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raz-writes-the-thing · 29 days

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Polish and Shine (Supernatural One-Shot)

Sam Winchester x GN!Reader / requests are open

Summary: Sam chews on his nails a lot. Too much. You come up with a plan to break the habit.

Fic type: comfort, fluff

CW: this lil fic contains mentions of Sam wanting to explore his gender : ) not much, just mentions of him enjoying feeling feminine (please be gentle with me, this one has a lil piece of me in it).

SPN: @wereallbrokenangels @nervoussystemss (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It's not something you noticed a lot at first. To be quite honest, your social awareness wasn't the best, and looking at people head-on was something you struggled with even after you got to know someone.

But you did start noticing it. It seemed that he did it more at night when it was just him and his thoughts and the big dark room lit up only by his laptop at the table. On a side note, he was going to ruin his eyesight if he kept that up.

But he also did it in the Impala, or after a disturbing interview, or even just when Dean was late back from some girl or guy's place he picked up at the bar.

Chewing his nails... Sam was always chewing on his nails. You understood why, of course. It was an anxiety thing. A stress thing. You'd be lying if you said you didn't fall victim to the same impulse sometimes, but the amount of nail-chewing was starting to worry you.

It had gotten so bad that Dean had started slapping at Sam's hand if he noticed him raising it towards his mouth, one hand on the wheel and his eyes piercing warning daggers into Sam's soul as he pointed at him accusatorially. A silent "stop it right now before I turn Baby around."

It only stopped him from doing it so much on the road. Less so anywhere else. You'd been keeping a quiet eye on Sam the last few days, watching him chew his nails back to the skin. Irritating the skin and the keratin so much that it was probably hurting him. You weren't even sure what was worrying him so much.

You'd been brainstorming ideas to help him with the impulse for a few days until it finally came to you one morning when you were making a med-kit run- stocking up on all the things you all would definitely need at one point or another.

Nail polish. Of course! You'd picked up a couple different colours- given they were all out of transparent along with your bandages, iodine and Betadine and headed back to the motel of the day.

Sam had looked at the bottles in your hand with a raised brow when you brandished them. He picked one up, twirled it around and set it down on the counter.

"Do you want me to paint your nails for you or something?" He asked. Now, you couldn't say that wasn't appealing and that you weren't keen on that idea, because you were, but that was not the purpose of this little exercise.

"Maybe later, Sam. I got them for you-"

"For me?" He cut you off with one of those little huffy laughs he was so good at. You pulled a chair out and sat down, setting the bag on the counter and grabbing one of the bottles.

"Yes, for you," you reiterated, reaching for one of his hands. Sam allowed you to take it and take a look at the abused fingers. "Look, I- I've noticed you chew your nails a lot- and this looks like it hurts. I know Dean wants you to stop, and I imagine you'd also like to break the habit, yes?"

Sam shifted uncomfortably in his seat, averting his eyes from your warm gaze.

"Yes," was his soft reply. You nodded, giving his hand a squeeze.

"This might help you break the habit. Plus, you'll look super pretty."

Sam snorted. His eyes darted back to look at you, and you really saw how shy and vulnerable he was feeling at that moment. It made you want to wrap him up and keep him safe.

"So, they didn't have clear," you explained, voice soft as if trying not to spook a deer. Or a moose, you supposed, in this case. "But I got you a few colours to choose from. Which one takes your fancy?"

You know exactly what he's going to pick before he does it. The forest-green. He hands you the vial and you let go of his hand to shake it up and unscrew the cap.

Sam sits patiently for you while you work, occasionally clearing his throat or giving you a quick smile. It doesn't take long, only a few minutes. Let it dry, then another coat. Let that dry. Done.

"There, all done," you exclaim, leaning back and stretching your back so it pops nicely. "Very nice, very nice," you approve. Sam fans his fingers out and juts his lower lip out thoughtfully.

"You know- I kinda like it," he blinked as though the discovery shocked him. "Can I do yours next?"

And so began a tradition. Once a fortnight you'd both paint each other's nails. Dean even got into it after a few weeks, getting his own done, too. Sam had been worried at first that Dean would make fun of him for his nails, but the only thing Dean had said after he returned toting beer and Chinese food was "nice choice, Sammy" as he cracked a beer and propped his feet up.

Sam continued to chew on his nails for a bit. It was a learning curve, after all, but he did end up slowing down and eventually stopping completely. You hadn't mentioned to Sam that he'd stopped just in case he hadn't realised, but you and Dean had shared a beer over the silent victory. And when Sam brought the victory to you both a few days after that, all three of you shared a beer then, too.

You and Sam continued to wear different shades and Sam even learned to put the polish on himself, though he vastly preferred you to put it on for him. Considered a bonding moment, which was cute. Dean would participate occasionally, and eventually, Sam admitted that he liked how feminine the polish made him feel.

After that- things sort of migrated from just nail polish to brushing his hair and experimenting with colour in his wardrobe. That was all he was really comfortable with for now, but that wasn't a problem. You were just glad he felt comfortable enough to share such personal information with you.

You both loved each other so much, and one of the best things about found family was that you knew you would be pillars of support for each other.

No matter what.

#sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x you #supernatural #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #spn #spn fic #spn fanfic #spn fanfiction #supernatural x reader #supernatural x you #spn x reader #spn x you #sam x reader #supernatural one shot #spn one shot

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wellofdean · 26 days

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I read your post about Supernatural being queer somehow from season 1 and I have two questions.

1. Don't you think it straight-appropriates the word "queer" to say it just means "not normal"? That argument seems disingenuous to me, and a lot of us want representation, and to see that word applied to explicit depiction of queer sexuality, and it's a cheat that they don't. Queer studies did start as the study of queer sexualities and the experience of queer people.

2. Are you saying that the makers of Supernatural intended for it to be "flesh on queer bones"? Do you think they intentionally sat down to tell a queer story?

Those are good questions my anonymous friend. Thank you for asking. Here are my thoughts:

To answer your first question: no, I don't think it appropriates anything. Here's why: firstly, if we're talking about sexuality and gender, it's queer 101 that no one owes anyone a justification of their queerness, and not everyone who is queer is interested in labeling it or making it legible to you, and they have no obligation to do so, and not doing so doesn't make them any less queer. Furthermore, some people who are queer are not interested in sex, so what about them?

All of that together is why, for me, the entire queer project is much more deeply about non-compliance with hegemony, and specifically with hegemony around gender roles, sexuality and to put it under a big umbrella, patriarchy, than it is about who you fuck. Those things extend into so many other aspects of life that I think you can easily talk about "queering" a very wide range of topics, and possibly? ANY TOPIC.

You are responding to this post, I think, and in it, I made a choice to talk about family and hunting, and our heroes roles and characterizations in that, and did not talk about gender shenanigans or sexuality, because my point was that even before we get to anything to do with it, Sam and Dean are immersed in a queered world in a fundamental, structural way. That said, I assure you that if you go back into season 1 of Supernatural, you will find LOADS that could be said about gender and sexuality, too. As well as other things, and a particularly important area, as @ironworked pointed out in the tags, is blue collar/white collar class issues.

As I said, the depth of queerness in Supernatural is actually dizzying just in terms of the story's BONES to say nothing of how they flesh it out. Queerness is about deviation from the norm. It's about rebellion and disobedience against hegemonic systems for the sake of personal authenticity and love.

Think about Cas for a minute. Cas's whole story is that he rejects his role in a hegemonic heaven. He rebels for love, and that is pretty explicit as early as season 4 when he tells Dean "We're making it up as we go". Fellas, that is THE QUEEREST SHIT EVER even if he didn't do it for Dean, and like... HE DID IT FOR DEAN. Cas did not have to tell Dean he loved him for me to know it, and for Cas to be a deeply queered character. When he DID say it, I wasn't the least bit surprised he was in love with Dean, because seriously, we been knew. I was only surprised I got to have the immense pleasure of hearing him say it and looking at Dean's face while he took it in. Jesus. I will NEVER RECOVER.

This is my perspective on representation in Supernatural: It's excellent, and I relate to, and feel seen by it as a queer person. Nobody needs to get fucked on the maps table for me to do the math that this is a queer story. It is very, very, very thoroughgoingly canonically queer in so many ways, and not all of them are to do with sex. I think some fans will only allow it to be called queer if dudes make out in it. I am not one of those fans.

As to your second question, I think there is a wealth of evidence in the filmic oeuvre of Eric Kripke to suggest that as an artist and a writer, he is concerned or maybe even preoccupied with masculinity issues and issues around family, and around the way patriarchy fucks men up. So, yes. I think he knew what he was doing and he knew that queerness was part of the mix. For fucks sake, it's a family of men who hunt monsters. That is very fucking on the nose. Do I think he kicked off Supernatural in 2005 planning a 15 year operatic queer romance between Cas and Dean? No. I don't think anyone planned for it to go as long as it did, and it's a matter of record that some things were influenced by fan response, actors' chemistry, different writers and showrunners' preferences and etc. What I will say is that when they had a choice to "straighten shit out" or lean into the queerness, they fucking leaned in, nearly EVERY TIME. Like, it's pretty amazing how consistently they lean the fuck in.

I'll admit -- I wasn't watching it with those eyes the first time, and I didn't give it much real estate in my mind when I watched it as it aired from 2006 to the end, but the last three episodes reshaped it for me and made me angry, and also made me need to watch it all again, this time with an explicitly queer lens, and BOY HOWDY let me tell you this: the Supernatch rewatch journey is a wild and wonderful trip to Queertown. It is legit more difficult to argue that Dean is straight than it is to argue that he is queer. There is a full on CORNUCOPIA of story evidence to support that read and relatively little that convincingly counters it on the straight side, and that starts right at the beginning, when they bend pretty baby Dean over a police car in episode one, and he smirks insouciantly in his lip gloss. Do I think everyone involved knew how that looked? Sexy, submissive and a bit gay?

YES I DO.

#supernatural #spn #dean winchester #Eric Kripke #watching with queer goggles #I recommend it #it's just queer yo #anti-trashnatural agenda

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odesofmeddea · 2 months

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trying on an argument why sam and dean were in factual canonical enmeshment: their bond presumes the absence of nuclear family or any long-term partner in the lives of either; the very formulation of this rigid condition - me or her, - is telling, overtly so, how their relationships are rooted bog-deep in the belief in its crucial self-sufficiency. the bond between related people devoid of such an incestuous tilt generally endorses that a relative builds and commits to a family of his own and puts not a stipulation of choice. that is, ‘it is fine if my brother marries - how and why would that affect our connection?’ - is not fine with sam and dean. if it was so, sam would've kept dating ruby, amelia, etc., etc., without dean putting him under the exigency of picking, without the uncontrollable invasion of his sexual and general privacy by dean (‘did you have sex with her? first madison then ruby now cara then lilith’, dean eavesdropping on sam's calls and going through his phone, or interrogating him concerning his whereabouts, if there's a woman he doesn't know about), and, moreover, without sam feeling an unspelt obligation of either concealing (why, right?) or rescinding these side hook-ups. oh, also it's him or benny. same with lisa, who knew the fact of her secondariness when competing with sam and that the existence of one naturally excluded that of the other. why can't they all be a big family performing roles socially allotted to them?.. because sam fills in all the roles. because dean and sam want to live in one room and they brush their teeth together and share one car and invariably solve cases together and own a dog and coparent jack and even their afterlife is a shared homoheaven bereft of other love interests. where a woman is to put herself between, in what inextant interstice? ultimately she is reduced to a blur in the background while sammy raises his kid, dean ii, and she is not addressed, not once, in the script, her only definition is of a nemo-womb sam cohabits with to conceive a replica of dean he can nurture as a solace during his lifelong premeditation of reunion with his brother, his nóstos - this is an awful lot of all women and possible partners of have been and to be. one would say that's rather too much. were sam and dean a girl and a boy conforming to gender binarism & heteronormativity the ambiguity of their relation would've been acknowledged more widely, the incestuous codependency interpreted more obscene. but since they're not and also are very uneasy with the innuendo (‘the most troubling question is why they keep assuming we're gay? - we're just brothers!’), it's very convenient to diminish it to just a strong fraternal love. which it is. but not only that.

the potentiality of erotic subtext inside of their greedy proximity seems scary and stupid and is eschewed by both - how are they to subvert and subsume their relationship into non-brother categorization when it's just their life, just the only thing they've known, being this close? still, the only affairs permitted are the ones that are treated as and are simple, emotionally untethered one-night-stands because sam and dean are not sexually available to each other. nor they're resolute into directly consummating their relationship - the need to is either lacking or suppressed and is to be interpreted variously because covert incest is not primarily about coition but miscellanea of things, more often than not of un/subconscious genesis and procession. sam and dean know their relationship is bonkers. they don't necessarily have to know or admit they're a couple. what else they know, though, is they can't have sex. they cannot consciously translate their enmeshment into overt eroticism. that's why the siren episode is titled ‘sex and violence’ - there the mutual violence unleashed onto each other (along with the symbolic penetration through knife and breaking of the door) serves as a surrogate for sex. that, along with impulsive hugs, is the only form of lingering physical contact they usually have. but the yearning, although not experienced in one concreteness, compensates and provides for itself in a safer realm of sam and dean's emotional spaces. they can't have sex but they can fall into possession of each other's feelings. that's why once the personal attachment to anyone else is developed it is construed as betrayal by either. if you need another person, if you feel something for them that you're supposed to feel only with me (intimacy, trust, love, loyalty, belonging) - that's when you abandon me because we can't coexist with others.

