He started swaying, so you attempted to return the favor by continuing the song, “Though I’ve tried to resist, being last on your list… but no other man’s gonna dooo…”

“So I’m saving all my love for youuu…” you both sang in unison, wide grins on both of your faces at the sheer cheesiness of the situation. You took turns singing the lyrics, dancing slowly by the fireplace. For a moment, you could almost forget that the world was about to end, but you thought maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t be so bad if Sam’s face was the last thing you ever saw. Not bad at all.

▼△▼△▼△▼△▼

It was the year 2000. You were comfortably tucked under the cheap motel blanket, watching reruns of the Golden Girls. John had taken Dean out to do a salt and burn somewhere near the outskirts of town, leaving you alone to guard all your belongings as Sam went to his senior prom. Bobby owed him one, but sent you instead since the old man was busy helping other hunters. The room telephone rang a few times, and you had half a mind to answer it, before eventually deciding that it probably wasn’t the best idea to leave it hanging in case the Winchesters needed help. 

“Hello?” you rolled over to answer the phone.

“Hey,” came Sam’s voice, sounding smaller than you were used to.

“Sammy,” you sat upright, now holding the phone with both hands, as if you could reach through and pull him next to you. “Are you okay?”

He let out a deep sigh, “I, uh… yeah, I’m okay. I’m coming back to the motel though, I think.”

“What do you mean? I thought prom didn’t end until 10? It’s only 8:45, Sam.”

“So, my date kind of, um, ditched me, I guess?” he replied meekly, drawing breaths between each heavy word. “You know, it’s fine. I should’ve known.”

“No.”

“What?”

“You give me 20 minutes, Sammy. Just stay where you are.”

In less than a fraction of a second, you were up and scouring through your duffle bags in search of something that would resemble a prom dress. Hunting required you to own a small collection of various clothes and finally, you managed to pull out a dress that wasn’t marred in some way. It was deep blue satin, and it wasn’t until a year ago that you were able to grow into it. Feeling the smooth fabric in your hands, you thought of the one time you got to wear it, posing as a lawyer’s (played by John) spoiled daughter. Shockingly, Dean had thrifted it somewhere, somehow not opting to choose the most hideous frilly dress for you. He argued he liked the color, and he didn’t really want to think about what your bust size was, so it stayed unused for a fair while because it didn’t fit you well enough to be convincing.

You slid the dress carefully over your head, and decided that perhaps a little bit of color to your face was needed, lest Sam mistook you for a vengeful spirit. Once again, you dug through the endless pockets of your duffle bag to grab the old red lipstick you had quietly nicked from a witness’ house. It was old, probably expired, but you dabbed the rouge on your cheeks and lips anyway. Ultimately, you decided your hair was better off as it was. You slipped your feet into the uncomfortable and only pair of heels you owned. Even with the dull ache already forming in the balls of your feet, you smiled to yourself.  For once, you weren’t a dirty, bloody, beaten hunter. Tonight, you were just a girl. And even if you weren’t doing this for Sam, it felt wonderful to have a taste of normal.

The motel you stayed at was a short motorcycle ride from the Cedar Falls High School, so you opted to carry a silver dagger and a silver bullet-loaded gun with you for protection. Underneath the dress, of course. Without even stepping foot onto the school property itself, you could already see the familiar silhouette of Sam sitting by himself on the steps of the entrance. The stairs weren’t high at all, and it emphasized how tall he’d gotten in the last couple of months. He hugged himself, hunched over with his eyes closed as he inhaled and exhaled slowly.

Taking in a few breaths of anticipation yourself, you awkwardly walked over to him, steps wobbly and unsure. He looked up at the sound of heels meeting concrete, and you froze. He was wide-eyed, and looking at you. God knows you never thought he’d be able to look at you like that. For a moment, it was like time itself had stopped. The dust floating in the air stilled and butterflies stopped flapping their wings. Sam Winchester, in the suit that was much too big for him, in leather shoes beat up by hours of running around and chasing monsters, sat on the concrete stairs of his school and stared at you like you were the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“Hey,” you were the first to break the silence. 

“Hey,’’ a small smile appeared on his face. He pat the space next to him, taking your hand so you could sit down without falling over. “I like the dress. Isn’t this the one you wore last year? When we did that shifter case in Oklahoma?”

You chuckled, “Yeah. I’m surprised you remember.”

“Of course I’d remember.”

Heat blossomed in your cheeks at how casually he said it, and suddenly a random streetlight was the most interesting thing to stare at. Anything was more interesting to look at than his stupidly beautiful and kind eyes.

Sam spoke up again, “You didn’t have to come here, you know. I could’ve just gone back to the motel.”

