I have the urge to touch dean with such overwhelming gentleness and care, he doesn't know what to do with himself
📨 oh thank you so much! and yeah you and me both. he’s so touch deprived i think he’d explode upon a single gentle touch… gah just look at him down there :’( had to write a lil something cause i’m just so Normal about him.
DEAN WINCHESTER HAS A TOUCH PROBLEM. he knows this to be certain. why else does he long to be as close as possible to you, all the time? why does he need to touch you, too, otherwise he feels like he might die? you touch him so gently. so carefully, like you’re handling something sacred, something precious—when in reality, dean is anything but. yet, you touch him like he means something. it makes his head spin. he doesn’t know what to do with himself.
it started with your hand on his shoulder when you needed to get by him, he thinks—maybe. or it was when you snaked your arm through his when you were pretending to be a couple for a case instead of holding his hand. you held his bicep instead, carefully, but still confident, like you weren’t sure he’d like it or not. he liked it. a lot.
then, it escalated. your hands patching him up after a hunt, cleaning his skin with precision, but still trying to make him comfortable. your touch lingered, like you were trying to hold him together with your bare hands, and it made dean ache. you ruffled his hair on his head, clapped him on the back when there was a victory to be celebrated, hugged him when you had to go anywhere for more than a day. he loves your hugs.
one night, you touched his face. his whole body seemed to gravitate towards you upon your caress of his cheek—and he was too tired and too desperate for your attention, he didn’t fight it. he just let it happen, despite his mind going haywire, because he didn’t know what to do. he wasn’t sure where to put his hands or if he was asking you for too much, but you wouldn’t let him go. wouldn’t let him drown in his own thoughts. you stayed close to him, like you always did.
and dean is forever grateful for that.
📨 returned to my roots for a second with this one omg. also this is your sign to read my other fics on this topic (if you haven’t already…) ⤵︎
hii I'm the one who requested the dean massage thing
thank you so much for writing it, I loved it so much! I'm amazed at how quickly you whipped this up omg
oh hey !!! yeah about that... is it bad i immediately started writing it at work when i saw your message in my inbox when i checked my phone… heheh whoopsies 🫣 i could not pass up such a cute scenario, so sue me for writing on the clock. i’m a sucker for a good dean drabble what can i say.
and of course! thank you for requesting! it was my pleasure to write some fluff about our guy. come back anytime if you have more ideas <3
you are my absolute favorite spn writer, I love your writing so much <33
could i please request a drabble for dean where reader can't stand seeing him stressed and tense, because of a rough mission, and offers him a massage? it can be fluffy or suggestive, whichever you like better
📨 okay hey fun fact you are actually the sweetest ever, thank you so much for your kind words! i am honored to be your favorite spn writer :’) most of the time it’s hard to make myself believe that people like what i write so. thank you for washing away some insecurities of mine… 🫠 anyway hopefully i did your request justice cause this is SUCH A GREAT SCENARIO <3
. . . 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐓𝐄 𝐁𝐘 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐓𝐄. ♫ ⋆.˚
THE HUNT WENT TERRIBLE, TO SAY THE LEAST. you all were on edge—stressed out beyond belief—especially dean, per usual. always the one to take the blame, to put the most weight on his shoulders, all for the sake of lightening the load for someone else. it’s almost annoying, his false sense of self-righteousness, the need to place all the pressure on himself, since he has so much already—but mostly, you just want him to stop beating himself up.
tonight, however, the monster you all hunted did the beatings for dean before he himself got the chance. there were bruises and cuts littering his entire face, and you knew that the marks would look worse tomorrow as you glanced at dean’s side profile again.
you were sitting in the passenger seat—sam calling the backseat to “lay down”, but you knew it was because he knew dean was a ticking time bomb. the impala was in a stifling silence the entire way back to the bunker, and you could feel the tension radiating off of dean. it broke your heart—because you knew how much he was beating himself up more than the thing you rid the world of tonight ever could.
you don’t lay eyes on dean until about 4 hours after you get back. of course, you tried to build up the courage to say something to him, to try and make him feel better when you originally first got back to the bunker—but chickened out before you ever could. as much as you hated to see dean like this, a part of you was expecting that he’d take his stress out on you.
he’s sitting at the table in the kitchen, looking broody, as he does on nights like this. you weren’t expecting him to be sitting there, but really, where else would he be when a hunt went like it did today? it was a late hour, despite you being awake. you hadn’t really slept, per se—it was more like your brain couldn’t shut off all the way. like your body couldn’t rest, not when dean was close by and suffering in silence.
dean doesn’t look at you when you walk in—because he knows what yours and sam’s strides sound like. he doesn’t greet you, either—in fact, he almost looks shameful about the fact that you’ve now seen him, despite him quirking a corner of his mouth at you in recognition. you almost chicken out again and leave when he looks back down again, but something stops you.
the bottle and glass in front of him aren’t in use. the bottle’s still sealed, and the glass is still clean. and dean’s just staring at the glass, eyes glazed over. like he’s not really there. you’d like to bring him back, just for a little while. just until the sun comes up, maybe. so instead of going for your midnight snack like you originally planned, you find yourself going over to dean.
you know he’s in deep, when it takes him a second to even recognize the fact you’re closer to him now. his hand lets go of the glass he was fidgeting with, instead looking up at you next to him. he doesn’t say anything, and neither do you—not yet, at least.
you take in his features, now that you’re up close—and at least he had the sense to patch and clean himself up a little before staring at a bottle of whiskey for an eternity. you place a hand on his shoulder, and he flinches. just a little. you tilt your head, concerned—but don’t comment on it. you just leave your hand there, testing.
dean, finally, leans into your arm—just enough for you to know that he’s not hating this. your thumb brushes on his shoulder once before you step just a little closer. it seems the less space that remains between you and dean the more you can feel the tension inside him. he’s still looking at you, but he’s not all the way there.
your hand slides down his shoulder, over his arm, until it reaches his own hand. you take it in yours, tug at him gently. dean hesitates, no doubt weighing his options. and yet, he stands up, leaves the unopened whiskey on the table, and lets you lead the way.
you don’t take him to his own room, which shocks dean—but not enough to actually say something about it. he’s tired, he realizes—more tired than he has been in a while. and not all of it is something that can be fixed with a good night’s rest.
both of you stop at the foot of your bed, hands still intertwined. you looked at him again, stepping closer. dean felt his heart jump when you did—and not because he didn’t want you close. quite the opposite, really. he swallows hard when you start taking off his flannel for him.
“don’chya gotta buy me dinner first, or somethin’…?” dean inquires, but it’s barely above a murmur and half-assed. the question almost dies in his throat—and you don’t entertain his habitual attempt at lightening this moment.