#spn #wincest #samdean #spn meta

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delulu4dean · 7 months

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“Five Gum…”

Warnings: idk, cringe outdated pop culture references. Gender neutral terms(just wanting you so you don’t get like confused <3 )

Pairings: Cas X autistic!reader(platonic), Dean x child!reader

Summary: Castiel is hanging out with Dean’s autistic child, and they have a lot in common.

Word Count: 1,278

Your dad, Dean Winchester, is out on a hunting trip with your Uncle Sammy. He left you alone with Castiel. You don’t know what Castiel is to your dad, they say they’re best friends, but the way they look at each other says more.

You didn’t mind being at the bunker with Cas though. Out of everyone, you got along with him the most. You had some sort of mutual understanding that Sam and Dean don’t get. You assumed it’s because Castiel didn’t know much about human interaction, social cues, pop culture references, and you were well, autistic. Your dad has made the joke that you and Castiel tilt your head the same way when you’re confused, and both don’t understand his sarcasm, and how even though your Dean’s kid, you’re a mini-Cas.

“So what are we doing today?” Castiel asks you.

“I know my dad is protective, but you really don’t need to babysit me, I’m 18. I am an adult,” you explain to Castiel.

“That’s not why he leaves me with you, he just doesn’t want you to get lonely.”

You nod, understanding. Today you’re probably going to do what you and Cas always do, exist next to each other while doing your own things. He’ll be reading something, you’ll be drawing something, and occasionally you two will look at each other, and ask how it’s going. It’s always worked that way.

And that is what you do today. You both go to the library together, Castiel picks out a book, you pull out your sketchbook, and you start doing what you learned is called “parallel play.” At least that’s what it’s called in kids, but you figured the term can be applied here too. You start sketching away as Castiel looks at you, narrowing his eyes.

“You wear that jacket all the time, why?” he asks.

“It brings me comfort. You wear that trench coat all the time, even indoors when you don’t need to. Why is that?” you throw the question right back at him.

“I suppose it also brings me some sense of comfort,” he concludes.

You nod, satisfied with his answer, and go back to sketching, as he goes back to his book. The only sounds filling the room are Castiel’s occasional page flipping, and your constant scribbling. This goes on for half an hour, only to be interrupted by your stomach erupting in hunger. Castiel does not say a word, as he gets up and goes to the bunker’s kitchen, and comes back with a prepackaged peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

“Oh thanks. When did we get these?” you raise an eyebrow.

“I got them the last time I went grocery shopping with your dad. He said you were having trouble eating because the foods we’ve been getting weren’t the right texture, and I remember when I was human I loved peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, you can never go wrong with them. But I know you sometimes just want ready made food, and when I saw these in the freezer section, I told Dean to get them.”

A smile comes across your face as you open the packaging and take a bite. These prepackaged peanut butter and jelly sandwiches were one of your safe foods, your other one being boxed mac and cheese. You bounce happily as you eat, something you do whenever you’re eating food you really like. And if it’s super good, you’ll kick your feet a little too.

You lick your fingers after you finish your sandwich, and sign “thank you” in ASL, something you do when you don’t feel like talking much. It’s a thing you do with everyone, you’ve taught them basic signs like “yes” or “no” or “please” or “thank you” or “food” or “water” to communicate when you don’t feel like talking.

“No problem,” Cas responds, smiling at you.

You nod and get back to your little activity while Castiel gets back to his. The silence is nice, you get to focus on you sketch, which is a picture of Castiel sitting down in his chair, reading. You occasionally glance up at him, getting the details you need, but you’re not going for realism. You have your own cartoonish art style and you’re drawing Castiel in it. Once you finish, you show him, and a big smile appears on his face as he puts down his book.

“You drew that? That’s me,” he says, and you nod. “I love it.”

You smile and start putting your art supplies away, as he goes back to reading. You clean up your space and put everything back in your room, before returning to Cas. You look over his shoulder at the book he’s reading, trying to not disturb him. He flips through the pages as he reads. But the page flipping and the silence get too much.

“Dicks out for Harambe,” you blurt out, not thinking.

Castiel once again sets his book down, this time not intending to pick it back up, as he looks up at you concerned. You didn’t think before speaking, but being on the internet you hear this phrase a lot. So you said it, and now Castiel is concerned.

“Who is Harambe and why are we exposing ourselves for him,” Castiel asks.

You think for a moment, wanting to answer him, but there’s no way to answer him without sounding stupid and insane. You take a deep breath, giggling a little at the thought of explaining “dicks out for Harambe” to Castiel.

“It’s an internet thing. This gorilla, Harambe, was killed, so we uh, expose ourselves, as you put it, to pay respects to him,” you attempt at an answer but Castiel furrows his eyebrows, getting even more confused.

“How is that paying respect?”

“Well it isn’t… it’s a joke…”

“I thought jokes were supposed to be funny,” he bluntly says.

“It is… to younger people I guess,” you shrug.

“And you said it because…?”

“I said it to fill the silence.”

Cas takes a moment to think, nodding, taking in what you just explained. He then takes his phone out and types away and you look at him, waiting for him to say or do something. He pats the seat next to him and you sit and look at his phone. It’s one of those fruit sensory videos on TikTok that you got Castiel into. Not the baby videos(well they are the baby videos) but the ones to popular music. You and Castiel watched as blueberries and strawberries bounce around the screen to Lincoln Park’s “Numb.”

“Why are we watching this?” you finally ask.

“You seemed like you needed something stimulating to watch or listen to,” Cas answers you.

“That reminds me,” you say, running to your room to grab something quick.

✰✰✰✰✰

Sam and Dean walk into the bunker, and as soon as they see everything, they just look around, confused. The ground is covered in bubble wrap, and the map table is full of Pop-it fidgets. You look up at your uncle and dad, as you and Cas run around barefoot on the bubble wrap, playing with the fidgets.

“What are you doing?” Dean asks.

You look up at him, with an innocent smile on your face.

“Five gum!” you yell at him, throwing a pop-it fidget at him, and he catches it. “Stimulate your senses!”

“I think they are making a joke, because this is a way to stimulate our feeling sense, which is something people on the spectrum often do,” Castiel explains to Dean.

“Yeah, I know what they meant, Cas,” Dean chuckles. “You two have fun while we were gone?”

You and Cas both nod.

✰✰✰✰✰

A/N sorry if this is silly, I’m autistic and Kin cas so I thought it would be fun to do Cas and Dean’s autistic kid. But autism is a spectrum! While this may be how autism is for me, it doesn’t represent everyone with autism :)

#castiel #castiel supernatural #castiel x y/n #castiel x reader #dean x child!reader #dad!dean #supernatural #dean x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester x you

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livingfandomly · 7 months

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Currently about to finish S9 in SPN. Now, the thing is, I’ve always been very much concerned about why people shipped Dean and Cas together (not even gonna talk about shipping Sam and Dean coz just NO) and right now I’m having a very hard time denying that y’all may be right….

I’ve always seen Dean as an extremely hetero character, I mean that man has needed sex more than oxygen for a lot of the seasons HOWEVER.. one, that sex has simmered down. And two, his relationship with Cas is obviously different from Sam’s relationship with Cas. Sam and Cas feel like brothers/friends who care about each other to the point that they’d die for one another. Cas and Dean????? They do NOT feel like brothers. Best friends, maybe. But there’s just an underlying current that makes their relation so much… more??

There’s also these little niblets of moments where the interactions between them move so far beyond simple friendship and into love. I mean, the fact that when Naomi was training/brainwashing Cas she made him kill ONLY Dean. Literally hundreds of times. And yet, when it came down to it he couldn’t do it. And Dean was literally just like “I’m not fighting you. Kill me if that’s what it’s gotta be”. Very normal behaviour.

Plus, right now Cas called Sam and Dean to talk about angels getting the choice to join Metatron or die and called them to help track Gadreel. Fully normal conversation going on between Cas and Sam until Dean said something and Cas’s whole face relaxes, he forgets his conversation with Sam and literally just sighs out “hi Dean” AND AND Dean looks at Sam and Sam gives Dean a whole side eye and Dean goes “hi Cas” right in the middle of a fucking conversation both these sighing idiots just felt like they HAD TO acknowledge each other????????

Plus. When Cas found out about Dean’s mark he was so fucking concerned. Boy looked like he wanted to cry??

Anyway…. I don’t know if the writers started playing into this just because the fandom clubbed the two together or because it was always there and I was blind. But I do find myself wishing that if the writers were playing into the whole Destiel thing, that they actually went for it. Because Misha and Jensen’s chemistry is insane.

(Side note: I really shouldn’t but I love Crowley too now. Love how Dean just adopts every misfit/outsider irrespective of age or gender.)

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bluedaisy12 · 4 months

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~ Things I have scripted about Hogwarts

Each new student gets a map of the castle to help them get around it without getting lost on their way to classes and such.

Dorms – Students have the option to pick from four dorm sizes: singles, doubles, triples and quads.

Uniforms - Students have to wear their uniforms during school hours, they are free to change in the clothes they have bought with them after their classes are finished. During the evening classes like Astronomy or club meetings the students have to wear some part of their uniform, it can be the cloak or the tie or something alike.

House of Slytherin

☆ I have scripted that the Slytherin common room looks like the one in Hogwarts Legacy because damn is it beautiful. (link to a youtube video showing it)

☆ The passwords are changed each week, and we get a slip of paper of what it is on Sundays during supper.

☆ The head of the house is still Sour Snape, just for the fun of annoying that old man.

School Events

There is a New Years Eve ball during the last week of school before Christmas break. Parties in the common rooms usually happen every month or two, it really depends on how far into the school year it is. All students from 5th year and above are allowed to go to the parties, and people follow this rule religiously.

Prefects and their responsibilities

There are 3 prefects in each house, there has to be at least one of each gender. The prefects don’t have a lot of duties / chores (I still want to live my life you know?). All they have to do is patrol the Hogwarts Express during the train rides, taking house points for misbehaviour and dish out detentions. Prefects do not have a curfew and can walk around freely unless told otherwise by the teachers, the same goes for head girls and head boys.

Slytherin's prefects: Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson, Daria Krum (me)

Ravenclaw's prefects: Padma Patil, Anthony Goldstein, Cho Chang

Hufflepuff's prefects: Ernie Macmillan, Hannah Abbott, Cedric Diggory

Gryffindor's prefects: Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Dean Thomas

School life

There are electives that students can choose from, some of the electives have felid trips, for example muggle studies go and visit a museum or something. The basic subjects like History of Magic sometimes have a fieldtrip once in a while too, historical magical places and such.

Laundry days are on mondays, wednesdays and fridays, the laundry itself is done by the house elves. To have your clothes washed you have to take them to the laundry room which is by the kitchen, you do not have to pick your clean laundry though, it appears back in your closet after it has been washed and dried.

#hogwarts dr #shifting realities #golden trio era #shifting community #reality shifter #gryffindor #hufflepuff #hogwarts houses #ravenclaw #slytherin #hogwarts #prefects

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badass-queer-couples-battle · 8 months

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Propaganda:

For Joongdok: "Well first of all Yoo Joonghyuk has a whole arc that is transfem coded as hell (has a power/technique that can technically only be used by women but somehow he can also use it, for a time he even turns into a woman to wield it and it's. Actually just let me get the quote "The ines of the face had changed but it was clearly Yoo Joonghyuk. No, it was even more than before.") that just kinda happens,, and doesn't get brought up again but anyway. Second of all just look at them. You see the vision. Also a bonus observation is that these two often get shipped in a poly ship with Han Sooyoung and whenever I see people make a "regular couple, yaoi couple, yuri couple, I see no difference love is love" meme with them the combination of which pair among these three is which of the categories is always different"

Note: This submission also mentions Han Sooyoung, but I decided to count this polyship submission as guy yuri as well.

"They love each other, they pretend they don't care for each other but all their actions prove they care too much, if you remove someone from the trio then the resulting duo is extremely dysfunctional, as evidenced by more than a million words of canon. Is it technically guy yuri? Well, Han Sooyoung is a woman, but in a way she's one of the guys. Kim Dokja and Yoo Joonghyuk are men, but the text heavily hints that Yoo Joonghyuk is a trans woman who's just too busy and stressed out to transition yet, and Kim Dokja has just never thought about his own gender a single day in his life. They made the world for each other, they went back in time countless times and waged countless wars for each other, they wrote and read and lived a story, their story, for each other and that's what saved them all. The way Han Sooyoung writes Yoo Joonghyuk's story to save Kim Dokja and loses herself in the process, the way Yoo Joonghyuk voluntarily lives the story to the point of losing himself too and even forgetting why he originally decided to do it, the way Kim Dokja read Han Sooyoung's story which was Yoo Joonghyuk's life and that's how he found himself, they all took so much from each other and gave so much of themselves to each other, this is all very yuri."

