#not that I would ever want Dean and Cas dead
Note
There is a “would Dean kill Cas to save Sam” poll going round I think you’d find interesting and which compelled me to unleash thoughts at you. I often wonder why fandom (both hellers and bronlies) ignores the fascinating examples in canon where Dean’s “Sam before anything else” ideology is threatened by Castiel. the BEST example of this is when Cas premeditatedly and with full agency breaks Sam’s wall as collateral damage — and Dean forgives him in the blink of an eye! If that were anyone else who’d done that to Sam they would be a dead man. Yes Dean was mad about it, yet the next season (BEFORE Cas redeems himself by taking on Sam’s hell trauma) Dean literally tells Cas “you were doing the best you could” (girl…).
Other key examples: Dean staying in Purgatory for an additional year to find Cas (rather than prioritising going back to find Sam, and this is after Cas broke Sam’s brain mind you); deciding to basically kill himself in s13 after Cas has died (despite Sam being alive and well); telling Chuck he’s wiling to kill Sam if it’ll bring Cas back. If the Bronly tenet that all Dean needs to be happy is Sam then hell, why does Dean beg Sam to let him die in the series finale.
I will note that Dean kicking Cas out of the bunker in s9 is thrown around constantly but there was literally a gun to Sam’s head at that point. Dean was tormented about it and still snuck off to see Cas although it may have been unwise in that situation.
Also interesting to note that Sam isn’t the only one; Castiel has also served as a threat to Dean’s other representations of family. in s6 Cas ~betrays Dean by colluding with Crowley, who kidnaps Lisa and Ben, which eventually leads to Dean deciding to memory wipe Lisa. In s14 Dean literally *blames Cas in part for Mary’s death*! And yet still forgives him?? (As s13 showed, Dean can live better without Mary than he can without Cas.) This is really intriguing/toxic element of Destiel that is hardly explored in fandom, which is that Dean associates Cas with danger to the rest of his family/his role as protector of his family and therefore his relationship with him is a weakness that he will regret. Add to the fact that Cas has proven time and again to not be a safe/reliable object of affection (see above examples, and also repeatedly leaving/dying) and it’s very plain why Dean would have reason to fear/suppress/compartmentalise romantic feelings between them — because they would be an even greater source of pain.
Curious to get your thoughts on this!!
Thank you for the message!
Regarding the first point: I think there's a fairly typical thing going on of fan simplifying characters and their motivations. Does Dean love and care about Sam? Yes. Was Dean's duty to Sam something that was drilled into him as something that he had no choice over? And something that was reinforced through their forced isolation from the rest of society? Also yes. So what happens when Dean has someone that he has grown to love on his own terms? And who he never has to worry about alienating, someone who could actually be part of his life? Something very interesting!
I looooove the s6/7 example so much, because Dean really isn't ever angry at Cas for hurting Sam, he's angry at Cas for not listening to him. And even then, not really - his anger at Cas in 7x01 is much more something that Dean is using as a sheild, something to cover his own hurt, than anything else. And then the second it looks like Cas is going to turn around and come back to him, all that anger evaporates.
s8 was soooo vindicating as well when it aired, because all summer the bronlies were like, "Dean's motivation in Purgatory will be that he's trying to get back to Sam!" And then it WASN'T. This is another thing too, that bronlies will try to make it out like Sam is the only one that Dean will go to extreme lengths for, that Dean isn't a *generally* nurturing type of person who *wants* a bigger family and to not be so socially isolated. But throughout the entire show, Dean is constantly drawing people around himself. And we do see how Dean is willing to go to great lengths for Cas. Of course, a lot of the time, Dean is convinced that he's powerless to do anything when it comes to saving Cas, but Purgatory was one time when he wasn't, and we see what happens.
(And the thing is I do get where the bronlies are coming from in their understanding of the show, in an abstract sense. Like objectively, if someone were to tell me that there's a story about two brothers, that only have eachother against the world, and they have a super-intense relationship, and all they care about is each other and fighting monsters, and there's a dark, gothic vibe to it, I could see why someone would be into that. Like it's not my jam, but abstractly, I see it. But the thing is, that reading of the show does not hold up to contact with canon - and none of them want to admit that.)
The series finale is so weird when you think about it. Because bronlies hold it up as a win. But it is Dean taken down to a place where all he has is Sam and hunting, and then deciding that he has nothing to live for.
s9 was just a mess. Kicking Cas out of the bunker was so contrived. And then what everyone forgets is how incredibly happy and jazzed Dean was when he thought Cas was going to be living with them. The thing I'm most bitter about is that they couldn't have given us at least one episode of Dean and Cas being absolutely goofy happy around each other before constructing a situation to get Cas out of the picture.
Your last paragraph is interesting, and something to think about. The way I see it, is that Cas has entered a special tier of relationships with Dean, where Dean will hold on to him no matter what. I don't think Lisa and Ben are a good example for your point, actually, because I think Dean blames himself for what happened to them more than anyone else, which is reflected in his final interaction with them when he says he hit them with his car and is happy they can go on with their lives (or something of that nature, I forget).
Mary's death is interesting though. The only thing comparable to something like that happening before is when Dean blames Sam for Charlie's death (and what Dean says to Sam - "I think it should be you on that pyre instead of her" - is actually way more harsh than what Dean says to Cas). But Dean does forgive Sam, and he does forgive Cas - again, they're on a special tier, where Dean values them no matter what. And you see that throughout the divorce arc, where Dean keeps checking in on Cas and showing concern for him, in spite of how he feels at the moment - like he knows througout that the rift him and Cas are going through isn't going to last forever.
I think all of Dean's closest relationships are toxic, just as a result of the way he was raised and the kind of life he leads. With Sam, John, Mary, Jack, and Cas. The relationships that aren't toxic are the ones where they aren't physically around each other that much (like Charlie), or with Bobby, who has the level of experience to not get caught up in bullshit. With all of them, the death toll doesn't really matter (like Mary endangered Cas too, and Dean forgave her). Dean just tends to not let go of the people around him.
I think a big barrier for Dean and Cas is actually neither of them having any kind of reference model for what they are to one another. All of Dean's romantic relationships have been filled with secrets, and the knowledge that his partner cannot share his life with him. Dean calls Cas his "brother" in s6 and s11, because to him, that's the closest you can be to someone. That changes to "best friend", which is better, because it doesn't have the same connotation of obligation and responsibility - your best friend is someone you actually like being around. And it's a title that is uniquely Castiel's.
And in general he has trouble categorizing Castiel. Like he keeps trying to put Cas in human boxes that he doesn't actually fit within. He repeatedly indicates that he thinks of Cas as just a guy, and then Cas acts in ways that defy that category.
So yeah, I guess I don't really think that Dean sees Cas as unsafe. It's more that Dean just isn't thinking of romantic relationships as a possibility for himself. And he doesn't quite know how to categorize what he and Cas are to each other (and the fact that Cas is a dude may or may not play into that, depending on how much you think Dean grapples with internalized homophobia). And they're both generally fucked up.
It's an interesting idea, though, that Dean sees Cas as a danger, that I'd be interested in seeing explored more in posts or fic.
26 notes
·
View notes
Text
Sam and Lily Sunder in 12x10
I honestly never paid all that much attention to this scene in my previous rewatches of this episode, because the episode itself has such a strong focus on Cas, so that's where my attention was the other times.
But since this time my focus for this episode is on Sam (for... so far undisclosed reasons *coughs*), this scene is driving me completely up-the-wall insane. I'm not even sure I can adequately put into words all the layers of why.
Sam is really there, having a bonding moment with the red-haired, centuries-old woman who knows levels of advanced magic that lie beyond anything Sam has been able to do alone so far, while he's relating to her in a very personal way over past trauma.
The mind-blowing thing about this is that all of this sounds 100% like I'm talking about Rowena, but I'm not.
And you can see, you can actually see, how fascinated and tempted he is by the prospect of this magic.
That the only thing holding him back is the memory of himself going dark with the demon blood powers years ago.
(Sorry, I couldn't resist.)
And how he drops that restraint the moment he finds out that Lily is not talking about any dark powers, but about angelic, divine ones.
I mean, look at how interested he suddenly is.
This is just an assumption on my part, but I think his posture and facial expression mean he is so willing to pay the price?
He even puts the angel blade away he'd been fiddling with up to this point.
He's willing to pay the price until he finds out that this price also includes going back to one of his other deepest regrets—the time he was soulless and completely unhinged and without any remorse.
Which gives them yet another thing to bond over? Something nobody else would truly understand.
Listen, I'm not actually shipping Sam/Lily. I'm honestly not even completely sure what my point for this post is. But I'm just intrigued, you know?
They somehow put Sam's dark past with the demon blood powers and the soulless era and the desperate hunt for revenge for the deaths of Mary and Jess all into one conversation?
That and magic!
Then Lily's "You don't trust me, I understand" is like a throwback to one of the first things Sam said to Rowena: "I don't trust you, and I never will."
And then Lily, as if she already knew Sam in and out from the short time they've spent with each other, brings up the one thing that actually has the potential to make him go down that soulless road again.
Dean's death.
We know it's possible.
Just like Dean's fate was what made Sam drop all his restraints to team up with Rowena, it could do the same thing again, couldn't it?
If Ishim had managed to kill Dean and Cas that night, Sam would have wanted Ishim dead with very little regard for whatever personal sacrifices Sam would have had to make for that. Even if, for some reason, that would have been an eye?
We know that.
Lily knows that.
And Sam knows it, too.
(Also, she promises to wait for him because she really wants him as her student for Enochian magic, apparently? Just, what is happening here?)
#not gonna lie#a part of me is fascinated by this premise#and would have enjoyed seeing Sam do this#not that I would ever want Dean and Cas dead#I love them#just... you know#also of course I'll always prefer Samwena over SamxLily#but still#there was SO MUCH to unpack in this one scene#sam#lily sunder#12x10#spn#sam x lily sunder#I guess?#amaranthmeta
46 notes
·
View notes
Text
think i'd actually rather die than read another fic where the main plot point is cas trying to make up for something "bad" he did
#if I wanted to see cas be ostracized and given the cold shoulder I would just watch the show#obv I stopped reading as soon as I realized what was going on i don't hate read lmao#istg tho fics where it's like ''cas messed up!! im sure sam and dean have never done that before how can he make it up to dean 😔''#like cmon now#it's even weirder in au fics cos in the show cas only fucked up cos he was certain what he was doing would fix smth#Or he was trying to save the winchesters#but in au it's just like. Oh there was a good job opportunity and dean said smth mean so he left FOR 10 YEARS#cas only ever left dean for personal reasons I think when he divorced him in s15#and that was after dean blamed him for pretty much everything going wrong ever and not showing any sympathy for his dead child#And he STILL came back to the bunker like 2 seconds later lmao#i get that translating things into au is hard but cas leaving for any other reason than he has.to is just so strange to me#just a rant post I'm done now <3#cas my best friend cas
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
Whiskey on the Tongue
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader
Summary: You are the forbidden fruit Dean had always wanted to taste, and when you steal his whiskey the way you do, he is powerless to resist.