“lay down,” you murmur as you nod to your bed, not answering—and if dean was a little less tired and a lot less starved for your attention than he was now, he’d never would laid down—but he was, so he laid face down on your bed, immediately met with the scent of you filling his lungs.
dean’s not sure what he was expecting—but when you get onto your bed after him and start touching his shoulders and back, he realizes.
you’re trying to coax the tenseness out of him. trying to make him less stressed out. a strange feeling blooms in his chest upon this development. he wonders why he’s almost uncomfortable with the fact that you want to comfort him. he doesn’t want to think about it too hard—because he’ll spiral like he’s been doing all night.
maybe it’s because he’s spent his entire life not having any comfort, or maybe the fact that he’s so used to being the one giving out comfort, he doesn’t know what it feels like to receive it—but whatever it is, dean forces the looming thought to be shoved into a box for tonight.
your hands act as if they’re touching something holy. but it’s just him, who’s receiving your attention. your fingers work at the tightness of his shoulders, and it doesn’t hurt like he thought it would. it feels… strangely good. it takes him a second, but he stops holding his breath in, lets out a soft sigh. you take it as a win.
dean is tense, obviously. almost unbelievably so. his shoulders, neck and back seem permanently wound up as you work at them with your hands. you weren’t sure if dean was comfortable having his undershirt off, so you just left it on—but your fingertips sneak just a little under the collar of his t-shirt, grazing his bare skin. dean lets out another sigh, adjusts his head deeper into the pillow.
he feels tired again now that he’s in a bed. if he was more awake, he’d be more jokey, more easygoing, cracking a joke about you trying to get in his pants. but not tonight. tonight, dean’s tired. so unbelievably tired. he’s slowly seeming to melt under your touch, despite his mind’s initial protests.
he feels an overwhelming urge to cry, all of a sudden. over the fact that you’re touching him solely to try and make him feel better, over the fact that you’re doing it for the only purpose of comforting him. the urge almost suffocates dean—but he chokes it down, lets his eyes shut instead.
dean doesn’t moan—but some sort of rumble leaves him when you knead at a specific tender spot on his back. you debate making a comment on it, then decide not to, focusing on your thumbs now working down dean’s spine.
you risk a peek at dean after you hear his breathing slow and even out—after whispering his name, he doesn’t stir, even a little. he fell asleep, knowing only your touch and scent, instead of pain and his own thoughts turning on him. he can’t recall the last time he felt so safe. so loved. it seemed like a good way to fall asleep, surrounded by softness and you.
so for once, dean let himself have this slice of warmth.
part 9 of @bejeweledinterludes’ headcanons series.
📨 had to bring dork dean back. so many people (2) expressed their love for him. so i must oblige.
✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏
hey so. breaking news here: the hunter, dean winchester? that one guy who looks evil in the eye daily, who has killed damn near every supernatural creature on the planet, drives a badass car and is a known player? yeah, he’s actually a big, fat dork.
first off, just stating the obvious: he seems to know every single movie, tv show, and pop culture reference in the entire history of television and media. it’s a little insane, how quick he can reference something—and do it correctly.
same with books. “hey, i read”, dean said, and he was not kidding. mostly because he stole read the classics sam had permanently stashed in the bottom of his backpack from the ages of 9 to 17 and paid attention in english class (when he actually went) and the assigned reading was actually good for once.
also, it’s not just anyone calling dean a dork. sam calls him a dork. and you call him a dork—because dean is one.
he was rambling on passionately about either a car show he went to back in the day or something about a slasher movie he just rewatched, and you said it: “you’re such a dork.”
dean wasn’t too sure how to react. he’s been called worse—much, much worse than that. and you sorta smiled when you said it, so it couldn’t be that bad. so dean took it as a compliment.
he gets excited over the little things. he gets mach-levels of elated over the most mediocre of events: a new beer at the liquor store, a stumping word search in the newspaper. he treats things like that as if it was gold. and maybe to him, it is.
maybe it’s his inner child he never got to be peeking out through him once in a while, or maybe it’s just because he’s comfortable around you—but more and more, you see a softer, sillier side come out of him.
it’s even worse when he’s drunk. he gets all dopey and happy under the influence sometimes instead of destroying a room like the tasmanian devil. he hangs off your shoulder, talking all sorts of nonsense: “hey, did y’know that bats have echolocation? i saw it on tv.”, and “ya think space smells weird? or does it jus’ smell like… nothin’?”. but you don’t make fun of him—at least, not too hard.
he laughs at the jokes in movies he’s seen over a hundred times. he reads graphic novels and has strong opinions on today’s horror genre compared to what it used to be. he grins when he gets a good message in the his fortune cookie and dresses as a cowboy almost every year for halloween. so yes. dean winchester is a major dork.
⧽ COULD BE TORN BETWEEN TWO ROADS THAT I JUST CAN’T DECIDE… WHICH ONE IS LEADING ME TO HELL OR PARADISE?
BABY, I CAN’T HURT YOU, SURE, BUT I’M THE JEALOUS TYPE.
⊹ ࣪ ˖ caution ! this package contains a love triangle. written with cuddle pile (female) reader in mind.
IT SEEMS THAT YOU HAVE A DILEMMA. you feel something, something warm in your chest whenever you look at the winchester brothers. not just when you look at dean, or sam—it’s both of them.
and it’s only been amplified the past few weeks, with how much they both have been struggling. dean, trying to be strong for you and his little brother. sam, wanting to keep you and dean happy, despite everything going wrong.
at first, it was easy to pretend not to notice your feelings for them—for god’s sakes, they looked like they walked out of a magazine. their good looks were more than perfect to hide behind as an excuse; until, you actually got to know them—and of course, they just had to have hearts of gold instead of being assholes like every other hunter on the planet.
so yes. this is your dilemma: you’re developing irrevocable feelings for the winchester brothers.
great.
you’re not sure which of the brothers got to you first. maybe it was sam. so respectful, considerate, kind—all wrapped in carhartt and flannel. he charmed you without meaning to, just by being nice. and of course, you never acted on that giddy feeling inside you whenever you talked to him—but you could see that he was holding back, too. stolen glances over old, wrinkled pages of lore and late-night talks when you both couldn’t sleep have captivated you—and sam, for that matter.
you used to be able to chalk it up to just being good friends, but that stopped one night when you both got a little too tipsy, just you two. something changed. you almost kissed. and now, something was now undeniably there, but you both were too stubborn, or too insecure, or too scared to act upon it. you’re not sure which one. in fact, maybe it’s all of them. but you know that a part of sam has to be lingering on the fact that you guys could be something more—
because you know a part of you is.