"they're so yuri you have no idea. they have every staple of a yuri ship. unwavering devotion. waiting dozens or thousands of years for each other. dooming themselves and the world for each other. so much yearning. i also see them genderbent a lot (including inn canon in the case of yjh) and they're right both of these people are women. i genuinely can't even see them strictly as men at this point they're just yjh and kdj and they are yuri do you understand."

"they're so yuri. the abscense of yuri is the presence of yuri etc etc. these two guys are all ABOUT abscenses. also one of them is a part time woman. the other guy is a guy but like in the same way a square is a rectangle. anyway they're so guyyuri to me. bonus points also because they have a mutual girlfriend and when she's present they're girlyaoi but that's not relevant to this specifically"

For Destiel: "There’s got something wrong with her(complementary)"

#guy yuri round 1 #joongdok #destiel #kim dokja #yoo joonghyuk #dean winchester #castiel #omniscient reader's viewpoint #orv #supernatural #(from my admittedly limited knowledge of ORV these don't seem to be that different)#(not sure if superhell is involved but they are apparently very doomed by the narrative)#btw thanks to the person who submitted this pic of Joongdok the vibes are excellent #and i dont even go there yet #guy yuri poll

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deanwinchesterscherrypie · 7 months

Text

Inescapable

Kinktober Day 1: Dom/sub

Summary:

(Inspired by Dress by Taylor Swift) Dean, Cas, and Sam go on a small local ghost hunt while you stay at home. While you get the bunker prepared for them to come home, you can't stop thinking about your dom. Dean specifically ordered you to not be thinking of him while he's gone, but you can't help it. You miss him, and when he gets home, you think you'll show him just how much.

Words: 3,919

Kinks: Dom/sub, Rope play, light degradation, teasing, spanking, punishment

Relationship: Dom Dean/Sub Fem Reader

Content/Trigger Warnings: mentions of sexual assault (only in the first paragraph), mentions of a knife, smut, cunnilingus, p in v sex, fingering, dominant dean winchester

Notes: Read here on ao3! Full Kinktober Masterlist. I hope you enjoy :)

Dean. Cas, and Sam left Friday evening for a ghost hunt. Apparently, Old Man Milton only comes back once every 7 years on his daughter’s birthday to kill young men that sexually assault or harass young women. His daughter died by a violent sexual assault and was found in the basement of a fraternity house. He searched for the boy that did it to her, but the college covered it up. Now, he’s coming back for justice. You told Dean that they shouldn’t do anything. If it were your hunt, you would have left it alone. Those guys deserved to die, in your opinion. And maybe that makes you a bad person, but honestly, you’ve literally been to hell and back. You don’t really care if wishing a painful death on rapists is a bad thing.

The only reason you didn’t attend this hunt with the boys is because the whole topic was just a little too triggering for you. Dean suggested you stay home, and Cas agreed that the emotional trauma it brought up wouldn’t be worth getting rid of the ghost. Sam offered to stay home with you, but Cas isn’t the best hunting partner when it comes to these small hunts. So, Dean asked if you’d be alright and insisted that Sam come with him. Cas is always one call away if you need anything, and you know that.

On Sunday morning, you get ready to start your day with brushing your hair, doing your makeup, and picking out an outfit. You don’t have much to choose from, because it’s laundry day you’re washing all of the boys clothes along with yours. It’s kind of annoying that they expect you to do their laundry, and you pointed out once that you thought it was misogynistic to expect the only woman in the home to do laundry. But Dean came back with the argument that you were only doing laundry when they were out on a hunt without you. If they were the one staying home, they would do the laundry and you wouldn’t mind. Sam offered to do his own, but it didn’t actually bother you too much. You think that Dean’s just saying it to get you to do it, but you let them have it because he said it with a really cute face and puppy dog eyes. And they do so much for you that doing some laundry or cooking a meal isn’t going to kill you. You don’t exactly like falling into gender roles, but something about them being so appreciative every Sunday night when you make dinner and have them change into clean clothes is so sweet.

So, you pick out your outfit: a pair of jeans and one of Dean’s flannels because it’s the only thing that smells like him, but doesn’t have blood on it. You take his load to the wash first, because you know when he gets home, you’ll make him change into clean clothes. You put on some music first. You listen to a lot of Led Zeppelin while he’s gone because it reminds you of him. Before he left, as always, he told you not to think of him too much. In a normal relationship, that would be sweet. A request. But in yours and Dean‘s relationship, it was a demand. Every hunt he went on scared you, every time he left the bunker, a chill ran down your spine. You wondered if you would ever see him again. You try not to think like that, and he demands you don’t think of him at all. You don’t listen. You never do. He knows this, and he’ll punish you when he gets home. That’s sometimes why you think of him. You enjoy the punishment. It’s nice when he takes control when he gets home.

You finish putting his clothes in the laundry and go to the kitchen to prepare dinner for when they get home. It’s your week to prepare dinner on Sunday night. Every Sunday, you make everyone have a family meal at a table. Hunters don’t get to have a normal life, so this is as normal as it gets for you. You don’t have long before they get back, so you pull out all of the necessary ingredients and set them on the counter. Normally, you’d also be doing some research while they were gone. But this hunt specifically was one that lacked research and needed more gumption than Dean could ever gather. As you’re swaying to the music in the kitchen, the song “Dress” by Taylor Swift plays through your phone speaker. This song reminds you of Dean, but in a way that’s more playful than sexy. He likes Taylor Swift, your favorite artist, but he won’t admit it. Sometimes, you catch him listening to her in the shower, but he thinks you don’t know. Sometimes, you see him adding a song of hers to his playlist. As the lyrics ring through your head this time around, you can’t help but think about how teasing it would be for Dean to come home to tear your clothes off. He always requests that when he gets home, you are in bed with no clothes. You enjoy this usually, but tonight you’re feeling a little extra.

You prepare the food, so all you have to do is cook them. You make homemade burger patties that need to chill, sourdough bread that needs to chill to make buns, and a pastry crust for the pie. You clean up and grab your keys. Before Bobby passed, he built up a car for you out of some old parts. It was a crap car, but it barely cost you. Bobby had a soft spot for you, so he would fix the car up for you anytime it broke down or something happened. Unfortunately, when he died, you had nobody to fix up your car. It was just your luck that you remembered meeting Dean Winchester, a friend of Bobby’s, a few years back. He and his brother were well known hunters, so you didn’t think he would have the time to help. But any shop would tell you that the car was more to fix than it was actually worth. They said it was unsafe and shouldn’t be driven. They didn’t have the memories you had with that car though. So you gave him a call, and you were lucky that he was in the next town over just finishing up a case. You two haven’t left each other alone since.

You head toward a town close by to find exactly what you are looking for. You stop into a few stores before you find exactly what you wanted. A short, white sundress, complete with a cherry print scattered across the fabric. You check the price tag because unlike other hunters, you try to earn honest money when you can. You save as much as you can and invest some of it. The dress is on sale, which just lets you know it’s meant to be.

You check out and head back to the bunker to get ready and prepare dinner. When you walk inside, you hear a ding on your phone. You pull it from your pocket to see a text from Dean.

We’re on our way home, Sweetheart. About an hour out. Be ready. - DW

It’s funny that he signs his initials with every text, but it’s his thing. It’s how you know it’s really him. He told you to be ready, but you should really be the one telling him to be ready….

Yes, sir.

You go to the kitchen and begin cooking the burgers. Cas doesn’t have an appetite, but he still sits at the table with us. He always compliments the food, even though he doesn’t actually eat it. His description of food is that it “all tastes like molecules” to him. But nevertheless, Sam and Dean still enjoy it when you cook. After the burgers are cooked, you put them on a pan to keep warm and take out the dough. You make some rolls and put them on a pan to bake. The pie will cook while you’re eating, so you go ahead and head toward your bedroom to change.

You put on your new dress and put your hair up with some loose curls falling down. You touch up your makeup a little bit and add some red lipstick. It’s Dean’s favorite and it matches your dress perfectly. You spray on some Tom Ford’s “Lost Cherry” and make your way back to the kitchen. You check your watch and see that it will be about half an hour until they get home, which is perfect timing to go ahead and put in the rolls and start preparing the pie.

Soon, the whole bunker smells like fresh bread and sweet, cherry pie. You put all of the clean laundry in the rooms. You set the table with a whiskey glass in front of both Dean and Sam’s seats and a courtesy glass of water in Castiel’s spot. You put a wine glass in front of your seat, and pull out the rolls to replace them with the cherry pie. You take out all the extra condiments for the burgers and put the sides on the table. The locks of the bunker do a familiar click, and you know it’s game on. You hear the low chatter of the boys discussing the familiar scent wafting from the kitchen.

Sam walks in and sees the set table. He waves the other guys into the kitchen.

“Is it Sunday already? Man, I’m hungry!” Sam goes to pull out a chair before your hand catches his.

“You boys go wash up first. I don’t want blood and sulfur at my dinner table. Your clothes are in your rooms. Dinner in 5.” You smile and pat his hand. He laughs a little before wrapping his arm around your shoulders and squeezing a little bit. You smack his chest gently, and he laughs and saunters off to change. Dean’s heated gaze is focused on your legs, or more importantly, how much of them he can see. Your apron falls below your dress, and when you’re turned to the side, he can see that your dress barely covers your ass. He groans low to himself and raises his eyes to meet yours. Cas speaks up.

“Thank you for putting together dinner. I appreciate it.” He smiles awkwardly before the dirt and blood disappears from his outfit. He hangs his overcoat on the rack in the corner and then settles into his spot. Dean’s gaze hasn’t left you, and you know exactly why.

“All of this silence and patience, pining in anticipation.”

“Something wrong, love?” You ask with your most precious voice. You know he won’t say anything in front of Cas. He treats him like a toddler, his child that he must watch over. It’s adorable, but at the same time, he watches himself around Cas. He doesn't want him repeating things. Dean doesn’t reply, but his face looks pained. You smile and wave him off to his room to get changed. He obliges, but you can see the tension in his back as he walks away.

“Dean seems stressed. We got rid of the ghost. Why is he upset?” Cas asks you as you make Sam’s plate.

“Because his wife is his wildest dream, and he’s mad he has to eat dinner first.” Sam laughs as he walks out in fresh clothes. He sits at the table and smiles up at you. “I mean seriously, come on, he came home to his wife dressed up with his favorite dinner made and pie in the oven.”

“But why would that stress him out? Shouldn’t he be happy that he has the terribly domestic life he wished for?” Cas asks as you plate the food in front of him. He won’t eat it, but he likes to have a plate to feel involved.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean walks to the table, “can you three stop talking about me like I ain’t here? I am not stressed. I am exhausted from a three day long hunt. Now, let’s eat. I’m starving.” Dean’s gaze shoots up at you as he sits down. You plate his food next, and then, your own. You sit down and everyone eats in silence.

The conversation starts flowing once everyone starts getting full, and then, it’s time to take out the pie. You head over to the oven, which is right next to Dean’s seat, and bend down to get the pie out. Your dress rides up right next to him, so he can see your cunt soaking your white lace underwear. He groans and attempts to cover it up with a cough. You chuckle a little to yourself and set the pie down on the table. You take the boys plates and put them in the sink.

“Sam, don’t forget. It’s your day to do dishes.” You nudge his shoulder. You set out more plates and serve up the cherry pie to Dean and onto your own plate. You are on one side of Dean, so you scoop up Sam’s piece and lean over Dean to place the pie on Sam’s plate. Sam shakes his head and chuckles to himself before digging in. Cas wanders off to the library. You sit back in your seat and take a bite of your pie. Some of the cherry juice drips off of your lip and onto your chest, where Dean’s gaze falls. You swipe your finger across the juice and stick it into your mouth. Your eyes close in ecstasy, and you make a small noise of happiness. Dean has yet another cough, and you open your eyes to watch him. He hasn’t even touched his pie.

“Dean, you haven’t touched your pie?” You ask him sweetly.

“Dude, it’s delicious. You picked the right woman.” Sam says as he goes back for seconds.

Dean nods his head and picks up his fork with shaking hands.

“My hands are shaking from holding back from you.”

You all continue to eat before you both hand your plates to Sam to wash. You bid goodnight to Sam and Cas before heading to your room with Dean hot on your heels. You barely make it through the door before he catches your wrist in his hand and closes the door behind him with his foot.

“You disobeyed me.” He states. His eyes pierce yours with pure lust and determination.

“I made dinner.” You counter, reminding him that it was your week to make dinner.

