#sounds like samdean to me

[wincestpoughkeepsie]

sounds like samdean to me

#otp: soulmates #sam and dean #sounds like samdean to me

[bloodthick]

looking for rp partners <3

must be

into sam x dean

write as sam

you don't have to be into darker themes and maybe taboo shit, but it's a plus <3

open-minded and non-judgmental

also, i mostly rp on discord these days, but i'm open to rping on tumblr as well if there's a good way to do threads, idk how it is anymore.

#wincest #wincest rp #samdean #sam x dean rp #samdeanrp #samdean rp #wincestrp #wincest roleplay #samdean roleplay #the two last points makes me sound like i write the worst kind of shit #and i mean i could LOOL but #it's more the fact that it's nice to be able to share ideas and things without being scared of being judged ya know #ANYWAYS #pls hit me up

[wastemanjohn]

You KNEW my prompt was gonna include pregnancy lmao but I’m gonna say samdean accidental pregnancy — your choice if Dean or Deanna, your choice which season but I wanna see Dean(na) confessing to Sam that s/he’s knocked up!

here you go mate <3 (sorry for sneaking my deanna and david bowie headcanon in here but i had reason to believe you wouldn't mind xD - and exploring this pushed me nicely out of my comfort zone so thank you for the prompt!)

The skies over the salvage yard are pink with shepherd's delight clouds.  The evening breeze has a little bite, and the air smells like rotting oil and dead leaves. The latter scent is one Sam associates with shoplifting school supplies, with the good coffee shops opening up on campus again. It's an awkward nostalgia, but it comes to him anyway as he buttons up his shirt for warmth and makes a start on staking out the boulevard of broken cars, armed with two bottles of El Sol and a mental note of all the phrases he's learned not to say. Deanna's gotta be out here somewhere.

The thing is, Sam thinks as he passes the nearly restored Impala, it had seemed like his sister was doing a little better. She's still sharp tongued and irritable, but she's not been spending 12 hours a day doing god knows what under that hood. She's been hanging out with Sam and Bobby more in the evenings, not really saying much, but sometimes she smiles with her whole face at something someone says, and Sam's always a little surprised at the force of his relief. She's even been talking a bit about getting out on the road again, even if she never directly mentions Dad; but Sam's caught her quietly leafing through his journal now and then lately. Not that he's said anything about it, because that's just asking for trouble; and anyway, regardless of any improvement, Sam still has no idea what's going on in Deanna's head, really. She feels very far away.

She went out this afternoon. For hours. Didn't say where she was going; but it's got to be the first time she's left Bobby's place in weeks. She left her phone behind on the nightstand, in this way that Sam couldn't help but suspect was intentional, because there had to be something about that; had to be something in the way Deanna caught Sam's eye through the window as she was coming back, coming all slow down the path with Dad's jacket over her shoulders and this tight expression on her face. Something in the way Deanna had sharply changed direction at the sight of him, veering off until she faded into the salvage yard and Sam couldn't see her anymore. And it's not that Sam meant to be hovering near the front of the house at the exact moment of her return like a worried parent, but shit happens.

Let her be, son, Bobby had said, without looking up from his scotch and that leatherbound demonology book he'd been annotating all day. Harder you push, the more she's gonna clam up.

It bothers Sam when Bobby talks like that, like he knows Deanna better than Sam does or something. As for letting her be - well, if Bobby knows Sam at all, he's got a strange way of showing it.

As Sam goes deeper into the yard, he can hear music. Tinny, faint; but Sam recognizes David Bowie. He spent enough time being subjected to every single tape the guy ever made, even the really out there ones, over and over again as a kid to know that voice anywhere. That had been one of Deanna's more intense phases. Sam thinks she finds him comforting now, maybe; familiar, well worn, like an old blanket. She'd deny that, of course, the way she always denies shit that she thinks sounds girly, or maybe just vulnerable - but it hadn't been lost on Sam over the past year, how Deanna would play those tapes during nearly every overnight drive they took. Her hands always a little too tight on the steering wheel, Dad's unknown whereabouts breathing down the backs of their neck like a spirit.

Sam follows that bustling piano, ch-ch-changes, until he finds his sister. She's sitting on the floor, leaning against the dented door of an eighties truck with a mangled hood. The windows are down. The music is coming from inside.

Dad's jacket is so big over Deanna's shoulders. It practically drowns her, looks kind of ridiculous, if Sam were to be mean about it; still smells like Dad's cigarettes. Deanna doesn't look up, when Sam approaches, but she doesn't hide her face or snipe at him to fuck off either. Which means this is already going well.

"Hey." Sam says it cautiously. "What are you doing out here?" 

Her eyes roll up at him. "Making bacon and eggs, jackass. What's it look like I'm doing?"

Sam doesn't know, actually. Still, he takes the sarcasm on the chin. He holds one of the beer bottles out to Deanna; she glances at it, then shakes her head.

It surprises Sam, but he doesn't push. "You look like crap," he offers.

Deanna snorts. "Well. Don't you know how to make a girl feel special."

There's no bite in it. That tells Sam they're okay. She does, though; look like crap, that is. Tired; washed out. She's been sleeping in the day a lot. Bobby says it's the grief, that she needs it. Sam could believe that. He wonders, though, if Bobby's heard Deanna throwing up in the night lately. Not just one of her tactical upchucks to stave off a hangover, because she's not been drinking all that much lately; but these real hacking puke sessions that jolt Sam out of sleep in the early hours of the morning. She never comes back to her bed afterwards. And Sam has his suspicions about that too, like with the left behind phone; it's Deanna's way of not giving him a chance to pry. She knows how thin the wall between the bathroom and the spare bedroom is.

"Can I sit?" Sam asks.

Deanna shrugs. It's as good as permission.

Sam lowers himself down beside her, gets comfy on the rough gravel. He puts down the beers; doesn't feel much like drinking by himself.

They sit in silence for a while. Puts Sam on edge; but it's hard to know what to say to Deanna most of the time these days, which isn't a position he's ever been in before. Then again, they've never been in the position of losing their father before, so there's that. It still doesn't feel real. It probably never will.

"Keys were still in the ignition," Deanna says, nodding up towards the truck. "Tapedeck works. Engine's salvageable. Bobby's way too quick to junk these babies. Upsets me."

Sam smiles. "Dare you to say that to his face."

"Hey, maybe I will. If he gave me half a day with this death trap I'd get her purring again. Turn her into a whole new woman."

She folds her arms, tilts her head back against that dented door. Her eyes are kinda pink and bleary.

"You should see the tapes in the glove compartment," she adds. "'S a fucking goldmine.

"Is this Hunky Dory?" Sam asks.

Deanna raises an eyebrow. "Wow. And there I was thinking you weren't paying attention all this time."

"You didn't exactly give me a choice. You only played this album every day for like ten years."

Deanna grins. "I'm proud of you, Sammy. I knew you'd learn to love it eventually."

"Love is a strong word," Sam replies.

Deanna snorts again. Something like affection passes over her face. Sam hasn't seen that in a while.

"I lost this album years ago," Deanna says. "Think it ended up with Dad, maybe. You know how our stuff used to always get mixed up." 

Sam's a little stunned. And maybe it shows, because Deanna narrows her eyes at him. "What?"

"Nothing." He swallows - "Just that you, uh, mentioned Dad."

"Yeah. So?"

It's quick, defensive enough for Sam to know to shut up. He's getting good at that kind of thing. 

Deanna's scowl fades; she grins, lightly punches his thigh. "You creep. Quit staring at me."

Sam didn't realize he was. But if they were a different kind of people, maybe Sam would tell Deanna how pretty she looks under the dying sunlight, under those pink, glowy clouds; but he wouldn't really know how to put something like that, and Deanna would never let him live it down if he said it aloud anyway. So he keeps it to himself. Instead, he watches Deanna pull at a spooling thread from her shirt sleeve peeking out from beneath Dad's jacket.

"You know," Deanna says, "being out here always reminds me of us being kids. Bobby letting us play in the yard until the sun went down. Bringing us lemonade. Do you remember?"

Sam smiles. "Yeah, Dee. Of course I remember."

Deanna carries on like she wasn't expecting an actual response. "We'd never had homemade lemonade. Remember how I used to try to make it for you when we got back on the road? Mine always kinda sucked, though."

Sam feels a little on edge, hyper aware of everything his body is doing, like he's trying not to spook a wild gazelle. This is the most Deanna has spoken in weeks. "You tried," he offers, because she did, Deanna always tried so hard with stuff like that. He hasn't thought about Deanna's crappy lemonade in years. With Bowie warbling about life on mars on the stereo, and the memory of Deanna's sticky too-bitter attempt alive on his tongue, it feels like it's 1992 again.

