you're my weak spot

and i'm yours

[castielss]

Sam riding a horse ⇻ 6x18 “Frontierland”

[winchestercaps-blog]

[fentasticical]

All I’m saying is, you vanish like that again, I’m not looking for you. Sure you won’t.

[purifiedblood]

It’s a reset day.

That’s what Dean’s gotten around to calling it. The days when Sam’s not the first one up, when Sam’s still lying in bed by the third breakfast call, when Sam’s back is curled facing the doorway every time Dean checks in on her. There’s been a lot of setbacks in their lives—losing Mom and Jack has been particularly hard on his sister—but Sam’s had bad days since they were kids, shuffling from town to town in the backseat of Baby and strapped to their father’s need for vengeance. 

Dean gets it. He has bad days, too. It takes Sam’s steady hands to drag him back from the edge they drop him onto, and she’s never failed him before.

There’s a possible haunting in Indiana, a few dead bodies washing up on south Florida coast with missing hearts, demonic omens trailing across Maryland, but Dean’s baby sister is hurting and that occupies all the space in his brain.

“Sammy?” It’s soft. Everything in him is curled soft for her now, gentled through the years of domesticity and the surety of the way their souls slot into each other’s. He leans against the doorframe and waits until he sees the tension of her shoulders to signal that she’s awake. “You need anythin’?”

She’s silent. When it doesn’t seem like she’s gonna respond, Dean clears his throat and continues, shifting on his heels and fingers flexing against the doorknob. “You, uh, wanna be alone?” he asks.

She turns to him, just an inch given where her shoulder drops in his direction. It’s all Dean needs—he closes the door behind him quietly and steps towards the bed. His knee sinks into the mattress at the same time that she settles onto her back, head finally turning to face him. 

Sam’s beautiful. She always has been. Dean still feels indelicate around her, where his rough-calloused fingers push her hair from her face and behind her ears, but she tilts into his touch like it’s exactly what she needs. It makes his heart tug in his chest, and he ducks his head to press a kiss to her forehead.

Her eyes are red-rimmed, but her breathing is calm; Dean’s known her long enough to know that means last-night sobs. He settles with his back against her headboard and gathers her up against his chest—Sam goes into him easily, head bowed and cheek pressed against his collarbone. 

Dean’s fingers drag down her arm, and she breathes slowly against him. It’s weird, sometimes, when Dean lets himself think about it too hard—the thought that they could have these quiet moments to themselves. Dean didn’t even think he would live this long; he thinks about being twenty-eight and regretting not being able to see Sam be who she is freely, regretting not giving her the space to feel safe to be herself in. A thousand things could have killed him—a thousand things had—and by some fuckin’ cosmic force, he’s still alive to hold her like this.

“Love you, Sammy,” he says, because he can’t not. There have been too many years lost between them. He feels her fingers tighten in his shirt, right over where his heart stutters over the way he feels about his sister.

It’s quiet for a long time, but Dean’s patient. “Me, too,” Sam whispers, palm spreading flat, and Dean lets out a soft sigh, hand moving to press over hers.

It’s a reset day, so Dean’s content with holding Sam for as long as she needs.

[holdmesamthatwasbeautiful]

John should be gone by now; he told the boys last night that he’d be crossing the state border by the time they woke up.

He isn’t. He’s in the smallest bedroom, still: shackled there by the bottle of Jack beside his bed that accompanied him and his insomnia the previous night. A sliver of crude, pale light cuts through the small door opening, and he winces.

He hears Dean’s voice first.

“Bye, Sam. I’ll see you later.”

Sam’s voice comes in a leisurely rasp; John can hear the smirk around it: “Is that how we say goodbye now?”

“Sam.”

Sam’s plea sounds like sweet decay. “Just a small kiss goodbye?”

The sound of a leather jacket curling against itself around cotton sheets, and a delighted gasp of breath. John doesn’t move.