“You know the rules, sweetheart. You know what happens when you break the rules.” A glint appears in his eyes, and suddenly, he begins walking toward you slowly. The backs of your knees hit the bed, and you fall backward onto the soft cushioning. “Tell me what happens when you break the rules, love.” His voice commands.

“I get punished, sir.” You let out with a bit of excitement.

“Oh, were you looking forward to this?” He chuckles deeply, “Of course you were. My pretty little slut loves it when I show her who she belongs to and where her place is.”

“Yes, sir.” You nod your head and raise your hips toward him as he climbs in between your legs.

“Oh, do you want me to touch you?”

“Please touch me.” You ask, waiting for his touch.

He chuckles deeply again before pulling his knife from his pocket. You back up a little before his hand comes to the back of your neck to keep you in place.

“Don’t run away from me, sweetheart. You just asked me to touch you.” His smirk says it all. “Do you remember your safeword?” He asks in your ear.

“Yes. Cherries.” You giggle a little at the word and how significant it’s made itself today.

“That’s my good girl.” He says as he places the knife down on the nightstand next to your head. “Sit up.”

You sit up quickly and wait for your next instruction. You don’t always have such an intense dynamic, but you both need intense when you’ve been apart for a while.

“Over my knee.” You shiver at his words, but do as you are told. He lifts the skirt of your dress and rubs over the smooth skin of your ass.

“How many do you think you deserve, darling?” He says to you as he runs his finger over the lacy fabric of your underwear.

“I don’t know, sir.” You say to him while you try to grind your hips into his legs. He lays a smack on your ass, leaving a stinging feeling.

“I think ten is fair. Two for thinking of me while I was gone, four for wearing this slutty little dress, two for teasing me at dinner, and two for grinding yourself against my leg.” You shiver again and nod your head in response. He lifts your chin and gets down in front of your face.

“Words.” He whispers and bites your lip.

“Yes, sir.” You bow your head as he lets go. His fingers travel downward until he reaches the soaking spot in the center of your underwear and presses in.

“Oh, your pretty hole is so wet for me. I can’t wait to use you.” You whine as he retracts his hand.

“Don’t make a sound or I start over. Got it?” He grabs a fistful of your hair as he speaks to you.

“Yes, sir.”

He lays the first smack and your body jumps in response. You feel your hole squeeze the nothingness. You know you’re in for it, and you just hope that he’ll have mercy on you and touch you soon.

“Nine more.” You breathe in slowly, preparing yourself for nine more.

Smack. You just want him to touch you.

Smack. You’re getting desperate.

Smack. Soon, you’re going to start begging.

Smack. You don’t know if you can handle more.

Smack. It feels so good, but it hurts.

Smack. Almost there.

Smack. You’re going to come.

“I know I don’t feel you grinding on my leg, do I sweetheart?” He chuckles before laying two smacks back to back. You let out a sound that is a cross between a moan and a cry.

“Tsk tsk, what did I tell you about making sounds?” He asks you gently.

“We- would have to start over.” You whine. “Please Dean, don’t make me.” You beg.

“What did you just call me?” His hand wraps itself around the back of your neck and pulls you toward him.

“I’m sorry, sir.” You look up at him with pleading eyes. He looks back at you with pure satisfaction. You can feel his cock that's been growing beneath you this whole time twitch at the sight of you.

“Two more.” He says, and he means it. You groan lightly, and you hear his light laugh at you.

One. It stings, but he was more gentle than before.

Two. That one is going to leave a mark.

“Made your mark on me, a golden tattoo.”

“Good girl. Sit up.” He helps you forward and reaches beneath the bed. He grabs two pieces of rope that you don’t remember putting there. He smiles mischievously when he sees your confusion and scoots you up the bed. “Arms.”

You put your arms up and he ties each arm to the holes in the headboard. That is not what you were expecting, but you aren’t complaining. That is, until he rips your dress off of your body straight down the middle.

“I only bought this dress so you could take it off.”

“Dean! That dress was new.” You look at him with shock.

“Well, I hope it wasn’t expensive.” He smirks a bit before dragging your underwear down your legs.

“Please.” You push your hips up to him.

“Please what?” He asks, his breath grazing over your slick cunt.

“Please touch me.” You ask.

“My pathetic little slut wants me to touch her pretty cunt? You want me to lick your pretty clit?” He spreads you apart until you’re completely exposed to him and glistening in the dim bunker light.

“Yes, sir.”

And that’s when he takes his change to shove his tongue deep inside your hole. He fucks you with his tongue, occasionally slipping his tongue out of your hole and circling around your clit. You can feel yourself squeezing around his tongue. His scruff scratches the inside of your thighs, and you just want to tangle your fingers in his hair. He flicks your clit quickly and shoves a finger inside of you.

“Is this what you wanted, baby?” He asks as he continues to hit that sweet spot inside of you. His tongue feels so good as he continues his gentle assault on your clit. He moves in quick circles. Every now and then, he sucks your clit into his mouth. He slows his fingers and fucks you slow and hard. You like it like this, feeling every bit of him. His fingers curl up inside you to rub on that spot.

“Fuck.” You can’t help the sounds that come from your chest.

“You’re so fucking sexy, baby. See, this is what good girls get when they behave.” He taunts you, moving his thumb to your clit and his mouth to your sensitive nipples.

You start riding his fingers harder, chasing the orgasm that his fingers are promising you. You close your eyes in pleasure.

“Look at me, sweetheart. I want you to see me when you come.” He says, watching your every emotion. He switches out his fingers for his thick cock. He rubs the tip against your sensitive clit and has you whining for it. He pushes into you slowly, but that’s the only time he’s slow about it. He rams into you and fucks you hard. He is relentless and merciless.

“That’s it, pretty girl, only I can make you make those sounds.” He whispers in your ear. Your arms pull against the ropes, but you’re unsuccessful at breaking them. You buck your hips toward him as you chase your orgasm. He starts rubbing your clit, and you feel it coming on.

“Come for me.” He whispers in your ear as you let loose the orgasm that's been building inside of you. Your legs shake a bit and your back arches off of the bed.

“Good girl.” He says as he slips his cock out and pumps it a few more times before rolling his head back and letting out a groan as he comes on your stomach. You love watching him come at the sight of you.

He reaches forward to the nightstand next to you and grabs the knife. You look at him with confusion until he leans forward to your wrist. You realize he’s going to cut you out of the rope. You hear a scratching noise and attempt to look above you, but you can’t see. Suddenly, he cuts both of the ropes and lets your arms free. You rub your wrists and turn to see what he was doing. On your headboard, there is freshly engraved statement:

Property of D.W.

“Carve your name into my bedpost.”

You put on a shirt of his and snuggle into your bed with him. He cuts the lights out, and as you’re drifting off to sleep, you swear you hear him singing Dress by Taylor Swift.

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americas1suiteheart · 5 months

Text

Heres something I've been thinking about working on for a while now and I'm finally getting to it. Heres the pilot of it, let me know if you guys want me to make it into a full series (which I might do anyways🧍‍♂️)

Here's the link on Ao3 for the series if you prefer to read on there :)

Weird Science | Pilot Chapter

[Egon Spengler x Fem Reader]

[Summary; honestly I don't know what I'm gonna do with this, I'll leave the summary to finish later.💀

[Notes; This is a fem reader and it is mentioned quite a bit, this is to make things a little easier to write but I may consider making it a gender neutral reader if enough people want it and ask. [This is also kind of a long one for a pilot chapter.]

[Warnings; Some swearing and mentions of smoking. [Also very very minor mentions of drinking.]

Part 1/? | Next Chapter>

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶︶꒷︶︶︶︶꒦꒷꒦︶︶꒷꒦︶︶꒦︶︶︶꒦꒷

"Hey, can you hand me that soldering iron please?" I say, holding my hand out.

"Oh course Dr. L/n," Theodore says, handing me the iron carefully.

Theodore Thalmann was a freshman student majoring in Computer Engineering at Columbia University, the very University I've worked at for 7 years now.

Theodore came for an internship to work with me, wanting to learn a little more visually than just reading a book, writing down notes, and listening to some old guy talk, and frankly you couldn't really blame him for not wanting to deal with that.

Theodore was a sharp kid, not lazy like most of these kids now, and willing to learn rather than just be here for some extra credit, that's what you liked about him so much.

"Do you need anything else Dr. L/n?" Theodore asks, writing a bit more into his notebook.

Just then, a knock at the door interrupted your thoughts.

"Yes actually, can you go get that for me?" You reply, taking the protective glasses off of your face.

You get up out of your chair, taking off your black rubber gloves and placing them in their respective area. You liked things organised in your lab, it was much easier to find exactly what you needed, and it was also that you never liked a mess where there was work.

"Is Dr. L/n in here? I need to have a word with her." A voice you were far too familiar with comes from the door where Theodore was standing.

Oh god this can't be good.

"Yes she is, come on in Mr. Yeager," Theodore says, letting the man inside the lab.

"Ms. L/n, pleasure to see you again as always," The man says snarkily.

You turn around and walk towards him.

"Hello Mr. Yeager, come to complain about the music volume again? I promise I hadn't played anything today, whatever you might've heard must've been someone else,"

"No, actually, I wanted to talk to you about something more serious, do you think you can get this student to be somewhere else so its a more private conversation?" The Dean says, smiling sarcastically.

Dean Yeager wasn't exactly fond of you, hense the use of your last name rather than Dr. L/n, regardless of how hard I had worked for that title, but to be quite fair, you weren't very fond of him either, so it was more of a mutual hate. There were probably a lot of reasons why he wasn't very big on you but one of the most obvious had to be the fact that you played your music too loud whilst you worked.

"Of course sir. Um, Mr. Thalmann, would you mind stepping outside for a few moments? Me and Dean Yeager need to speak to eachother in private," You say, turning towards Theodore.

Theodore gives a nod and takes off his pair of gloves, placing them haphazardly on a nearby worktable then stepping outside of the lab, shutting the door.

"So, Ms. L/n, I wanted to inform you that you will no longer be working here at the university, I'm giving you a one month notice so that way you may pack all that you have and get out of here by then, is that understood?" Dean Yeager says, a shit eating grin on his face.

"Excuse me?" You say, after a few moments of silence.

"I said you are out of here in a month, fired, let go of, from the university, Ms. L/n," He repeats, venom laced in his voice.

"But wh-what am I supposed to do about Mr. Thalmann? I can't just tell him-" You stutter, still letting the fact you're being fired sink in.

"We will move him with Professor Dietz, someone that actually has a degree to teach, Ms. L/n". He says, cutting you off.

"But I've worked here for more than five years now, you can't just let me go. I graduated from this very University Mr. Yeager, for what reason do I deserve to be let go?" You say, anger becoming more prominent in your voice as you continue to speak.

"We are letting you go because of the constant loud music, because of the constant loss of electricity on the campus due to your failed experiments, because of your lack of actual necessity and funding of being here, Ms. L/n. We cannot continue to fund and pay you just for you to cause disruptions and only be useful to students if they are working under you as an intern. Even when you do have them, they only complain about how you do absolutely nothing in ways of teaching them, you are the issue Ms. L/n,"

The students don't think I teach them? But they've never complained.

The thought of the past interns you've had having bad thoughts about you and your ways of teaching them hurt more then being fired. Sure, you got good pay from the university and your projects were funded, but the students wanting to come in and learn more about what you just so happen to love was the reason why you were still working there in the first place. And sure you would sometimes blast music whilst showing and teaching them but they never complained.

"The students never complain though, I do my absolute best to teach them Mr. Yeager, I don't underst-"

"That is the last of this conversation, Ms. L/n! You will be out of here in one month, and you will get no more students doing internships with you from right now to the day that you are completely gone from this place! Goodbye, Doctor." Dean Yeager says, walking out of the lab, shutting the door.

After a few moments Theodore comes back into the lab, slowly and gently closing the door.

"Ah Mr. Thalmann, um there's going to be a change in plans for you with this internship unfortunately, I hope you don't mind but you'll be moved to go and work with Professor Dietz starting tomorrow, I do apologise," You say, straightening your back.

Theodore stays quiet for a minute, the air thick with awkwardness.

"What Dean Yeager said about all the other students disliking you and your teaching, I don't agree with him. I like your teaching and don't think its right of Dean Yeager to just fire you like that, Dr. L/n." Theodore says awkwardly, trying to lighten the mood of the room.

"Thank you, Mr. Thalmann, but unfortunately that still doesn't change my situation about my work here. I truly do appreciate all of your help and willingness to learn more, especially from me for these past couple of weeks. You're a great student and I'll be honest, I envy Professor Dietz for getting to teach you," You say, a slight smile on your face.

"Thank you, Dr. L/n, do you need any help cleaning up?" Theodore asks, taking the rubber gloves from the table and placing them next to yours.

"No there's no need for that at all, you're free to go early today, thank you for the help Mr. Thalmann."