as you wrack your brain, searching your memories for how it got this far, dean seems to take over your thoughts. while sam’s his brother, he’s different than sam. dean’s the oldest, the decision maker—harder in most places, those places sacrificed for the greater good. sacrificed for his family. dean is a whirlwind—but he’s as sweet as a summer day, sometimes. you see the side so few get to see: the softer, quieter, less confident, more reserved side. it makes something in you sing, to know that he’s deemed you worthy enough to view it. and that is your downfall.
you also had a axis-tilting moment with dean—one too intense and raw to ignore. you’d been standing between his legs, patching up his face after a hunt. you’d almost kissed, too. it was so strange. you felt like a magnet, drawn to him. drawn to both of them. you’d never gelt that with one person, let alone two.
but dean wouldn’t let himself have an ounce of you. he’d seen sammy making puppy eyes at you when you weren’t looking, and he knew he couldn’t have you. he couldn’t do that to his brother.
yet sam felt the same way dean did. not just about you, but also the fact that dean had been pining after you, too. sam would be an idiot not to notice the way his brother looks at you when your back is turned. so he, too, will not let himself have you, and think he’s doing dean a favor. and dean will do the same for sam.
you felt insane. you felt like a pervert, for wanting them both. they’re not toys to play with, not yours to have. they’re absolutely the worst men you could possibly fall for: your jobs are deadly, and the people closest to them almost certainly end up dying. they’re probably broken beyond repair in terms of their mental health, and are ridiculously codependent on one another. yet you can’t bear to leave them. to leave them would be like leaving a piece of yourself behind.
it gets worse after a night that’s supposed to be about celebrating. you all teamed up reluctantly with a hunter: clayton, or clay. he could hold his own, and was somewhere around all your ages—so it wasn’t much so reluctant as it could’ve been.
by the end of the hunt, sam and dean really did take a liking to clay. you all went to harvelle’s to raise a glass to living to see another day, you play a game of pool with jo while sam, dean, and clay sat at the bar, waiting their turns to play jo, who has a bet going with everyone.
clay asks sam and dean for some advice when the conversation lulls. he says there’s this girl he’s had his eye on for a little bit now, and he’s wondering how to go about moving things forward with her. dean and sam both have an idea of who it is in their heads—clay and jo were pretty chummy this whole hunt. even ellen seemed to like the guy. if not jo, some dame from his hometown, maybe. whoever it was, he seems to go somewhere else in his mind when he describes her. both dean and sam know the feeling.
dean says to just go for it. just look her in the eyes, tell her how gorgeous she is and tell her how he feel about her. dean would probably never do that with you, or with anyone, for that matter—but this kid seems like he’d actually succeed with the method dean’s telling him to use, despite dean being too afraid to use it himself. clay nods, and appears to really consider dean’s guidance. it’s refreshing to see, when so many other hunters hate the winchester’s guts.
sam suggests for clay to ask her on a date first. classic sammy, always the gentleman. dean fights the urge to roll his eyes, instead wonders if that’s how sam and jess started off when he was at stanford. it’s very probable, since sam is giving this advice to someone else. clay nods once more, seems to really think over what both he and dean said. then, he gets up, says thank you to the brothers. says he’s gonna go do it now, then heads over to where you and jo are wracking up the balls.
and starts talking to you.
both dean and sam feel something vicious and hot stab at them when they realize who exactly clay was talking about. in their right mind, you were theirs, and they were yours. no one else’s. they didn’t even consider the possibility that someone else may want you—and for that, they pay the price. clay’s good-looking. nice. if sam and dean aren’t kidding themselves, he’s probably a perfect, more healthy and less broken blend of both of the brothers put together.
dean feels an uncontrollable urge to march over there and yank clay away from you, but he resists it somehow. maybe it’s because dean knows deep down, that he is not good for you, and certainly not good enough for you, either. clay would treat you better, probably get you out of this life. but dean wants that, too, or some variation. as long as you’re there with him.
sam, too, feels that unreasonable deep pull to pound clay into the ground for having the guts to go up to you in front of him and his brother. he’s been told by bobby and ellen that he is not fooling anyone with pretending he doesn’t have a crush on you—but apparently, he is. or clay just doesn’t care. whichever it is, both he and dean are getting angry. upset.
jealous.
neither dean nor sam can make out what clay says to you—his back is facing them, and his shoulders hide most of your mouth. you don’t slap him, or shove him away, despite sam and dean secretly hoping you would. clay walks away from you after a few lines of dialogue between the two of you, joins jo to play her next. you head over to what sam and dean believe to be your rightful place: next to them.
you don’t say anything to the brothers about your exchange with clay. and clay doesn’t look at you again for a while, and you’re not looking at him, either. for a split-second, both dean and sam wonder to themselves if clay said anything substantial to you at all.
dean, ever impatient, is the first to ask what clay said to you.
“oh, nothing worth repeating” is your response.
dean can’t really work with that. neither can sam. but there’s a reason you’re sitting between sam and dean and not standing over by clay instead—a reason that has nothing to do with the fact that you finished a round with jo.
clay doesn’t seem too butthurt about whatever the hell you said back to him—and somehow, both dean and sam know that you will not see clay again. he’s still smiling, still having a good time—so you don’t feel too guilty about it, either.
you suggest watching a movie together tonight after you take a sip of your drink, looking between the brothers. like nothing’s different. like clay didn’t just either ask you out or tell you how he felt.
a part of dean and sam want to feel bad for the dude—he put his ass out on the line, just to get kicked to the curb—but a part of both of them rear with warm, unyielding pride at the fact that you stayed loyal to them.
it’s a real alpha-bro thing to think. it makes sam sick to his stomach and makes dean want to hit himself in the head with a bat if they each think about it for too long. sam and dean know damn well that you are your own person, and you can very much live without them. you don’t belong to anyone, despite the fact that they want you all to themselves. but sam and dean believe that they belong to you, too. the winchester brothers are fiercely loyal, and that is something that cannot be denied from you. you have their trust, and therefore, their allegiance. only to you.
and it’s selfish to think and certainly sets women back a few decades, but when you consider it, you wouldn’t mind belonging to them, either. despite your whole life, not needing anyone besides yourself, it weasels into your mind, that patriarchal thought. because they’d keep you safe. they’d love you. they wouldn’t hurt you. they’d protect you. they already do.
but you don’t act on that urge, or any of your others. and dean and sam don’t act on their own, either.
so it is here that you’ll stay—until one of you finally cracks. or dies. whichever arrives first.