“Not on my forehead, silly,” Sam giggles, and John fumbles around the floor for the bottle: he needs something to keep the bile down his throat.

“Sammy,” Dean murmurs. “Gonna be late.”

“Do you care?”

The unmistakable noises of a wet, dirty morning kiss: keening noises trying to escape throats, the faint rustling of sheets. John feels his heart turn to stone: his chest a heavy mass of grief and ice. Everything falls, and the faint stream of light seems to grow smaller.

It seems to go on forever. Sammy’s pleas and Dean’s murmured and amused objections; an affectionate lovers’ spat.

When Dean finally leaves, he does so with a promise: I’ll make it up to you later, baby brother.

John is still, cut like ice, when the door to his bedroom is pushed open: Sammy leans in the door-opening like royalty; artfully wrapped in sheets around his pale, and lord have mercy, love-bitten collarbones.  

“Dean’s pretty,” Sammy drawls, his hair a dark and perfectly tousled halo in the cold light of morning. “But he’s not that clever. I saw your boots at the door, daddy.”

John wants to weep.

“You look a little pale,” Sam murmurs. “Nauseous, even. Too much whiskey, perhaps?”

“How long?” John finally manages into the dusty room. He’s unable to meet Sam’s victorious glare. “How long.”

Sam laughs, and it sounds like ice hitting thin glass. “For as long as I’ve wanted it to,” he tells John, cruelly. “And you shoved me into Dean’s arms when I was a baby, daddy.”

Sam leaves, and John curls beneath moth-eaten sheets.

This is evil he doesn’t know how to conquer.

[dollyluxed]

2 + 51 and genneel! (probably didn't spell that right whoops)

royal au + accidentally married

oh oh oh! maybeeeee it’s medieval england, and princess danneel’s arranged marriage is about to finally go down. but it’s to some italian prince, a cortese, a boy who’s painfully shy and hopelessly gay and has no interest in pretending to want a woman for the rest of his life. so genevieve, the prince’s sister, decides to step in and help her brother out. so he runs away to france with his boyfriend, and gen dresses up like a little prince and makes the long journey to england. maybe danneel is a brat and childish and infuriating, and gen is short fused and stubborn and sarcastic, and it’s this really really impossible arrangement for a long time. they hate each other and the wedding just barely gets off without a hitch, and they don’t even pretend to have sex the first night (much to gen’s relief; she’s kind of missing a vital organ). but of course they slowly start to come together and get to know each other and eventually fall in love. and maybe one night danneel confesses that she didn’t know how she was going to marry a man, she didn’t expect to really like him as a person, let alone be okay with pretending to be in love with him in public because she’s into ladies. and gen… well. some secrets get revealed in delicious ways. <3

[holdmesamthatwasbeautiful]

Sam is thirteen when he realizes he wants his big brother in all the wrong ways.

It’s an accident when he walks into the messy living room of their motel room after school and finds Dean spread across the couch, working that seventeen-year-old cock with his fist; pink bottom lip caught between pearly white teeth as he moans obscenely into the afternoon sun.

The sight and the noise and the way Dean moves ignites something inside Sam, makes his dick twitch, and he gasps a little in surprise.

That’s when Dean notices him. His mouth form a little o in surprise, before he tugs his jeans back up over his hips, roaring with laughter.

“You little pervert,” Dean says around a grin. “Next time, clear your throat or something before just walking in like that. Jesus Christ, Sammy.”

Sam blushes, and it only makes Dean laugh harder.

Sam looks at the curve in the front of Dean’s jeans. Sam knows he will fall asleep thinking about it.

Wondering what it would feel like beneath his fingertips.  

*

Sam is sixteen when he presses himself to the bedroom door, his palm pressing against his hard cock through his jeans as he listens to Dean fucking some bubblegum blonde he picked up at the local bar. Sam only caught a glimpse of her before Dean steered her into their dad’s room: it has been vacant for two weeks now, because the shifter in Georgia had proved to be a tricky fucker.