Words: 2.2k
A/N: This is my first ever Supernatural fic after having started watching the show just before Christmas. I know I'm late to the game but is it ever really too late to start loving a fandom? I've tried to make the reader generic in every way other than being cis-female, and Dean finding her hot.
It's been an absolute age since I wrote anything and probably longer since I posted anything here on Tumblr but I'm getting back into it now. Hopefully this finds its way to people in the Supernatural fandom who love a bit of Dean smut.
I hope you enjoy and, as always, I value your comments and feedback.
Warnings: Smut, explicit smut, alcohol consumption, mentions of people who have passed away, profanity as standard with pretty much everything I write.
*** Minors do not read or interact - 18+ content ***
Dean let his head fall back against the headboard, clenching his fists to try to distract himself from the deep ache in his left leg. It had been falling asleep for well over an hour now, but he didn’t want to move and disturb you.
The door to his room in the bunker was closed. Locked, in fact, though he did not remember doing it. You didn’t comment or so much as move when Sam brayed on the door and tried the handle, calling out for Dean to return his book. The very book that was in your hands right now.
“I need that book back, Dean.” Sam grumbled.
“Not now, Sammy!” Dean called back, hoping his little brother would just go away.
“I’m researching Nephilim to help Cas with the Kelly situation, Dean. It’s important.” Sam became more insistent.
“I said NOT NOW, SAM!” Dean hollered with a kind of finality that even Sam wouldn’t argue with.
Outside the door, Sam huffed and stalked away. Dean looked down to see you looking up at him from your position, lay on his bed. Your head was resting on his left calf, his leg bent with his foot tucked under his right knee. You had your knees up with your foot tapping along to his banging playlist, your jeans tight around your thighs and with your head tilted back he could see all the way down the deep V of your t-shirt.
He was going to hell. Straight there. Do not pass go. Do not collect two hundred dollars. And he probably deserved it.
He snapped his eyes up towards the ceiling but it was too late, he could feel himself stirring uncomfortably in his jeans. If Bobby was alive he would have skinned him raw just for having you in his room. Bobby was always protective of you, his niece. You were only a couple of years younger than Sam but Bobby had made himself very clear that you were off limits.
“If you touch one single hair on her body, I’ll make you regret the day your balls dropped. Do you hear me, boy?”
Bobby Singer. That man did not mince his words. And to this day, Dean had taken that threat as gospel. Even now that Bobby was up there with the Angels, that son of a bitch would find a way to keep his word.
You shifted, causing a painful twang to shoot up his leg. The reflexive grunt he failed to stifle made you look back up at him, giving him that glorious view again.
Dean decided he could die like this. If having a dead leg was a legitimate threat to his life, he would go out happy with the view of your rack in that lacy black bra he could see within the V-shaped window of that too-tight t-shirt.
He raised his eyes, once again to heaven, asking Bobby to forgive him or give him strength or something because – god help him – he wanted to take you right then and there.
It wasn’t unusual for you to seek him out after a case when you didn’t want to be alone, but you didn’t want to talk. You would just sit while he drank, reading or working on spells. You said he quieted the noise in your head. Hell, he wasn’t going to argue, you were a sight for sore eyes every time he came home. You were wicked hot and sexy in a non-slutty way. Not that slutty was bad. Dean liked slutty. But that wasn’t you, you were different.
A drink. That’s what was missing. Dean needed a damn drink, especially if you were going to torture him by laying on him all evening.
He reached over to his bedside unit, for the bottle he kept in there for special occasions. A bottle of twenty-five-year-old Speyside single malt that he liberated from the British Men of Letters on his last interaction with Ketch.
The pour made you stir again but it wasn’t until he raised the cut crystal tumbler to his lips did you move. Your hand came up and claimed the glass from underneath, twisting it as you sat up so as not to spill any.
“Where’s yours?”
The cheeky glint in your eye had him pursing his lips in mild annoyance.
“Don’t pout.” You lifted the glass, turning it until the mark left by his lips touched yours and you sipped, looking him straight in the eye.
Dean’s jaw went slack. The glisten of the whiskey on your lips and the satisfied hum you made when you swallowed – he swallowed unconsciously when you did – made his mouth go dry. He had never seen you like this.
You moved to kneel on the bed and walked your way slowly closer, giving his leg a tap; an instruction to move it aside. He did, causing pins and needles to infest his nerves like ants swarming on a log to escape a flood.
Knelt between his spread legs, you brought the glass to your lips again, sipping at the amber liquid. You leaned in.
Dean watched you, breathing shallow, attention rapt. You hadn’t so much as touched him, yet every nerve in his body felt like it was on fire in the best possible way. The closer you got the shallower he breathed until he was almost holding his breath, looking down his nose at how close your lips were. His eyelashes looked to flutter against his cheeks just as yours did when you brushed your whiskey dappled lips against his.
He refused to lick where you had been. He couldn’t. As soon as he tasted, he would pounce, and…
“Don’t.” He croaked out when you moved to lay your lips on him once more.
You looked confused but at least you didn’t look hurt. He couldn’t bear it if you looked hurt because of him.
“Bobby…” Was all he could say through his constricting throat.
You smiled then, full of amusement, lips brushing against his, you whispered “he’ll understand.”
Dean tried not to respond to you but you coaxed his lips apart and teased your tongue to meet his, short circuiting his brain. The taste of the scotch and the sweetness of your mouth made him groan. He had fantasised about having you for years, but never did he think it would be you seducing him.
His hands on your hips guided you roughly to straddle him, the bulge in his jeans pushing up against you as you settled. He took the glass from your hands and downed the contents, his eyes on yours as he dropped the glass carelessly on the bedside unit.
Your lips met his again but this time you devoured each other, tongues stroking together, moans stifled by each other’s mouths. He trailed his hands up your body, dragging your t-shirt along with them. Finally, he could see what he had been having glimpses of this whole evening. Plush breasts cupped in scant lace that was completely impractical for a hunt, Dean realised, like you had meant to come here like this. You had intended this from the beginning.
He tore at the lace, dragging it under your breasts to free them, shoulder straps slipped down. Pawing at them like he had never touched a tittie before, all he wanted to do was suck and nip and nibble.
Your breathy sigh was divine, and the moan that followed was filthy. You cupped the back of his head as he took your nipple into his mouth and sucked hard, pressing him further, asking for more.
While he worked on your breasts you undid his belt and fly, reaching into the front of his shorts to release him from the awkward angle at which he was trapped. You stroked him, firm but slow, feeling him for the first time. You had always wondered what he had going on down there that every woman he had ever been with would come back for more at the drop of a hat. You weren’t disappointed.
Dean lifted his hips, you thought to allow you to push his jeans down but instead he flipped you, making you squeal. Once under him, he ravished your breasts anew, pinching one nipple hard while licking and sucking the other. Soon you were a mewling mess, hips writhing, begging for something he hadn’t given you yet. Excited that he had taken control away from you, you watched him sit up and yank your jeans down, lifting your legs until they were bare. Your knickers followed and he spread your legs without preamble, lowering himself between your thighs until his hair and eyes were all you could see above your mound.
“Jesus Christ of Nazareth!”
You groaned as he suckled against your sensitive spot. Fuck, he was good with his tongue. Everything about him was good except his image. Bad boy Dean Winchester. He was every woman’s wet dream. He had been your wet dream since you were seventeen. But now you were plenty old enough and finally getting what you wanted.
Bobby had told you to stay away from him when you were a kid. Dean had a reputation as a ladies man even then, but he respected your uncle Bobby enough to keep his distance… until now.
Dean dipped two fingers inside, creating pressure in exactly the right spot. You gasped and gripped his hair as your pleasure began to crest, tugging on it for dear life. He looked up at you then, to see your eyes closed against the intensity of it, neck and face flushed red with your oncoming orgasm. When it came, the pulsing of your core was his sign to slow down. He left off his suckling and stroked you through the pleasure, watching you all the while. You were a beautiful mess.
“That’s my girl.” He praised you in that deep rough tone you adored, helping prolong your climax until you took his hand away yourself. “Are you ready for me?”
You nodded, allowing him to lift your knees up and stroke the weeping tip of his cock over your swollen clit.
From the front pocket of the jeans he still wore, he pulled a foil packet with Trojan embossed on it. He was swift with its application, aiming his tip just so.
When he slid home, your eyes rolled back and you reached to grip his forearms. It was something Dean would never get tired of seeing but it felt that much different with you. You were the forbidden thing he had always wanted but could never have. Even now he didn’t know whether he would come to regret this. God, he hoped not.
Balls deep in you, he leaned forward to kiss you, wrapping your legs around his hips. His instinct was to fold you in half and pound the living shit out of you, but you were already overwhelmed and he wanted to make this soft for you.
“Tell me what you need.” He spoke softly as he nuzzled your neck.
“Just you, like this.” You sighed. Who knew Dean Winchester was a considerate lover.
His slow, measured thrusts brought you closer to the edge, your core fluttering each time, he could feel it. It surprised him how quickly is climax built at this pace, but the added connection you both shared seemed to turn him on. He would never give up Busty Asian Babe porn but he could get used to this with you.
You didn’t close your eyes against the pleasure this time, you watched him come undone above you, gasping as his orgasm made his legs and arms shake, muscles clenched tight to keep his weight from collapsing on you. When he swelled you dug your fingers into his hips to pull him deeper with each stroke, and when he spilled you also came, eyes fluttering shut finally.
Dean knelt up, slipping the rubber off as soon as he was clear of you and, tying a knot in the end, tossed it in the direction of the trash can.
“Shot.” You said with a smile as the sticky bundle went straight in the can.
He quirked and eyebrow and give you a slightly smug lopsided smirk that said: What can I say? I don’t miss.
When you moved to sit, he stopped you.
“Here, lemme get that.”
“Thanks.”
He stripped his t-shirt off and used it to clean up the wetness between your legs. Though none of it was his, it would still dribble when you moved. Afterwards he tucked it under your ass and flopped down on the bed at your side, moving his arm behind your head so you could rest it on his chest. You were both content. Both had goofy grins on your faces. Both disbelieving that you had finally gotten what you wanted.
A loud knock at the door started you.
“Are you done?” Sam said. “I need that book.”
“NO!” You and Dean shouted back in unison, laughing afterwards.
“Bobby’s gonna kill you.” Sam called back through the door.
“I KNOW!” Dean yelled gruffly, pulling you closer.
There might be a time in the future where the ghost of Bobby Singer came to make him regret the day his balls dropped and, if it happened, Dean would be happy to see him again. In the meantime, you and he could work on a whole bunch of reasons to make the cranky old bastard come down from up high for a visit.
Dean pulled the sheets over both of your heads, nibbling at your neck until you moaned his name. Aside from the roar of Baby’s engine, he had found his new favourite sound.
#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester smut#dean winchester x you#dean winchester fanfiction#spn#supernatural fic#spn fanfic#dean winchester fic#cloudy's writing#my first spn fic
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Ok so. "Why does this sound like a goodbye?" Was fucking heartbreaking, right; we have the full-on uninterrupted eye contact, the head tilt, Dean's already open mouth twitching before the scene cuts to Cas' "I love you," like he had more to say, but Cas beats him to the punch. It's great, we love that. But for the dialogue to be sequenced that way, and to have Dean reply with, "don't do this, Cas."