Deanna keeps pulling at that thread. "You know, back when I used to watch you - I was, I dunno, maybe ten or eleven. And you were so - you were so damn innocent, you know? Just really cute, I guess."

"Cute?" Sam echoes.

"Yeah." There's this tight, half-smile on her mouth that Sam can't quite read. "You were so curious about shit all the time. Always wanting me to tell you stories. Always getting yourself scraped and bruised because you couldn't stop fucking climbing stuff." 

Sam isn't sure what to say. There's something about remembering himself as a child that makes him uncomfortable. Maybe it's the idea of being so small and so helpless; or maybe it's the memory of that hard-to-place unease that lived inside of him like blood from the moment he was fully sentient, that gut-deep sense that something about his life - his family, his barely present Daddy - just wasn't right.

"You were a pain in the ass," Deanna continues, with this fond chuckle. "Asking me questions all the time. Wanting to know how every little thing in the world worked. If I didn't know the answers, I'd just make 'em up. You believed everything I said." She clicks her tongue. "Man, do I miss that."

Why are we talking about this? Sam nearly asks. But that runs the risk that Deanna will snap shut like an oyster, and Sam will never get the answer at all. So he keeps his mouth closed. He lets Deanna carry on.

"Sammy, I used to -" She trails off, looking weirdly sheepish. "This is so so fucking weird, but like - when I was watching you, I used to wish you were actually my kid. And you - you kinda were, you know? Felt like you were mine... mine just as much as you were Dad's."

Dad, again. Sounds so unfamiliar in Deanna's voice now that it takes Sam a moment to process the revelation that came before it. "You did? Seriously?" is all he manages.

"Yeah." She's looking at her lap. Still that tight half-smile. "Seriously."

And Sam struggles to know what to do with that, what it means. Because it's hard, lately, for Sam to be angry with his father about much; makes him feel almost empty, actually, after a lifetime of nursing this near-addictive resentment over things he never fully understood. And of those things, Deanna - getting her stuff mixed up with Dad's, being so intertwined with him, resembling her martyred mother so much Dad could never stop commenting on it - Deanna seeing Sam as her own, apparently - well, he doesn't know. Sometimes Deanna just says shit. He probably isn't meant to read into it.

And besides, Sam doesn't know anything for sure. Always felt like he never really wanted to. And as he's already made his choice to love his father, he needs to keep it that way.

Deanna shuts her eyes, then. They're puffy under her lashlines, kissed with gray. "I mean," she says, "Don't get me wrong. You annoyed the crap outta me sometimes." She shrugs, hard, like a defence to an attack Sam hasn't made. "I - I do know that, Sammy. I know there was times I coulda been nicer to you." She looks a little pained.

"We were just kids Dee," Sam offers. "Not like either of us were exactly saints." 

"I keep remembering," Deanna continues, in that way, like Sam hadn't spoken again, "There was this time Dad kind of - got caught up in something. Still don't know what. But he wasn't home when he said he'd be. We were running out of everything. Food, money. No one was answering the phone. And you - you were driving me insane, Sammy."

Deanna says the last part a little too quietly; her head bows, hair covering her face. And Sam thinks he knows where this is going. He's getting a little uneasy.

"You just - you kept on and on with your damn questions. 'Where's Dad? What does he do while he's away? When's he coming back?' Then you - you asked about Mom."

"Deanna-"

She shakes her head, cutting him off. Something bitter on her lips, not quite a smile. "Who punches a five year old in the face, Sammy? I can't believe I -"

"You were only nine, Dee." Sam reminds her, when she doesn't finish the sentence. "You didn't know any better."

And it's true; Dad made sure of that, with his shoot first, ask questions later manifesto. But Deanna would never see it that way. She just laughs, colorless, bitter. "Yeah. I did. I shoulda, at least. I just -" She huffs. "Sometimes it feels like I just - I couldn't stop screwing up."

"You were doing it all by yourself." As the words leave his mouth, Sam registers how they sound. Like something you'd say about a single mom, some divorced thirty something with three kids, working two jobs to keep everyone fed and clothed. Not a nine year old.

"I guess -" Deanna sucks in a breath. "I just think about that a lot. That's all."

There's this dread growing inside of Sam as he watches Deanna's mouth twist up; she blinks, angrily. "Are you - crying?"

"Shut up," she mumbles.

She turns her face away a little. Draws her knees up to her chest. And it's strange and unsettling for Sam to see, like a horse walking on its hind legs or something; because Deanna doesn't cry, crying is for girls, and anatomy aside, she doesn't much like being seen as one of those. Even before Dad's pyre she stood, solemn and silent, breathing slow, composed. A hell of a lot more composed than Sam was, anyway.

"What's going on, Dee?"

She shrugs. That's very different to I'm fine.

And if things had been in any way close to normal over the last couple of months, Sam might touch Deanna's hand right about now. Lace their fingers; cup her face. Kiss her, maybe, the way she hasn't let him kiss her in a long time. Not since - well - not since the night they let Dad go. Sam can still remember the heat from the fire on his face, the way Deanna's hair felt grainy with ash; how her lips had tasted earthy and swollen, how she felt so small and fragile in his arms, more than she ever had. Still his big sister. Still the person he wants when he's scared and spiralling and doesn't know what to do but grab onto her, and hold on and on and on.

Deanna sniffs, loudly. "I just - I had so much on my shoulders, you know? Dealin' with you... dealin' with Dad..."

Her voice cracks a little. Sam says, "It was - it was a lot. I know." 

A lot. So much summed up in those two words, but it's not like Sam's had a lot of practise in talking about this.

Deanna laughs down at her folded knees, all thick. "You don't know, Sammy. You don't know at all. And I'm - I'm really glad you don't."

Sam isn't sure what to say to that. Partly because he can't gauge Deanna's tone, and partly because that feels like one of the most honest things Deanna's ever said to him. And now he's really worried.

"I just - I always wished I had another chance, you know? A chance to do over all those screw ups I made."

Tentatively, Sam reaches out to put a hand on her shoulder. It tenses a little beneath his fingers; but she doesn't pull away. That's good.

"I don't know where all this is coming from, Dee," Sam admits.

There's a pause, and Deanna seems to blink for a little too long. "It's - Sammy, I just keep on thinking. Dad's - Dad's gone." 

It's the first time she's actually said it. Sam swallows; throat feels a little thick. "Yeah. I know."

"And I was just getting - you get used to things being one way, you know?" She runs a hand through her hair, shiny with grease like oil slicks. "It's always like that. You start getting used to things, and then - then some other shit happens. And suddenly things are a whole new way. Before you can even fucking -"

"What do you mean?"

"Sammy, I knew something was wrong. I - I think I knew all along. But - today..."

Sam does everything in his power to keep his growing anxiety out of his voice. "Where did you go today, Deanna?" 

Her lips press together. She's still looking at her lap.

That dread expands, curdles, in Sam's gut. "Tell me."

Her hands are shaking against her thighs. "I - I went to the doctor."

That's absolutely the last thing Sam expected. "Since when do you go to the doctor?"

"I kinda had to."

Sam watches the little quiver of her fingers; and with that, he thinks back to the puking, the tiredness, how not right his sister looks. He thinks about Jess, how they were talking about what color to paint the living room 24 hours before she went up in flames on the ceiling. He thinks about Dad calmly sending him off for coffee before he…

Things are one way. Then suddenly they're another. Before you can blink, before you even remember your own name.

"Are you - are you sick?" Sam tries to keep his voice even.

Deanna isn't looking at him. "Kinda."

Sam thinks about Deanna hooked up to wires and machines. The miracle; how miracles don't happen. He's been harboring a little fear that there has to still be something wrong. A lacerated organ. A foreign object. Something they must have missed. But he thought - hoped - it was just that - a fear.

Sam sucks in a breath. "Okay. So - so what..."

Deanna smiles grimly. "Turns out I've got a parasite."

He watches Deanna shift. Her hand move towards one of the pockets of Dad's jacket. She keeps her eyes on her lap as she passes a small slip of paper to Sam. Small, rectangular. He takes it.

It's a moment or so before he realizes what he's seeing. Kind of like a photograph; a fuzzy sepia. Odd shapes that slowly begin to make sense.

"Ten weeks," Deanna says, her voice a little hoarse with disbelief. "I'm - I'm ten fucking weeks pregnant, Sammy."