“And waste this outfit?” you gestured to his ill-fitting suit, grinning wide. “I don’t think so.” 

He laughed, and somehow you think this was the first real laugh he’d let out in the past week. He was less tense now, more open. This was the Sammy you knew. This was the joy you wanted him to feel for as long as you were around. 

“Dance with me,” you stood up, offering your hand to him. “That’s what you’re supposed to do at prom, right?”

His eyes widened, his back slouching as if he was trying to hide from you, “Uh, no.”

“Come onnn, Sammy!”

“No!” he laughed, trying to scoot away from you. You tried to grab his wrist, but his sudden movement threw you off balance, causing you to nearly fall over... but Sam caught you. He held a firm grip on your arm, forcing you to notice just how much he’s grown up. His arms were strong; toned from years of John’s training in addition to hunting. Now standing, he was taller than both his father and brother, yet he felt uncomfortable in his body. Like he didn’t know what to do with all of it. Like he was still just awkward, nerdy Sam. But he wasn’t. Not anymore. You didn’t really know how to feel about that.

“Thanks,” you said breathlessly, trying to come back to reality. “Dance with me? I can hear your school’s speakers all the way from here. Let’s make the most of it, hm?”

“Okay,” he agreed, finally, looking a little awestruck by what just happened. Gently, he placed his hands, which were much larger than yours, on your waist as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. The muffled sound of Whitney Houston’s “Saving All My Love For You” echoed from inside the school. The two of you started swaying slowly to the music, just enjoying each other’s company. There were no monsters here tonight, and there was no hunting to be done.

Your eyes flickered upwards to look at Sam, his own eyes closed and his lips pressed into a peaceful smile. For once, he looked 17. For once, he was just a boy.

Resting your head on his chest as the music swept you away into another world, there was one thought that lingered in your mind: this was how things should be.

#sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #supernatural #supernatural fanfic #team free will #dean winchester #jared padalecki

[pink-sparkly-witch]

The Widow - Chapter Five

Chapter Five

Summary: Sam and Y/N are happily married, but everything changes after a fatal car accident leaves her a widow. The Winchester motto: "Family Don't End with Blood," takes on a whole new meaning for Y/N as she navigates her new normal with the help of her brother-in-law, Dean. But what no one can tell her, is what happens when she falls in love again?   

Pairing: Sam Winchester x F!Reader (past) | Dean Winchester x F!Reader (eventual)

Warnings: fluff, first date, kissing, angst, tears, language

Words: 3,236

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My Masterlist     AO3    Ko-Fi

The leaves are starting to change colour now, you notice as you walk through the park on your way to have lunch with Dean. The year has seemed to have gone by in the blink of an eye, and it surprises you to think it’s been so long since Sam died. Christmas, Sam’s birthday and your wedding anniversary were tough days, but you got through them. The next big hurdle will be the anniversary of his death, but you’ll handle that as you’d handled everything so far, taking it a day at a time – or hour at a time, if you needed to.

Thursday has quickly become your favourite day. Dean insisted on these weekly lunches to check in and keep an eye on you. At first, you hated them, assuming he felt some kind of obligation to look after you, or because he didn’t think you could look after yourself. When the grief had lessened and you began to feel more like yourself again, you realised how wrong you were.

Yeah, he asked how you were doing and if you were taking care of yourself, but then the conversation would quickly become about work and how your week had been, and he had a genuine interest in you and your life. Whenever you smiled, his face would light up like a Christmas tree, and when you laughed (particularly if he’d been the one to make you do it), he would grin so wide you feared his cheeks would hurt.

In turn, you became somewhat of a confidante for Dean too. He’d opened up to you about his plans for the family business when John finally decided to hang his coveralls up. He wanted to expand and open another shop across town. He wanted to take in troubled kids and train them on how to be mechanics. He has such a big heart, and it didn’t surprise you that he wants to save kids from taking the wrong path. What was more of a shock, was Dean asking you to help him make it happen. Before you’d even opened your mouth to protest, he cut you off with a firm voice: “I know what you’re going to say, and it’s bull. You’re a part of this family, Y/N. Maybe not by blood, but you are a Winchester. Besides, family don’t end with blood, or even a name, sweetheart.”

It was then you knew the weekly lunches weren’t just to look after “Sammy’s girl” and Dean genuinely did care for you and considered you his family. It was humbling, and it helped you to heal because you’d been worried John and Dean would lose patience with you and eventually stop checking in or inviting you to Sunday dinner. The fact that Dean asked you to join the family business to oversee the expansion, even though you’d yet to give him an answer, meant the world to you.