"Alright, thank you again for teaching me Doctor, I hope everything else goes well for you," Theodore puts the lab coat you let him borrow folded up onto a clear table, then leaves the lab.

You sit down in your rolly chair, clearly worn out as it was bought almost 8 years ago in the late 70s. Even with its rips and threads sticking out from it, as well as the black soot stains and worn cushions, it was still comfortable and somewhat soothing. It reminded you of when you first started working here, about a year after you graduated from the university. And now that you think about it it makes you a little upset that for the past 12 years now this university is all you knew.

Sure you had your own apartment and went out for groceries sometimes, but you never had friends that you still kept in touch with, so you never really went to bars or parties. And at this point having an apartment proved useless as most of the time you would fall asleep in your lab, you would eat in the university's cafeteria, and after that you would just get back to work and drown every other sound out with music from the radio or your cassette tapes.

You get up and grab your coat, leaving the lab to go outside.

You pat your pockets and pull out the cigarette tin, hoping you hadn't run out of any, and to your relief you had just two more left. Grabbing one out of the tin and placing it lightly hanging from your mouth, then lighting it and inhaling the smoke.

You make a mental note that you'll have to go to the drugstore and buy some more.

"What the hell am I gonna do now?" You mutter to yourself, taking another drag of your cigarette.

"Y/n? Is that you?"

You turn your head to see an old friend you hadn't been in touch with since you've graduated at this university.

"Ray?"

"It is you! Oh am I glad to see you. Its been, gosh, how many years now? How have you been? What are you doing here?" Ray says excitedly, asking a million questions all at once.

"Its so great to see you too, Ray. I've been okay these past years, and I work here actually." You say, giving a light chuckle.

Well, more so like you worked here.

"You work here?"

"Yeah, I've been working here since after we graduated actually, what are you doing in terms of a job?"

"I work here too actually, I'm surprised I never seen you around here. You remember Venkman and Spengler though?" He says, taking a half used cigarette out of his pocket.

"Yeah, how can I not remember Venkman, the guy constantly harassed and flirted with me until I graduated, kinda annoying. But I dont recall ever speaking to or interacting with Spengler though."

"Well I've actually been working with them two for a couple of years now, we're working on some equipment and studies to see if ghosts and entities are actually real, parapsychology you know. It would kinda make sense for you to not remember Spengler though, he was a quiet isolated sorta guy. Mind lending me your light?" Ray rambles on, gesturing for your lighter.

You hand him the lighter, taking another drag from your cigarette yourself as he lights his.

"Oh that's neat, I honestly can't believe that I hadn't known you were here though, I would've loved to talk to you and hang out more after graduation," You say, grabbing your lighter back from Ray.

"We should go out for drinks sometime! It'd be a great way to catch up with eachother, I could bring the other guys too! Maybe all of us could ask you questions about our equipment. Given that I don't really know how to do it and all but you're the one that got a Doctoral in Computer Engineering and'll know a bit more than me, but mostly just to hang out with eachother again, like old times!" Ray says excitedly, a smile on his face.

"I'd love to go for drinks with you guys, not sure I'll be of any much use now though because I've just gotten fired by Yeager and have to move all my stuff out by a month from now, so studying and doing experiments are not something I'll get to work on for a while now," You chuckle, putting your cigarette out on the palm of your hand.

"Oh thats such a shame y/n I'm sorry that happened. It seems like Yeager has got a grudge on you too huh?" Ray says sympathetically, putting a comforting hand on your shoulder.

"Yeah but honestly I totally deserved it. Do you remember those series of blackouts throughout the campus that would happen twice a week? Those were all me and it took him 5 years to get sick of it and finally fire my ass,"

You laugh, now feeling a bit better about the loss, mostly because you get to speak with Ray again.

"I heard from some of the other professors that the cause was coming from the engineering and computer science halls, it reminded me of you in a way and it seems I was right about it!" Ray laughs, letting out a dry cough afterwards.

God, Ray has always had such bad smoking problems. I can't say all that much though because that'd be too hypocritical but that cough is starting to get worse.

You two continue talking a while longer, forgetting how long you've been out there until hearing all the ruckus from the students getting released from their classes.

"I should get going now, Peter and Egon are probably wondering where I went by now. Oh! How can I get in touch with you by the way?" Ray says, turning back around toward you.

"I'm usually over here in my lab but it seems it won't be like that much longer, but here's the number for my home telephone, call me if you need or want to plan anything and if I don't answer leave me a message for my answer box," You say, pulling out a notecard and pen from your pocket, scribbling the number down and handing it to Ray.

"Thanks Y/n, I'll remember to call you later on! Sorry about the whole getting fired thing by the way but I hope we see more of eachother. I'll talk to you later!" Ray says, taking the paper and waving goodbye as he runs off to a different area of the university.

---------------------------------------

Once you were back into the lab, you looked around to see what you should start packing. You didn't have much space at your apartment so you would either probably have to rent out a storage unit or call your parents to see if they could store some of it in their attic at home.

First I need to get boxes, and then a bunch of bubble wrap and foam so none of my equipment or computers break. I'll have to go and buy some from the post office.

You go and grab your keys and head back outside of your lab, locking the door before you leave. Walking to your car, you take your keys and unlock the door of it.

As you sit down and turn the key it stalls, taking a few more tries before it finally starts. I really gotta get a new car or at least get it checked out.

You start to drive to the nearest post office, and due to the horrible New York traffic it took you about 20 minutes to get to it even if it was only half a mile away. But thats what you got yourself into deciding to move to one of the most populated states in the US.

You park, grab your wallet, lock your car, and proceed into the post office.

You see the large amount of people in there, checking their post boxes, mailing out letters, and waiting to get their packages accepted to be sent out.

You walk to the area they have the boxes set up, grabbing a few medium sized ones and proceeding to the shortest line so you can purchase them. Once finally at the front, you place the flattened out boxes onto the table.

"Hello, just these and also, do you guys have the big rolls of bubble wrap?" You say to the man at the desk, who already looked far too tired.

The man nodded and pulled out a large roll of bubble wrap, placing it on top of the boxes.

"Is that all ma'am?"

You nod, taking your wallet out of your coat pocket so that way you have your money ready.

The man punches numbers into his machine, looking at each thing on the desk as he does so.

"That'll be $21.47, ma'am."

You take 22 dollars out of your wallet, handing them to the man as he takes it gingerly, placing the bills into the register and grabbing a few coins for your change and handing them and the receipt to you.

You thank the man and take the boxes and bubble wrap with you, struggling slightly at how awkward it was to hold the 10 flat boxes and bubble wrap in your arms.

You open the trunk of your car, putting the boxes and bubble wrap in, just barely fitting to where you can close the trunk door.

God this is gonna suck.

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶︶꒷︶︶︶︶꒦꒷꒦︶︶꒷꒦︶︶꒦︶︶︶꒦꒷

I literally wrote all of this in about 7 maybe 9 hours total because I just thought up something and was like, "oh yeah, this'll be great," and thats at least what I'm hoping now. I want this to kinda be slow burn and I know that's what I always say when I do series, and I never finish them, but I am really hoping ill be able to do more with this then my other failed attempts at series [if I take longer than a month to get another chapter of this out I want you all to yell at me and tell me to finish it]

[Word count; 2,769

#egon spengler #egon spengler x reader #spengler x reader #harold ramis #ghostbusters #ghostbusters 1984 #ray stantz #peter venkman #winston zeddemore #dana barrett #janine melnitz

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kickingitwithkirk · 28 days

Text

Winchester's Folly

Summary: When Dean gets into trouble John decides to hide the truth for his family

Pairing: Alpha Dean x Omega!Reader x Alpha Sam

Word Count: 862

*Dark! Fic-don't continue if you are disturbed by the subject matter

Warnings: A/B/O, non/con elements , dub/con elements, enslavement, pandemic, non/con drug use, collaring/leashing, forced mating, forced breeding, BDSM elements, show-level violence

*Additional warnings to be added

Square filled: @spnaubingo -Dystopian AU

A/N: * UPDATED 3/24 They say the third time is the charm, this will be the last rework of the Prologue.

A/N II: Still working on reigning myself in, keeping each part reader-friendly length, and have no clue how many parts this will end up being.

A/N III: a few notes about designations in A/O sub-genders for this story.

Alphas-Dominant (head of the pack/family) Subordinate (obey Dominant) Breeders (rare & highly coveted by the government. Can challenge Dominant for pack/family leadership)

Omegas -Domestic (mostly wiped out by plague, few natural born left) Feral (government-supplied breeders sold commonly called O's) House O’s (3rd generation+ Feral/Dominant breed. Used as servants/sex workers) Pack (rare & highly coveted by the government)

*Divider by @firefly-graphics

*No Beta-all mistakes are mine

Prologue

North Dakota

1999

John Winchester slowly drove down the snow-covered drive leading to an old warehouse and parked the ‘67 Impala in the back of its busy lot. All three Winchesters silently climbed out and trudged through the accumulated snow to the front entrance. If anyone had given him the choice between being here or hell, John would have picked hell.

Eighty years earlier

A virulent disease accidentally escaped a research lab, and the following pestilence wiped out 70% of the Omega population worldwide. At the same time, Alphas and Betas were predominantly immune and rarely died from it unless they had a chronic illness.

As in ancient times, the remaining Omegas were fought over, resulting in countries declaring martial law and rounded up the remaining Domestic Omegas. Several years later, a treatment was developed but the damage was nearly irrevocable. Betas had begun to reproduce to the point the other sub-genders would be extinct within a few decades.

At a hastily convened conference, the world's leading scientists offered the governing bodies with a short-term, yet controversial, solution: obtain Omegas from the remaining Wild Packs for a breeding program.

They presented evidence that introducing their genetics, relatively unchanged since splitting from their wolf ancestors, into mainstream populations would create a natural immunity against future resurgence and rebalance the sub-genders. Many argued the idea was insane. Those Omegas, or O’s, were too feral, still living as their wolf ancestors did and incapable of being domesticated.

The scientists then demonstrated an implant they developed containing multiple benefits. It would dampen O’s natural aggression and induce presentation from sixteen to thirteen. Domesticated Omegas had been bred down to present their early twenties and produced one pup at a time. The implant would also shorten the time between breeding seasons and increase litter size by controlled ovulation hyperstimulation.

The world leaders drew up a preliminary framework for each country that signed the accord to follow. Over the next thirty years, they would procure Wild Pack O’s for distribution from government-managed facilities, with an addendum upon review it’d be extend in certain regions if deemed necessary. In the Americas, it was called the Hibbing Procurement Act.

Over those years, the populus discovered other uses for the O’s descendants, who developed into their distinct designation called House O’s. Unscrupulous individuals elected lawmakers who supported extension after extension, even installing loopholes, such as permitting Wild Pack Alphas to accept payments under the table from those on the fringes for O’s the government deemed unsuitable for breeding, creating an underground network of sellers called The Dealers.

And who would complain if some O’s slated for legitimate sales accidentally slipped through and sold for exorbitant prices on the underground market?

John knocked on the steel door in a predetermined code. As it slowly rolled open, he glanced at his almost grown pups, thankful they’d taken a dose of rut suppressants earlier because the air was thick with ready-to-breed O scent.

Walking into the building, the younger Winchesters automatically fall back on their training, checking their surroundings for potential danger. John observes to his left buyers on cell phones circling like vultures eight steel cages displaying O’s clad in elaborate silver collars, high-end specimens selling for exorbitant prices.

The rest of the warehouse is an open space with multiple rows of O’s kneeling side by side, leashed to low railings anchored in the concrete floor. They wear color-coded leather collars denoting their monetary value.

“John Winchester, this is a surprise! To whom do I owe the honor of your presence?” The nasal voice of Everett Helms, a black-haired Beta, oozes the fake, cheerful demeanor of a used car salesman approached the trio. Hunters only dealt with Helms because he was reputed to be able to acquire anything they needed..for a price. John had hoped to avoid him, but after eight days of unsuccessful procurement at other facilities, The Dealer was his last option.

Helms held out his hand, and John felt bile rising, not wanting to touch him when a poorly timed footfall caught his attention. “These must be your pups. My, my my, delicious, aren’t they!” Helms remarks as his eyes rove over Dean and then settle on the youngest Winchester calculatingly when a loud, menacing growl fills the air.

Dean's eyes began glowing red, daring the ogling Dealer to make a move on his ever-growing little brother. He felt Sam huddle closer to his back and release his calming pheromone as, judging from their father’s posturing, John was about to tear into Sam for attracting attention after specifically instructing him to stay invisible. Sam quickly averted his gaze down through his shaggy bangs, glaring at his oversized, sneaker-clad feet, again wishing he wasn’t so fucking clumsy with this growth spurt.

Helms turned back to John, acting as if nothing had occurred. “I hear your oldest got himself in a peck of trouble, and he needs an O to stay out of prison. Well, John, may I call you John? You’ve come to the right place. As you can see,” he waved a hand over his domain, “I can supply any type of O an Alpha could wish for.”