Sam stares numbly at that ultrasound still. At the shapes, like two beans stacked on top of each other. Faint, fuzzy lines. Tiny arms. Tiny legs. He stares at them until they blur.

Ten weeks. Ten weeks since -

"So it's - " Sam can't finish the sentence.

"Yeah, Sammy. It's yours."

Her voice sounds very far away. And Sam can smell ash and fumes, traces of hospital grade body wash on Deanna's skin, skin that was bruised all over from cannulae and wires; and Sam couldn't catch his breath because Dad was gone, the last of him was just yards away on that burnt out pyre, gone; and Deanna's hands were on his face, tangled up in his hair, forehead pressed against his, and she was straddling his lap in the Impala's backseat, her eyes shut, muttering ssh, ssh over and over, maybe to Sam, or maybe to herself, but she kept saying it, even through the long kisses she kept pressing to his mouth; and Sam remembers he could barely see, he felt like he was choking on that ashy air, but he had Deanna, and he needed Deanna, he'd never needed her so much in his entire life. And Deanna understood, the way she's always understood things like that; and Deanna had kept on with her kissing and ssh-ing as she moved on top of him, fast, desperate, and Sam had clung onto her waist and met each roll of her hips, fast, anguished, because he couldn't get close enough, deep enough; and Deanna had been making these pitchy, breathless sounds like she was in pain, but she didn't stop Sam, and the whole time her eyes were wide and fixed on his face; and Sam remembers tangling her hair around his fingers like rope, he remembers arching up against her as he came, his body going through the motions, his senses numb to it. That numbness hasn't really left him since.

"Sammy, say something."

Deanna's voice, strained, cuts through the memory. Hauls Sam back to the present; Bowie, rotten oil, dead leaves. That autumnal breeze. His sister's face, tight and worried. Sam recognizes that pallor a little more now: shock.

It's passing through Sam as well. Of all the things he expected - this was nowhere on the list. Nowhere close.

"Alright," he manages eventually. Amazed at how calm he sounds. "What do you wanna do?" Because that's the thing to ask, right?

Deanna's lips twist again. "I mean - like, right away, I thought about just - you know - going off and taking care of it. Not even telling you. Just - "

"You wouldn't have told me?"

"I said I thought about it, Sam." She clicks her tongue; another rough wipe of her eyes. "I'm telling you now, aren't I?"

Sam keeps staring. Staring, at that image. That tiny, tiny baby. 

"Is that what you want?" he manages, eventually. Hoarse as Deanna. "To - take care of it?"

Deanna's pause seems to roll around the length of the yard. Then, her eyes stray to her lap again. "You know, Dad used to lecture me about this shit. Made it very clear how disappointed he'd be if I ever accidentally got myself knocked up."

Sam says, "Really?"

"Yeah. All the time." There's something acidic in Deanna's voice. "And you know why he harped on about it so much?"

"Why?"

"Because he said it wouldn't be fair to bring a kid into all this. Into the life." Deanna laughs, this flat, one-note thing. Something sharp flashes through her eyes; something gone too quick for Sam to fully identify. "Can you believe he said that to me? After everything he..."

She stops. And Sam watches Deanna's face reset, as if she hadn't expressed something like anger towards Dad for the first time ever. Something like what Sam has been saying, feeling, thinking, ever since he was old enough to understand. Everything Deanna always denied.

"It wouldn't have to be the same." It comes out of Sam's mouth before he can catch up with it. "You know. The same as we had it."

Deanna keeps on looking at her lap.

"You -" Sam takes a breath. "You know that, right?"

Deanna sighs. More like the breath whipping out of her body. "I'm not gonna stop looking for the demon, Sammy."

She says it like she expected Sam to insist on it. He clarifies: "I'm not saying we do. I'm saying we make it work."

He has no idea how. No fucking idea. His brain hasn't quite absorbed what's in front of him yet, the news undigested; but he's certain, somehow, of that.

Deanna gives that odd laugh again. Sam isn't sure what it means, this time. "It's also..." She picks at that thread on her shirt again. "I mean, the doctor said it looked healthy. But what if it comes out and it's like, a cyclops or something?"

"Why would it be -"

Deanna's shoulders rise. "You've seen Deliverance, right?"

Oh.

Sam swallows. His eyes stray back to the picture. Not that he can see much; not that there's much to see. But there's enough there for Sam to think it looks absolutely perfect.

"There are risks," is all he can think to say. "But it's - you know. It's not completely inevitable."

Deanna narrows her eyes. "You've already looked this stuff up, haven't you?"

She says it in this accusatory way. Sam runs his thumb delicately across the grainy image. "There was always a chance this could happen, Dee."

Always a chance. They've never done much to mitigate it, really. There's not enough space in Sam's brain right now, to wonder why that is.

Deanna skips over it too. Runs a hand through that greasy hair. Her lips twist.

"I just think," she says, after a while, "even if it comes out with three heads, playing a fucking banjo... would I care? You know?"

She's still not quite meeting Sam's eyes. Sam prompts, "Would you?"

"I mean. It's not like it'd be the only freak in this family, right?" A smile spreads across her mouth. "Sammy, you know I wouldn't care. I'd -I'd love it no matter what."

"Me too." It comes out thick; Sam's never been more sure of anything in his life.

He hands Deanna back the picture; takes her hand, deceptively delicate and cold in his, as he watches her eyes fog up with tears again. She doesn't hide this time; leans in to press her forehead against Sam's, just like that night ten weeks ago, just like they've come full circle. And fuck, it feels like forever since Sam's been touched like this, touched by anyone; he's just wondering if leaning in for a kiss would be pushing it, when he feels Deanna's plump, dried out lips brushing his. They feel a little sticky, and there's this malodor to her breath, but Sam barely registers it. It's like coming home.

I missed you, he doesn't say; can't, when Deanna's mouth would smother it anyway. When Deanna would only screw her face up and call him a big girl, and he'd rattle with guilt about feeling a little humiliated by that, but he'd feel it anyway.

Deanna pulls away first. She's a little flushed, and Sam can faintly see the capillaries in her face, like pink lines on a map under her skin; she squeezes his hand, laces their fingers. Moves them together until Sam's palm is flat against her stomach, the warmth of her body underneath that worn flannel.

"I keep thinking I can feel it," she whispers. "Now I know it's there."

Sam watches their interlaced hands dumbly. Overwhelmed. He can too.

"I kinda hope it's a girl." Deanna's voice has that hoarse quality again. "So I can - so she can have a Mom. So she can have what I didn't have."

She says it at the exact moment Sam finds himself hoping it's a boy. His reasons are similar. But for someone who doesn't like to talk, Deanna's always been way better at articulating stuff like that.

"You'll be a great Mom, Dee," he says, firmly. You were to me.

"Alright. You don't need to kiss my ass." Deanna ruffles his hair, like she did when she kissed him goodnight as a kid.

It takes Sam a moment to find his voice again. "I mean it, Dee. We'll make it work." He says it with this conviction that rises up from somewhere deep. "And I'm gonna be here for you, alright? Every step of the way."

Deanna groans. "Jesus Christ. I knew you'd be like this."

But she's smiling. And Sam allows himself to as well.

"Sammy?"

"Yeah?"

“You know Dad would kill us, right? But man, do I wish he was here right now.”

She says it with a laugh in her voice, her face all twisted up; and Sam can't help but remember how he and Jess had talked about kids, vaguely, sometimes, kind of like a concept, a distant dream. How Sam had thought to himself about Dad a lot then, too, the way he never really stopped thinking about Dad and Deanna. He remembers wondering to himself whether Dad would be proud. Whether he'd even want a grandkid; if he'd want to know at all. Back then, Sam genuinely toyed with the idea that Dad wouldn't even care. Never come back, Sam.

It's not the same, now. Holy fuck, this is not the same, and it can probably only be a good thing that Dad's not here to know about this; so Sam pushes away the thought. He puts his arms around Deanna's waist and pulls her as close as he dares.

"It'll be okay," he says again, because he can't think of anything else. Because it has to be.

Deanna's looking at him kinda intently. "Sam, do you think this is Dad's way of like - you know - coming back?"

"Uh - what?"

Deanna shrugs. "Dunno. Just - hormones talking, I guess." She squeezes Sam's hand against her stomach. "Forget I said anything."

Sam's not sure he can. They don't say anything after that.