The Impala is already in the car park when you arrive at the Roadhouse and as you pass her, you ghost your fingers over her hood in a wordless greeting before heading into the restaurant. Walking into the building, you smirk as you see Jo twirling her hair around her fingers and giggling at Dean who has a patient smile on his face, but his bouncing knee gives away how uncomfortable he is with the unwanted flirtation.

“Hey, Jo!” You smile at the blonde, and see Dean’s shoulders drop as he visibly exhales at your timely arrival. “How are you?”

“Good, thanks! Can I get you your usual drink?” The waitress asks.

“Please,” you answer as you slide into the seat across from Dean.

“Oh, and Gordon’s special today is chicken parm,” Jo grins at you, knowing it’s your favourite.

“You know me too well!” You laugh.

“Dean?” The blonde bats her lashes at him.

“A bacon cheeseburger with extra fries. She always steals mine,” he points at you with a smirk and you chuckle softly.

“Alright, I’ll go get those drinks and put your order through. If you need anything else, just shout,” with one last flip of her hair, Jo sashays away with an exaggerated sway of her hips.

“Are you ever going to tell her you’re not interested?” You smirk at Dean as he scratches the back of his neck.

“What? She’s not interested in me,” Dean protests and you laugh loudly.

“Oh, come on! It is so obvious she’s into you! And here I thought you were Lawrence’s answer to Casanova!” you cackle.

“Yeah, well… people change,” Dean defends weakly. “I haven’t done any of that since the night Sam died, you know that.”

“Still?” You try so hard not to show your shock, but according to Dean’s bitch face, you fail miserably. “I’m sorry, that was rude. And absolutely none of my business,” you backtrack, and relax as you see Dean’s jaw unclench and his shoulders lower.

“It’s just…” he trails off and takes a deep breath. “It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just… the last time I went home with someone from a bar, my brother was killed.”

“I get it, Dean. You don’t need to explain to me,” you smile softly, and the conversation dies away as Jo sets down your drinks.

“So, what about you?” Dean asks almost shyly once Jo has left again.

“What about me?” You frown, before taking a sip of your beverage.

“The guy from work that keeps flirting with you. Have you asked him out yet?”

“Okay, first of all, he’s not flirting with me, he knows that I lost my husband and he's just being friendly…”

“Ha!” Dean scoffs, “friendly my ass! He wants to see your ass, if you know what I mean!” He pumps his eyebrows lewdly at you. 

“Second,” you say ignoring him completely, “even if he was flirting with me, I don’t think I’m ready for a relationship yet.”

“Who said anything about a relationship? I said ask the guy out,” Dean says softly. “Dress up, have a night out on the town, have a little fun. No one’s saying you need to marry the guy.”

“I just don’t think it’s the right time. And I don’t even know if it’s something I want again,” you admit.

“What? Y/N, come on sweetheart. You can’t seriously think you’re never gonna fall in love again, do you?” Dean doesn’t even glance at Jo as she puts his plate in front of him, he just stares at you in disbelief.

“All I know right now is that I’m still in love with Sam,” you shrug and twirl spaghetti around your fork.

“And you always will be. Whether we’re talking next week, next year, or next decade, you will always love him. But it doesn’t mean you won’t fall in love with someone else at some point. Look, I’m not trying to force you into anything you don’t wanna do, alright? I just thought it might be nice for you to be wined and dined by someone other than me for a change!” He winked at you and bit into his burger, humming in approval at the taste.

“Oh, so you’re fed up with me, is that it?” You smirk. “Trying to palm me off, make me someone else’s problem?”

“Never,” Dean reassures you, even though he knows you’re messing with him. “I just don’t want to be sitting here with you in ten years and you regret not taking a second chance at love, a family… a happy life. You have a big and pure heart, and it holds too much love for you not to share it.” 

You smile at his compliment and ponder over what Dean said, both of you falling silent and enjoying your meal.

Dean’s words had no real effect on you until a few weeks later when you went for birthday drinks for someone in the office. That’s when you noticed that Jacob was indeed flirting with you.

You don’t know if it was flattery or the wine or even the two tequila shots you’d had when you first got to the bar, but here you are a week later, on a date you aren’t completely convinced you want to be on with the first guy who’s shown you that kind of attention since Sam.

Jacob is a nice guy. He’s handsome, charming, caring, and funny. He’s doing all the right things; things Sam would’ve done on a date like holding doors open for you, and pulling your chair out for you at the restaurant. He even stood from the table when you went to the restroom.

He’s made you laugh and listened intently to what you said, and his subtle flirtations have made you feel like a woman again. You’ve felt desirable and pretty and it’s felt so good to feel those things again. You feel good.

He’s even been considerate enough to ask a few times how you’re holding up with this being your first date since Sam had died. He hasn’t put a foot wrong, and you know this is what most people would call the perfect date with the perfect guy, but something’s missing and you can’t quite figure out what.