Dean’s low grunts and filthy whispers through the door makes Sam stifle a whine in his throat, a pearl of sweat breaking through his temple as he wishes so intensely he would be the one in there, beneath Dean; taking everything Dean would give him.

Then, Dean makes a low, wonderful noise that makes Sam claw at the door.

He doesn’t mean to, but he can’t stop himself.

There’s a brief silence, murmured voices, and before Sam knows what’s going on, Dean hauls the door open.

Sam stares at them, like a deer caught in headlight. The room smells like pussy and sex, and Dean looks so beautiful: his chest is rosy, his mouth red. Sam hates himself.

“What the fuck?” the girl on the bed says, smudged lipstick staining her cheek as she stares disgustedly at Sam.

“I’m sorry,” Sam stammers, face hot with shame. “I wasn’t-“

“Wasn’t spying on us like some fucking creep?” the girl asks, while pulling on her dress. She picks up her stilettos and fumbles around the nightstand for her purse.

Dean hurries up to her. “Hey,” he says, and he’s using that voice. That soft, strange voice that Sam hates; Dean’s girl voice, the one that makes Sam think of a lynx that is trying very hard to pass for a housecat. “You don’t have to leave. He’s just a kid, he doesn’t matter. Come on, baby. Stay.”

Sam should leave, but he remains: frozen to the spot.

He’s just the kid that doesn’t matter.

Dean’s shoulders are freckled. Sam bets she hasn’t even noticed.

She scoffs, shoves Dean’s hand off her arm, and wordlessly pushes past Sam with a dirty glare thrown at him. The front door open and closes, and Sam is left alone with Dean, whose mouth is pressed into an unimpressed line.

“This,” Dean says coldly, “Just stopped being funny.”

*

Sam is eighteen when the letter from Stanford arrives.

He hides it under come stained sheets. He allows himself a week, before he tells Dean.

One more week of watching his beautiful big brother. Sam doesn’t know when the lust faded unwantedly into love and possessiveness, but somewhere along the way, it had. 

There’s no part of Dean he doesn’t want, no note in his voice that Sam doesn’t know by heart; not a beat of Dean’s heart that Sam doesn’t wish he could feel against his own.

Sam knows Dean loves him.

Sam knows Dean loves him the way one should love one’s brother; fiercely and simply.

Sam just looks at the line of Dean’s sun-kissed throat and wants. And it doesn’t feel simple.

When the week is up, Sam steals a final glance of freckled shoulders beneath August sun.

Sam wants to kiss each freckle goodbye, but he can’t. Instead, he does what Dean asked, all those years ago -  

He clears his throat. “Dean,” he says quietly. “I gotta tell you something.”

[ross-faer]

Why in the HELL aren’t the handlers stopping these people? THAT IS LITERALLY THEIR JOB.

STOP SEXUALLY HARASSING JENSEN

[out-in-the-open]

Both of their reactions are so cute ♥ ♥

[broletmebeyourshelter]

such Cuties😍😍

[out-in-the-open]

Jensen is basically like Dean with Sammy when it comes to protecting and taking care of Jared (x)

[akeiilos]

my favorite part of kings rising is when laurent pridefully announces “if you’re asking did i fuck him, the answer is yes.” after being prompted by approximately (0) people just for the sake of making it known while damen hangs out in the background not at all about to stop this boasting

[arterialtrees]

[goandgetthegun-deactivated20190]

bath time cuddles x

[deansbottom]

It wasn’t that he was comfortable. The bathtub was hardly big enough for one person, let alone two, and Dean was pretty sure that he’d never get the feeling back in his left arm. But with Sammy draped over him like that, the two perfect mounds of his ass breaking the surface of the water just enough to invite the squeeze of his hand, Dean didn’t really mind much. Sam’s hair was damp and curling at the tips, his body pressed to the hard line of Dean’s, his mouth inches away from his ear as they spoke about everything and nothing. 