#asks #prompts #samdeanna #johndeanna if u squint #my writing #yes I know I literally always play in this part of the Canon sandbox #but whatever i invite you to sue me #cw discussions of abortion #cw childhood trauma #cw intergenerational trauma #cw incest #this came out very soft by my standards lol #well apart from all the incest and trauma #it's so heavy on the incest lol

[dyed-red]

happy wincest wednesday! tell me your favourite wincest song <3

happy wincest wednesday!! <3

i'm terrible with songs haha, so i apologize in advance for not having that interesting of an answer.

one song i like for them is "children's work" by Dessa, but it's more weechesters or salmondean and less wincest.

i think that the arctic monkeys have some songs that work for stanford era longing, and given all the infidelity and fraught storylines they have, i sometimes like to shoehorn "Dreams" by fleetwood mac into samdean, even though it doesn't really fit. the first line of it always sounds to me like a bitter dean mad at sam for wanting his freedom, though, with the promise of that freedom actually being hollow.

i hope you asked more people this one because i hope to see some better answers than mine! 😂 thank you for asking though!

#happy wincest wednesday #i'm always terrible with song or music questions sorry

[twochildreninamoteldemo]

Rules: share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written less than ten, don’t be shy and share anyway.

tagged by @emiliosandozsequence (in spirit?)

1. The Portrait of Shifting Light (hannigram, E, ~11k words, WIP): It’s late fall when Hannibal first finds the omega, huddling under the park stone bridge that marks the change in neighborhood towards his home in Baltimore.

2. let you wash all over me (wincest, E, ~1.4k words): There’s something inside of him.

3. sweet mourning lamb (samifer, E, ~1.6k words): The first year feels like one thousand, but the first thousand feel like one.

4. honey, dripping at your feet (wincest, E, ~1.2k words): If Sam thought that one bite would have sated him, he was wrong.

5. The Salt-Filled Skins of Ptolemaea (wincest, E, ~92k words): Sammy’s little hands are cold, even when Dean holds them in his own, breathing hot air onto them over and over again, though icy they remain. (this is my magnum opus--please read it if you love boyking!sam, trans!sam, azazel, ethel cain, or general depravity lol!)

6. juvenescence (wincest, E, ~4k words):  They’re sitting on the sofa, Sunday morning cartoons playing absently on the junk of a TV set before them, so old that Sam wouldn’t be surprised if the pictures started playing in black-and-white, and Dean’s got his hand cupping one of Sam’s tits. (technically it’s “Dean, please,” but jeez that’s so boring. so this is the second line!)

7. What Are Called Demons (Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier, T, ~1.3k words): Dusk was falling, the blue hues of day darkening to a wispy purple before bleeding to navy, lighting the sky with the beautiful haze of sunset.

8. strip me down, paint me gold (wincest, E, ~4.7k words): Sam couldn’t remember a time when he’d ever felt this satisfied.

9. come morning light (you and i'll be safe and sound) (samdean/gencest/wincest?, T, ~4.3k words): At thirteen, Dean’s beautiful.

10. quarters in paper rolls (samdean/gencest/wincest?, T, ~2.1k words): They’re the only thing Haley can keep her mind on during her evening shift at the laundromat when she takes over for Carla.

check them out if you desire! NO PRESSURE tags<3: @unwanted-animal  @digitalmeowmix @applecrumbledore @preseriesdean @writinginthesecrettrees and anyone who wants to, consider yourself tagged<3

#tag game #fanfic by maven #wincest #weecest #(cuz lets be real most of this is weecest #lots of cannibalismnatural over here<3 #also lots of boyking!sam

[prince-of-elsinore]

@luminescent-chorus tagged me to respond to the following. Thanks friend! I know it's not Wednesday, but hey, we need our Wincest fix between Wednesdays too, right? :)

Happy Wincest Wednesday! I have a few questions for people to answer. Feel free to answer them all or just one (or none at all) even if you’re not tagged!

what song describes samdean the most?

if spn was set in europe, what country would the Winchesters be from? What language/languages would they speak?

This is such an interesting question to think about! The possibilities that first come to mind are: Ireland, Scotland, Germany, Poland. On a superficial level, this is probably because Sam and Dean look Anglo-Saxon, and these countries have climes and landscapes not too dissimilar from damp Vancouver, where the series is filmed. But there are some cultural reasons, too.

First, Ireland/Scotland: (ignoring for now that supposedly the BMOL made hunting in the British Isles obsolete) There's a ruggedness to parts of the countryside and, stereotypically, to its working class inhabitants, that I think fits John and Dean quite well. It's easy to imagine young Dean being (or rather, posturing as) one of those mad lads at the pub, you know what I mean? While Sam went off to Dublin or even, God forbid, London, for school. I could maybe even see them being from Wales or Northern England--I could imagine Dean with a Mancunian accent. And when he picks up Sam from school, Sam's developed this posher, southern accent that starts slipping the longer he's on the road with Dean. This AU opens up a whole rabbit hole to explore: is Dean a bit of a chav? Or is he, in his anachronistic way, more of a skinhead (in the original British, not neo-Nazi sense)? Is he more into punk than classic rock? Aesthetically, it could make sense, but did John listen to that? And what does it mean for Sam to consciously distance himself from that?--etc.

Germany/Poland: the blue-collar aesthetic is intrinsic to spn, and it's interesting to me to think of that in an Eastern Bloc context. If they were German, they'd be from the East. Their childhood was spent behind the Iron Curtain, and part of escaping that life, for Sam, would be going west, maybe to Munich or even (*gasp*) Paris. Dean's romanticization of the past would be tied up with Ostalgie. Maybe they drive a Trabi, or a Polski Fiat 126p (lol). Would we get gopnik/dresiarz tracksuit-wearing Dean (bigger lol)? Or maybe he idolizes and emulates icons of Western pop culture (a precious commodity for him growing up) just as much as in canon. Maybe he loves "Eastern/Red Westerns" and Bruce Springsteen. As far as languages go, I imagine hunting would take them across borders all the time, so they'd both have a working knowledge of several Central European and Slavic languages. Dean's English would be learned entirely from pop culture and would reflect that, while Sam's would be much more academic. Sam would speak much better French than Dean (and than canon Sam *cough*) and probably Italian, Spanish, and Greek as well.

if they didn’t have the impala, what car would they drive?

is there a project you’re working on currently? Do you have a line or sketch from it to share?

I am currently working on a multi-chapter post-15x19 thriller! He's an excerpt:

What it comes down to is that he’s Dean fucking Winchester, and he should’ve known that would catch up with him sooner than later. Not because of the enemies he’s made, but because he wasn’t built for good things. He’d let himself forget that. Because he and Sam beat God and saved the world, and for a moment it’d felt like they had a new lease on life, and they got a dog for Christ’s sake because the worst was supposed to be behind them and they were finally free—what a joke. Freedom doesn’t mean the good life. Freedom is just a nice sounding way of saying that the rug can be pulled out from under you at any moment and you’ll never find a satisfactory answer why, because there are no rules, no guiding principles, no divine design behind your suffering.

what’s the first fanfic for supernatural you’ve written? Did you publish it? Or if you don't write: what's the first fanfic you remember reading?

is there another codependent/enmeshed duo from a different fandom you enjoy? Are there parallels to Sam and Dean?

Dennis and Dee Reynolds from It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia, and Rick and Morty. Both of these duos have a considerably less healthy dynamic than Sam and Dean, but I think disentangling themselves from each other would be just as unthinkable as for the Winchesters. They also all have an element of "this person knows me better than anyone else, and we've shared experiences no one else could possibly understand."

what type of wincest dynamic do you currently enjoy most? (sexual, platonic, dark, fluffy, early seasons, etc.)

Mostly sexual (especially developing feelings), usually somewhere between dark and fluffy (bittersweet, melancholy, or hard-earned happiness), and often pre-canon or post-15x19.