📨 @pumpkinfriend this was for you. hope you liked it, thanks for inspiring me <3
⧽ COULD BE TORN BETWEEN TWO ROADS THAT I JUST CAN’T DECIDE… WHICH ONE IS LEADING ME TO HELL OR PARADISE?
BABY, I CAN’T HURT YOU, SURE, BUT I’M THE JEALOUS TYPE.
⊹ ࣪ ˖ caution ! this package contains a love triangle. written with cuddle pile (female) reader in mind.
IT SEEMS THAT YOU HAVE A DILEMMA. you feel something, something warm in your chest whenever you look at the winchester brothers. not just when you look at dean, or sam—it’s both of them.
and it’s only been amplified the past few weeks, with how much they both have been struggling. dean, trying to be strong for you and his little brother. sam, wanting to keep you and dean happy, despite everything going wrong.
at first, it was easy to pretend not to notice your feelings for them—for god’s sakes, they looked like they walked out of a magazine. their good looks were more than perfect to hide behind as an excuse; until, you actually got to know them—and of course, they just had to have hearts of gold instead of being assholes like every other hunter on the planet.
so yes. this is your dilemma: you’re developing irrevocable feelings for the winchester brothers.
great.
you’re not sure which of the brothers got to you first. maybe it was sam. so respectful, considerate, kind—all wrapped in carhartt and flannel. he charmed you without meaning to, just by being nice. and of course, you never acted on that giddy feeling inside you whenever you talked to him—but you could see that he was holding back, too. stolen glances over old, wrinkled pages of lore and late-night talks when you both couldn’t sleep have captivated you—and sam, for that matter.
you used to be able to chalk it up to just being good friends, but that stopped one night when you both got a little too tipsy, just you two. something changed. you almost kissed. and now, something was now undeniably there, but you both were too stubborn, or too insecure, or too scared to act upon it. you’re not sure which one. in fact, maybe it’s all of them. but you know that a part of sam has to be lingering on the fact that you guys could be something more—
because you know a part of you is.
as you wrack your brain, searching your memories for how it got this far, dean seems to take over your thoughts. while sam’s his brother, he’s different than sam. dean’s the oldest, the decision maker—harder in most places, those places sacrificed for the greater good. sacrificed for his family. dean is a whirlwind—but he’s as sweet as a summer day, sometimes. you see the side so few get to see: the softer, quieter, less confident, more reserved side. it makes something in you sing, to know that he’s deemed you worthy enough to view it. and that is your downfall.
you also had a axis-tilting moment with dean—one too intense and raw to ignore. you’d been standing between his legs, patching up his face after a hunt. you’d almost kissed, too. it was so strange. you felt like a magnet, drawn to him. drawn to both of them. you’d never gelt that with one person, let alone two.
but dean wouldn’t let himself have an ounce of you. he’d seen sammy making puppy eyes at you when you weren’t looking, and he knew he couldn’t have you. he couldn’t do that to his brother.
yet sam felt the same way dean did. not just about you, but also the fact that dean had been pining after you, too. sam would be an idiot not to notice the way his brother looks at you when your back is turned. so he, too, will not let himself have you, and think he’s doing dean a favor. and dean will do the same for sam.
you felt insane. you felt like a pervert, for wanting them both. they’re not toys to play with, not yours to have. they’re absolutely the worst men you could possibly fall for: your jobs are deadly, and the people closest to them almost certainly end up dying. they’re probably broken beyond repair in terms of their mental health, and are ridiculously codependent on one another. yet you can’t bear to leave them. to leave them would be like leaving a piece of yourself behind.
it gets worse after a night that’s supposed to be about celebrating. you all teamed up reluctantly with a hunter: clayton, or clay. he could hold his own, and was somewhere around all your ages—so it wasn’t much so reluctant as it could’ve been.
by the end of the hunt, sam and dean really did take a liking to clay. you all went to harvelle’s to raise a glass to living to see another day, you play a game of pool with jo while sam, dean, and clay sat at the bar, waiting their turns to play jo, who has a bet going with everyone.
clay asks sam and dean for some advice when the conversation lulls. he says there’s this girl he’s had his eye on for a little bit now, and he’s wondering how to go about moving things forward with her. dean and sam both have an idea of who it is in their heads—clay and jo were pretty chummy this whole hunt. even ellen seemed to like the guy. if not jo, some dame from his hometown, maybe. whoever it was, he seems to go somewhere else in his mind when he describes her. both dean and sam know the feeling.
dean says to just go for it. just look her in the eyes, tell her how gorgeous she is and tell her how he feel about her. dean would probably never do that with you, or with anyone, for that matter—but this kid seems like he’d actually succeed with the method dean’s telling him to use, despite dean being too afraid to use it himself. clay nods, and appears to really consider dean’s guidance. it’s refreshing to see, when so many other hunters hate the winchester’s guts.
sam suggests for clay to ask her on a date first. classic sammy, always the gentleman. dean fights the urge to roll his eyes, instead wonders if that’s how sam and jess started off when he was at stanford. it’s very probable, since sam is giving this advice to someone else. clay nods once more, seems to really think over what both he and dean said. then, he gets up, says thank you to the brothers. says he’s gonna go do it now, then heads over to where you and jo are wracking up the balls.
and starts talking to you.
both dean and sam feel something vicious and hot stab at them when they realize who exactly clay was talking about. in their right mind, you were theirs, and they were yours. no one else’s. they didn’t even consider the possibility that someone else may want you—and for that, they pay the price. clay’s good-looking. nice. if sam and dean aren’t kidding themselves, he’s probably a perfect, more healthy and less broken blend of both of the brothers put together.
dean feels an uncontrollable urge to march over there and yank clay away from you, but he resists it somehow. maybe it’s because dean knows deep down, that he is not good for you, and certainly not good enough for you, either. clay would treat you better, probably get you out of this life. but dean wants that, too, or some variation. as long as you’re there with him.
sam, too, feels that unreasonable deep pull to pound clay into the ground for having the guts to go up to you in front of him and his brother. he’s been told by bobby and ellen that he is not fooling anyone with pretending he doesn’t have a crush on you—but apparently, he is. or clay just doesn’t care. whichever it is, both he and dean are getting angry. upset.
jealous.
neither dean nor sam can make out what clay says to you—his back is facing them, and his shoulders hide most of your mouth. you don’t slap him, or shove him away, despite sam and dean secretly hoping you would. clay walks away from you after a few lines of dialogue between the two of you, joins jo to play her next. you head over to what sam and dean believe to be your rightful place: next to them.
you don’t say anything to the brothers about your exchange with clay. and clay doesn’t look at you again for a while, and you’re not looking at him, either. for a split-second, both dean and sam wonder to themselves if clay said anything substantial to you at all.
dean, ever impatient, is the first to ask what clay said to you.