And that’s what’s led you to be standing with him at your front door. You know for sure you aren’t going to invite him into your home, but you also felt like you needed the extra time to try and figure out exactly how you feel about him. You’re both running out of reasons to stay out in the chill of the night, and you know figuring out what’s going on will need to wait.

“I had a nice time, Jacob,” you smile as you play with the keys in your hand. “Thank you for being so kind and patient with me.”

“I think it’s me who should be thanking you for letting me take you out tonight. I can’t imagine how difficult this must’ve been for you,” Jacob smiles softly and tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear as he takes a step closer. “I know this might be too soon, but I have to ask. Can I kiss you?”

You stare at him for a moment, not sure what to say. A million things are running through your mind all at once, and it’s hard to pick out just one to focus on. Suddenly, your mind clears and all you can think about is how much fun you’ve had tonight. And it’s just a kiss, right? And with a handsome man no less. So, you nod your head, making Jacob smile wide, showing perfect teeth before quickly swiping his tongue over his lips and leaning towards you.

He’s respectful, only gently placing his hands on your waist as his lips touch yours and it’s… different. It’s not awful by any means, just strange. His lips are a little dry and chapped, despite his efforts to soften them with his tongue, and his hands seem to be too hesitant on your hips. When his tongue swipes at your lips, you open your mouth inviting him in. Almost immediately, your eyes fly open and you realise you feel absolutely nothing, and that maybe you’re not ready for this after all.

Or maybe, you panic, whatever part of you that can love had left when Sam did.

You pull away and try to remain calm. The last thing you need is to freak the guy out, or freak yourself out even more. It’s been months since you last had a panic attack and now is not the time or place.

“I should go,” you manage to smile at him. “It’s late and cold, but I really did have a lovely night.” You have no idea how you say it without your voice shaking or tears filling your eyes, but you do and you’ll take that small victory right now.

“Me too. Maybe we could do this again soon?” He asks and your heart twists at the hopefulness in his voice, and you can’t bring yourself to tell him it isn’t a good idea.

“Maybe,” you smile. “Goodnight.” You turn and quickly unlock the door, smiling at him one last time as you turn to close it behind you.

Flicking the lights on, you make your way to the kitchen, open the fridge and pull a bottle of cold water out. Ripping the plastic cap off you take a few large gulps, hoping the coolness will help calm down your racing heart.

You use the breathing techniques all those meditation classes taught you, but still, you feel your heart try to thump its way out of your chest. Quickly, you grab your keys and subtly look out of the window to check Jacob’s car is gone.

Seeing the road empty, you leave the house making sure the door is locked behind you, and get in your car with only one destination in mind.

Dean.

“Wow! Don’t you look beautiful,” Dean grins as he opens the door, but it soon fades and he clenches his jaw in anger as the tears finally spill from your eyes. “What did he do? I’ll kill him!” He fumes and you shake your head and push him back into the house, following behind him.

“You wanna tell me what’s going on, sweetheart, or do I have to hunt the bastard down?” Dean asks once your tears have stopped, taking a seat on his couch and tapping the space next to him for you to join him.

“It wasn’t him… well it was, but it’s not what you think,” you say quickly as he shoots up from the couch and grabs his car keys. “Dean, please, just listen.”

“Alright,” he relents and sits on the edge of the sofa once more, his knee starting to bounce.

“The date was fine, he was the perfect gentleman,” you begin, and Dean frowns at you.

“I don’t understand. Then why are you crying?” he asks, and you laugh when you realise just how ridiculous this all is.

“I don’t know! I shouldn’t be! He’s handsome, and funny, and kind! You know he asked me if I was doing okay several times because he knew it was my first date since Sam? He did everything right. It was the perfect date.”

“You’re not making any sense, Y/N. If it was so perfect, why are you so upset?”

“Because he kissed me!” you yell frustrated. “He kissed me and it should’ve felt right, I should’ve felt something, but it just felt… I just felt numb,” you finally admit. “What if I’m broken? What if I was only ever meant to be with Sam?”

“Y/N…” Dean trails off, and you know he’s trying to think of something that will comfort you.

“I should’ve felt something, right? Like even if it was like a flutter in my stomach or my heart hammering, right? Or even just disinterest,” you don’t know if you’re asking or begging at this point.

“You really felt nothing?” Dean’s tone is sincere, holding none of the judgement you thought it would.

“Not a single thing,” you confirm and he raises his eyebrows as he thinks over what you’ve told him. “I’m broken, aren’t I?”