I'm only just realizing how fucking insane it was. And sure, I might just be coping here, at the end of the day who fucking knows, but look at it. Think about it. Now let yourself feel it all over again.
It's Dean's death knocking on the door behind Cas, and it's Cas' death emerging behind Dean. Like this, they're directly facing their own demise—but they're too stuck on each other, in their moment, to give a damn. And then Dean doesn't say, "I love you too." He says, "don't do this."
He isn't disgusted or ashamed or put off in the slightest by Cas' confession, because if he is then why is he on the verge of tears? In what world would it make sense for him to want to cry after his best friend confessed to him, if the confession was something he did not want. He says don't do this here, don't do this to me now.
Even if, and that's the most unlikely if to ever exist, Dean did not reciprocate Cas' feelings—don't do this is still so fucking powerful. Because Dean's connected the dots, happiness [...] is in just saying it, and Cas said it, so where does that lead Dean? That's right, with Cas dead again, trying to save him again.
Don't do this. Don't die for me, don't love me only to die for me, don't love me at all, just stay with me.
Don't let me watch you die again and not even let me follow you—because, at the very least, that was a consolation. She's gonna kill you, which Dean knows that Billie knows will hurt him more than his own death, and then she's gonna kill me.
"Don't do this," was actually so fucking powerful, I don't know how it slipped past me until now...
#MORE destiel fuckery#supernatural#spn#destiel#castiel#dean winchester#deancas#15x18#spn 15x18#spn despair#dean studies#spn castiel#spn dean#spn meta#spn analysis#destiel angst
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Here's what sticks in my craw: why ON EARTH does fanon imagine that Cas has 'self-esteem issues' and experiences his love for Dean as a wet, miserable kind of yearning? What is it about any part of anything that happens on Supernatural makes anyone think that Cas, a cosmic, Eldritch being, a warrior of god, who literally hung the stars and has existed for a bazillion years, is reduced to teenage angst by Dean's pussy?
Like, when Cas says "the one thing I want I know I can't have" why do y'all think it's a piece of Dean's ass? Why does ANYONE think Cas doesn't know Dean loves him? Dean has shown Cas he loves him with literally everything he has again and again and again. Even the way Dean feels like Cas can absorb his anger is Dean showing Cas love and trust. Cas and Dean have chosen each other, forgiven each other, and been the only reliable thing in each others' lives over, and over and over again. Cas fucking knows that Dean loves him. Cas can literally hear Dean's thoughts, and feel his yearning. Cas was only saying the quiet part out loud when he said he loved Dean, because it was already obvious! If there was anyone feeling wet and lovesick, it would be DEAN, if he ever had a break in the battle to fucking feel things, which he did not.
Like, hear me out: what if the one thing Cas knows he can't have is the one thing he knows he signed over to the empty? His happiness, and by extension, Dean's, because he knows Dean loves him? What if Cas is saying: I know I can't have this thing I want for myself: to be the one to MAKE YOU HAPPY, but I can save you, and maybe Cas's belief in Dean is such that he still hopes and believes Dean will find a way to make himself happy if he lives.
After Cas's death, Dean is trying to live for him. Trying to be what Cas believed he was. It's what CANONICALLY gives Dean the strength to defeat Chuck by not killing him! And, after Dean's death, he CANONICALLY goes in search of happy endings. Like... THAT IS EXPLICITLY STATED.
I AM HAVING AN ALL CAPS MOMENT, SO SUE ME.
Guys, Cas is not a wet, yearning baby who needs Dean to say or do ANYTHING to validate his love. HE KNOWS. He is a being of unimaginable age and power. He is not beleaguered by self-esteem issues, or the need to tongue-wrestle Dean. Like, he might WANT TO, but he CANONICALLY does not need to in order to experience a happiness so complete that it puts paid to his deal. His happiness is THAT NOW DEAN ALSO KNOWS, and he can tell Dean why, and show him who he is in the mirror of that love.
Also, he is not dead, he is just on another plane of existence, and neither is Dean. Cas is a profoundly unselfish badass. He is not fucking PINING. He made a play, the best one he had. He is a strategist, and he knows Dean BY HEART.
#spn#spnwin#castiel#angel of the lord#destiel#dean winchester#cas is not a wet yearning baby in a trenchcoat#he is a warrior and a strategist#and he already knows dean's heart#what if love was a strength#not a weakness?#isn't that THE WHOLE POINT?
511 notes
·
View notes
Text
Concerning Habits
Dean and Sam Winchester x little sister!reader, Castiel x teen!reader (platonic obviously)
Requested by Anonymous
Synopsis: you’re too embarrassed to share one of your habits with your brothers.
“Would you stop moving around back there?” Your oldest brother Dean demanded. “You’re shaking the whole car, just go to sleep.”
“What do you think I’m trying to do,” you grumbled, changing positions again as you struggled to grasp onto the sleep that’d been evading you for the past hour.
“Since when are you such an insomniac anyway?” Sam asked absentmindedly from the passengers seat, where he was pouring over one of the Men of Letters books.
“I don’t know,” you lied. You knew exactly why you’d been tossing and turning for the past hour, but you’d rather throw yourself out of the Impala then tell your brothers why.
Truthfully, it was kind of stupid. When you’d packed your bag to come on the hunt with your brothers, you’d forgotten to pack Jasper, the teddy bear you’d had almost since birth. You hated that you couldn’t get to sleep without him, but you’d tried before and it never worked. It was a little comfort in a world where comfort was few and far between.
You were sure that there were two reasons that you needed him to sleep. The first was more of a tangible reason; you’d gotten used to holding something every night for your whole life, so to be without it threw you off. The other reason was more personal; having that bear was like having a reminder of your whole family with you. Your mother had bought it for you, John had sewed an eyepatch on his face when one of his little plastic eyes fell off, and Sam and Dean had sewed up rips and tears in the thing countless times. Without him, you felt…alone. Like the little pieces of your family that you were desperate to remember were gone.
Of course, this was way too much to dump on Sam and Dean, who were just trying to enjoy a peaceful drive. So, you gave up on your useless attempts at sleep, and instead grabbed your headphones and turned on one of your playlists. You made sure to keep your phone under the small blanket over you, not wanting to alert Sam and Dean to your restlessness.
“Wake me when it’s my turn to drive,” Sam told Dean, and you couldn’t help but be jealous at the way he fell asleep almost immediately.
Four hours later, you had exhausted both your body and your playlist, yet still sleep wouldn’t come. There was still over six hours left in the drive, and you were sure that you were going to go insane.
When the Impala pulled over and Dean and Sam switched seats, you noticed Sam staring at you.
“Why are you awake?” He asked. Dean glanced back to look at you.
“I…” you didn’t have a good answer, so you didn’t.
“Did you sleep at all?” Dean asked, and when you ignored this too, he began to look alarmed. “Alright, what’s up? You need to sleep.”
“I’m trying,” your voice came out in a mumble.
“For the past four hours?” Sam didn’t sound convinced. “You’re either trying too hard, or not hard enough.”
“I can’t sleep.”
“Why?” Dean asked. “You looked half dead when we left for this trip, I thought you’d be out in five minutes flat.”
“I just…I left something at the bunker,” you slowly sat up, giving up on even your fake sleep. “And I need it.”
“Why didn’t you say something before?” Dean demanded. “If you need it-“
“I didn’t realize until it was too late,” you sighed. “And-and I don’t need need it.”
“What’d you forget?” Sam asked, confused.
When you didn’t answer, Dean turned in his seat to face you.
“Kid? C’mon, talk to me, is it like medication or something? I might have some sleeping pills with me.”
You shook your head, feeling dumber than ever.
“Not-not pills, just…” you lowered your eyes, resisting the urge to hide under your blanket. “Just something that helps me sleep.”
“How about this,” Sam sighed, trying to stall Dean’s rising frustration. “How about I call Cas, and he can get it for you?”
“I don’t wanna bother Cas,” you said quietly.
“Hey Cas,” you flinched in surprise at Dean’s sudden outburst. “We’re on I94, mile marker…78, and we could use some hel-“ Dean stopped talking when Cas appeared suddenly next to you.
“What’s wrong?”
“Ask her,” Dean gestured at you, and you felt your face heat up, your ears turning pink. It would’ve been embarrassing enough for your brothers to find out about Jasper, but an actual angel?
“Dean-“
“We’re gonna be on this hunt for days, I’m not about to let you just not sleep for days, so tell the angel what you need and get it over with.”
“You want me to help you sleep?” Cas asked, trying to understand why he’d been summoned.
“No, it’s just…I-I left something at home, and I need it to sleep, and since you can like, teleport…” your voice trailed off when you saw realization light up Cas’s face.
“Alright, what is it you want me to get?”
“It’s…” you couldn’t admit it, you just couldn’t. You tried to skirt around the answer. “It’s in my room…”
“You might have to be more specific,” Cas said slowly, his brows drawn together.
“It’s a bear, ok? A stuffed animal bear, and it’s on my bed,” you’d given up completely on both your attempts to keep the truth from them and any inclination to look at anyone in the car. You’d buried your head in the blanket that you held in your hands, and didn’t look up even when you heard the gentle whoosh of Castiel leaving.
“Kid, you ok?” Sam asked softly, to which you merely nodded.
“Here you go.”
At the sound of Cas’s voice, you finally looked up to see him holding Jasper out to you.
“I don’t understand. You seem distressed,” Castiel observed as you pulled Jasper into your arms.
“I’m not distressed, I’m embarrassed,” you huffed. “It’s…it’s just so stupid.”
“I’ve observed that many humans have sentimental attachments to objects, I don’t understand why this is different,” Castiel cocked his head.
“Stuffed animals are for kids,” you mumbled.
“So?” Dean’s voice from the front seat surprised you.
“So? You don’t think it’s stupid?”
“Kid, we all have our…” Dean searched for a word. “Quirks. And considering some of the issues me and Sammy have had,” his wry smile made you relax slightly, “I think ‘needing a stuffed animal’ is pretty low on our Concerning Habits list.”
“You really don’t think it’s that dumb?” You asked.
“Honestly, it’s below Sam’s haircut on my list of weird things in our family. Far below,” Dean scoffed, and you felt yourself relax completely.
“Ok, enough,” you grinned at the sound of Sam’s grumpy tone. “Shouldn’t you be getting some sleep?”
You finally settled down in your seat, smiling at Cas and thanking him quietly. Once he vanished, you stretched out completely in the back seat, and within minutes you were fast asleep, your bear tucked tightly under your arm.
Because you fell asleep so quickly, you missed the way Dean turned in his chair to smile at you, and the whispered conversation he shared with Sam.
“You know, that kid is adorable.”
Sam laughed softly, glancing back at you before turning back to focus on the road.
“Yeah, I know.”