“oh, nothing worth repeating” is your response.
dean can’t really work with that. neither can sam. but there’s a reason you’re sitting between sam and dean and not standing over by clay instead—a reason that has nothing to do with the fact that you finished a round with jo.
clay doesn’t seem too butthurt about whatever the hell you said back to him—and somehow, both dean and sam know that you will not see clay again. he’s still smiling, still having a good time—so you don’t feel too guilty about it, either.
you suggest watching a movie together tonight after you take a sip of your drink, looking between the brothers. like nothing’s different. like clay didn’t just either ask you out or tell you how he felt.
a part of dean and sam want to feel bad for the dude—he put his ass out on the line, just to get kicked to the curb—but a part of both of them rear with warm, unyielding pride at the fact that you stayed loyal to them.
it’s a real alpha-bro thing to think. it makes sam sick to his stomach and makes dean want to hit himself in the head with a bat if they each think about it for too long. sam and dean know damn well that you are your own person, and you can very much live without them. you don’t belong to anyone, despite the fact that they want you all to themselves. but sam and dean believe that they belong to you, too. the winchester brothers are fiercely loyal, and that is something that cannot be denied from you. you have their trust, and therefore, their allegiance. only to you.
and it’s selfish to think and certainly sets women back a few decades, but when you consider it, you wouldn’t mind belonging to them, either. despite your whole life, not needing anyone besides yourself, it weasels into your mind, that patriarchal thought. because they’d keep you safe. they’d love you. they wouldn’t hurt you. they’d protect you. they already do.
but you don’t act on that urge, or any of your others. and dean and sam don’t act on their own, either.
so it is here that you’ll stay—until one of you finally cracks. or dies. whichever arrives first.
📨 @pumpkinfriend this was for you. hope you liked it, thanks for inspiring me <3
"everything is edible if you aren't a coward, kid?"
"I'm a coward? you confessed to me five minutes ago"
dean being drunk off his ass, dumping on us and accidentally confessing?? still, turn this into whatever you want this to, i just really love him being all sloppy and messy <333
whenever you want to write it <3
-🪷
. . . 𝐃𝐑𝐔𝐍𝐊 𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄. ♫ ⋆.˚
THE PIPES OF THE BUNKER THUNK AND CREAK AS YOU type at your laptop for the first time in 20 minutes. you can’t be bothered to even pretend you’re doing anything productive—it’s already nearing midnight. a bang down the hall takes your mind out of your thoughts, your head perking up—and before you can get out of bed, you hear a knock on the door. judging by the softness of it, you think it’s sam. and it is… but he brought a visitor, too.
“jesus, sammy, what the hell are we—” it’s dean, looking much, much more relaxed than he usually is. upon first glance, his hair is sticking up in all directions, and his eyes, usually so sharp, are glossed over. you open your mouth to say something, but dean beats you to it.
“hello.” dean says your name, stumbling a little and holding himself up on your doorframe before smirking at you, eyeing you up and down. it’d usually make you blush, but it makes you fight a smile. he’s a dork, even drunk.
“your turn,” sam deadpans. “‘m goin’ to bed.”
“wai— sam!” you exclaim as he starts down the hall, and he shakes his head as he walks away.
“hi,” you sigh back, patting the side of dean’s bicep, leading him into your room. “c’mon.”
“y’know, i always liked y’room,” dean muses as he stumbles once more. “s’so… you, y’know?”
“thanks,” you look down, unsure what to say to that. dean wasn’t known to give out compliments willy-nilly. “so, why’d sam leave you with me?”
“he didn’t leave me,” dean declares, a pout shining through the inebriation on his face as he plops down on your bed, almost falling over before stabilizing himself. then looks down. “…but i did maybe throw up. jus’ a ‘lil. and maybe sam got mad ‘cause i maybe missed the toilet.”
“oh, i see,” you chuckle to yourself, shaking your head. no wonder sam dropped him off, you think before taking a seat next to dean. he looks up at you as you do, and doesn’t take his eyes off of you after that. he just stares, like he’s trying to see inside you.
“y’got pretty eyes,” he murmurs, almost a whisper. “i like ‘em.”
“thanks,” you say again, reeling from his words. “you, too.”
dean’s quiet again for a moment. you feel like you’re supposed to say something else. it’s the thing you’ve been wanting to say to dean for what feels like forever, but never allowed yourself to. you don’t say it, though. you chicken out, again.
“y’think so?” dean searches your face, leaning dangerously back and forth, no doubt trying to keep his balance despite sitting down.
“i know so,” you reply quietly, the corners of your mouth turning up despite the dull pang you felt in your chest.
“yea, i know,” he mutters, looking down briefly. “y’know everythin’. makes me crazy sometimes. s’like… y’know what ‘m thinkin’ or somethin’.” he pauses, looks up at you again. “do y’know what ‘m’thinkin’ right now?”
“no,” you softly respond, shaking your head. “what?”
“how amazin’ y’are,” dean whispers, like it’s a secret. “an’ y’re funny. an’ smart. an’…” he trails off, his eyes flicking downwards. “an’ like, my heart, it does this weird thing whenever i see ya.”
“it does?” you inquire, searching his face.
“yeah,” dean nods his head, his face flushing a deeper pink than the flush of his drunkness. he looks embarrassed, like he’s a little kid that got caught with his hand in the cookie jar as he sways again. “an’ i can’t stop thinkin’ about you. y’re always on my mind. an’ sam ain’t any help, he keeps tellin’ me to talk to ya, but i dunno how. ‘m such a freakin’ coward.”
dean meets your eyes, and he looks… scared. terrified. you haven’t seen him like that, ever.
“you’re talking to me right now,” you point out. “and… you’re doing pretty okay so far.”
“oh,” he says, blinking owlishly. “well, yea, i guess i am. huh.”
“i uhm,” you start, glancing down. “i can’t stop thinking about you, either.”
“y’can’t?” dean looks at you curiously, not masking the hopefulness in his voice.
“yeah,” you nod, feeling your nerves getting more jittery. “i mean, i just… i care about you. a lot. more than anyone.”
“oh,” dean says again before he grins a little stupidly. “awesome.”
“yeah,” you snicker. “pretty awesome.”
“ough, i owe sammy an apology,” dean grumbles as shakes his head. “kept tellin’ me to tell you. ‘dean, you need to talk about your feelings.’ ‘dean, you can’t drink that much.’ ‘dean, you can’t eat the entire bag of beer bottle candies, you’ll throw up.’” dean imitates sam, rolling his eyes. “blah, blah, blah. he needsta go to eileen’s and get laid. that’ll get ‘im off my case.”