“No, sweetheart, you’re not broken. If it’s not there, it’s not there. Perfect date or not, you can’t force yourself to feel what you don’t feel,” he consoles you, and deep down you know he’s right.

“But how do I know for sure?” It slips out before you can stop it, “what if the same thing happens on the next date? And the next one, and the one after that.”

“Hey,” Dean stands up from the sofa and takes your hands in his. “Look at me. That’s my girl,” he whispers when you look up at him. “That won’t happen. The only reason it happened tonight is that, although Jacob may be perfect, he’s not perfect for you, alright?”

You know what he’s saying is right, and as his words sink in, you feel foolish that you drove across town at eleven on a Friday night to freak out over a meaningless kiss. Huffing a defeated sigh and standing up, you grab your keys to leave. 

“Yeah, you’re right. I’m sorry for barging in so late with more drama. I’ll let you get back to your night,” you smile flatly and turn to the door.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, sweetheart,” Dean says as he gently grabs your wrist to stop you from leaving.

“It’s fine, Dean. I’m fine. I just want to go home,” you shrug him off.

“And do what? Sit there alone and overthink this?”

“Overthink it? Dean, it was a kiss with a guy I’m clearly not attracted to. You said so yourself,” you argue.

“It’s not about the kiss though, is it? Not really. It’s about more than that. It’s about you thinking your ability to love died with Sam.”

“Dean, don’t–” you insist, not wanting to hear it, but he’s quick to cut you off.

“Don’t what, Y/N? Don’t tell you the truth? Don’t try to make you see there’s nothing wrong with you. That you’re perfect, and Jacob just isn’t worthy of having you. That you’re beautiful and smart, and one day you will find the person who’s right for you.”

“Dean…” you say, but you don’t know how to follow it up, and so you shut up and stare at the floor.

“Do you trust me?” he questions.

“Yes.” There’s no hesitation from you and when you tear your eyes from the floor to look at him, you see him smile softly at your admission.

“Okay. Right or wrong, good or bad, promise me we’ll talk about this,” he pleads with you.

“Talk about what?” you frown.

“What I’m about to do. Please Y/N, promise me,” he begs once more.

“Alright, I promise.”

Dean steps closer to you and cups your cheeks in his large, calloused hands before leaning down and pressing his lips to yours. His lips are surprisingly soft, and the scent of everything that’s just Dean surrounds you and dazes you.

And then you feel it.

The butterflies that swarm in your stomach; the haze that descends over you, cutting off all thought except for him and his lips on yours. Without warning, a whine escapes your throat and you open your mouth to encourage Dean to really kiss you, moaning when he does.

It’s good. And you feel like you did all those years ago when Sam kissed you for the first time. Lifting your arms, you circle them around Dean’s shoulders and pull him flush with your body and deepen the kiss.

His hands ghost down your back and snake around your waist. The kiss begins to soften and when his lips part from yours, he chuckles as you chase after them with your own. 

“Not broken?” he asks, resting his forehead on yours.

“Definitely not broken,” you respond breathlessly.

“Told you,” Dean chuckles and presses his lips to yours again, much softer and more innocent this time. You aren’t sure who makes the move, but before you fully comprehend what’s going on, your lips are on his again and you’re pushing the flannel from his shoulders. Dean picks you up and encourages you to wrap your legs around his waist and carries you to the bedroom.

Next Chapter>>

@deans-spinster-witch @muchamusedaboutnothing @kazsrm67 @twinkleinadiamondsky @waters-2567 @leigh70 @waynes-multiverse @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld @chriszgirl92 @stoneyggirl2 @marilynnlew @ilovedean-spn2 @deans-baby-momma @acitygrownwillow @xxsovereignsarayaxx @frozenhuntress67 @lacilou @rach5ive

#the widow #dean winchester x reader #au dean winchester x reader #ansgt #fluff #tw: grief #tw: grieving

[youchangedmedestiel]

I wrote this little ficlet this week (you can read it on AO3 too), because I needed too. It's called "Angelic bubble" I let you discover why. You can also read it below:

They have this silly ritual between them. It started when they were watching a movie in Dean’s room because Sam and Jack were playing table soccer in the Dean cave. They settled on the bed next to each other with their back resting against the headboard.

Dean won’t admit it but with his current age and the hunting life, his back is hurting when he sits like that too long. Too long being the half of a movie. That time Cas saw him being agitated, not comfortable. He kept moving to find a right position, but they were none.

“Come here, Dean!” Cas offered, patting the space in front of him and between his legs.

“I’m fine.” Dean said, settling in one position. But then he moved again slightly because he wasn’t comfortable.