#dean winchester#dean winchester x reader#dean and sam#dean winchester x you#sam winchester#sam winchester x reader#supernatural dean#the winchesters#winchesters x reader#dean x sister#sam winchester x sister!reader#dean winchester x sister#dean winchester x sister!reader#winchesters x sister#winchester x reader#the winchester brothers#spn sam winchester#castiel
777 notes
·
View notes
Note
I need someone to explain to me what the value of the Chuck Won theory is. Why would you want the ending to be worse?
i can't speak for anyone else but the reason EYE like it is because, for me, it actually makes the ending less bleak. if i take the finale as is—if i accept that chuck lost—it means that jack really did become god, that dean didn't look for a way to rescue cas, that dean died young and suicidal, that sam spent the rest of his life obsessed with his dead brother, that none of the family they found and they built and they fought for mattered, that cas was just resurrected off-screen and decided to never speak to the brothers again i guess? and if you don't take The Winchesters into account, it means that dean got to heaven, found out cas was still alive, and immediately decided to drive for like forty years just waiting for sam who he literally just saw. and that's it. that's all there is. how is that not the bleakest fucking tragedy ever?
but, if i assume that chuck won, it means the story isn't actually over. it means they're not done.
i know this is an unpopular opinion because people hate the idea of dean being sad but uhhhhhhhh to me dean dying in the finale is him giving up because he doesn't want to fucking do it anymore. he doesn't want to live without cas. and while that's wildly depressing, it is in-line with the dean i know. because the dean in the finale is either an imposter or a shell of a person who has neither purpose nor hope anymore.
but, if chuck won, the reason it seems like everything sucks is because it does suck. and that means there's still hope! they can beat chuck without losing every single other thing that matters. they can have jack back. they can rescue cas. they can keep their family. they have a shot at actually living.
i guess what i'm trying to say is that the reason Chuck Won truthing is so appealing to me is that it means the story isn't finished. dean is going to get the gay happily ever after he deserves. jack is going to get to go fishing with his dads. cas is going to hear that someone loves him. sam is going to get pegged. and eileen is going to fucking matter gdi
426 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hey! I love your silly spn things🤭 could you please do how’d the boys would react if you gave them a flower crown?🥹❤️
Flower Crown (SPN pref)🩷
a/n: THIS IS SO FUCKING CUTE OMFG!! i love this idea so much. i hope you enjoy, babe 🫶🏻 i’m sorry it took a little bit to get put out, i’m having some family struggles and they’re taking a toll on me but i hope you enjoy 🥰🥰
warnings: fluff, swearing
Dean:
dude.
he falls in LOVE
i think he would try and act all cool and stuff but he’d be MELTING inside omg
he literally adores you and the crown
i think he would let you put it on his head at first but he wouldn’t leave it on. he would display it tho
“y/n you made this?”
“yeah.. do you like it?” :))
“I love it sweetheart.”
hugs you
shows sam
“sammy look at what y/n made me! it’s so cool. you don’t have one. ha.”
teach him how to make them cus he’ll make you one
Sam:
he loves it so much
sam dosent get affection often and he NEEDS it and it’s SO CUTE
“hey y/n. what’s up?”
“i made something for you.”
toy hand him the crown and he looks up at you and his eyes are all glossy.
“this is for me?”
“yeah. i tried to get your favorite color flowers in there. do you like it?”
HUGS HUGS HUGS
He fuckin ADORES it
he’s so cute omg
he wants to wear it forever and ever and ever
he shows dean and brags for days
he’ll teach himself how to make them and make you a bunch of them with your favorite colors
Castiel:
cas wouldn’t take it off
you give it to him and he insists to take some photos and everything
he loves it so much omg
he’s never loved anyone as much as he loves you and he also loves getting little surprise gifts
he goes back to heaven and brags and brags
get yourself a man who will brag to the angels about you
“y/n gave me this flower crown thing. it is truly beautiful.”
he wears it when he goes to see sam and dean and they’re both looking at him like he’s on cocaine
“cas. what’s on your head?”
“oh, isn’t it beautiful? y/n made me it!”
he won’t wear it on hunts or during battles bc he dosent want it to rip or get ruined :(
give him so much more
Crowley:
crowley will wear that shit loud and proud
he’s torturing a demon with a little red rose and vine crown on his head :(
it reminds him of you so he always wears it
he lets the flowers wilt and get a little dead bc it fits his vibe but when they rlly do die he’d be crying lowkey
he wants so many more
“please y/n? they compliment my suit so well, my love.”
crowley deserves all the love
he literally can’t get enough of them
#love u mwah#thank you sm for this request#castiel#castiel x reader#dean winchester#dean winchester x reader#sam winchester#sam winchester x reader#crowley#crowley x reader
411 notes
·
View notes
Text
cold nights // part nine
summary: may the odds be ever in your favour.
pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader
wc: 3.6k
masterlists / nav / requests
tags/warnings: tribute!reader and mentor!coriolanus, r is very sweet (too kind for this world. literally.), sunshine x grumpy trope kinda, he falls first, violence typical for the source material, r is very smart (as she should), district twelve!reader.
a/n: this is the teaaaa guys,, also should i post the playlist tn?? i feel like its almost ready 0.0
series masterlist // playlist
"You should go home. You can't save her by just hoping she comes out of her little tunnels again..." Coryo turns his head at the Dean's voice on his left. "She could be dead in there. You wouldn't know."
Your friend sighs, rolling his eyes and redirecting them to the screen ahead. Just in case.
"What are you reading?" He points to the open book on Coryo's desk in front of him as the boy quickly closes it, pulling it down onto his lap.
"Just a book." He mumbles.
The Dean gets closer, leaning over to read the cover as Coryo flips it over. "Just a book?" He probes it more, raising an eyebrow at him. "The very same one your poet was reading in all the live feeds of the zoo over the last few days. That's sweet."
"It's interesting. That's all. She asked for it, I wanted to know why." Coryo brushes it off, holding the paper tighter in his grip.
"What do you want from that girl?" He asks, leaning against the empty desk next to him.
"Nothing." Coryo insists. "I want her to live."
Dean Highbottom hums, giving a slight nod. "And the Plinth Prize would be a happy coincidence, I suppose."
Coriolanus smiles bitterly, thinking over what his best response would be. "I believe I'd be entitled to it."
"Of course you do." The Dean nods, flashing him a fake smile of encouragement. "Of course you do. The prize, the girl. Hm. How convenient you don't have to choose between them."
Coryo tucks the book under his leg at the statement, choosing not to grace his superior with any kind of response.
"Who do you think makes that final decision for the prize you so covet, Mister Snow? Wake up. Even if she somehow wins it all, I will do everything in my power to ensure that you don't see a dime." Dean Highbottom spits, looking up at the screen as well as Coryo slowly looks over at him. "So, ask yourself, how much do you care if she wins now?"
Coryo listens to the man's footsteps as he walks away, pretending to focus on the screen again. If he truly had no shot at the prize, would it be best for him to go home now and sleep like many of his classmates already had? Should he even bother to watch the cameras hoping that you'll reappear in the dark arena at some point tonight? Should he even come back? Of course he would. He couldn't live with the idea of you coming out, in desperate need of something only he could give you, food or water, and knowing that at some point you would realize he had lied to you. That he wasn't with you anymore. He would have to watch your heartbreak in holiday reruns for the rest of his life. Even if you died in that arena all alone, would you realize that he didn't care about you at the end? He couldn't take the idea of it.
As he returns to the book that he's pulled back onto his lap, he hopes you still remember.
It's another slow hour before you show your face again, slowly, carefully opening the vent across the arena as the motion cameras pick up on it, allowing Coryo to watch the closest one to you. It's a moment before he looks up, entranced in your book when he sees the movement in his peripheral vision. He was the only one there, now, and he knew it likely wasn't you that the cameras picked up so it took him a moment to even tear his eyes away from the desk, slotting the dried-up flower between the pages. When he does see it's you, he sits up quickly. Watching, waiting for the other shoe to drop. But it didn't come, there was no one else. It's just you.
Your eyes scan the arena in search of the nearest camera after seeing that there are no other tributes out in the clearing besides Lamina, where you left her on the beam. You crawl out, leaving the vent open behind you for a quick retreat. You find the camera, looking into it. You were covered in dirt head to toe, but even through that Coryo could see it when you tried to communicate with your gaze. With him.
You give a small wave to the camera, eyes flitting up with the sound of birds in the crumbled rafters above you.
He wasn't sure what you wanted, but he was grateful you listened. Tapping through his communicuff, he quickly finds water and hits send. Hopefully, it makes it to you instead of breaking like Lamina's did.
You stand up in front of the vent, stretching out your limbs from being curled up and crawling around in the vent system for so long. You wanted to explore as much of it as you could, but it was hot in there, and you desperately needed water so you could clear out the dust in your throat.
A smile falls onto your face briefly as you see the drone come in, carrying your water bottle. Coryo. He is watching. You hold your hand out, prepared to try and catch it before it crashes loudly into the stands just behind you. From watching what happened with Lamina's, you know you have to be careful. The blades aren't well covered, and they come flying in fast. Straight toward you. When it gets too close you bail, ducking down as the fast-moving drone flies straight past you and into the vent. You cringe at the loud banging that follows, echoing throughout the arena due to your beloved vent system. You stay hidden for a moment, making sure no one is coming after you before standing up and looking around. Satisfied that no one was coming besides Lamina who just stirred on her beam, you held your finger up toward the camera, signaling for Coryo to wait as you crawled back in.
He chews on the inside of his cheek as he waits, relieved when you emerge a minute or so later with an unbroken bottle in your hand as you kneel on the ground in front of the opening. You hold it up, shooting the camera a small smile before opening it and taking a sip. Or, you intended to, but you were so thirsty you downed almost the whole thing in one go.
You wipe your chin, take a deep breath, and close your eyes. It felt so good. Coryo is watching you intently. You don't look cold, which is good. Maybe even a little sweaty, if the hair that's clinging to your forehead is proof of that. You're probably hungry. And with that, he's sending you an apple. If you weren't hungry, it wasn't a lot to eat, but if you were, he would be able to tell by how you ate it.
You hear the distant whir of another drone, quickly standing up and stepping away from the vent. You want to avoid that loud echoing as much as you can. You brace yourself and duck beneath the seat in front of you, hiding behind the railing so it wouldn't hit you.
It crashes into the front of the stands, and you can hear it falling down onto the floor. You stand up slowly, looking over the edge. You were so hungry, now that you saw the apple there, that you hopped down over the side and walked along the edge of the railing before sliding down where it was safest. You watch your steps as you make your way over to the broken drone and the battered apple that was attached to it.
You scan the ground, looking for that delicious flash of red which you pick out quickly. You pick it up and wipe it off on your dress, taking a bite before you're even fully stood up again. You could moan just at the taste of it. You had missed fruit so much- occasionally Coryo and Sejanus had brought you some in the zoo, but now it was something else entirely. Every bite could be your last, and you try to enjoy it as best you can.
You track the arena again from the floor, looking around again for the nearest camera. You turn when you see it's pretty much directly above your head. You wave again, giving Coryo a grateful smile, weakened by the stress of the day's events, and by your inevitable death. Nevertheless, you tried to keep on a brave face; you didn't want him to view you as careless or ungrateful. "Thank you." You say, unsure if there is even a microphone.