Part I

SPN TAGS: @donnaintx @lyarr24 @flamencodiva @lassie-bird @nancymcl @spnbaby-67 @leigh70

Sam/Jared: @idreamofplaid

Dean/Jensen: @thoughts-and-funnies @stoneyggirl2 @beabutterfly987 @smoothdogsgirl

WF: @slamminmine

#winchester's folly 3/24 update #winchester's folly #dean winchester #sam winchester #john winchester #dystopia #dean x reader x sam #dean x reader #sam x reader #spn au #a/b/o au #a/b/o dynamics #supernatural #spn

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welldonebeca · 8 months

Text

The Triplets (7)

WC: 2.1k words Warnings: Seduction. Dirty talking. Praising kink. Tension. Angst. Hurt/Comfort. Semi-public sex.. kinda. A/N: "please, don't follow this character's advice. plan-b is an extremely faulty method and it only works on people under 165lbs (195 in some brands) and right after sex. it pretty much is taking 30 days of the contraceptive pill. Don't come to fanfic for sex advice. You can access Planned Parenthood for a more detailed explanation, they explain a lot about contraception and sexual health in general.

If you like my work, consider buying me a coffee or subscribing to my Patreon. It’s just $2 a month and helps a lot while I go through these hard times.

Masterlist

Dinner proceeded with Ben telling her lots of stories, and a few of them... well, they sounded a little fictional.

A little too cool to be true.

When dinner was done, Lizzie was quick to get the dishes - against Beau's protests - fuelled by both her possible new job, and wanting to be helpful.

The boys had all been doing so much for her, and what was she doing except fuck two of them behind the other's back?

"Dean," she called, taking the plates. "Little help?"

He shot to his feet quickly.

"Of course-"

Before he could even pick up a plate, though, his phone rang and Dean picked him up, and grimaced a little.

"Hm... I gotta take this," he sighed. "It'll be a minute and-"

"I'll do it," Ben offered quickly.

Lizzie's eyes widened, but she shut herself up.

Ben helping?

Oh.

The last time they'd been alone together she'd practically rubbed herself all over him like a stupid whore.

She wanted to say no, but didn’t want to seem suspicious.

So, Lizzie grabbed all of the plates and hurried to the kitchen.

She was scrapping the food off the plates when his brothers left and Ben stepped to her.

Lizzie could cut the air with a knife, with how tense it felt between them but just tried to pretend nothing was wrong.

She was on her tip toes, putting the clean plates away, when she heard a little whistle from behind her, and turned around with wide eyes to find Ben watching her from the archway.

"That's a sweet piece of ass."

Her eyes widened and she stiffened up, starign at him.

"Hm... Ben..." she tried to hide from his eyes, but they followed her.

"It's just a compliment, sweetheart," he pointed out. "Can't I say you're pretty?"

"You didn't say that," she snapped, glaring at him. "Do you think women enjoy comments about their asses?"

Ben rolled his eyes, striding to her.

"You kids these days are so fucking sensitive," he looked annoyed. "I can't compliment anyone anymore, and you come with this PC shit."

Lizzie glared at him more.

"There's a difference between complimenting someone and being fucking disrespectful."

What was so hard about understanding that?

He smirked.

"I didn't know this little pussy had claws," he teased her.

He walked even closer to her, nearly trapping her in her spot.

"A pretty girl like you should enjoy compliments," he clicked his tongue. "Bet you got a lot of them in college."

Her cheeks burned, but Lizzie refused to back down.

"Again, those were not compliments," she corrected him. "Compliments are nice. Sexual comments-"

Ben put a single finger under her chin, and she shivered, stuttering, speechless at last.

"Sexual comments what, pretty girl?" he purred.

Lizzie opened and closed her lips.

"They... they..." she looked for her words. "They have a time and place, and you're not supposed to say them to someone unprompted."

Ben looked at her, very amused, nearly pressing himself to her by then.

"Unprompted?" he teased. "You learned that in your gender study class?"

She blinked, confused.

"What-"

But he stopped her, pressing his thumb to her lips, caressing it and pushing it in.

"You got such a pretty mouth," he hummed, teasing her. "Pretty lips..."

She shuddered, and let him push his thumb into her lips.

"Perfect for sucking cock," he hummed. "But I don't think you have, right, sweetheart? Such an innocent little thing, just a little virgin."

"Ben," she tried to speak.

He shushed her.

"You still own me from your little accident a few days ago, little thing," he reminded her.

Lizzie held back a whimper.

This should be turning her on, God.

"You looked so pretty," he continued. "All horny, rubbing yourself on me, so needy..."

She whined, and he tilted her chin up.

"What do you say, pretty girl?" he pressed his body to her, and his cock was hard and stiff against her belly. "It's been a while since I fucked little virgins, and I don't mind having a one time thing."

He pulled his thumb out.

"Just don't get clingy."

Ben leaned closer to her, nose moving over hers.

"What do you say, baby?" he hummed.

She whimpered.

Lizzie shouldn't be doing this. She hadn't even talked to Dean yet. Or figured out what was going on between her and Beau.

And yet, she moved up and kissed him.

She reached her hand for his hood just as his hands moved to her hips, and gasped when Ben lifted her up and turned her around, sitting her on the kitchen island.

"Ben," she pulled back, looking at his face. "Maybe we should-"

But he shut her up with a kiss, moving his hand to her tank top and pulling on side down.

"We'll be quick," he promised, lips running to her jaw and neck.

That wasn't a good idea. They were in the kitchen, anyone could come and-

Ben wrapped his lips around her nipple, interrupting her thoughts, and Lizzie gasped.

"Pretty little tits," he grunted. "Wanna paint them with my cum."

She was stunned, feeling him tugging on the other side, and gasped when Ben took both his hands and ripped her tank off.

"Yes," he pushed it off of her. "There it is."

His hand moved to her opposite breasts, pinching and twisting, pulling like the big meany he was.

"Such a pretty slut. Can't wait to see if these tits will bounce."

Lizzie whimpered, arching her back, sensitive as he fucking tormented her tits, sucking and pinching, massaging...

When he pulled away, giving her a break, it was just to take off his hoodie, revealing his smooth chest to her eyes.

"Look at that," he clicked his tongue.

She didn't have time to, as he was moving to her tits again, merciless.

Minne had thought that, considering his messy beard, he would’ve been hairy like beau, but he was smooth like the model he acted like he wasn’t.

She squirmed under him, holding back her sounds.

Ben reached down, pulling off her shorts, too impatient as he tugged on it to throw it away.

"Are you on birth control, little thing?" he squeezed her thigh.

She nodded.

"Yeah."

Plan-B was still running her body, right? She just took it in the morning!

"Good," he picked her up, turning her around. "Gonna paint your insides."

She gasped when her belly met the cool stone, and almost yelped when Ben moved down and licked her cunt from her clit to her entrance.

"Fucking drenched," he growled. "Did you cum while I was sucking your tits, baby? Is that why you are so wet?"

Well, Beau had only just fucked her, hadn't he?

She was still sensitive and dripping with what as left from whatever they had done before, she could feel the last bits of wetness when she was seated at the table.

"Ben," she looked back at him.

But he pushed her head down onto the counter, and Lizzie had to cover her mouth to muffle a cry when he pushed his cock right inside her.

"So fucking tight," he growled into her ear, barely giving her much time to adjust, seeking his own pleasure.

She moaned with the movement inside her, though it wasn't nearly enough.

Was this it?

Wasn't he going to play with her clit or tease her or...

Well... anything?

Ben kissed her back, fucking her as she just stayed in her place, getting off.

Well, so that was what fleshlights felt like.

Good thing she didn't lose her virginity to him, it would have been a huge disappointment.

She reached between her legs with a bit of a struggle, and tried to touch herself like Dean and Beau showed her, the little spots and sweet places.

Lizzie touched her own clit, closing her eyes and trying to get herself to cum, and couldn't help moaning when Ben moved her legs, lifting one up on the counter to fuck her deeper, his balls hitting her fingers as she rubbed herself.

"Feel good, baby?" he grunted, as if he was doing anything.

But his dick feel big, stretching her and rubbing against the parts she only recently realised she loved.

"Ben," she moaned, anyway.

He squeezed her ass, slapping it.

"That's it, say my name."

Elizabeth rubbed herself to an orgasm, and she had just come down when she heard a pair of voices.

Dean and Beau.

"What the hell are you doing?" Dean growled.

Her eyes widened, and Lizzie tried to lift her body from the counter, but Ben pined her down.

"Hey, we are having a moment here," Ben scoffed to his brother.

The other two twins were staring at them, both in anger.

Oh, no.

She had screwed it up, she screwed everything up.

Lizzie tried to say something, but gasped when Ben kept fucking her, too sensitive from her orgasm.

"Ben!" she cried.

He slapped her ass.

"See? She likes it!" Ben grunted behind her. "Probably should have gotten here first if you wanted to call dibs."

She hid her face, embarrassed.

Oh, God!

"Fuck, keep talking, though," he growled. "She's squeezing me down like a vice."

“You think you can just fucking touch her-" Beau started, sounding furious.

“What?" Ben interrupted him. "Jealous?”

“Don’t act so cocky. The only reason you’re able to fuck her dry is because of me," he accused, not one to let his brother talk over him. "You think the women you bring here haven't spoken about how bad at sex you are?"

Long fingers grabbed Lizzie by her hair, and he moved her head as she would face his brothers, but she closed her eyes, not knowing what else to do.

"Fucking liar," Ben grunted. "Tell him, baby. Tell my stupid little brother how you jsut came so sweetly on my cock."

But before she could even utter a word - not that she was going to, anyway - Dean's voice rose.

"What that fuck is that supposed to mean?"

Someone huffed.

"What, you think I don't know about your little stunt, last night?" Beau asked. "Fucked her on the couch, as if she was just a stupid one-night stand."

"So what? You had sex with her because you thought you could do better?"

She covered her face with her hands.

Oh, no.

"I'm sorry," she whined.

She had just used them like a stupid slut, and now they knew and were going to kick her out and never want to see her again!

"Stop," she whined under Ben, lifting herself up. "Stop! Ben!"

He did, freezing in his spot, and stumbled back when she pushed him off with her foot, jumping off of the counter.

She didn't even realise she was crying until she opened her eyes and everything was a blur.

Lizzie collected Ben's hood, quickly putting it over her heard when the boys' voices mixed behind her.

She didn't know what else to do but escape, and she bolted to the front door as she pulled her shorts up again, running out barefoot.

Thankfully, her keys were right on the bow by the front door, and no one stopped her from getting into her car.

Or if they tried to, she was too fast for them.

Still, Lizzie turned on the engine and zoomed out of the driveway, not even realising she was having a panic attack until she almost didn't stop at a red light.

Fuck, she was going to die.

That was it. She was going to die like a slut, alone and unfulfilled.

She pushed on the brakes hard, stopping from landing right in the middle of the intersection but still close to it, and tried to collect herself.

What was wrong with her? Why did she have to be so needy? So stupid and desperate?!

Everything was perfectly alright before she started flirting with them! Things were going well, and now she had ruined everything like a stupid, stupid bitch!

When the light turned green, she kept driving, trying to blink her tears away, trying to keep herself straight.

She didn't know what to do. She couldn’t go back to the house, but couldn't go back to her family.

Lizzie was all alone. She didn't have anyone, no friends no job, no-

Her car beeped, alerting her of her nearly empty gas tank.

And no fucking gas, either.

She pulled up to the next gas station, looking through her waller in the glove compartment and finding just enough for a full tank.

And there went all of her money.

But she needed it. She needed to get out of there.

Lizzie stepped out of the car quickly, emotionally exhausted by now, and rested her forehead on against the car as she put the nozzle in the right place.

Fucking hell, what was she going to do?

. . .

"The Triplets" was posted on Patreon on January 2023. To read it now before anyone else and read the sequels "The Livestream (Ben x Lizzie)", "patience is a virtue (Dean x Lizzie)" and "the pictures (Beau x Lizzie)", subscribe to my page! It's just $2 a month and it helps a lot.

. . .

Forever Tags: @emoryhemsworth @amythyststorm33 @shaelyn102 @yknott81 @maximofftrash @kgbrenner @thefridgeismybestie @magpiegirl80 @mogaruke @shadowhunter7 @musicalcoffeebean @megasimpleplan4ever @deemoriarty @05spn18 @malindacath @kdcollins @random-fandom-fangirl2112 @widowsfics @frozenhuntress67 @averyrogers83 @notyourtypicalrose @nerdypinupcrystal @giruvega

Supernatural tags: @its-daydreamer23 @imagefanfictionlover @smalltowndivaj @tayrae515 @afanofmanystuffs @oneshoeshort @andkatiethings @wakanda-sometimes @akshi8278 @xoxabs88xox @izbelross @isabelle-faith @flamencodiva @lyarr24

Supernatural Kinky Fics (+18): @stoneyggirl2 @phoenixblack89 @that-dark-girl

The Triplets: @ladysparkles78

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were-all-idjits-here · 6 months

Note

How do you think the Winchester dynamic would change if they had another sibling that was the youngest? I’m particularly curious how you think Sam would treat them and stuff!