“Dean.” Cas just said, low and strong, and Dean surrendered. He shifted on the bed carefully and sat between Cas’s legs. He looked behind him, quirking one eyebrow as he looked at the angel behind him. Cas rolled his eyes, grabbed Dean’s shoulders, and pulled him against his chest. “Lie down and relax.”  He said but Dean wasn’t relaxed at all. He wasn’t used to sit like that with Cas, they waited 12 long years maybe more to kiss after all. And at the time, they kissed a few times since Cas was back from the Empty, nothing more happened between them yet. Not that they didn’t want to, because they surely did, but not every walls come down at once, it takes time. So this kind of touching, despite feeling so right, still felt weird too, like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to do it nor to have that.

“I can’t, I’m sorry.” Dean said sitting up, away from Cas.

“Why?” Cas asked, looking at him questioningly.

“I – I don’t know. I –“ Dean tried to explain but in vain. He was having difficulties to be emotionally vulnerable, but he improved that part a little bit. Now he was discovering he had difficulties to be physically vulnerable. It never happened to him before, especially not with a chick he would pick up in a random bar. So why was it so difficult with Cas?

“Dean, please, let me take care of you.” That was it. That was what Dean needed. He needed Cas to show – say out loud - that he wasn’t doing that because he felt obliged to. He wanted to make sure Cas wanted this, wanted him pressed up against his own body.

Dean leaned back against Cas’s chest he felt arms wrapping around him and maybe something else not visible to human eyes. He felt that warm and soft feeling he has every time Cas’s grace evade his body to heal him. And then he felt that warm breath and familiar voice against his ear whisper softly, “I love you.” He was finally able to relax. And now every time they watch a movie just the two of them in Dean’s bed, the hunter sits instantly in his private angelic bubble.

#destiel #deancas #castiel #dean winchester #destiel fanfiction #this is post canon #sort of fix it #everybody lives in the bunker #everybody is alive #cas was saved from the empty #they kissed a few times with dean #but it's the beginning of their relationship #fluff #some light really light angst #comfort #I wish I had an angelic bubble this week #but since I don't #I wrote about it instead #hope you'll like reading it #destiel fic #ao3 fanfic #ficlet #fanfic author #my destiel fanfic

[kaleldobrev]

Pizza, Beer & Zeppelin IV

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Gn!Reader

Summary: Dean is surprised to find out what your ideal first date is; and he’s more than happy to oblige

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: Some cursing, Talks of Sex (Not explicit in the slightest) 

Authors Note: This is inspired by a quote Jo Harvelle said to Dean in Everybody Loves a Clown from Season 2: “Most hunters come through that door think they can get in my pants with some pizza, a six pack, and side one of Zeppelin IV.” | The writing of this is in a little bit of a different style than some of my previous work. But I hope it came out okay! Let me know what you all think | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

Although you and Dean have been together for the last couple of years, the two of you never had a proper first date. The way the two of you first started dating started out as a traditional friends with benefits story, but without the “starting out as a friends” part.

The two of you had met at a local bar in Lebanon, your date was over an hour late, already drowning your sorrows with shot after shot of tequila. That night, you were ready to make some bad decisions to make yourself feel better.

That is when you eyed Dean Campbell and quickly started chatting him up. He was on his third beer; not nearly as intoxicated as you were, but was humoring you as you gave him cheesy pick-up lines and telling him horror stories about your job. A couple hours later, the two of you made your way in the back of his car, hungerly kissing each other all over, leading to uncomfortable yet satisfying car sex. You never did reach out to your date to reschedule.

A week later, you had spotted him at the bar again, you weren’t as drunk as you previously had been your first meeting. He remembered you, and you were surprised. He asked you if he had left any bruises on you from the week before, and asked if you had anymore horror stories about your job. “I’ll tell you more if you tell me some.” You said.

He chuckled before taking a sip of beer. “You don’t wanna know my stories Sweetheart.” He replied.

That night you slept with him again; this time at your place and not in the backseat of his impala. The next morning the two of you exchanged numbers. “Last name’s really Winchester.” He told you.

“What?” You asked.

“My last name. It’s Winchester, not Campbell.” He said.

“Winchester sounds more fitting.” You gave him a smile.

After exchanging numbers, the two of you never met up at the bar again; always meeting up at your place. You called him, or he called you; sometimes he would just show up at your door with a six pack and some take-out. The sex was great every single time; but it changed as time went on. What had started out as needy, rough, and quick, became slow, gentle, almost loving; not that you minded.

Sometimes when he would come over, the two of you wouldn’t even have sex. You would just hang out on the couch, share a kiss or two, and cuddle. You had even caught him a few times falling asleep as you scratched the back of his head as he rested his head on your shoulder. You liked that he felt comfortable enough to sleep.