These were fun! I tag @flownwrong, @mannequin3thereckoning, @thegoodthebadandtheart, @zmediaoutlet, @flashbulb-memory, and @nigeltde-fic, if you feel like it :)

#wincest wednesday #wincest #spn au #musings #my fic #spn #about my fic

[realbeefman]

Angus loyal follower here I love your posts I actually started reading hilson fic because of you even though I’ve never seen the show and I never will because once I heard Hugh lauries voice in a fancam and it was so unsexy also they filmed a lot of b roll at my school anyway Seeing your destiel post was so surprising to me please tell me more about your spn opinions I’m so curious I love discourse <3

very long answer so i’ve hidden it under a readmore for the sanity of casual dash scrollers and people who dont care

first off his american voice or his british voice? this is kind of controversial and may seem wild considering i spend a solid chunk of time thinking about what house would be like during sex but i ACTUALLY find him deeply unattractive. i’d love to have his face and wear his skin but never in my life would i consider him a sexual being. he’s too british for it. the only way british people can be sexy is if they are women this is my most political belief on foreign policy. however i do think hugh laurie’s AMERICAN voice is actually very normal and makes him very endearing to me. hilson fic is awesome but honestly!!! most hilson fic for me just does not hit the same unless u can visualize the creepiness with which house looks at wilson. it’s genuinely sickening. he talks about wilson in the softest voice. so many of the most iconic lines in the show just dont HIT the same if u dont listen to the way they’re delivered.

that is SO cool that they shot b roll at ur school though!!! honestly seems like a dream. if i knew i had walked the same halls the house film team had i think i would die. the camerawork on that show is just fucking PHENOMENAL. i could write entire essays fangirling over how they shoot certain scenes but i fear that would be chronically desperately boring

oh man my supernatural opinions… first off disclaimer i have not seen supernatural recently because i am a deeply paranoid individual and prone to delusions and when i first watched the show i genuinely convinced myself that the monsters were real so. i think my most controversial spn opinion would have to be that it’s a PSYCHOLOGICAL THREAT. have you ever met a normal supernatural fan? NOBODY HAS. BECAUSE THE SHOW DRIVES PEOPLE NUTS

other than that my opinions are pretty normal i thiunk. i actually dont have anything at all against destiel even though i am solidly on the wincestie side of fandom. i dont care for the ship and i think it sucks but OBJECTIVELY its a good ship and has strong canon support. i think my hatred comes because i have read SO many destiel fics and have yet to come across a genuinely good one that accurately portrays the characters. i dont understand why an objectively reasonable ship with strong canon support has created some of the middest fic ive ever read in my life. genuinely fascinating. it’s not even that the fic itself is not good or entertaining it just doesn’t feel anything like the actual canon dean and castiel! i have read like two genuinely entertaining destiel fics that felt realistic and BOTH were from authors who primarily write samdean so!!

other controversial spn opinions i have. the “chuck is god” stuff is by far the most entertaining late seasons retcon. objectively ridiculous but so goddamn amusing. i think season 8 and the leviathans was the peak of supernatural. by far the best season in my opinion. plotwise it was not the most believable but i strongly believe that what makes a story good is not it’s logical soundness nor it’s objective value but whether it is ENTERTAINING and COMPELLING and by god the leviathans were both of those things. what a season. also benny and dean were having sex. i loved castiel going insane. OH and i think endverse spn is overhyped both as an episode and in fanon! i did not understand what endverse referred to for so long because i couldnt comprehend that SO MANY PEOPLE could possibly by THAT fanatic over a very mid episode.

not a controversial opinion but rowena is hot. she should've been in every episode for this reason alone. last semester i set up an office meeting with my professor who looked JUST like her to shoot my shot and she literally died before the meeting could happen. i've always felt in my heart that these are related.

#ty for the ask dearest!! much to chew on and think about #house md #supernatural #ask #cw incest mention

[samdeancrimespree]

the samdean phone call scene at the start of wiawsnb is soooooo teenchester coded….

sammy in the motel, peeking out the window at a cop car and calling dean to warn him

sam grinning but trying to sound irritated when he asks “are you even listening to me?” when dean starts talking about girls

dean getting the lore from him then being a dumbass and deciding to go check it out on his own

sam saying “wait nononono, come pick me up first.” in Baby Brother Whine

and dean going “i’m sure it’s nothing, just gonna take a quick look around” and hanging up on him

like i guarantee they had this same convo almost every weekend for years

#they’re so <3333 #exact convo they had about parties or something #or abt dean going to the movies #s2 #samdean #teenchesters #mars.txt

[theangiediary]

omg Angie that was exactly what i meant and i loved it! I also adore Lebanon's favourite "are they?aren't they?" couple and imagining samdean co-parenting is such a delight. "If the baby looked like Sam, Dean would have like 12 disorders" got a laugh but it's so true i don't know how he'd handle it. It's similarly what makes me also like the idea of Dean having to deal with a deaged Sam just to see how gobsmacked he'd be. (Also those mommy recs? For a friend? 👀)

1. Oh good I’m glad it resonated! Truly, Dean would be against those baby chest carriers until the little guy was born, and then he’d not only constantly be wearing him strapped in, he’d also have one arm wrapped around at all times. Also that baby would not have a nursery, Dean would put the crib in their bedroom so he could be as close as possible, sit on the rocking chair at night just staring (Sam gets it, at least enough not to press the issue).

2. About A Boy with deaged Sammy: they’d have to end the show right there! Dean would run off into the night with itty Sammy, let some other hunter deal with the missing people. (/hj, I don’t actually remember what their relationship was like prior to that ep, all I know is it was VERY funny to me that they had a solution to the mark but Sam was like 🥺 “I am not baby?? no more Big Bro? Unacceptable.”  

3. Fic Recs

Haha, well! So many flavors... I’m throwing a huge mixed bag here, read what sounds interesting, skip what doesn’t.

Vice and Wish by thatsakitkat (incomplete, ABO A!Sam/O!Dean, 42k)

One of my all time favorites. It’s a little OOC, but Sam’s uh, canonical entitlement toward Dean/Dean’s body and resources is so so sexy. Cockblocking him, spending his money, joining him in Dean’s subconscious against Dean’s protests. Spn was allergic to having a consistent stance on souls, but if you largely view soulless!Sam as Sam without empathy, then.. Yeah. I think the Sam in this fic/universe is realistically ruthless in getting what he wants (a baby in Dean).

(Taste Every Fruit by the same author doesn’t have pregnancy, but is a lactation fic and uhh. Quite good.)

Nesting orphan_account (ABO A!John/O!Dean, 12k)

It’s been a minute since I read this, but I remember it being sweet, in a conservative fantasy way. Stanford era. Forced retirement. Small town. Also slightly OOC but like above, comes with the universe.

homebody by hellhoundsprey (ABO A!Jared/O!Jensen (background Jared/Ruth and Jensen/Tahmoh, 18k)

Listen, if you’re hesitant about rpf, this author writes it very much “vaguely inspired by the PR personsona of X”. People have been fantasizing about celebrities forever, heck, the SPN cast joke about rpf at cons. 

Anyway. Great fic. Darling sex kitten/tease and “Trying to be good” dynamic.

Share the Spoils Ch 2 by vintagedean (Fem!Dean/Sam, 2k)

Recently published, Deanna finding out if she’s pregnant and what she and Sam can do if that’s the case. Pushy teen Sam, distracted Deanna. "John's looming shadow" deserves its own character tag.

the need to choose by deadlybride (Hal!Dean/Sam, 3k)

Canon (post s7) divergence. The author has this halman universe which is similar to ABO but not quite; Dean’s something like an omega but not ✨feminine 👧🌷. Still, one of the things that the author does is realistic sex descriptions/pretty explicit naming of body parts: Dean has a clit, cervix, etc. Explores what having a baby would mean for them, in the context of SPN’s vessel plotlines. Sad, longing, open ended.

They Think I'm Possessed by deandatsgay (Dean/John, Dean/Sam 27k)

No pregnancy; Dean raised as Sam’s mom (thus inclusion in this list). Dark, dirty bad wrong porn. I love it.

#fic recs #deanjohn #wincest #...i am perhaps realizing i read a lot of nipple play that doesn't necessarily mean mommy!dean #I have an early morning but i KNOW there's more out there that i'll should try to add at some point #for now #have fun nonnie ;)

[samsexualdeancurious]

Not Fine At All (NSFW)

Pairing: Benny x Dean

Words: 3,283

Summary: Dean's first Heat in Purgatory sucks but he still turns down Benny's offers of help. He may regret that, though, especially as each Heat gets progressively worse...

Warnings: Omegaverse, Omega!Dean, Alpha!Benny, Beta!Cas, Heat sex, SamDean if you squint (I intended it as platonic but it's up for interpretation), making up my own Purgatory and Omegaverse lore cos I can, kinda dubious consent cos Dean's in Heat but he's enthusiastic about it sooooo

Betaed by @banshee1013

Written for a Patron request

---

It’s been so long since Dean last had a Heat, he’s almost forgotten what they feel like. It’s not until Benny turns a concerned expression on him, nose wrinkling and mouth twisted in a frown, that Dean realizes what the cramping in his gut means as slick begins to dampen his boxers.

“Fuck,” he growls under his breath but he doesn’t stop walking.