“you ate all the candy beer bottles? all of it? the whole bag?” you inquire, concerned—that bag was huge.
“everythin’s edible, if you ain’t a coward,” dean glares at you.
“i’m a coward? you just complained about being one less than 5 minutes ago!” you exclaim.
“touché,” dean grumbles again, leaning into your side as he rests his head on your shoulder. “y’still… y’still love me, right?”
“yes, dean,” you nod, resting your head on top of his. “i do.”
📨 this totally reminded me of my other drunk fic blame it on the alcohol. it was nice to bring back happy messy drunk dean :’) thank you 🪷 anon <3
As you’ve written so many (AMAZING) fics, curious to know what your favourite piece of work that you’ve written is - whether that be a one shot, a whole series, or one chapter of a series :))
LOTS OF LOVE
Hello my cutie!! Oooh this is so fun! 🥰🥰 Thank you so much for asking! ❤️
I feel like there is a sniper somewhere in the distance that will pull the trigger if I say Blackbird again, but uuuhhhmmm, it's Blackbird. 😄
BUT I know that Westerns aren't for everyone, so I will take this chance to recommend some more of my own stuff (yes, I'm being self-indulgent) depending on what you might be in the mood for reading! We can make this into a little tag game too, wouldn't that be fun??
LET'S PLAY -
Which fic of mine should you read if you...
...want a good cry?
If you are down to read a semi-long series, I would recommend Monday you can fall apart. It's a four-part Dean x reader fix-it fic that spans from pre-series to after season 15. rebar what rebar I cried while writing it, and I know some of you cried while reading it, so let's bawl ball! If you are a Sam lover and want some gut-churning angst with your tears, I'd recommend Devil in Detroit; if you like your tears spicy-style, go for Wallpapers!
...want a little chuckle?
Now I am by no means saying I am a funny writer, but occasionally the mood takes me! Bring me a dream is classic magic-spell-gone-wrong silliness when you and Crowley are suddenly head over heels for each other (and Sam and Dean are really unhappy about it). The real housewives of... has Dean walking in on you watching reality TV, and he has a lot of questions. There's Sam girls and Dean girls has you and the boys taking on a case at an SPN convention with awkward consequences, while in He's got that dog in him Sam and Dean are turned into dogs!
...want something dark and taboo?
Marked (and its prequels) is a MOC!Dean x reader age gap fuck fest that turns dark as the Mark takes control of both of you. Rabbit has demon-ified Dean and Sam chasing you through the woods. In Lie Ruby takes control of your body and offers it to Sam, and in Payback, Dean cheats on Lisa with you. My personal fave? Love spells evol, in which you are turned into a demon and hunt down Sam and Dean.
...just want some good ol' smut?
(I'm going by what I believe my most popular smut to be, based on AO3 stats and vibes)
Sam Winchester cries his way through sex and A moose on the loose have Sam subbing and doming, respectively. Meanwhile you can find brat!Dean getting put in place in Please, or have him living out his breeding kink in Filled. If you're hungry enough for a Winchester sandwich, try out Home (or other fics from my Say yes to heaven series).
...need a break from Sam and Dean?
Everyone needs some space every once in a while, no shame in it. Have you instead considered being the brat to a bossy John Winchester (Dead man walks into a bar) or being the third in a little demon sandwich with Ruby and Meg (Empty 'til she fills). Or, if you really need a break, how about being Soldier Boy's pissed-off girlfriend (Hand in unloveable hand) or Butcher's holiday squeeze (Fuckin' merry)? The world's your oyster, kid!
I would love for some others to play this too and give recommendations of their fics based on mood, either the categories I picked or new ones! Throwing it right back at you, @thesundontshineontheseeyebrows, as well as some other lovelies: @ambiguous-avery @bettystonewell @kblognar @aseafullofstars @chevroletdean @plasticflowersinahistorycemetery @theedaythatnevercomes @mellowyellowdaydream @raspberry-starship
oooh ty ty for the tag, sorry !!! i love these games so much :]
LET'S PLAY - Which fic of mine should you read if you...
...want a good cry?
hands down you should be reading chasing cars or love, left behind because i think sam looks pretty when he cries and i need to prove that to you :] (and who knows, maybe you look pretty when you cry too 🤷♂️) just watch the content warnings and you'll be good
...want a cute bedtime story?
i don't have any crack fics sooooo i had to make up my own category and given my affinity for writing and reading sleepy sam and dean fics, i figured i'll tell you all to read relax (sam's version) and relax (dean's version). a fan favourite by number of notes seems to be catnap which is a dean fic i lowkey hated but i posted anyway LOL
...want something that's male!reader?
currently i only have two male reader fics but i have another couple waiting in my requests list !! check out ride with dean and a rodeo cowboy male!reader, or the great divide and castiel in an angel-demon romance (why did i write this part sounding like the recommendations of a bookstore ???? where is my usual whimsy...)
...just want some good ol' smut?
i don't write tons of smut buttt i am no stranger to it !! my all time favourites to write were control for sub!sam, long road home part 2 for some sweet smut with sammy, and reckless for dean and witch!reader. i'm currently working on a request for vampire sam smut and oh my GOD i'm so excited about it !!!!
...need a break from Sam and Dean?
my in the life of cas fics are two fics about the day and night of an angel in the bunker !! ive linked part one with the title but you can access part two right there :] if you wanna go completely away from supernatural, i have cuteness aggression, which is a soldier boy fluff fic that is my only non supernatural fic on this account LOL
obviously i can't link all of my favourites of mine (the trust series with sam is another favourite...there's technically a prequel to this series that i never posted because i felt it was too dark but maybe someday i'll give it life in the world !!) but these are the ones that come to mind for me !!!!
adding some of my own tags : @bejeweledinterludes, @dontlistentodaisy, @violained, @wvffles, @theedaythatnevercomes + anyone else who feels like hopping in on this !!
thanks k for the tag <3 anyone who sees this i invite you to join!
LET’S PLAY 𐃘 which fic of mine should you read if you...
... want a good cry? ꕀ
well, dean certainly had a good cry in touch starved, part 2. it’s sad, if i do say so myself. also this nightmare drabble i wrote is pretty good too, and both sam and dean have a good cry in cuddle pile, part 2 i just wrote. perhaps not completely cry worthy for some strong-willed readers, but y’know. when in rome.
... want some sub ! dean? ꕀ
i have plenty. the dude literally never leaves my mind. headcanons here, full-on fic here, and some drabbles on him here and here. also more sub!dean on @bejeweledinterludes2. now i’m thinking about writing sub!dean again. sigh.