The two of you never made anything official, but between the consistency of the sex the two of you would have, mixed with doing “couple things” like him offering to run errands with you, or hanging out at your place to watch a movie, it started to form into something more than just a friends with benefits situation; it started to become a committed relationship.

Slowly, over time, Dean began to open up to you. Open up about all the things he’s done over the years and who he really was. He had told you what his real job was – he was a hunter, someone that killed things people didn’t think were real but actually were. Like vampires, werewolves, ghosts, and ghouls. “I’ve killed them all,” he told you. He told you how he saved the world more than once, how he’s been to Hell and back (literally and figuratively), how he’s gone to Heaven, and even spent a year in Purgatory. “Did you know I killed Hitler once?” His proudest achievement. He’s done things you would have never thought about doing in your dizziest daydreams.

When Dean first told you these things, he expected you to run. Expected you to call the police or call him insane. You weren’t a hunter; he didn’t expect you to believe him. But to his surprise you said, “I believe you” and kissed him. That was your way of telling him that you loved him.

After years of being together the two of you never had a proper first date, but that was something Dean had wanted to for you. Taking out his phone he scrolled until he got to your name and pressed enter. The ringing felt like it had been going on for ages, he always felt nervous talking to you. “Hello my love.” You responded. His lips curved into a smile. He loved when you called him that.

“Hey there Sweetheart. I gotta question for you.” He said, leaning back a bit in his chair.

“Shoot.” You responded.

“I was wondering, would you like to go on a proper first date with me?” He felt like a stupid high schooler asking out his crush.

“A proper first date uh?” You never thought you’d see the day. “What are we going to do on this date?”

“I was hoping you’d tell me. I want you to pick.” He had a million ideas but thought that it would be more special if you picked what the two of you did.

“You’re the one asking me out but I’m the one that has to come up with the date idea? Hmm, I don’t know about that.” You said, hoping your joking tone came through.

“What’s your ideal first date Sweetheart? We can do anything you want.”

“You’re gonna laugh at me.” Your idea of a first date was something no one ever wanted to do.

“Y/N, I’d never laugh at you. Well, I would, and I have. But, not about something as serious as this.” You could hear his smile through the phone. He really was serious about this.

You took a deep breath. “Well. I know this might sound stupid but…I’ve always wanted to eat some pizza with a six pack while listening to side one of Zeppelin four.” Fuck you’re perfect, Dean thought. You waited for Dean to say something, anything, but he didn’t respond. You took his silence for judgement, but in reality, he was just amazed, amazed that this was your ideal first date. “See, I told you it’s stupid.”

“No, no. It’s not stupid at all. It’s…perfect actually. That’s my ideal first date too.” Dean said, being completely serious. He hoped that you didn’t think he was fucking with you. But knowing you, you probably would.

“You’re fucking with me aren’t you?” You respond.

“No Y/N, I swear. You can even ask Sam.” He paused a moment. “I’d, I’d love to do that with you. You and me can take Baby to the park that’s about five minutes away from your house. Sit on the trunk with a cold six pack and large extra cheese pizza between us. The windows rolled down with Zeppelin coming out the speakers.”

“That sounds perfect.” You said. It was a simple sound date, but it was something you’ve always strangely wanted to do; not really fully knowing why, even before you had met Dean. Your previous suitors never wanted to do this date idea, saying that it was too boring, or telling you that Zeppelin was overrated.

“How’s tonight at eight sound?” He asked.

“Eight can’t come soon enough.” You said. This was going to be a long seven hours. You thought.

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x you #spn #supernatural #spn one shot #spn imagine #supernatural one shot #supernatural imagine #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester one shot #reader insert #gender neutral reader #dean winchester

[scoobydoodean]

I saw (I think through you) something about Lucifer not letting cas die after the swan song battle but just exploding him and keeping him near

I ALSO keep thinking about how the empty says nobody has pull there, nobody has the ability to bring back anyone from there (except jack on accident)

This implies to me that chuck never let cas truly die at all because he was brought back several times

I think it makes some sense because chuck was supposedly watching the Winchester's closely and would've known what would happen if cas was truly gone and he couldn't let that happen (yet)

It's interesting that cas dies finally only after chuck abandoned the world (not watching his favorite show, feeling no obligation to help) and I can't help but wonder if Dean asking for Chucks help made him so mad (it was rude and didn't appeal to chuck like he would've needed, Sam would've done a better job asking for help because he can suck up) that he flung cas into the empty.

What are your thoughts?