“Dean-”

“I know. I’m fine.”

In all the chaos since he landed in Purgatory, suppressants have been the last thing on his mind. There’s nothing he can do about them anyway. Not like he can just walk into a pharmacy and palm his favorites like he usually would. Now, though, the reality of his situation is setting in even as he forces himself to breathe deeply. He needs to stay calm.

“Dean, we should stop-”

Benny’s hand curls around Dean’s wrist and moments later, he’s pressed against a tree with Dean’s knife at his throat. Dean snarls, a low sound that makes Benny shrink back even further. An angry Omega is not to be reckoned with. Even a Vampire knows that.

Even an Alpha knows that.

“Touch me again and you won’t have a knot to worry about. Try anything and you won’t have a head.”

Dean’s tone leaves no room for argument and Benny gives a minute nod. Dean releases him. When he steps back, Benny puts his hands up in a placating gesture.

“I won’t do anything you don’t consent to,” Benny says firmly. “You’re going to draw all sorts of monsters to us, though, so we’ll have to be on our guard even more than normal. If you need to stop-”

“We’re going to keep moving,” Dean breaks in, still snappy even though he’s feeling some wary relief at Benny’s assurances. “I’m fine.”

“All right.” Benny rubs his throat where Dean’s knife had pressed against his skin and steps away from the tree at least. “Let me know if that changes.”

Dean huffs out an angry breath through his nose. “It won’t.”

--

Except it does.

With each month, Dean’s three-day Heats grow progressively more intense. Everything triggers a flood of slick, especially Benny’s smooth Southern drawl. He seems to be throwing off more and more pheromones with each one and while Benny’s self-control hasn’t faltered, Dean definitely can’t say as much about the other monsters they’ve encountered. Some even seem to have actively sought him out, tracking his scent through the eternal twilight only to meet their end at the edge of his blade.

Every month Benny tentatively offers his “services” and Dean turns him down with a growl, but saying “no” is getting harder and harder. Despite being a Vampire, Benny isn’t all that bad and Dean finds himself developing some fondness for him. Not to mention he’s hot and smells fantastic. For a Vampire. It took him a bit to figure out exactly what he was smelling but somehow the homey blend of cayenne, garlic, and woodsmoke makes sense. Though he did have to suppress a snicker when he pinpointed the garlic aspect, the irony doesn’t make the blend any less enticing.

In fact, Benny is starting to smell more and more appealing with every day that passes. Dean refuses to cave, though. He needs to focus on finding Cas and then getting the hell out of here. Fucking his Vampire partner-in-crime is not on the to-do list.

--

“You look unwell,” Cas says with a bluntness that makes Dean chuckle.

It’s been about two weeks since they found Castiel and Dean can feel his Heat coming on hard and fast. He’s getting better at recognizing the symptoms now. As soon as he gets back home, he’s going back on the suppressants and sticking with them for the rest of his life. How do people deal with this bullshit every month?

“I feel unwell,” Dean grumbles back to his friend. He’s got a fever coming on but he’s trying really hard not to show it. Obviously, he’s failing.

The Beta frowns at him and reaches out to press two fingers to Dean’s forehead. Dean half expects the bizarrely cold rush that comes with Cas using his Grace to heal but nothing happens.

“Your body temperature is quite high.”

“Yeah, that happens.”

Cas looks even more worried but Dean shrugs him off.

“Look, I’m fine. I’ll be fine. This is normal.”

“Dean, you’re going into Heat.”

“You think I don’t know that?” The words come out harsher than he really means them and he regrets it when Cas stiffens. “Sorry. I… fuck, Cas. I know, okay? I’ve been dealing with them this whole time. It’s fine.”

“He’s not fine,” Benny grumbles.

The Vampire a little further down the riverbank, washing the blood of a werewolf that attacked them from his hands. Cas was right. He is like a beacon for monsters. Between his Grace and Dean’s oncoming Heat, their encounters with other monsters have definitely picked up.

Straightening up, Benny shakes water from his hands. He fixes Dean with a steely blue stare. “You’re going to burn yourself out at this rate.”

“Look. Get me back home and I’ll be fine. I’ll get my meds and things will go back to normal.”

Dean keeps his voice level, shoving down the part of him that knows Benny is right. Too many Heats without the relief of an Alpha can have a devastating effect on an Omega’s body. He’d never really thought about that in the context of himself until now. The cramping has reached the point where Dean can barely walk some days. His fever has been getting worse, too, and he’s already sweating through his shirt before his Heat has even fully taken hold. His cock is hard against his zipper, slick sticking his boxers to his skin.  It takes every ounce of his willpower not to throw himself at Benny’s feet and beg for the Alpha’s knot.

Neither Benny nor Cas seem convinced by Dean’s words. They’re still barely getting along but this seems to be something they can agree on. Dean refuses to admit that he might agree with them, too.

Dean pretends he doesn’t see the look they just exchanged as he pushes himself to his feet. “C’mon. We’ve been sitting too long. Let’s go.”

He barely makes it two steps, though, before a cramp sends him to his knees with a groan.

“Dean!”

Cas is by his side in a heartbeat, neutral Beta scent surprisingly soothing as Dean curls in on himself and leans on his friend to stay upright. He tries to brush off Cas’s hand as the Angel checks his temperature again but stern blue eyes stop his complaints.

“You’re burning up,” Cas says, not even trying to hide how worried he is. “We’re not going anywhere else today. You need to rest, at the very least.”

What Dean needs is to get out of this Godforsaken hell hole but he doesn’t say that. He’s never had a Heat hit this hard, this fast, and he’s not sure he could even stand in order to find shelter.

“There’s a cave a little further along the river,” Benny is saying when Dean manages to focus beyond the desperate, churning need in his belly. “I was going to suggest we stop there anyways.”

“That will do. Help me get him up.”

Dean finds himself lifted by strong hands, one pair neutral and familiar, the other bringing with them the unmistakable scent of Alpha.

“Nuh-uh,” Benny says and Dean realizes fuzzily that he said the word out loud. “C’mon, brother. Up you go.”

Dean is slung into a fireman’s carry across Benny’s strong shoulders and his hole pulses with slick in response to the proximity. His mind and body are at war within him. Every inch of him craves the Vampire’s, every nerve singing at the current situation.

Dean is not fine. Dean is not fine at all.

The hike to the cave is a blur of being torn between the desperate cramping in his belly and the fragments of sweet relief that come with each flex of Benny’s powerful muscles, each murmured soothing word, each squeeze of his hand where it’s wrapped around the back of Dean’s thigh.

Twilight turns to night as Benny lowers Dean onto the floor of the cave and into Cas’s waiting hands. Dean hears a low, needy whine at the loss of contact. Some part of him processes the sound as coming from him and he curls in on himself as he lands heavily on the dirt and stone floor.

It’s never been this bad. Not even his first time, sixteen and confused and so very scared in a shitty small town motel with his panicked little brother by his side.

His brother.

Sam.

Just the thought of his brother pulls a helpless sob from Dean’s chest and he shudders. Someone’s speaking to him, pressing cold cloths to his forehead, but the bland smell of them just emphasizes the lack of Sam’s warm sandalwood, coffee, brother scent. He can’t have an Alpha, doesn’t deserve one, but Sam is his and he is Sam’s, and the next best thing after a knot will always be curling up in Sam’s arms in a shitty motel bed with just boxers between them.

He has to get back to Sam. Sam can help. Sam will make it all better.

A scent is slipping through the fog in his mind, though, like a lighthouse beam reaching out to a sinking ship. Dean grabs for it and finds himself with a fistful of Benny’s jacket.

“Whoa, easy, cher.”

“Alpha,” Dean gasps, blinking up at the Vampire in the dim light. Cas is already shoving Benny back with a snarl and Benny goes willingly. Too willingly. Does he not want Dean? “Alpha, please-”

But Benny is shaking his head. “You’re not in your right mind. It would be wrong.”

Cas presses a cool cloth to Dean’s forehead. “Go stand guard. I’ll keep an eye on him.”

No.

“No.” The word is barely there but it still stops Benny in his tracks. “No, Cas, I’m-” Dean grits his teeth as a wave of cramps and fresh slick rocks his body. “I’m dying.”

He doesn’t know how he knows, couldn’t explain it if they asked, but he knows. Maybe not this Heat, maybe not the next one, but soon. He won’t make it out of Purgatory if he keeps going like this. That’s what happens to Omegas who go too many Heats without an Alpha. They burn up from the inside out and die and Dean cannot die. He won’t.

“You’re not-” Benny starts but Cas silences him with a shake of his head.