... want a little chuckle? ꕀ
i’d recommend my first ever full-fledged fic on here: aw, crap. i’m a painted whore. cute, funny, and dean being an idiot. pretty damn perfect.
... just want some good ol’ smut? ꕀ
got some ghost!dean action here, and some good old fashioned smut here too. also got some headcanons here and also here. i like writing smut, so. there’s quite a few to choose from. once again, also more on @bejeweledinterludes2 if you’d like to look.
... need a break from sam & dean? ꕀ
as of now, i only have ONE (1) non sam or dean fic—and that’s gabriel in life in the fast lane. what can i say, dean (and a lil bit of sam) have got me for now.
this is also me shamelessly self plugging my old backup blog @bejeweledinterludes2! i have quite a few fics on there as well if you haven’t read ‘em yet.
𐃘 part one ! ┆ caution ⸝⸝ heavy hurt / comfort ahead
📨 y’all really blew up the last one so here’s another (absolutely gutwrenching edition). everyone go thank @aseafullofstars for encouraging me to write cuddling two 6 foot grown men <3 thanks k i would be lost without you sir
SO, IT HAPPENED AGAIN. once more, you found yourself sandwiched between sam and dean winchester.
it all started going downhill the moment you took on this hunt. sam and dean had been on the outs with each other again, and you’re not sure why. they weren’t saying much to each other—or saying much at all, period. they seemed to be avoiding talking as much as possible. it didn’t help that the hunt seemed to last forever, and it certainly wasn’t getting any closer to being solved. it seemed like the universe was laughing at you.
dean, as he always seems to do, breaks first.
it was mostly because he’s been realizing that he can’t do anything right. he can’t take care of his brother, and he can’t take care of the people he’s trying to save. he’s not mad at his brother. that’s not why dean’s avoiding him. it’s because he feels like he failed his little brother. no matter how hard he tries to make things right, in any sense, he always fails. always. whether it’s with sam or anything else, he fails. it’s discouraging, and it eats away at what little is left of his psyche. so when one of the potential victims almost dies, the one he swore to protect—it’s over. he’s done, at least for tonight. he’ll get up tomorrow, pretend to be fine, but he knows the truth. he’s a failure of a man.
that’s why he has to get out of bed in the middle of the night, fighting the tears that have been buried deep inside him this whole damn hunt. this whole damn year. he loses the fight almost immediately, and he can’t drown alone. he’ll never live to see tomorrow if he does. so that’s what leads him to your room, connected to his and sam’s own.
you wake, not even having been really asleep, but you blink when you hear the door on the wall open. you weren’t sure who you were expecting through the adjourning door between your room and theirs, but the moment you see dean’s glassy eyes, you fight the urge to get out of bed and meet him halfway. he gets to you eventually after carefully shutting the door, then almost falling into your bed you’ve called home for the past week or so. he doesn’t make a sound, but you feel your shirt getting wet where his face is buried into you. a few sniffles leave him as he wraps his arms tight around your torso, holding on for dear life.
you’re not too sure how long you lay with dean curled up beside you. he’s wearing his jeans to bed again, you notice, and you make a note to scold him nicely for it when he’s not sobbing in your arms. but for now, you hold him tight, like you’re trying to squeeze the sadness out of him. it doesn’t seem to work as well as you want it to, but dean knows. he always does.
sam’s not boding too well, either. he’s been having nightmares again, always ending with him waking up in a cold sweat and no air in his lungs. it’s exhausting. he’s trying to prove to everyone that he’s fine, that he can handle everything, but he’s not. and he can’t. not now. not tonight. he’s long overdue for a breakdown, and it seems like tonight’s going to be the night it all blows up. dean’s gone when sam glances at the bed parallel to his own—and he doesn’t care anymore now. the tears start coming too fast to stop, and there’s only one person he can think of within a 5 square mile radius that can help him not suffocate on his own thoughts.
you.
it’s you.
he gets your door open, not knowing his older brother had opened it once already tonight. sam freezes in place when he realizes who is next to you, hand still on the door handle. you know dean heard sam walk in, judging by the way dean tenses up in your arms. you think he might run—and if the roles were reversed, you realize if sam came to you first, dean would’ve never gotten this far. he would have suffered alone.
but he’s not.
and neither is sam.
while dean lay next to you, sam rounds the other corner of the bed, climbing in carefully, like he’s scared you’ll turn him away. you wouldn’t—never in a million lifetimes would you turn away either of these men. you hold them both now: sam’s arms fill the gaps where dean’s aren’t, their heads resting close to your own, faces buried into you to hide their wet eyes. you kiss each of the tops of their heads, the smell of dean’s hair reminding you of fresh-cut grass, sam’s resembling something like old paper. the only sound in the room is their muffled sobs when they feel the need to let the sound out and the occasional sniff from them.
your shirt is soaked now from the brother’s tears, the fabric sticking to your skin, but you don’t care. you’d jump into a pool fully clothed if you had to for them. and you know that they know that tidbit—it’s why they both came to you.
you hold them close to you until their sobs quiet into just soft sniffs and intakes of breath—and then until their breathing slows down to when you know they’re asleep. it is only then that you allow yourself to succumb to sleep, making sure to keep an arm around each of the brothers as you do. you don’t want them waking up without feeling you there.
maybe you didn’t fix all their problems, and you most certainly didn’t do much talking to them at all—but you know you can’t fix all their problems, all their issues that are cemented into their souls. you also know, however, that dean and sam didn’t go through this alone tonight. they never have to, not with you around. after so many years of suffering, they have you to hold them together now. you can’t heal them. you know that, too.
um i love this purple theme so MUCH it's so pretty my brain is exploding i think just from looking at it <3
hihi hello helena !!! yayay thank you so so much !!! <3 i am trying to change my themes more !!! i see you also added a dean gif (sick boy edition) to your pinned! we are #twinning with beautiful dean gifs now.
actually you kinda remind me of a light purple if i think about it… a periwinkle perhaps… also a light pink… so many colors only one helena… 🤔
hey thanks babe! so glad you liked it! <3 i was actually thinking about doing another installment since people enjoyed it so much… perhaps i shall start now that you sent me this hehe 🤭
cuddle pile ❪ n. ❫ — 〔 /ˈkəd(ə)l pīl/ 〕 𝟏. refers to the grouping of three (3) or more persons close together in a ‘pile-like’ formation in a caring manner, usually for sleep.
“the cuddle pile gives sam and dean the physical touch they’ve been missing.”