Thanks for the ask anon!

I'm the oldest with only one younger sibling, so I don't have much experience with three kids/middle child dynamic. The idea of Sam suffering from that "overlooked middle child" trope breaks my heart for him, but he seems to be the type who doesn't mind avoiding the spotlight, so I'm not sure he'd really mind. I think if they had a youngest sibling who was a different gender than them, he wouldn't suffer from that as much since he'd still be considered the youngest boy. But either way, I don't really think it would affect how Sam treats them.

I think both brothers would be very "no one's allowed to pick on my sibling but me" attitude, and both would be very protective over a younger sibling. There would be a lot of teasing, but also a lot of love, too. I think if their youngest sibling was very fem, they'd be even more protective since a lot of hunters (and the world at large) unfortunately can be a bit sexist and disrespectful, especially of fem hunters.

As far as how the dynamic between the two of them would change, I think Dean would obviously still be protective over Sam as well, but would have less of a "Sammy is baby" mentality and delegate some of the protect the youngest tasks to him. I feel like Dean would be aware of the forgotten middle child trope as well as do his best to make sure he never made Sam feel unimportant or left out, but would slip up from time to time. When that does happen, I think Sam would be more frustrated with Dean than anything else since he's empathetic enough to realize it wasn't the youngest's fault and would work really hard to not take it out on them. But if he ever did, he would do whatever it took to make it up to them while Sam and Dean worked out ways to make sure it didn't become a pattern.

#sam winchester #supernatural #dean winchester #winchester sibling #winchester sibling reader #sam winchester x reader #dean winchester x reader #supernatural headcanons #spn headcanons #spn #sam winchester headcanons #dean winchester headcanons #winchester sibling headcanons #sam winchester x sibling!reader #dean winchester x sibling!reader

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supernaturalscribe67 · 6 months

Text

Euphoric

Words: 3,587

POV: 3rd Person and brief 1st Person

Pairing: Gabriel x Trans!FTM!Winchester!Reader

Warning(s): Fluff, Language, Dysphoria, a single mention of Deadname (D/N), self-hate, mention of past self-harm, attempted self-harm, hurt/comfort

Summary: Dysphoria can hit at any moment, and when it hits, it hits hard. The reader is going through a tough time with the way he looks, doubting himself and the people around him. When he feels at his lowest, ready to seep back into his old ways, his boyfriend, Gabriel, is there to help him out.

Request:

Hi I've been binge-reading your stories recently and I was wondering if you could do this request. :)

So a Gabriel/FTM!Reader where the reader is dealing with really bad dysphoria (possibly mentioning past SH?) and a comforting Gabe? Possibly with an established relationship?

(Would be so fucking rad if he Sam and Dean's younger brother!!)

Tysm even if you don't do this, I love your work so much and it's helped so much recently

@genekies

A/N: I'm so sorry this took so long to get out, hun! A lot has been going on at work that has taken my focus away from writing. However, I finally found the inspiration to write this with the help of my Supernatural novels that I found hidden away in a box! I really hope you enjoy this story and that it brings you some type of comfort! Feedback is greatly appreciated!

Much love~

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

Good morning, sugarplum!

Sorry, I couldn’t be there when you woke up this morning. Duty calls. I’ll be back later tonight! I hope you have a good day! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do! <3

Your Casanova,

Gabriel

Why do some people wake up with an already negative attitude? A multitude of factors could be the cause; relationship issues, low self-esteem, stress, unhealthy thoughts, and lack of sleep are just a handful of possibilities. Some have their reasonings read out to them by a licensed professional they pay an arm and a leg to visit every couple of weeks, while others lack the funds and/or the proper motivation to cope, so they bottle it up inside, casting it away to the darkest depths of their mind for weeks, maybe months. They ignore the feelings they get, the troubles that stalk them, until the bottle inside of them fills to the brim. It shakes and stirs, begging for release. It spills out, slowly at first, but then the pressure becomes too much to handle, and it combusts.

And (Y/N) felt like he was about to explode.

Nothing looked right. His jawline wasn’t sharp enough, his curves were more pronounced than ever, his binder didn’t make him flat enough, he was too short, the hair on his face was barely considered peach fuzz at that point, and his eyes - yes, his eyes - screamed femininity. Screamed female. Screamed everything about you is wrong. Screamed;

You are not a man, and you never will be.

It wasn’t often that his gender dysphoria acted out as bad as it had that day. Sure, there were times when he woke up and the negative thoughts just never seemed to go away. The thoughts that made certain parts of him look wrong, misplaced. Rarely had his mind told him that everything about him was wrong. Rarely did his mind tell him he wasn’t the man he wanted to be. But, when those thoughts arose, they hit him hard, as if he got struck by a semi-truck going eighty on the interstate. It hollowed him out and made him a shell of his former self. A shell that was slowly wilting away.

His brothers were the first to notice his shift in demeanor. While he normally came into the kitchen every morning with a goofy grin on his face, a smile was nowhere to be seen. His head was cast down and he barely spoke a word to either Sam or Dean. Another thing they noticed was the lack of exposed skin he had. Usually, (Y/N) would walk out of his room clad in a t-shirt and shorts in the morning. That day, he wore a hoodie, sweatpants, and socks. The temperature in the bunker hadn’t changed, so it wouldn’t make sense that he was cold. If he had been, he would have complained about it for the rest of the day, yet he didn’t say a word. Instead, he silently got some coffee and sat down with his brothers at the table. He didn’t engage in conversation.

Later on, the three of them sat in the library, heads buried in books and computer screens. They would typically sit around, and talk about potential hunts or random information that they had found. (Y/N) acted the same way he did when he was in the kitchen, though. He was physically present, but nowhere near as mentally present. His head was down, the cord from his earbuds wrapped around his phone, which was sitting next to the book he had been reading. It didn’t even seem as if he was actively reading the text. It had been ten minutes since he turned the page.

Sam leaned closer to Dean, who sat next to him. “Does he seem off to you?” He asked in a low, quiet voice.

Dean looked up from his computer and glanced over at his youngest brother. He hesitated, studying him for a moment before he nodded. “Yeah, something’s wrong with him. Has he said anything?”

Sam shook his head. “No.”

“Do you think it has something to do with Gabriel?”

“I don’t know. Maybe?”

Dean pursed his lips for a moment before he turned back to (Y/N). He leaned over and tapped him lightly on the shoulder. (Y/N) lifted his head to look at his brother and, for the first time that whole morning, their eyes connected. Dean noticed something almost immediately. His eyes were empty, void of any emotion. (Y/N) took an earbud out.

“Yeah?” He asked, voice low and monotone.

“Hey, man, you doing okay?”

(Y/N) looked away for a moment. “Yeah?” He shook his head and shrugged. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You just seem a bit off today.”

“I’m fine.”

“Did something happen with Gabriel?” Sam asked.

“No? I said I’m fine.”

“Ok, well, obviously you’re not,” Dean said. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing!” (Y/N) spoke in an exasperated tone.

“(Y/N),” Sam leaned forward, palms flat on the wooden surface. “If something’s wrong, you know you can tell us, right?”

“Nothing’s wrong! Will you two stop fucking bugging me!?” He exclaimed.

(Y/N) slammed his book shut and shoved it away from him. Quickly, he stood, stuffed his hands into the pocket of his hoodie, and stormed out of the library. Sam and Dean’s eyes were attached to him until he was out of sight. Dean and Sam shot a glance at one another, both of them opening their mouths as if to say something, but decided against it before they went back to their work.

(Y/N) was numb, aside from the small annoyance that had bubbled up inside of him from his brothers’ persistence. One common trait that was distributed through all the Winchester siblings was the lack of willingness to talk about their emotions. It was an ideology that was beaten into them when they were younger and first got into hunting. Bury your emotions deep within, don’t let them show, and don’t let your enemy know your weakness. Hell, don’t let your allies know your weaknesses, either. They’ll turn their back on you if they see you at your lowest. Stay strong, hide your feelings, and don’t let anyone in, even if it’s family.

When he made it back to his room, he walked over to the small dresser that was pressed along the far wall. Beside the dresser sat his tennis shoes. He grabbed them and put them on. He walked back over to the dresser, opened up the top drawer, and rummaged around in his undergarments for a moment before he fished out a pack of Marlboro Reds. The box was slightly creased, the plastic rustling in his grasp. It had been a while since he had a cigarette. He hadn’t felt the need for them, but he could feel the stress and anxiety grumble inside of him. He needed something to clear his mind. (Y/N) placed the carton into his hoodie pocket and left his room.

As he made his way past the library archway, he was stopped by his brother’s voice.

“Where’re you going?” Dean piped up.

(Y/N) stopped in his tracks and turned towards them. “Out.”

“Out where?” Sam asked.

“Look, I’m just going to take a walk around the bunker, that’s all. Going to clear my head.”

Dean and Sam shared a look. “You sure?” Dean asked.

“Yeah,” (Y/N) shrugged. “Just need a breather is all.”

“Alright, well…don’t go wandering too far.”

“I won’t.” (Y/N) shared a small smile.

Sam and Dean returned the smile as (Y/N) turned his back on his brothers and headed up the staircase toward the front door.

The afternoon sun slithered past the canopy of oak tree branches. Orange, red, and yellow leaves shined bright, painting the dirt floor like a kaleidoscope. About half a mile from the bunker, a dead tree had fallen during a heavy thunderstorm several years prior. The trunk has since been embedded in the ground, forming a natural bench in the middle of the forest. This was where (Y/N) had gone to clear his head.

He sat at the edge of the log, back slouched, elbows resting against his knees, and hands hung limply between his legs. The smoke from his lit cig wafted upward towards the treetops. The end of the cigarette slowly withered away, a small amount of ash falling upon the autumn leaves. His eyes were cast down and glazed over, the thoughts in his mind running at a hundred miles an hour.

You’re delusional. A man? No one would ever consider you a man. You look nothing like a man. Nothing like what you want to, and you never will. You’ll always look like the girl you were born as. You’ll always be (D/N), and there is nothing you can do about it. Sam, Dean, Gabriel? They’re all lying to you. They’re feeding into your delusion because they feel bad for you. They don’t love you or support you. They’ll never see you as a man. Never have and never will.

(Y/N) lowered his head as he brought the cigarette up to his lips. He inhaled deeply, feeling the burn of the smoke filling his lungs, before he brought the cig away from his mouth. He tapped the end of the cig, the ash falling onto the ground. As he shifted, the sleeves of his hoodie lifted, the remnants of depressive episodes from his past peeking out through the cotton fabric. His eyes shifted to the discolored scars. He could remember how he felt when he first made the scars. The relaxation he felt afterward, the relief. It was a distraction from the pain he felt within. It was a distraction that he desperately craved.

For a moment, he looked at the end of the cigarette. It was slowly dwindling to half its original length. He shifted it in his fingers and brought it to his wrist, stopping right before the end of the butt touched his skin. He hesitated and contemplated. (Y/N) closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and moved the cig closer to his arm.

“Hey Sugarplum,” the voice came out of nowhere.

(Y/N) let out a startled shout, the cigarette fell to the ground as he turned toward the sound of the voice. Sitting beside him on the log was Gabriel, his signature smirk etched onto his lips. (Y/N) sighed and leaned down, grabbed the butt, brought it to his lips, and took a final drag. He then lifted his foot and put the cig out on the bottom of his shoe before he flicked the remnants onto the ground. He placed his hand on the log and exhaled, the smoke leaving his lungs and creating a halo around his head.

“A little birdie or two told me you went on a walk. The little birdie also told me you weren’t feeling the best.” Gabriel said as he reached an arm around (Y/N)’s shoulders.

(Y/N) could feel himself instantly relax at Gabriel’s touch, the tension leaving his shoulders. So much was going through his head. So many emotions beating at his heart, begging to be released, begging to be expressed. Yet something was stopping them.

“I’m fine,” (Y/N) said, his voice soft.

The smirk was gone from Gabriel’s face, his expression turned more serious. He inched closer to (Y/N) so that their sides were pressing against one another. He pulled him close.

“You know that’s not true,” Gabriel whispered. He pressed his nose against (Y/N)’s cheek. He ran his fingers through his hair softly and soothingly. “I can hear everything going on in your pretty little head, sugar, and I know that it’s not quiet.”

Gabriel’s closeness was comforting, something that he had been craving all day. The longer Gabriel sat next to him, the more relaxed he felt, yet the demons were still scratching at the inner crevices of his mind. With the mixed feelings he experienced, it was all so overwhelming. (Y/N) recognized the familiar prickle of tears appearing in the corner of his eyes.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Gabriel breathed as he wrapped his arms around (Y/N)’s body, pulling him as close as he could, his head resting on Gabriel’s chest.