You tilt your head at the camera, confusing him as you squint. "Can you hear me?" You ask and he nods, alone in the large room.
"I can hear you." He whispers back to the open air, watching as you swiftly turn around, facing away from the camera.
"If you can hear me, send..." You think about it. What is something they would definitely have available but obscure enough that you would know he heard you? "Send in something odd. Something you're surprised is even an option."
He flicks through the pages and pages of options, unsure what to pick. Bread was too basic, no apples, water, no. Milk? That's weird, and gross. It's perfect. He hits send and watches as you eat your apple, looking up at the opening at the top waiting for something else to come.
You smile as you see it coming in, looking back at the camera briefly before bracing yourself to dodge the flying gift. You wait until the last second, jumping out of the way as it smashes into the wall behind you, the bottle shattering and spraying the surface in milk. Coryo cringes just at the sight of it as you turn and look.
You scrunch up your nose and get closer, running your finger through the dripping liquid to try and identify it. "Milk?" You ask, looking up at the camera.
He smiles to match yours as it grows on your face and you start to laugh quietly. "That is odd, indeed." You giggle, shaking your head. "Well, thank you, dear Coryo. At least I shall have someone to talk to." You take another bite out of the apple in your hand.
"I hope you had a good day." You hum, covering your mouth as you chew. "But you should be getting home soon. I think it is late."
It's so you to be so caring, even finding yourself within the games you're still worried about him. He smiles to himself, shaking his head. He continues to click through the communicuff in the silence that follows, just to get a better idea of all your options, when he finds something better.
Finally, the keyboard makes sense. He quickly types the note out to you and hits send. It's pricey to send a note, putting a dent in your donations, but you had so many it wasn't really a concern at this point. After all, he was your mentor. It only made sense that he would kind of be able to communicate with you.
You perk your head up at the sound of another drone, ready to play this game again. You dodge it more smoothly this time, with a spin that puts a smile on your mentor's face before picking up the small container clipped on the bottom of the drone and prying it open.
You smile when you see it's just a piece of paper. "I'm not leaving. -C" You read, looking up at the camera.
"Well then," You grin. "Let's talk! It is not day."
He remembers that one. You've said that one to him before- you said it was Romeo and Juliet. He's actually sure he just read it. If the book belonged to him, he would be highlighting and annotating every line you have recited to him over the last couple weeks just like he does in his textbooks.
"That's Romeo and Juliet, if you remember." You remind him, assuming that he wouldn't know it yet. Even if he had started reading it, which he shouldn't have considering you know he's been busy, it was unlikely he'd get that far in under a day. You didn't know that he was inhaling every word on the page in the moments you were off-screen, devouring every blank verse as if it were sacred. To you, and now to him, it almost was.
You look around as you chew on your apple, stopping when you look at Marcus again. You sigh, sadly, seeing the birds now crowding his body as you quickly begin to make your way over. Lamina sits up as you approach, looking over the edge of the beam. "Just me." You whisper, reassuring her before you shoo the birds away as she lays back down.
You crouch down next to the boy, gently rolling him onto his back. You hadn't the chance earlier, too rushed by the daylight to get back into hiding, but now was as good a time as any. You gently cross his arms over his chest and close his eyes.
You sit back, carefully adjusting his clothes before getting up, as satisfied as you could be with the makeshift burial.
You take a few steps back, retreating quietly to the edge of the arena to get back to your vent. You climb up into the stands just as you hear another drone coming, quickly climbing the stairs so it doesn't fall back down into the ring. You grab it when it's settled, smiling to yourself when you see it's another note.
"No cameras in the vents. Only come out if you need anything. -C"
"Thank you, Coryo." You whisper, looking up at the camera and nodding before retreating inside, closing the fan quietly behind you.
You curl up just past the entrance to the vent, hoping to get some sleep near the fresh air. The exhaustion kicks in quickly after you eat the entire core of the apple, knocking you out in the darkness of the tunnel.
When you wake, it's still dark. You sit up quickly, realizing where you are. Rubbing your eyes, you look out of the vent to see the source of the sound that woke you. You quickly spot a figure kneeling over Marcus's body, blinking to try and see who it is through the sleep still in your eyes.
You should stay hidden, you know that, but from behind at least, it doesn't look like another tribute.
"Sejanus?" You whisper, the vast space carrying your voice to his ears and he quickly turns. You were lucky it was him, but you were able to make a quick escape if it turned out to be someone else. "Sejanus, it's just me." You continue, and as you ease yourself down the debris piled up against the wall he just turns back to Marcus.
You take careful, nearly silent steps as you walk up behind him. "Sejanus?" You say again, placing a hand on his shoulder.
He shakes his head slightly, looking up at you. Tears filled his eyes and stained his cheeks, and you very quickly felt the tears building up in your own eyes as well. "Oh..." You quickly kneel down next to him, pulling him into a hug which he gratefully accepts. "Oh, Sejanus I'm so sorry... I wanted to save him, I did..." You choke on every word as you apologize.
"It's not fair." He sniffs, shaking his head gently under your grip as you soothingly rub the back of his head.
"I know... He didn't deserve that." You agree, ignoring the tears dripping down to your jaw and tickling your skin. "But I want you to know I told him how loved he is, and how sorry we all are. He knew. In his final moments, he knew..."
He tenses under your hold. "It... it was you?" He mutters, pulling away.
"No! No, I-" You quickly defend yourself, head shaking as your arms drop from around him and he looks over at you, understated anger beginning to shine through. "Sejanus, I didn't..."
Any trust he had in you was seemingly gone at that moment. You were worried you flipped a switch you couldn't unturn, that any relationship you had built with the boy had died and been replaced with the thought that maybe you were no better than the game makers themselves. Marcus was defenseless, and it felt like Sejanus thought you took advantage of that.
Your thought process proved to be correct. "He was defenseless! Innocent!" You could tell he would shout if you weren't both so worried about staying quiet. His anger quickly reverted back to hurt. "How could you?"
"I promise, it's not what it sounds like-" You try to correct him, to get him to forgive you as your chest constricts around your lungs. One of the two friends you made in your final days; gone. Just like that.
"Hey!" Another voice startles the both of you, already just a few feet away. You didn't realize how vulnerable you were while you were fighting to prove yourself. You scramble to get up, standing just in front of Sejanus as he knelt on the ground, making no attempts to move. "Y/N. Get out of here." Coryo instructs you, still in his academy uniform.
"Coryo, I-"
"Go hide. Now. It's not safe for you out here." He insists, eyes cold and serious.
"No, not until-"
"I said go. I can't be talking to you, we'll both be punished. Go."
God, he wanted to talk to you. He wanted to do more than talk to you. He wanted to hug you for the first time unimpeded, to grab your hand and pull you outside to where you would be safe, but he knew that neither was an option. You're safer in the vent than you would be in the hands of Dr. Gaul after he was seen talking to you, that's for sure.
He has to bite his tongue to keep from asking you to stay while you scurry off to do as he said and climb back into the vent, his mother's scarf still tied securely around your waist. He hated that this could possibly be the last time you saw him, but he had no choice.
"Sejanus, let's go." He whispers to his friend, once he is satisfied that you are really going.
"She killed him..." He mumbles in response.
"She didn't kill him." Coryo quickly corrects him.
"She said-"
"He begged for their help, and she held his hand while she," He points up the beam where a now sleeping Lamina lay quietly, "did it. Now let's get out of here."
He urges him on and Sejanus looks up at him. "He asked them to." Coryo hisses to iterate his point. "Y/N couldn't do it even then."
Sejanus looks up to the vent just as the door creaks closed behind you. "I just wanted to help..." He says softly, eyes watering.
"If you want to help, the best thing you can do is come with me."
"No, I had to be where the cameras are, I need to show them-"
"Do you think anyone is watching this?" Coryo asks as his friend finally stands up. He was making progress, but slowly. This needed to move faster. "Gaul cut the feed. Come with me now, or-"
"But you said-"
"You can't help them if you die in here and become another body in Gaul's war." Coryo cuts him off. There was very little time for arguments, and that timer was rapidly ticking down. "Go home, spend your father's money, do some real good. And don't blame her. She's just as innocent as Marcus was and you know that. Who do you think shut his eyes? Posed him like that? She sobbed for an entire hour after holding his hand while he died!"
Sejanus is speechless, staring down at his tribute's body.
"I watched it all! She's alone in here. She has no one!" He whispers in his ear. "We are all she has. Me and you on the outside, and if you want to help that girl and all the tributes after her, we have to go right now or neither of us will see the light of day again and she will starve and die truly alone. Please, Sejanus. You're her friend... My friend. Come with me."
Sejanus looks at him, the two boys just inches apart as he nods with a resigning sigh. "Okay." He whispers.
Coryo sighs in relief. "Thank you, come-" He starts to turn back when they both are scared by the sound of footsteps sprinting toward them. "Come on!" He shouts, grabbing his classmate's sleeve and dragging him behind as they make for the red lighting of the exit.
You watch from the slits in the fan, hands perched on the blade as you lean against it to get a better view. Your heart is racing as you watch Coryo and Sejanus book it for the exit. God, you hope they make it.
They almost do.
Until Sejanus trips over the turnstile you know and hate, crying out in pain upon hitting the ground. Immediately, you're pushing the door open loudly and running along the railing, hoping to get closer to the exit without running the risk of cutting through the middle of the arena. "Coryo! Run!" You yell helplessly, careless of whether or not you'll be heard or seen by others. All you wanted was to create a distraction. To save him.
But he doesn't run, even as you see him stumble back in the red lighting of the tunnel, hissing when Bobbin's blade strikes him somewhere. "Coryo!" You cry out again, more out of fear. Was it serious? Was he already in the process of bleeding out?
You quickly hop the railing abandoning your safety, sliding down the concrete and stumbling upon hitting the ground. "I don't want to hurt you!" You hear his voice again as you run into full view of the tunnel, still about twenty feet away.
Just in time to see Bobbin fall back between the metal gate, landing a good ways away.
"Enjoy the show!"
You flinch when your friend steps out after him, chest rising and falling heavily as he stares down at the boy's body. Silent, unmoving, dead.
Then he brings the club down on him again.
#tbosas#tbosas fic#tbosas fanfiction#tbosas x reader#hunger games#thg series#thg#thg fanfiction#the hunger games#thg movies#coriolanus snow#coriolanus snow x reader#coriolanus x reader#coriolanus x you#coriolanus fanfiction#coryo snow#coryo x reader#snow lands on top
379 notes
·
View notes
Text
A Fic About Dean's 45th Birthday
~3k words | slight angst with a happy ending
Dean never says anything about his birthday.
Sam has weird hang ups about holidays like Halloween and Christmas, and January 24th isn't just Dean's birthday—it was Jess's birthday too. So Dean's never made a fuss. He's asked for Christmas, but he's never asked to have his birthday celebrated. There are many years he can think of where he wouldn't have even wanted to celebrate his birthday anyway—where the idea of it would have felt hollow.
He's said before in front of Sam and Bobby, "I don't like being singled out at birthday parties, much less by God" and he figures maybe Sam has always remembered that, and probably told Cas too (if Cas ever asked).