IN YOUR ENTIRE TIME KNOWING THE WINCHESTER BROTHERS, you’ve found yourself in a cuddle pile with them two times.
they’ve been drastically different situations, and yet, not very different in terms of the ‘pile’ itself: you sandwiched between both sam and dean, their heads resting on you, their arms slung over some part of you. they’re both breathing deep, both relaxed as much as they could be. they’re still wound so tight somewhere you can’t reach, somewhere no one can seem to penetrate—but yet, they let their guard down around you. and you hold that fact close in your heart.
⁰¹ AFTER A NIGHTMARE.
the first time, it’s from a place of sheer desperate need. dean comes into your room first, his chest heaving from another nightmare of the pit. he’s shaking when he approaches your bedside, like a leaf in the wind. you look up at him not with pity, but with every intention to just help him. to hold him. and that’s what makes him cave like a house of cards.
you don’t ask questions. you just hold him under your blankets, like you want to shield him from everything in the world. he’s grateful you don’t say anything. you’ve always been able to figure out exactly what dean needs, without him telling you a thing. it’s made him seek you out—because half the time, he doesn’t know what he needs.
dean ends up buried in your chest, holding onto you for dear life as he fights to keep from drowning. his breathing is just starting to even out against you when you hear a creak of the floorboard and see sam standing in your door. he, like dean, is also shaking. or a brief second, you wonder if they had the same nightmare. is that even a thing? but you sit up a little more, dean still in your arms. he’s tensed up completely again—and after seeing who’s there, every cell in his body is telling him to run. sam can’t see him like this: his big brother, curled up into you like a scared little kid. but he is.
sam ends up on the other side of you, not saying anything, either. it’s quiet, the only sounds the fan and dean and sam’s uneven breathing. dean’s arm is wrapped high on your torso, close to your diaphragm, his head on your shoulder. sam’s arm is wrapped more by your hips, his head resting on the side of your chest. your own arms are wrapped each of the brothers’ shoulders.
technically, sam and dean are facing each other as they lay on either side of you, but they’re not looking at each other—probably as to not psych themselves out. they’re aware of the other’s presence, but don’t necessarily acknowledge it. after all, they’re both seeking comfort from you, not each other. you can’t see much of them through their tufts of hair, but you don’t need to. you can feel them both relaxing into your body, their once unbelievably tense shoulders now just a tad tense. you’re sure something inside both of them will never let them fully relax, but you take this moment. you take this win.
⁰² AFTER A DAY OF SWIMMING.
it’s a sunny day at bobby’s—and for once, you and the boys have a day to yourselves. no case, no leads to chase down, no research to do. sam suggests going to the lake nearby bobby’s house, and you all agree. soon enough, you’re on the road in baby, cooler sitting next to you in the backseat.
dean, of course, cannonballs into the lake. you and sam are walking side by side on the dock, chairs that bobby digged out for you in hand—and a whoosh of air flows past you both as dean jumps in, the splash starting a ripple spreading through the entire lake. his head pops up after a few beats, grinning wide. you shake your head as dean goads you to come join him, but you hold off for now.
sam’s next to go in the water—well, dean may have triple dog dared him to—and you pretend to be annoyed that he splashed you upon jumping in. you think at this moment, they kind of remind you of dogs. their hair’s wet, and you can almost imagine a pair of floppy ears on sam.
you find the frisbee one of you packed, wiggle it at the boys wading in the water. you promise whoever gets the frisbee the most times gets first pick on the lunch you all brought. it’s not much of a prize at all—but sam and dean take it seriously. you’re not sure who wins, anyway. sam and dean push at each other every time you threw it, splashing at the other to deter them. they’re laughing—and you haven’t heard that sound in a while. a long while.
after the lunch is eaten and the sun is dipping into the horizon, you decide to head back. droplets make their way down, soaking into the soft fabric of your shirt as you sit in the backseat once more, looking at the sunburned necks of the winchester brothers. it’s silent, but not uncomfortable. it’s probably the most comfortable you’ve been in a while, you think.
after you showered, you realize your day the sun has taken most of your energy away. you lay down on the bed bobby brought into the living room for you, sighing once your head hits the pillow.
sam’s not sure why he lays down next to you after his own shower. his entire face hurts from the sunburn, and his back isn’t doing so hot, either. it’s cold in the room, but he doesn’t reach for the bigger blanket, just the sheet that’s covering you. he doesn’t reach for you or anything—he doesn’t know if he’s allowed—but you seem to find him in your sleep, regardless.
dean, still wincing from the shower’s stream hitting his own sunburned skin, also finds himself laying on the opposite side of you, the cold pillow a contrast to the red on his face, giving his freckles a chance in the spotlight again. you and sam are both asleep already—and dean falls under quickly too, his head resting close to the crook of your shoulder. sam’s slumped on your other side haphazardly—but still touching you. you’re all dead to the world as you lay there.
it’s strange, how these boys are just that: boys. even though they are well above 6 feet and could hunt and kill anyone and anything, they’re still boys. they’re still full of energy, like when they were young—although, it may be a little depleted now. but they had a good day today.
a good day in the sun.
📨 many a time have i discussed this concept with @aseafullofstars… now it has come to life. also still wishing we got a beach episode. guys let them play frisbee.
⧽ DEAN WINCHESTER refers to the moon as a woman. he learned it from a book he stole from a bookstore when he was much younger, barely able to reach the shelf it was on. he fit it under his much too-big-for-him jacket, his first and only thought being he could read it to help his little brother fall asleep.
it’s one of the first memories he has of the moon. the first memory he has of noticing the sky up above. the book, titled the woman that lived in the moon, followed the story of a woman who when she died, went to the moon instead of heaven so she could watch over people and keep them safe from harm. whenever sammy was scared to fall asleep, dean told him that “the moon’s always up there, remember? she’ll watch y’sleep. she’ll make sure nothin’ bad happens.”
dean kept the book until sammy turned double digits, until the pages were so soft and worn that it tore at the seams from being shoved into dean’s duffel every time they packed up to go to the next town. the book sits somewhere deep in the trunk of the impala, buried under the shotguns and silver bullets.
while he sometimes doubts that she’s keeping people safe, dean still believes that the moon is a woman, and refers to her as such. call it wishful thinking, but it’s the one thing he believes in without having really seen with his own eyes. he just believes. he looks up at her sometimes, wonders if she’s seen his whole life play out, every tragic moment. she has, yet says nothing to him. just remains high in the sky, watching him.
📬 while once used most commonly for the lunar cycle, the moon represents something more to some. many cultures and religions ( indigenous peoples, mythology, mesoamerica, etc. ) either refer to the moon as a woman or entwine femininity directly with moon. i wish they talked about the moon in spn, i love her </3
tangentwithtanner