I don't remember reading a post like that, so it must have been someone else—but that's interesting! Chuck's alleged lack of power in The Empty vs. Castiel's resurrections is definitely another one of those tricky little bits introduced in the Dabb run that's difficult to make sense of. I mean to be real I think the guy is a fuck up of a showrunner with ineffective communication with his writing team who therefore ends up creating continuity errors and dropped plots left and right... but I think when reviewing the previous seasons through the lens that Dabb's run requires, Chuck kind of keeping Cas in his back pocket and not allowing him to drop into The Empty is still genuinely sensible (unless you want to theorize something like "The Prestige" is going on and... meh). The speed of Cas's resurrections in 5.01 and 5.22 show God was paying very close attention to Cas and that at that time, he wanted Cas around, doing exactly what he was doing—helping defy the narrative.

We see in 5.22 that despite what happens not fulfilling what God had prophesied, Chuck is pleased with the outcome. Some may take this as a sign that he intended things to go exactly how it went, but I don't think that's true. I think Chuck was just genuinely entertained by Dean and Cas leaping out of his writing at that time. Leaping out of causality is something Dean and Cas do together in 4.18, 4.22, and 5.22.

In 4.18, Dean pleads with Cas to help him save Sam, even though Cas thinks what's going to happen is fate and can't be subverted. Cas doesn't personally act, but he gives Dean the idea that Dean then executes, leading Chuck to say "What are you doing here? I didn't write this."

In 4.22, Dean pleads with Cas again. They again fight about the inescapability of destiny. This time, it's Dean's pleading but Cas's actions—flying Dean out of the green room (somewhere Dean is incapable of escaping from on his own). Chuck says when they pop into his house, "Wait. T-t-this isn't supposed to happen" and then "Yeah, but you guys aren't supposed to be there. You're not in this story".

In 5.22, after Lucifer takes Sam over (something that was foretold to happen in Detroit), Cas and Bobby despair, but Dean refuses to give up and calls Chuck, who says, "Oh, uh, Dean. Uh, wow. I, uh, I didn't know that you'd call." Then Dean goes to Stull Cemetery alone. However, the moment that Michael begins to walk up on Dean and says, "You little maggot. You are no longer a part of this story!" Guess who suddenly appears with a holy oil Molotov cocktail?

So these moments where they defy "fate" (i.e., prophecy foretold to the archangels) seem to require Dean and Cas working together in order to be pulled off, and Chuck likes this. Viewing through the Dabb lens—it excites him maybe for the first time in years. So he keeps Cas around. He resurrects Cas twice. He doesn't mind "losing"—he wants more of these things he can't anticipate to occur.

But at some point, Chuck snaps, and he isn't enjoying his creations having free will anymore. At a certain point, he turns on Castiel, because by season 15, he's complaining about Cas the exact way Naomi did in season 8: Cas is the angel with a crack in his chassis who never does what he's told. Chuck also isn't enjoying Dean's defiance anymore, but is still (as Lilith tells us) "creepily obsessed" with Dean.

The thing is, if my theory about the devil baby brainwashing is correct, then Chuck begins to sow his Moriah finale in season 12, which means Dean's prayer probably isn't what makes Chuck mad. Something has to happen between season 11 and season 12 that acts as the catalyst for Chuck to begin his most psychologically complicated, painstakingly crafted attack on Dean's mental state ever. What my brain is currently theorizing, is that the catalyst for Chuck snapping and finally trying to force Dean to act out his fratricide fantasies once and for all... is Amara.

Chuck didn't want Amara standing in his way and didn't want to share authority, so he locked her away, but then she got out and there was nothing Chuck could do about it. He lost control. That's... one theory I am thinking of anyway. (It's possible I've been watching too much true crime).

Now—Chuck had lost control before (during the first apocalypse) but never to a degree that was life threatening for him. Team free will can do things Chuck doesn't anticipate, utilizing free will... but Amara is his equal and can literally kill him. What's more—who saved his ass from Amara? Dean—and of all things—with the power of love—with his pesky, bleeding heart—the number one thing that always seems to stand in the way of the repeated fratricide plot! Dean gets Chuck and Amara to make nice, and then they go away together, but... Amara isn't that interested in Chuck. He begins to annoy her. This is another way that Chuck loses control—control of how his equally powerful sister perceives him (This is something that's also sent Sam over the edge in the past, and Chuck&Amara and Sam&Dean are mirrors).

So Chuck loses control in this major way, and in his desperation to reassert control in the aftermath, because he can't control his sister, he focuses on trying to control his "toys". He doesn't want them defying his writing anymore. It enrages instead of entertains now. So he begins this plot, and a major component of that plot needs to be separating Dean and Cas, either through death or through emotional distance or both, because 1) his experience is that they defy his writing together, and 2) it will hurt and isolate Dean.

#mail #and cas is my best friend #chuck #12.23 #13.01 #no one can control you but you #spn and causality #amara