(Y/N) sniffled as he allowed the tears to fall, something that didn’t happen very often. Something he would, normally, not let himself do. Be vulnerable. Vulnerability is what gets you killed in the hunting career, and there was no time for that. Still, the warm feeling of Gabriel’s arms wrapped around him made him feel at home, made him feel safe, and told him that it was okay to let himself go.

Gabriel rubbed (Y/N)’s back. “Do you want to tell me what’s bothering you?” He asked quietly.

(Y/N) hesitated for a moment as he clasped his hands together. He rubbed the back of his knuckles, a soothing gesture he learned from a young age. “I don’t…” he trailed and let out a sigh, shoulders slouched. “I don’t look like a man.”

“What?” Gabriel furrowed his brows.

“I don’t look like a man, okay!?” (Y/N) exclaimed and moved away from Gabriel, standing abruptly. “I mean, look at me! I’m so short and feminine! Look at my hips! Look at my face! Everything about me is wrong. Everything about me isn’t what it’s supposed to be and it’s killing me.” (Y/N)’s voice got louder, frustration evident in his tone.

The tears were freefalling, and (Y/N) did not attempt to wipe them away. Gabriel simply stared up at him, listening, a saddened expression making its way across his face.

“Do you have any idea what it’s like to wake up and look at yourself in the mirror and see nothing but a body that you hate? A body that you don’t want to be in? That you feel like you don’t belong in? It feels like my life is a lie, that I’ve just been kidding myself when I said that I could finally be the man that I always wanted to be. Everything that you or Sam or Dean have said about me, validating my emotions, supporting me through everything, was just some pathetic pity party in an attempt to make me feel better about myself, even though, deep down, I know I’m not going to look anything like I want to. I’m not going to be the man that I’ve always dreamt I’d be because I’m stuck. I’m stuck in this worthless body that I was forced to have and I can’t do anything about it. I want…”

The tears were coming faster now, his words becoming shaky, almost unintelligible.

“I want to be happy…but I look at myself and I just can’t.”

Gabriel stood and walked over to him. “(Y/N), look at me,” he reached down and cupped (Y/N)’s wet cheeks, lifting his head so that he could gaze into his reddening eyes. He used his thumbs to wipe the tears away. “Do you want to know what I see when I look at you?” He had a smile on his face.

(Y/N) sniffled. “What?”

“I see a handsome, strong, brave man who risks his life daily for the people that he loves. I see a man with a heart of gold, who would do anything to make other people happy. I see the most handsome man on the face of this planet, the most wonderful man that my father had ever created. More importantly, I see your soul.”

“My soul?”

“Yes, your soul. I see how bright, beautiful, magnificent, and glorious it is. How perfect it is. The man you truly are.”

(Y/N) looked down at the ground. He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Gabriel’s middle. Gabriel wrapped his arms around him, running his fingers through his hair.

“I know it’s hard some days. You look at yourself and don’t like what you see. You feel like there’s nothing you can do to change it. That people aren’t going to see you for who you are. I hate to break it to you, sugarplum, but that’s all I see.” He chuckled deeply. “All I can see is the man you are. The man you were meant to be. And some days are going to be harder than others, you're going to beat yourself up more than you should, and that’s okay. Because, in the end, you’ll get through this. You’ll gain your confidence back. You’ll see yourself and finally say ‘This is me’, and I am going to be with you every step of the way.”

Gabriel leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to the top of (Y/N)’s forehead.

“Because I love you. Every part of you. The parts that you like and the parts that you don’t like. I love it even more when you’re happy with yourself. When you love yourself. And even if I pop in one day and you’re dressed as an Oompa Loompa with a five-foot-tall bright green and yellow mohawk and a beard the size of Gandolf’s, then I would still love you.”

(Y/N) snorted and let out a short laugh. “You’re ridiculous.” (Y/N) shook his head. “An Oompa Loompa?”

“Hey, it’s not my place to judge if or when you decide to dress up as an Oompa Loompa.”

(Y/N) rolled his eyes, a smile curled into the corner of his lips. Gabriel brushed his wet cheek with his thumb.

“Feeling better?” He asked softly.

“Yeah, a little.”

“Good, I’m glad. And I’m proud of you.”

(Y/N) furrowed his brows and glanced up at Gabriel. “For what?”

“For telling me how you feel. If I know anything about you Winchesters, I know that that wasn’t easy.”

“It wasn’t. But…it felt good.”

Gabriel nodded. He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss against (Y/N)’s lips. When he pulled back, he stared lovingly into his eyes.

“You’re my person, (Y/N). The person that I love and care for, and if you ever feel like this again, just give me a shout and I’ll be there faster than you can get my name out of your mouth. I never want you to be alone when you feel like this. You don’t deserve to be alone through this. Promise me that you’ll call me next time you feel like this?” Gabriel’s hands trailed down from his face to his arms and stopped to grab his wrists gently. He rubbed them softly through the sleeves.

(Y/N) opened his mouth and hesitated. “I can’t promise, but I’ll try.”

“That’s all I needed to hear,” Gabriel smirked and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “Now, do you want to go back to the bunker? We can cuddle on your bed, and watch some of those terrible reality TV shows. I think I have a bit of an addiction to 90-Day-Fiance.”

(Y/N) smiled. “Do you mind if we sit out here for a little bit? It’s a beautiful day out and…I’m not quite ready to go back inside yet.”

“Of course, anything for my sugarplum,” he leaned forward, his nose brushing gently against (Y/N)’s.

“Thank you,” (Y/N) whispered. “I love you. I don’t deserve you.”

“Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong. You deserve the world and every beautiful thing in it.”

“I don’t want the world. All I want is you.”

“Then have me you shall. Forever and always.”

“Forever and always?” (Y/N) lifted a hand, his pinkie finger sticking out.

Gabriel smirked and chuckled. He lifted a hand, hooked his pinkie onto (Y/N)’s, and looked deeply into his eyes.

“Forever and always.”

My Dearest (Y/N),

I’m writing this, not as one of my regular notes, but as a reminder to you. I want you to pack this away somewhere safe where you can take it out and read it whenever you feel down about yourself in any way.

You are strong. You are brave. You are handsome. You are perfect. You are loved. You are you.

I know it’s hard to see yourself in a positive light at the moment, and everything may seem like it’s closing in as if nothing is going right and it will never get fixed, but, just know, you’ll make it through this. Just like you’ve done on multiple hunts, you will prevail. You will conquer the enemy, even if that enemy is yourself.

Remember, you don’t have to fight this battle alone. I’m here for you, and so is Sam and Dean. We all love you so much and we want you to be happy! We love seeing your smile when you walk into a room. You brighten our day just by being you, and nothing will ever change that.

If you need anything, anything at all, just think of me, and I will be there for you. We can watch your favorite movie and I’ll even bring you some of those little dessert cakes you like from the cafe I took you to on our first date. Even if you don’t want to talk to me about it, I want you to know that you don’t have to suffer in silence. Not while I’m around. I’ll always be by your side, no matter what you go through.

I love you,

Forever and always,

Your Casanova,

Gabriel

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strangeshoepatrolbandit · 1 year

Text

Running from life

Dean Winchester x Winchester!Reader

Summary: Fighting is the only thing you and your father do now. You're tired of it. Gender Neutral

Warnings: Angst, Arguments, alcohol, Dean lowkey acting like J*hn, mentions of J*hn Winchester, lots of cussing, Running away, Dean being a bad father.

~☆~

It had been three days since the boys had seen you.

Three days since you angrily stormed out of the bunker.

Three days since you got in a fight with Dean.

Three days since you told him that you hate him.

Three agonizing days that Dean has had to live. He could argue that these past few days were worse than when he was in hell.

Sam had told him to wait for you to come back, that eventually you would. He proceeded to argue with his younger brother until Dean himself stormed off to drink himself silly.

He had begged Castiel to try and find you with his 'angel magic', but Cas had only told him that you were warded against him.

By the second day, Dean had already contacted Jody and asked if her or the girls had seen you. When the woman said no, he asked if he could tell people to keep an eye out. Jody obviously said,'Of course'.

By the third day, Dean was almost ready to summon Crowley and Rowena. But his worries were put on hold when you burst through the doors of the bunker, startling both men who lived there with you.

Dean had been at a war with himself for the past few days, angered, sad, scared, annoyed. Sam and Castiel had been the witnesses to his conflicting outbursts.

On one hand, he was still angry from your fight and annoyed that you would leave the bunker, the only place that you are safe at. Annoyed at how you purposefully warded yourself. Yes, the wardings keep you safe, but that also means that all possible ways oh him knowing where you are at are gone.

On the other hand, he was upset and scared. He loved you more than anything, his little baby. He once helped you do your hair and get dressed. You used to laugh with him in Bobby's kitchen, and now your relationship is just a thin string.

The sight of you brung him peace and content, but soon twisted into the one emotion he knows far too well, Anger.

"Where the hell have you been!" He seethed, his familiar gruff voice bouncing off the walls of the bunker.

"Out." You muttered to yourself, avoiding eye contact.

"Out?" Dean looked at Sam with a mocking expression. Sam's face portrayed shock. He knew exactly how this was going to end.

"Yes, out." You spoke again, getting annoyed by your fathers attitude.

"Mhm." Dean quickly let out, "And where exactly is 'out'?" Dean asked you, eyebrows raised in fake interest.

"Oh, you know.." You mused, "None of your business."

A thick silence filled the air, Sam quickly got up to try and escape the room, but Dean motioned for him to sit back down.

"Excuse me? You have been gone for three God damned days, I think it is my business." He yelled back at you, pissed beyond belief. You couldn't help but feel dread go through your body.

Is this how Sam and Dean felt around John? You know that your father is far from John Winchester, but lately you could see his father behind his eyes. Funny, how you don't remember the man but know exactly that your father is falling into his footsteps. Sometimes you look at Sam and feel jealousy, you know it's wrong, Dean was just a kid having to protect his brother against his will. Still, why wasnt he like an actual father with you?

"But you can disappear?" You asked him, genuine emotion showing in your brittle voice. Both Dean and Sam stare at you with wide eyes. From the corner of your eye, you can see Sam's face contort with sympathy. He knows this conversation all too well.

"It's my job, and you are still a child." Your father quickly defended himself. Your eyes finally looked in his own, and the anger on his face filled you with familiarity. You let out an ebrupt laugh at his words, "I know, it's our fate." You told him.

"I have fought demons and angels. I can take care of myself without you." You yelled.

"Yeah well, what if there's too many, what are you gonna do then?" He yelled back, "You'll wish you listed to me, that's what!"

You let put a frustrated groan, "Is this all were ever gonna do now!?" You ask.

Dean quieted down as he wandered what you were talking about. "Is what all were gonna do?" He questioned.

"Fight!" You stated with a loud voice, "Jesus christ Dad, this is all we do. I am so tired of it!"

"Yeah, well, if you stopped acting like your mother, then maybe we wouldn't be fighting!" He snapped at you, the same angry expression that he always had still evident on his face. He wasn't sorry. You stared at him with wide eyes, taking notice of how he wouldn't apologize for what he just blurted out.

"Fuck you, Dean Winchester." You whispered, "You are a controlling, angry, shitty excuse of a father." Tears threatened to spill out of your eyes as you told him that, his own expression softened from shock before turning into a look of offense.

"Dont you dar-" He started, before you darted out of the room, shoulder roughly slamming into his own.

Dean stared at nothing, thinking about what had just happened. Sam, who was still in the room, watched with his mouth hung agape. Just as he was about to speak, Dean took a deep swallow and calmly walked into the kitchen. From where Sam sat, he could hear Dean reach into the fridge and grab one of the many glass bottles of beer, a sizzling sound of air not long after.

Sam was going to give you and Dean space. You had run off to your room and Dean was on his third beer now. However their was an un-easy feeling growing as a pit in his stomach, so he decided to go talk with you. He knows how you feel, he's been in your shoes, the running away, the anger, the father. He knows.

His knuckles lightly knocked on your door, hoping that you would open up for him

"Y/N, I just wanted to see if your okay." He stated, trying to listen for any sign of you.

"Y/N?" He asked, growing concerned at your silence. His hand went up to jiggle the door handle, only to find out it was unlocked. Sam took a deep breath as he slowly opened the door. A completely bare room was what he had stumbled into, almost like no one even used that room. You were gone.

"Dean!" Sam yelled, alerting his brother.

The older Winchester quickly ran to where his brother was yelling from, only to find Sam staring at an empty room. Dean gazed at your room, knowing that this was probably your final escape from him. Behind him, Sam was running his hands over his face, "I'll call Jody." Sam spoke.

"Don't, we won't find them."

~☆~

Inspired by:

I do not know who this is by or the context, but this entire fic came from this.^

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #sam and dean #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #dean winchester x daughter!reader #dean winchester x female!reader #supernatural #supernatural x reader #castiel #castiel x reader #jody mills #x reader

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