“He is,” Cas sighs. He wipes the cloth in his hand across Dean’s cheekbones. “I can feel it.”

“And you didn’t say anything?”

Cas fixes Benny with an intense glare, Angel nature standing firm against Alpha fury. “It’s Dean’s choice.”

“Clearly he’s not very good at making choices!”

“I’m right here,” Dean groans, arching his back to try and relieve the throbbing at the base of his spine. When that doesn’t work, he pushes himself up onto his elbows to look between his friends. He’s a fucking mess, slick and sweat sticking his filthy clothes to his skin. He’s feeling a little more lucid but it won’t last long. “And I choose living.”

Silence falls in the cave.

“Dean-”

“Benny.” He meets blue eyes through the dim light, trying to keep his gaze steady. “You said to let you know if things changed and I’m telling you - I’m not fine at all.”

Benny curses under his breath and Cas looks between them with a confused frown that would be adorable in another situation. Benny scrubs a hand over his face, drawing a deep breath, and then nods.

“Okay,” he says. “If you’re sure.”

Relief floods Dean’s body at those words at the same time his hole releases another gush of slick. He nods and shoves away the cloth Cas is still using to dab at his face.

“Go, Cas.”

“I’m not leaving you.”

“If Benny’s in here, someone needs to stand guard and it sure as hell ain’t gonna be me. Get your feathered ass up there.”

Cas growls but stands. He glares at Benny again.

“If you hurt him-”

“You’ll kill me. I know.”

“He isn’t going to do anything I’m not begging for,” Dean snaps. “And I ain’t doing any of it in front of you.”

Cas’s nose wrinkles. “It’s just-”

“Cas.”

The Angel huffs but climbs up the short slope to the cave entrance and out of sight. As he goes, Dean realizes he’s not wearing his trenchcoat. The item in question is spread across the cave floor beneath Dean like a makeshift blanket.

“You’re sure about this?” Benny asks, pulling Dean’s attention back to him and god he smells so good.

Unsure how to make it more obvious, Dean wriggles around onto his hands and knees. He hears Benny’s breath catch when he drops his shoulders down into a traditional presentation.

“Fuck me, Alpha.”

That’s all the invitation Benny needs. He’s on Dean in a heartbeat, blanketing him from behind and Dean can’t hold back a whine when he feels the Vampire’s bulge. It’s impressive even though multiple layers and Dean needs.

Benny is careful not to rip anything as he peels Dean’s jeans and boxers off him, tossing them aside. He kneels between Dean’s spread legs and when his hands finally land on the bare curve of Dean’s ass, they both groan.

Dean’s never had an Alpha for a Heat before and he has no clue what to expect but the careful press of a thick finger against his hole isn’t it. He won’t say but he was half anticipating Benny to just shove it in. Benny seems intent on taking his time, though.

“I won’t hurt you,” Benny says and Dean realizes fuzzily that he was talking out loud again. Before he can respond, though, Benny slides his finger in all the way and any train of thought Dean might have had goes right off the tracks.

Benny’s fingers are thick and calloused, pressing and twisting and working Dean open until he’s taking three of them knuckle-deep. He whines and grinds back on them, trying to get those fingers against his prostate only for them to be abruptly pulled out.

“Alpha,” he pleads, arching his spine and spreading his legs further. “I need-”

The jingle of Benny’s belt buckle silences him as he processes what that means. Then an impossibly thick, hot cock rests against his hole and all Dean can manage is a strangled whimper.

Benny is saying things, sweet things made even sweeter by the lazy drawl of his accent, as he slides his cock through the mess of slick Dean’s body keeps making. His thighs are coated in the stuff, fat drops of it pooling on the trenchcoat beneath him. One huge hand curls around the point of Dean’s hip. Benny draws back a little and Dean almost protests but the fat cock head against his hole silences any complaint he could muster.

When Benny finally presses inside, Dean’s brain ceases to function entirely. He’s been fucked before but he’s heard how amazing Heat sex is and never believed it. Now, he’s not sure he can go back to regular sex. Not when he knows what it’s like to feel the slow glide of a huge Alpha cock against his insides, all the way in until Benny’s hips are pressed flush to Dean’s ass and Dean can feel the beginnings of the Vampire’s knot just inside his entrance.

“Oh, my God,” Dean manages.

Benny just growls in response. He’s folded forward, bracing himself with palms pressed flat on either side of Dean’s shoulders. When he pulls out, it’s only a few inches to test the waters as he pushes back inside. Just that small movement sends a pulse of relief through Dean’s body and his forgotten cock drips precum to join the mess he’s already made of Cas’s coat. It’s too gentle, though. Not what Dean needs.

He uncurls one arm from its place pillowing his head and flails back to grab at Benny’s wrist. He turns his head to see the Alpha staring down at him with lust-blown eyes.

“Fuck me.”

That’s all the invitation Benny needs. He sets up a punishing rhythm that has Dean’s cries echoing off the cave walls. He’s never heard himself like this, but then again, he’s never felt like this. The unrelenting cock inside him, the powerful hips driving it as deep as it will fit, the strong hands leaving bruises on his hips and shoulders and wrists. It’s simultaneously too much and exactly what Dean needs.

His body rocks with each thrust, his cock bouncing, ignored, against his belly. A small part of Dean wants to reach down and jerk himself in time with Benny’s movements but it’s all he can do to keep himself from going face-first into the floor with every forward shove. Instead, he braces himself the best he can and hangs on.

Who knows how long it goes on before Benny’s knot begins to grow. He continues to press in deep with every thrust, stretching Dean open each time he pops in and out. Dean feels like he’s going cross-eyed, losing his mind, burning up from the inside out with desire. He’d scoffed at it, the Omega “need” for a knot. Sure, a knotting dildo was a good time but that was outside of Heat and this… this is beyond words.

“Gonna knot you,” Benny snarls,  his face pressed into the hair behind Dean’s left ear.

“Do it.”

Just like that, the next time Benny shoves the massive bulge past Dean’s rim, he can’t pull out again. He growls, animalistic in his pleasure as he begins grinding his knot as deep as he can. When Dean whines and squirms, Benny only pins him in place with the weight of his body. When Dean begs at last for a hand on his cock, Benny tightens his grip on Dean’s wrists.

“You’ll cum on my knot, Omega.”

Dean wants to protest but he’s already so close, dancing right on the edge of bliss, and all it takes is the perfectly timed, perfectly angled press of Benny’s knot to send him over it.

--

Dean doesn’t remember blacking out but he must have because as he comes to he’s on his side, Benny’s knot still locked inside him and the Alpha’s body curled against his back. Benny is gently wiping Dean’s face with one of the wet cloths Cas used earlier - torn from the hem of Cas’s own t-shirt, Dean realizes now - and murmuring nonsense words in his ear.

“Benny?” Dean murmurs, snuggling back against the Alpha out of instinct and whining when doing so jostles the knot. He feels it throb, feels the pulse of cum that results, and his cock twitches out of interest.

“Shh.” A broad thumb rubs along the line of his collarbone, palm pressed flat on his chest. “How’re you feelin’, cher?”

“I’m just fine.” The words are all muddled up around a yawn. For the first time since he entered Purgatory, Dean feels tired. Sleep has been almost a foreign concept at this point but now he almost feels human again.

Benny chuckles low against the curve of his shoulder and the proximity of those fangs to vulnerable places should freak Dean out - but it doesn’t. He knows his Alpha would never hurt him.

His Alpha. There’s something he’d rather not think about too hard for right now.

“I think you’re probably feeling a little better than fine. Rest.”

Dean obeys.

—

Like this fic? Support me longterm on Patreon HERE or make a one-time donation on Ko-Fi HERE.