Right. It all makes sense.
So he has no reason to expect Sam to realize that Dean actually wants to celebrate his birthday now—that he has wanted to for... the last three years, ever since Mrs. Butters insisted they throw a birthday party for Sam.
He can't stop thinking about Mrs. Butters saying they shouldn't celebrate Dean's birthday—or... rather, that she thought he wouldn't want to celebrate his birthday because he's old... and just... fuck that.
The truth is, the older Dean gets, the more his birthday feels... important. For one, he's officially spent more time not in Hell now than he spent in it. For another, 45 just feels... important somehow. It isn't 50—but it's another half a decade? He thought he'd be dead by now (well—he supposes he has been—but it hasn't stuck yet) and he doesn't know—it just feels like... like something to celebrate. He's 45 years old, and he isn't dead. He's alive, and he's happy, and things have been good lately.
He keeps thinking about it every year that passes better than the last. He keeps wondering every year. He keeps hoping every year—even though he knows it isn't rational when he hasn't said anything. He hasn't asked. He hasn't told anyone that anything's changed. He can't expect a birthday party if he doesn't communicate that he wants one. At the same time, asking for one feels weird. It feels... whiney. Nobody else is asking.
Dean's done birthday meals for Sam the past couple of years without Sam asking (stooped to making a caesar salad with grilled chicken for Sam's birthday last year with minimal grumbling) but it doesn't seem to make much of an impression. Sam is just... not much of a birthday guy. He's quiet, and to be honest, Dean's pretty sure he prefers celebrating with Eileen if he's going to do anything. She usually swings into town around Sam's birthday to take him out drinking. Well. He'll be celebrated whether he likes it or not—at least a little—at least with a meal.
Dean doesn't know when to celebrate Cas. He's asked before and Cas said something about being created before humans or their methods of marking the passage of time existed and... yeah, okay. Dean's favorite local diner sells good pie, and has a nice selection of milkshakes, including a PB&J flavored one. For the last few years, once a year, on September 18th, Dean tries to either take Cas out for one of those milkshakes, or pick one up for him. The date just feels right.
Dean puts the most effort in for Jack, with a full on cake ever since Mrs. Butters. Sometimes, he adds a bag full of Three Musketeers candy bars. Cas and Sam certainly don't raise a fuss. They all silently agree that the kid should get the birthday experience even if the rest of them are too old and jaded to care.
42, 43, 44... every time January 24th rolls around, it's always just like any other day. He thinks maybe when he turned 43, Sam might have wandered into The Dean Cave at night when Dean was watching a movie with Cas and sat for a while, then belatedly said, "Oh. Uh, happy birthday, man," while staring down at his cell phone. That was it.
Dean had brushed him off with a grunt—probably only reinforced for Sam and Cas both that Dean doesn't care just like they don't seem to care. So it isn't rational. It isn't fair. It isn't reasonable for Dean to get upset. But maybe it starts to sting a little, okay? And yeah that makes Dean feel a little embarrassed—sue him. He hasn't said anything... and he shouldn't. It's stupid. It doesn't matter. Mrs. Butters said he's too old for birthdays.
Still, despite his best efforts, Dean goes to bed on January 23rd 2024 wondering if someone will remember—if maybe, this time, they'll do something... because... he's 45. Something simple is all he imagines. They go out to eat, or... someone else makes breakfast (or tries). Sam give him a stupid gag gift. Cas picks up a pie.
As Dean falls asleep, he stupidly imagines the library decorated with a tiny "Happy Birthday" banner. He imagines a stack of pancakes for breakfast with a stupid candle in them. He imagines party hats and Rice Krispie treats. He imagines someone just... wishing him a happy birthday. Just... acknowledge it—that he's 45. That it's important.
Dean wanders into the library in the morning and it's empty and dark. He goes into the kitchen, and Sam is illuminated by his laptop screen. Dean flicks on the light and Sam barely flinches. "Hey," He says, keeping his gaze on his work... and that's it. That's how January 24th 2024 is going to be.
Dean shakes himself out of it—doesn't reply—just wanders over to the coffee pot to pour in grounds and get a drip brew going. Who knows if Sam has even slept—he's been deeply fixated on a cataloguing project for two weeks straight now. It's entirely possible he pulled an all-nighter. He might not even know what day it is anyway.
Dean opens the fridge and drags out the bacon. He considers toast too, but then decides that... well—he can celebrate his own birthday at least by making it special himself. He goes to the pantry and pulls out a boxed pancake mix he picked up who knows how long ago.
Just add milk and eggs.
Dean eyes the half-burnt-out pack of birthday candles in the junk drawer, stored there last May 18th. He closes the drawer, rolling his eyes at himself, and flips his pancakes as they start to bubble.
When breakfast is finished cooking (enough for Sam and Cas and Jack too, of course) Dean makes himself a plate and plops down across from Sam at the kitchen table.
"Big stack of pancakes," Sam murmurs—and Dean could swear there's a vaguely judgmental lilt to it.
Dean's eyes burn, which is stupid. He cuts through all five pancakes and shoves a huge bite in his mouth, staring at Sam across the table stonily as he chews.
Sam glances up and makes a bitch face, but doesn't say anything, returning his focus to his laptop
"What are you doing that's so damn interesting anyway?" Dean grumbles.
"Still cataloguing. Actually, Eileen is coming over to help me. We're gonna drag that last shelf of books into the library from the archive room and scan it all—finally have everything digitized."
Dean's heart sinks. It's gotta be at least 1,000 books.
Sam gets up from his chair. "I was gonna wheel everything in from down there and stack it on the tables before she gets here. You wanna help me?"
"Uhh..."
"Right," Sam scoffs lightly, making his way over to the coffee pot. "No problem."
"Look—I'm glad you enjoy that shit," Dean poorly pronounces through a mouthful of chewed food, stabbing another bite before he's finished this one. "Because someone has to—but moving and cataloguing books is the last thing I wanna do on my birthday."
It slips out without Dean really meaning for it to. He feels like the pancakes he's eaten are crowding his throat. He grabs his glass of water and swallows quickly, watching Sam over the rim of his glass.
"Oh," is all Sam says though—glancing at Dean, then his watch, before pouring his coffee into a mug. "Uh... happy birthday."
Dean looks down at his plate. "Thanks."
Sam clears his throat unusually loudly. "You know—I'm gonna be busy, but maybe... you ought to make a day of it," He suggests suddenly, leaning against the counter with his mug in a way that does not look comfortable or natural.
Dean immediately smells deceit, the hairs on the back of his neck rising. "What do you mean?"
Sam opens his mouth then closes it—shrugs. "You know—go out on the town... see if Cas or Jack wants to do something together. I mean—I can't go—can't back out on Eileen, but..." He interrupts himself with a sip of coffee.
Dean narrows his eyes. "Are you... trying to get me out of the bunker right now?"
"What? No!" Sam has always been terrible at lying to Dean—always seems too indignant. "I just—maybe you should celebrate. You're like, 46 or something, right?"
"45!" Dean's voice goes up a whole octave, suspicion momentarily forgotten.
"Whatever," Sam waves him off. "Go get a nice drink somewhere or go see a movie."
Dean glowers.
Sam stares back at him, before opening his mouth and looking up at the ceiling. "Okay, fine. Me and Eileen uh... need the library."
Dean cocks his head to the side a little, processing, before the realization hits. A big grin spreads over his face. "Sammy, you sly dog..." Dean chuckles. "I know what this is."
"Uh...?"
"Yeah you and Eileen are gonna catalogue some books, huh? Heheh..."
Sam scowls and rolls his eyes. "Gross, Dean."
Dean raises his hands in surrender. "Message received. I will uh... clear outta here..." Dean gets up, collecting his empty plate. "And... make myself scarce until say....?" He looks at Sam expectantly.
Sam looks at the floor, the wall, the ceiling—anywhere but Dean, before saying, "...6:30?"
"I'll make it 7:00!" Dean declares, setting his dishes in the sink then striding out.
Jack turns out eager to go do something in town, which bolsters Dean's spirits. When they go looking for Cas though, and find him brushing his teeth in the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist, he says gruffly, "I have judo practice."
Cas has run through a stream of contact sports over the last three years, and so far, he's stuck with judo the longest. He's very good at it, and he takes it very seriously. It's kind of funny but also kinda... well—adorable at the same time.
"Why the fuck did you take a shower right before judo practice?"
Cas spits into the sink. "There is a man attending now whose gi is off white. Off white, Dean. Not because that is the color of the fabric, but because he never seems to bathe or wash his clothing."
Dean stares at him.
Cas shakes his head, seething at his own reflection in the mirror. "I know what he's doing... It's a strategy. He and I are enemies... and I will defeat him without stooping to his level."
"You are bathing before practice as a 'fuck you' to a smelly guy?" Dean clarifies. Suddenly Dean feels offended. "Wait a minute—how come this is the first time I'm hearing about this?"
"He's new," Cas grumbles. "He just moved here, and he smells, and he tries to tell the instructors they're doing things wrong. He's annoying and I hate him. Defeating him at this practice is very important, Dean. I'm sorry. Perhaps I could join you later."
"But it's Dean's birthday," Jack pipes up.
Dean looks at Jack, surprised, but also... touched.
Jack gives Cas a pleading look. Cas looks... put upon. He's giving Jack an almost... warning look, which is weird, but... bad day for Cas, maybe.
"No no—it's fine," Dean waves Cas off, and puts on an excited smile on for Jack. "You know what, Jack? All this means is that the two of us can go fishing."
"I hate fishing..." Cas grumbles.
"Exactly," Dean says. "So you won't miss out. Join us after your practice or whatever if you want. Sam wants the bunker to himself 'cause Eileen's coming over."
Cas tilts his head at him in confusion. "What? What does that have to do with anything?"
Dean gives him a look.
Cas stares back, then realization comes over his face. "...Oh," He says, glancing between Dean and Jack. "Uh... yes... so. Perhaps I'll join you after... fishing."
Jack seems eager to do a lot of activities. It makes Dean feel kind of good that Jack seems to appreciate birthdays, because Dean is the one who made sure they kept celebrating Jack's.
They pack sandwiches and eat them by the river while they fish, and then Jack says he wants to see a movie so they go to the theater, and even though it doesn't matter because it's all the same cash at the end of the day, Jack insists on buying the popcorn when Dean reaches for his wallet.
They still haven't heard from Cas by the time they get out of the movie. His practice should have ended hours ago.
"....What if we go see the world's largest ball of twine?" Jack asks. So okay. They do. Then after that, they go play mini-golf. Dean keeps checking his phone, hoping maybe Cas will call or text for their whereabouts and join them, but a message never comes.
Dean feels not only a little stung, but also kind of worried. He ends up texting Cas.
Dean: Just checking in.
Cas replies about 20 minutes later.
Cas: I apologize, Dean. Sam has roped me into actual research.