[thefriendlypigeon]

Stale air rich with cigarette smoke, sweat, and mold. The breeze squeezes in the stink of smog and sin. Sticky clouds stuck in a stormy sky. The moon is flickering, why?

PART I

_______________

I’ve had this idea of an animated mini comic for a while now and I’m finally trying this out :D Stay tuned for a second (and maybe third part). Btw, this is young!Dean Winchester, sleeping in a motel room, when he suddenly wakes up by a strangely behaving moon. This is also somewhat inspired by David Firth’s “Salad Fingers”, especially the shading :)

[dollyluxed]

i keep seeing pictures of an achingly young jensen ackles and thinking about how unbelievable it is that he went about his life looking like that with no one snatching and keeping him for their own. how did he make it all the way to supernatural without being claimed and locked down for good? i think if i saw someone who looked like a 20 year old jen pass me by on the street i'd spend the rest of my life thinking about them.

i think about that all the time. @homo-pink and i talk about this constantly and have for years now. it’s that single sentiment that we come back to, over and over again. honestly, the thought of how many men he has driven to the point of breaking, just by existing, is paralyzing and unspeakably hot. it had to have started so much earlier than most of them would ever admit, had to have been people in positions that would be too ashamed to tell another soul. neighbors, uncles, teachers, pastors, babysitters, older brothers of close friends, random men on the street, countless classmates, and of course the producers and directors and casting agents who came later. how many wanted him and never had him? or had him but only fleetingly, and now live like haunted things, hollowed out and tortured by the thought that they’ll never taste him again, never feel the perfect warmth inside of him for the rest of their lives. how many men are in jail because of that boy, or driven to early graves, or trapped in a single fantasy that’s survived the decades, unable to think of anyone else? the number has to be in the hundreds, but it’s more likely to be in the thousands. and no one will ever be able to convince me that it’s not exactly this thought that keeps jared up at night, even with jensen asleep and soft and whole in his arms.

[pagingdoctorsaxxy]

So I have an absolute FAVOURITE little tiny detail from Baby that I have seen absolutely no one mention yet.

Its right when Dean starts playing Night Moves and the first lyric comes up. 

‘Was a little too tall / could’ve used a few pounds’ 

And then he points to Sam in this adorable little way.  “Bro, you’re tall and skinny, man.” But he’s got this cute little affectionate grin on his face like he adores that about Sam.  How Sam is a little too tall, and thinner than he had been a few years ago.  Like he realizes the song fits even after he starts it.  Its so cute.  And Sam’s little smirk, and shake of his head while he’s sexily buttoning up his rumpled shirt. 

Its just the cutest little moment, and I’ve seen no one mention the lyrics here and Dean’s point at Sam.

[allforsammy]

#yeah ok calling it love is a bit unprecise#the unhealthy codependent attachment as result of the abuse they suffered#which is repressing free will

omg u r right

no love there, so unhappy

omg sam doesn’t want to smile but he’s smiling at dean’s joke cos //represesd free will//

wow so unhealthy there’s no salad with that burger so unhealthy

dean manipulating and exploiting sam with unhealthy puppy eyes

whoa are you kidding me see those cuffs around their wrists and ankles they’re being forced to drink beers together omg no free will at all

look at them being so rude with each other they totally don’t wanna be together wow

omg see sam his reluctant smile cos dean said he has to

even they themselves know it’s not called love lol

that’s right. if they had a healthy relationship sam would have let dean fall on the ground omg so unhealthy

don’t you see the gun at the back of his head forcing him to say sam no free will man

sam being forced to take his brother home cos of abuse

no love there lol

this is the direct result of abuse. healthy siblings don’t worry about their siblings.

no free will haha dean is actually being possessed here don’t you know

look at these codependent alcoholics. so unhealthy.

all the repressed free will I mean wow

unhappy and unhealthy omg look at the scowl on sam’s face

no free will.

none whatsoever.