—

Team Forever: @mrswhozeewhatsis @manawhaat @books-and-icecream @laughing-at-the-darkness @tumbler-tidbits @emoryhemsworth @imsuperawkward

#my writing #supernatural #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fic #dean x benny

[wincestpoughkeepsie]

sounds like samdean to me🤷🏻‍♀️

#otp: soulmates #sam and dean #sounds like samdean to me

[applecrumbledore]

diff anon from tartar but I also wanted to mention i love your teeny sam he's very cute! I think you mentioned how you didnt want to get too "kid fic"-y but I think he's great and you've nailed his voice for that age

oh man, thank you!! that's something I wanted to be super aware of. I don't think I'm great at writing kids, mostly because I'm never around kids of any age (youngest in my family, no cousins, don't work with kids, not old enough to have friends with kids) so I have no real benchmark for how they're supposed to sound, what they know and don't know, etc, except for vague memories of my own childhood, which was a good while ago

especially with the younger Sam, and with him being 13, I didn't want to infantalize him by any means, because we can imagine that Sam, even by 13, is kind of a jaded and weird kid. I didn't want to make him too cutesy. but I think he'd also still have some of those stars in his eyes over his big brother! some of that little-kid idealism. so I tried to get that middle ground between.. wise beyond his years vs still just a kid.

mostly I wanted both kids to feel like whole, unique characters, while still being distinctly Sam and Dean. a beta I had early on and parted ways with said I wasn't really nailing that, so I've been self conscious about it. but people seem to like the kids so far, so I'm choosing to believe it's fine. the worst outcome for me would be "cool samdean fic but those kids were an annoying distraction"

#ronanswers #🏕 #TO BE CLEAR I did not part ways w this person because they gave me criticism I'm not a monster

[wastemanjohn]

Happy wincest wednesday China! 🩷 what "__ finds out" scenario is most intriguing to you and would that person (be it john for samdean, sam for deanjohn, Mary for samjohn, etc) be more disgusted or a pervert about it? (Or both!)

Hey and happy WW to you also! Thanks for the ask this is so good ❤

So Sam finding out about johndean owns my heart as probably all and sundry know by now as I've gone on about it so much and even wrote a 50k word fic about it a couple of years ago. And it's so interesting to me for a number of reasons - the first is the sheer horror of it, of discovering that something like that has been happening in your orbit for so long, and I like to think about the realism of that I guess? How disturbing and traumatic it would be. But - let's not forget that Sam is just a little unhinged. Let's not forget how he feels about John and Dean's dynamic (in and pre s1 at least) anyway - that John is the archetypal controlling father and Dean's like an ever faithful little puppy who can't *see* that he's being controlled.

I see Sam getting very obsessed with the whole thing. More and more resentful towards both of them - John for being *this* level of bad father and Dean for *letting* John do this to him. And underlying - a lot of jealousy. Maybe just of John because he gets to fuck Dean. Maybe of both of them in a way, because, like always, John and Dean are this exclusive club within the family that Sam is excluded from. I think Sam would be in denial about this part, yes. And as for being a pervert about it? Also yes. Maybe not intentionally at first. Maybe intrusive thoughts that he doesn't want about what it was like and what happened between them, accidental visualisations of dadfucking that at first are very disturbing - until they aren't. What was Dean like, what was it like for John to fuck him? How did he feel? Was he sweet and submissive, feral and demanding, what sound does he make when he comes? How did he like for John to fuck him? Did John like for Dean to suck his dick? What does that *mouth* feel like? Finding out about johndean as the catalyst for Sam's sexual obsession with Dean is honestly like crack cocaine to me. I'd stuff it in a pipe and smoke it all day long if I could.

John finding out about samdean - very intriguing if he and Dean are already involved. I do like to think of Dean getting involved with Sam during that last summer before he went to college, almost like an extramarital affair while John is away and he's lonely and Sam is just like, *there*, the attention is flattering, Sam is good to him in ways John is not etc... and John finding out about this *affair* and being utterly pathetic about it is so hot to me. His first concern not that his sons are fucking... but how could they do this to him... how could Sam take Dean from him, and how could Dean betray him like this. Dean beside himself, Sam defiant. And when Sam does leave... oof how would John and Dean come back from that...

John finding out where there is no background johndean though? Idk John is so multifaceted for a guy who was only in the show for like 2 minutes I can't quite make up my mind on his reaction. Anger (at primarily Dean, he's supposed to protect the kid,not fuck him)? Anger (at primarily Sam, there's something fucking wrong with that boy, he's obviously led Dean astray, Dean could never otherwise...?) Denial? Head in the sand? Fear again that this was driven by Sam, and is this just the early stages of that Demonic Influence...?

I'd like to take this opportunity to recommend my favourite John Finds Out fic (there's more to it than John finding out but I can't think of him discovering samdean without thinking about this fic, it's so good and i think about it all the time). The horny part of my brain also sure likes to think about John quietly listening and getting off to Sam and Dean thinking they're quietly and sneakily messing around in the next bed... both of his boys sure do moan very prettily, and it's no surprise to him that Dean likes to be fucked hard.

Mary finding out about samjohn I have NEVER thought about omg that's so spicy. For Mary ships (even though I can't fucking stand Mary lol so I don't spend a great deal of time thinking about this) I am more likely to lean towards sammary than deanmary and omg the thought of Sam revealing that to Mary voluntarily as an "okay there's something you should know about me and dad" thing, I feel like Sam might feel like it was the right thing to do to disclose it whereas Dean might be more likely to keep it to himself? Idk... this thought has floored me a little bit anyway. I need to think about this a little bit more. But I can't imagine Mary being anything other than devastated - quite similarly to @amiwritesthings great post on this last week re Mary finding out about johndean... knowing that the man she married was just like her father in every sense, *everything* she was trying to get away from... oof. And maybe she'd have second thoughts about going to bed with Sam after that. She doesn't want to be like her father either - or, apparently, like her husband.

I'll be marinating in this thought all evening though so thanks for that!

#asks #Wincest Wednesday #this got so long lol #thank you!

[dead-doveing]

decided to firewall my "problematic" stuff off from my main blog to avoid drama. this is mostly my own fic with the occasional musing or reblog.

if you would like to send me an ask with nsfw/graphic content or headcanons, i ask that you include [pairing] or [characters] at the beginning. sometimes i'm not in a headspace to read graphic stuff for certain ships or characters and want to save it for when i'm in a headspace where it's okay. please respect this bc i've had some REALLY bad issues on my main blog before! thanks!

the day i accepted in my heart that sam sucked was the day i began to like him infinitely more as a character. make him worse! make everyone worse!

if none of the above sounds like it's gonna spark joy, the back button is right there. love and light but puritanical bullshit is gonna get you blocked on-sight.

all fic is published as anonymous on ao3 but fic but you can find the links under A's fic tag on my blog or the A's problematical content series on ao3

Some tags:

samdean

johndean

dalastair

[twochildreninamoteldemo]

🎶✨when u get this u have to put 5 songs u actually listen to, publish. then, send this ask to 10 of your favorite followers (non-negotiable or don't idc, positivity is cool) 🎶✨

Two children in a motel by ethel cain, sorry to sound like a broken record but literally no song will ever beat this. So tragic and wistful and just. Gorgeous. Samdean song of all time. I mostly listen to this on my ipod.

Country death song by the violent femmes. I have to be in a specific mood for this song, but it's exactly what's on the tin. Rural americana murder ballad. Bonus points because it's between father and daughter. I mostly listen to this on the violent femmes cd I found at value village, which I picked up because of the song titles - mainly this one!

Savior complex by phoebe bridgers. Melancholic and beautiful, makes me think of season 1-2 samdean. I've been thinking of making a vid to it. Favorite lyric is "one hand on the wheel, one in your mouth / turn me on, turn me down." I mostly listen to this on the punisher cassette I got from phoebe's bandcamp.

Sister by she wants revenge. Everyone knows "tear you apart" and they should because it's a good song, but y'all sleep on this one when it's literally an song about blasphemous sex with a naughty nun (but I like to pretend it's about a literal sister lol). I mostly listen to this on my "flowers in the Impala" cd.

You're on your own kid by Taylor swift. Okay look I know, Taylor swift, basic, whatever. But this song makes me ache. It's about that loneliness, trying to find love and your place in the world and just realizing that you can only rely on yourself. It reminds me both a lot of Sam and Dean in different ways. I mostly listen to this on spotify.

#ty for the ask bestie!! #lana tag #love-you-like-a-brother #ask game #music #samdean #letters #ethel cain #the violent femmes #phoebe bridgers #she wants revenge #taylor swift

[safetosayyoudigthebackseat]

samdean is wincest, wincest is gencest, gencest is platonic wincest, platonic wincest is canon. hope that clears it up ❤️

#ive seen some blogs says they dont like wincest but they like gencest #like its literally the same thing without sex #we all appreciate the codependency of sam and dean so i dont get why we need so many names for them #saying gencest sounds like a cop out bc u dont want antis calling u a wincestie or thinking you ship two brothers fucking #i say this with love but get off your high horse it's not THAT different #bitches can analyze and love the insane codependent relationship of sam and dean AND enjoy dean fucking sam #it's me IM BITCHES BABEY #haha sorry but it was bugging so i had to rant #wincest #gencest #samdean #antis dni #txt post