However much he doesn't want it to, it puts a damper on things—makes it hard for Dean to keep smiling. Sam just... didn't want he and Jack underfoot? Is that it? He thought they'd... get in the way? It kind of offends Dean. He and Jack are both perfectly competent at researching and Sam knows that. Dean just doesn't like this kind of project. At worst, he would have stayed out of the way—holed up in The Dean Cave or in his room to watch movies. If Sam's goal was getting them out of the bunker so they wouldn't bother him, it doesn't feel fair. It seems... mean.
Dean's throat feels tight. He puts his phone on silent before they get to the burger joint in the evening—tells himself he's jumping to conclusions—he isn't being fair.
At least... at least Jack is having a good time—smiling ear to ear. It's good to see him happy—especially after that upsetting stint as God. The responsibility of it... the weight... thinking about it had twisted Dean's stomach in knots some nights so bad he could hardly breathe, even if he never spoke to anyone about it.
Dean pulls into the garage right about 7PM, determined not to let any disappointment or hurt toward Sam or Cas show—reminding himself again that it's his own fault that they didn't know this day was important to him.
He decided on the drive home he'll say something about celebrating birthdays from now on... around late April, right before Sam's birthday so no one catches on that he's hurt. That'll... it'll make it easier to get it out anyway, Dean thinks—that this is something he wants—if it's first in the context of Sam's birthday instead of his own. He'll say he'd like to start making celebrating everyone's birthday a habit—say it's important to him. He'll ask, and plan a party for Sam, then they'll do one for Jack, then Cas... then, when Dean turns 46... maybe they can celebrate Dean's birthday all together then. Everyone being celebrated... it just feels right. It's something Dean just... wants.
He's also cooled off on Sam—convinced himself that Sam probably just didn't want Dean to feel obligated to help on his birthday while Sam was determined to be a bore—thought he'd have more fun getting out of the house. He just wishes Sam had the sense not to rope Cas in too.
Jack pushes open the stairs that lead down into the map room, and Dean nearly jumps out of his skin as he hears a very loud chorus of voices exclaiming, "SURPRISE!"
Jack grins widely then, and says, "Come on, Dean!" He races to the bottom of the stairs, motioning for Dean behind him.
Dean can hardly believe it when the library comes into view.
His family is there. Not just Sam and Cas, but Eileen, and Rowena, Donna, Jody, Garth and Bess and their boys, Claire and Patience and Alex. Some of them are wearing party hats, others just smiling. Donna scoops him into a hug first, then Jody.
Dean is overwhelmed by the attention as he trades hugs with so many of their friends. His eyes are drawn to actual decorations. There are streamers hang from the ceiling, attached to brown balloons. There's a banner attached to a wall that says "It Is Your Birthday!"
"Alright—so I left Cas in charge of the decorating while I went to get the cake," Sam admits as he walks up and places a cup of punch in Dean's hand.
"I already told you—the balloons are the color of Scooby Doo!" Cas scowls.
"Oh yeah? And why are they so under-filled?" Sam says back, but he's laughing.
"They're perfect, Cas," Dean chokes, looking at all the effort Cas put in—overwhelmed.
A cake in the shape of Scooby Doo's face is laid out on one of the tables, surrounded by paper party plates and napkins with The Scooby Gang on them. There are... there are actual wrapped presents sitting on the the table further back. Like... a lot of presents.
"You... you did all of this for me?" Dean asks, looking at Cas and Sam.
"We lied so we could stay here and prepare," Cas admits. "Jack was supposed to keep you out of the house while we worked."
Dean glances at Jack then, who beams.
"I'll be honest though. I really thought you had me figured out this morning in the kitchen, Dean," Sam shakes his head, grinning.
Dean's eyes well up with tears. "You're still a bad liar," He croaks.
He doesn't even know if it's him or someone else who starts it, but suddenly they're all in a group hug.
"Happy 45th birthday, Dean."
"You deserve it."
205 notes
·
View notes
Text
"Oblivious or Obvious?"
A/N: AGAIN NOTHING MUCH BUT ONLY SWEARING!! Thanks for the likes on the Dean W. fic <33
Pairing: Castiel x reader
At first, it was just adoration. The blue-eyed angel that was serious yet caring, the angel that was always there for your brothers and you. Slowly, that adoration turned into something else. The way your breath hitched when he was close to you, the way a light blush would cover your cheeks when he was around.
But you knew nothing could ever happen between you two since he was an angel after all. Angels aren’t exactly known for having feelings, so you could only dream. Your brothers, Sam and Dean knew about your “little” crush on the certain angel and have been teasing you non-stop since they had found out.
“I can’t believe that Cas hasn’t found out yet with how obvious you are.” your eldest brother laughed.
“SHUT UP, DEAN.” you yelled, your cheeks were hot.
“Cas is always oblivious to everything, Dean. I don’t think he’ll ever know… unless.” Sam winked at you.
“Oh- don’t you dare say anything about this to Cas or I will-” you got cut off as you laid eyes on the angel standing at the doorway.
“Don’t tell me what?” Castiel perked, tilting his head to the side like he always does. And you hated it, well, not really except for the fucking fact he looked fucking adorable when he did it.
“So, Cassie. Our sister here-” Dean dragged. Castiel raised an eyebrow at the nickname.
“IT’S NOTHING!” you screamed, the blush spreading on your cheeks like it always did when Cas was around. “It’s… nothing.”
Glaring daggers at your older brothers, you mouthed, “Shut the fuck up of I swear to heaven and hell I will absolutely rip you to shreds.” If looks could kill, you’re sure they would be dead by now. They just chuckled. You looked over to Cas, looking more confused than he already was, his head still tilted. “Don’t worry about it, Cas. It’s nothing..” you sighed.
He walked towards you. Oh. He was walking towards you. SHIT, HE WAS WALKING TOWARDS YOU?? You panicked “slightly” as he took long and slow strides towards you. He looked down at you, confusion flooding his eyes as you slowly shifted uncomfortably. He wanted answers. You looked down, you didn’t want to look up- you were embarrassed to.
“Ah, uhm.. I-” you spurt out words. Your brothers only laughed harder. They are so dead. “Cas. It’s nothing, I can assure that.” your head tilted up but you still wasn’t looking at him- not like you really could. You put your hands on his shoulder before squeezing it and rushing back to your room to deal with the embarrassment.
You slammed the door shut. Your heart was beating out of your chest and your breathing was heavy. You breathed in and out slowly trying to calm yourself down. How will I be able to face him again? “Of course out of all things I have to fall in love with it would be a fucking angel.” you muttered angrily. “With his stupid trench coat.” you sighed.
What you didn’t know was that very angel you were talking about was waiting outside your door, ready to knock. He didn’t mean to eavesdrop on you. You loved him? He was shocked and baffled. He hesitated knocking on the door. Castiel didn’t know how to react.
Cas took time to recollect his thoughts and courage before finally knocking on your door. “(Y/N)? May I come in please?” he asked politely. The angel could hear sniffling from the other side of the door. Had you been crying?
“Y–yeah. You can come in.” you mumbled, loud enough for him to hear. He took a deep inhale before opening the door. You were curled up in a corner, sniffling sounds still escaping from you, and your hair was in a mess. The angel felt bad.
He trudged towards you before curling up next to you and slinging an arm over your shoulder. “I heard what you said about me. That you.. loved me. I didn’t mean to, but I think it would be better if I told you.” he whispered in your ear, before ruffling with your hair. “And before you say anything, I want to say that–” he paused, “in the space, the pause, between this breath and the one that follows, you have made a home in me.”
Your head perked up hearing those words, not like you really knew that it meant. “You think so?” you looked up at him, nervously chuckling with your still red and puffy eyes.
“I know so. I know that I love you with my entire being, and all of my grace."He never thought the day would dawn that he would say things like this, but there he was. Proposing his love, grace and his being all to one person, you.
You pressed a short kiss to his lips, then his cheek. Both of your faces now turning pink. “I love you with all of my being too, Cas. I have, for a long time.” you smiled.
“And so have I.”
#supernatural fic#supernatural x reader#misha collins x reader#castiel x reader#castiel x you#castiel fic
431 notes
·
View notes
Note
I really hope a revival or new season of SPN never happens. For me it's impossible to add something new without ruining what's already been done, and I like it the way it is. But after Misha's word vomit at the last convention the hellers are more excited than ever that they'll finally get what they want, Cass and Dean SO in love etc. Never gonna happen! But let's suppose that there really is another season of SPN: how do you predict it will go and what will be the reaction of the hellers?
My guess is a SPN revival would be a limited series taking place between 15x19 and 15x20, as originally intended in The Winchesters where Dean was narrating from the bunker. It could be divided between Sam and Dean on a classic monster hunting trips and helping Rowena wrangle wayward demons back to hell. There were hints in season 15 that some demons would not follow Rowena. We could even meet Sam’s future wife. I know Misha wants a rescue mission into the Empty to free Cas but that would run counter to Dean’s words to Sam in 15x20. Nah, better to let sleeping dogs lie.
Hellers will always be bitter no matter what. Let’s say everybody at WB collectively have an aneurysm and say Destiel is a thing in the revival. 99% of the hellers will still be mad because it wouldn’t confirm their fanfiction version. Meanwhile 99% of the SPN audience who doesn’t know Destiel is even a thing will be WTF-ing because that ship just came out of nowhere. There are even The Walking Dead fans to this day that say the Richonne ship came out of nowhere even though it's been canon for years. Therefore it makes absolute no sense to acknowledge a fanfiction ship because the general audience wouldn’t know about it and the hellers will be mad regardless for not conforming to their porno fanfictions.
39 notes
·
View notes
Note
sotw is so close to my heart and i admire you and your writing so much. the snippets you posted are so good and it’s so interesting to think about what could’ve been! something that is so interesting to me in the fic is sam and dean’s relationship. i wonder every time i read sotw what the future holds for their relationship?
this is a feast of a question. I'll tell you what I know:
there's just over a week between when Sam leaves and when he's set to start school. just before he's due to go back (and just after Dean rescues Zeppelin), he gets a call from Dean. at first he assumes Dean is calling to make amends for John and try to woo him back home one day, same old story. but Dean says he's broken from John, intends to become Sam's guardian, and also he's gay and dating Cas. honestly all the John stuff is more real and relevant to Sam in that moment. the gay thing is a surprise but Dean's pretty much like, "if you have questions just talk to Charlie, she knows" and I think Sam is pretty much in the best environment in that regard
the first time Sam comes home is, logically, Christmas. Dean and Cas just got the new farmhouse in November. part of Sam wanted to stay at school, because it feels weird going "home" out of tradition or comfort when this isn't your childhood home and everything's changed and he doesn't know what he feels. I also happen to know that Cas is the one to pick him up at the airport, unexpected because Dean got called away last minute with something unavoidable. and it's kind of good because Sam gets to ask and find out for himself that Cas doesn't think of Sam as encroaching on their space. that it was part of the conversation from day 1 that this was Sam's home too
and you know. YOU KNOW how excited Dean is to show all this stuff to Sam! the lights he put up, and a tree, and he's made a WHOLE BUNCH of food. like, it's a modest house that needs a lot of work and he and Cas are just scraping by, but he's made sure Sam's room is nice and there are presents for him and I think for the first time, Sam actually sees that Dean wants his approval. and when he finds out Dean is actually making plans to leave town and visit Sam in California for his birthday, he's surprised by Dean and understands just how much he's grown and changed without John around
they also have a conversation about John. to put it to rest. obviously Dean hates that but Sam insists he doesn't want to be kept out of it, that he was always affected by it to even if he wasn't allowed to be made part of it and understand what was going on. he wasn't actually left out of it, ever, and I think when Dean gives in and agrees to talk about it just this once, he realises how deep it went. and how Sam didn't even always have the connections that Dean had to other people in town, and that there were reasons Sam felt isolated. and Sam would ask the big question, does he think John's dead? (Dean doesn't know.) does Dean want him to be dead? (Dean never wants to see him again. but it doesn't comfort him to think of John dead rotting in a ditch.) (Sam, like the rest of us, doesn't seem bothered by this prospect.)
and, of course, a word about Dean and Cas. that first night Sam is home you just know Dean won't fall asleep and is whispering to Cas all the things like: "do you think he's doing good? he seems good"; "do you think he likes the place? maybe I should repaint his room"; and "is he okay with us, though? for real?" and on this Cas is able to assure him that on that drive from the airport, the only question Sam really asked was if Dean was finally happy
(he is)
49 notes
·
View notes
Note
🔥 jack
oh my godddd I have so many unpopular opinions where do I even start….HOLY DISCLAIMER BATMAN!
anyways so in no particular order or tier system:
✯ i don’t think jack would wear anything feminine im sorry spn fandom. for lolz he has same-outfit-pattern-everyday autism and for serious it’s like. Really weird how fandoms tend to HC/portray non-binary amabs (and men/transmascs in general) almost exclusively as GNC or fem-presenting…like DGMW that is a real and valid form of self expression but it’s not the Only type of non-binary expression that exists. and honestly…**dare I say that most fandom/queer spaces just need to realize that queer masculinity exists and it doesn’t always have to be a matter of breaking gender norms??
** genuinely do whatever u want idc I can’t stop you i don’t want to stop you yada yada. paint his nails and put him in a skirt all u want but Please recognize patterns yall 😭
✯ more headcanon complaints (see disclaimer above ⇧) but I promise to switch it up soon. anyways every time somebody on this lil website says something along the lines of “Jack can’t handle/doesn’t like [insert violence, scary or adult-oriented thing], he prefers [soft or blatantly childlike things]” I shrivel inward like a dead spider. It’s annoying, it’s completely inaccurate to his canon personality and interests, it’s annoying ˣ2, and whether ppl wanna admit it or not—it stems from infantilization. not necessarily ableism, as infantilization is not exclusive to disabled people, but still just about the same thing.
honestly all I see of majority jack headcanons are ones that set him back to just being a child or otherwise being treated like one. for example, the one about him being able to shapeshift is pretty cool...until it just becomes about him deciding to age regress, yknow, to an age set he canonically chose not to go through, showed no desire to be in, and is more offended than anything to be considered as such. all of his interests have to be some shit like bluey or animal crossing, and he drinks apple juice from a sippy cup instead of beer. BARF.
I’ve lessened on my keyboard warring over babyjack in the past year but I have not lessened in being a hater. and I’ve said this before, but the baby-jack au already breached headcanon containment a long time ago when it’s not only so widespread that ppl take it for canon and it makes having any intelligent conversation about him nearly fucking Impossible, but it also lead to harassment and accusations of being a fucking predator, to anyone who dared find a whole grown man attractive. any potential jack ship, like jackharper? automatic grooming case to them. it’s like the fandom is just so dead set on this idea that jack really truly is a child in every aspect you can think of, and for what? if it’s just a headcanon, something you know is not part of the actual show, then don’t go Travis the Chimp levels of apeshit when you see him being treated like he is canonically 💀
unpopular opinion numero 3 which is slightly connected to 2:
✯ baby-jack and a handful of the domestic au’s are BORING (see disclaimer again ⇧), not just on a surface level to my suiting, but also because I feel like it just ..misses the point of the show?
the ragtag untraditional found family is now as nuclear and traditional as the Atomic Age. Dean and Cas are the most heteronormative “who wears the pants in the relationship” gay couple ever, Sam is demoted to the uncle that gets written out of his own family, Jack is just there to make his gay dads look cute and emphasize that they’re a gay family (while still being very heteronormative), and at least 5 of them could be found in a California gated community. everything that made any of them unique or defined their personalities is just scrubbed off, even for an AU.
so much of the later seasons focus on Sam and Dean realizing that they don’t have to make a hard splitting decision between the lives they want to live; that they can find a balance; be happy and have good things—namely families—without giving up hunting (and vice versa, that they can have hunting without giving up on family or happiness). everybody loves the gay hunters from S10(?12?) and what they represented for Dean, but I almost never see that be put into practice in the fandom.
THEY’RE ALREADY DOMESTIC!!! AND WITH THAT PERFECT BALANCE!!!! Season 13 quite literally gave Team Free Will a surrogate son to raise and established them as a family; highly untraditional, largely dysfunctional, overall not fitting of a family family, and yet they are a family still. Dean wears an apron and cooks and bakes for everyone; he built himself a man cave and established two separate family night events that they all ritually keep up; Sam has a morning jogging routine and visits his girlfriend every so often; Jack was taught how to drive, has normal chores like washing dishes, and gets groceries. And they didn’t just have that while fighting monsters—they had that while fighting a whole fucking archangel. Even if it did go down the gutter by the end, they still had it: domestic familial bliss and violent messy hunting without having to trade one for the other.
✯ I truly genuinely think Jack’s relationship with Dean is the best, most interesting and most misunderstood out of the three, and I also think that the problems with his relationship to Cas and Sam are hugely overlooked by the fandom—granted they are very small, especially if you’re comparing it to Dean, but they’re still there and I think we should bully Cas and Sam about it more. I shan’t elaborate because it’s 5AM and this was an impulsive add-on ❤️
✯ getting normal now…his plaid pattern jacket from the first half of Ouroboros is ugly as SHIT i have never liked it and don’t think I ever will. but I cannot deny it; he got that shit on.
✯ most unpopular opinion of all, I wanna do insane shit to his cervix 🙌
#holdthypeace.txt#is this coherent. I am highly caffeinated and it is 4:30 am#and I am also autistic so. you got essays here#ask game#unpopular opinion#spn#jack kline#spn fandom#tfw2.0#destiel#god this felt GOOD my jackposting has been terribly insufficient#tbh this probably isn’t all my unpopular opinions……. I mean#it’s certainly not all of my opinions but I don’t know if the others would truly measure as unpopular or not#sometimes I just think his hair looks stupid and his outfits are bad#that’s not really unpopular#maybe#idk#goodnight gang#sam winchester#castiel#dean winchester#dean and jack#sam and jack#cas and jack#dadstiel#whatever else#tags#generic tags
33 notes
·
View notes
Text
Title: Phantasma
Author: thisisapaige
Artist: Sketch
Rating: Explicit
Pairings: Castiel/Dean Winchester, references to past Dean Winchester/others, references to past Castiel/unnamed male character, minor Sam Winchester/Jessica Moore
Length: 30900
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Tags: Alternate Canon, Angst with a Happy Ending, Pining, Strangers to Lovers. Paranormal Romance, Stanford Era, Ghost Castiel, Hunter Dean, Bad Parents (John Winchester and Namoi Novak), not MCD
Posting Date: October 9, 2023
Summary: Dean doesn't have the guts to grab Sam from Stanford. Dean fails to find his missing dad. Dean can, however, hunt the ghost haunting his house.
Yeah, Dean buys a haunted house. On purpose. After a quick salt and burn of the bitter old ghost of Naomi Novak, Dean can finally have something in his life go right.
But the ghost isn't what Dean's expecting. The spirit he finds is a polite, broad shouldered, blue eyed man in a trench coat who, instead of throwing Dean through the window in a vengeful rage, asks Dean for help.
Dean agrees to assist Castiel, the Friendly Ghost, with moving on to the next life. Cas isn't like any ghost Dean had ever met. The usual rules don't apply to him. He's kind to Dean. He loves books. His cold touch brings mortals close to death.
The more time Dean spends with Cas, the less Dean wants to let him go. Cas is good company. Dean hasn't let himself get close to anyone in years. In a different life, Dean could have fallen in love with him.
Or maybe he already has.
Excerpt: “Hey, uh, Castiel?” Dean asked. “Where’s the statue?”
A hiss of electricity, then Castiel said, right in Dean’s ear, “What statue?”
Jumping Janis Joplin on a jackrabbit! Dean put his back to a ghost, didn’t think twice about it, and now that ghost was right fucking behind him. Dean whipped around, trying to lift his gun with one hand, and attempting to dig out his iron knuckles from his jacket pocket with the other. Instead, he hit Castiel, his whole body moving through the ghost.
Cold.
No, that wasn’t a strong enough description. Frostbite. An Arctic expedition wearing only his Batman underwear. Losing all the blood in his body. His heart stopping. Darkness. Being lowered into his grave.
Death.
It was like death.
Dean slammed against the floor, gasping and shivering. Pain radiated through his body. Rolling onto his back, he waited for the stars to clear from his vision.
“Dean? Dean?” Castiel’s voice came from above. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”
Slowly, Castiel’s concerned blue eyes came into view. Taking a few short, shallow breaths, Dean had enough air in his aching lungs to force out an, “I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not.”
As Dean struggled to sit up, Castiel retreated. Dean put a hand on his chest and felt his heart beating. He was back in the land of the living.
He’d never had that happen before. Most ghosts used their psychic powers to fight. A few had punched him or grabbed him and yeah, it was cold and unpleasant, but Dean had never fallen through one before. That couldn’t be summed up as unpleasant. Dean was convinced he had died for a few seconds. He probably would have been completely dead if it’d happened with any other ghost. The vengeful spirits he’d faced off against before would have finished the job.
But not this ghost. Not Castiel.
Castiel stood with his back against the wall. The paint showed through his semi-transparent body, casting him a green sheen. Shoulders slumped, Castiel stared at his hands as Dean pulled himself back onto his feet.
“Tah-Dah!” Dean said once he got up, slightly swaying. He wiggled his fingers. “See? Totally fine.” Maybe it was odd that Dean felt the need to comfort a ghost after that, but Castiel clearly regretted it. “It was only a little death.”
Castiel’s head snapped up at that. “The, uh— The—” He cleared his throat. “The French way?”
“I—” Dean lowered his brows. “I don’t know what that means.” He tapped his chest. “I mean that it sucked but I’m still ticking. So, let’s get back to helping you.”
“You’ll still do that?”
“Yeah, buddy. It’s what I do. Just, ah, no touching and no spooking. Capiche?”
Castiel nodded and said, seriously, “I capiche.”
How in the hell could a ghost who kind of, sort of, killed him be so freaking cute?
Oh, no.
What was Dean getting himself into?
DCBB 2023 Posting Schedule
108 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
covenstrays
AND I WAS RUNNING FAR AWAY
bunnyboyzyon
Zyonics
vesperansa
whatev aesthetic
way4fly-blog
Way4Fly
covenstrays
AND I WAS RUNNING FAR AWAY