we've got obsessions;

FIC: The King (Of Cock) And I (Jared/Jensen, NC-17)

2017-04-18T14:35:15Z

Title: The King (Of Cock) And I
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 2,657
Summary: Jared never thought he'd be losing his virginity to the guy he's been jerking off to for seven years, especially not on film, but sometimes life is just funny like that.
A/N: Written as a gift for blackrabbit42 for spnspringfling. I absolutely loved your prompts and had a great time writing them. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did!!!

Link to AO3

To say this might be one of the biggest days of Jared’s life would be an understatement. He’s been brimming with anticipation since he got up this morning--hell, since three weeks ago when the shoot got confirmed-- and the nervous energy might be enough to kill him at this point. He sits rigidly at the bar, taking periodic sips of his ice water as he observes the crew bustling around, preparing the set for the first shot.

His palms are sweaty to the point that he’s wiping them on his jeans every couple of minutes, so keyed up that he feels like he’s going to snap if someone approaches him the wrong way. Jared thought he’d be more prepared, more professional, but all that flew out the window when the reality of the situation finally set in.

Jensen Ackles. Actor extraordinaire. A man’s man, Texas born and bred through and through. Posterboy for Kings of Cock. And, within a few minutes, the first man to fuck Jared, on film, or off.

He feels a little wrong for not disclosing to the agency that he’s never done this before, but he didn’t think they’d let him shoot if they knew his only experience was an unfinished blowjob and a half-hearted fingering attempt from his ex-girlfriend’s brother in college. Plus, he’s been jerking off to Jensen since he was sixteen years old (even if for a couple years he tried to convince himself he was there for the girls), so it feels fitting for the 27-year-old stud to be the one to pop Jared’s proverbial cherry.

Jared’s not obsessed, he’s just seen (and masturbated to) every single listed video featuring Jensen Ackles, as well as all the unlisted and underground Jensen films he’s been able to get his hands on. He might have a bit of a crush on Jensen, but to his credit he seems like a really great guy on top of the super fantastic bod he’s rocking. So when he saw the Kings of Cock ad calling for “horny amateurs looking to get plowed deep by meaty cock” over a picture of Jensen smirking in nothing but a jockstrap, Jared made the most impulsive decision of his life and clicked on the link.

Now, he’s sitting on a bar stool waiting for the tech crew to disperse and for Jensen to appear. The director yells “ten minutes till action”, and Jared perks up, downing the rest of his water in one gulp and placing the glass down on the bar. He gets up from the bar stool and makes his way closer to the set, trying to be casual as he surveys the minimalist living room set-up, trying his best not to picture himself spread out on the cream sofa as Jensen plows him with his thick cock. His phone vibrates in his back pocket, a quick staccato burst sounding, signifying Genevieve, Jared’s best friend and roommate. He opens his phone to three messages:

-breathe, babe.

-you’re gonna do great.

-remember to take a mint and enjoy the cock. i expect an exclusive director’s cut w/a behind the scenes commentary when you get back.

Jared grins, nerves eased a bit by Gen’s texts, and shoots a quick message back.

-Love you too, boob. I’ll remember to think about you when I’m coming on Jensen’s massive cock

-gross!

-i’m so proud of you. my little baby is growing up. :’-)

Jared rolls his eyes and chuckles before setting his phone down on a side table and silencing it. He stretches his arms above his head a couple times, runs his hands through his hair and pops a mint like Gen suggested. With all the tech now set up, the crew gets into position, cameras and mics at the ready. Jared wonders if Jensen is off getting fluffed for the scene, picturing a young, twinky boy on his knees in Jensen’s dressing room, sucking and licking Jensen to hardness so he can come out in a couple minutes and fuck Jared senseless. The visual has Jared dizzy to the point that he’s out of breath, jeans tightening over his filling cock, the tip brushing deliciously against the lace crotch of the pink satin panties he’s got on, a sweet secret for Jensen to uncover when he finally unwraps Jared.

He’s so absorbed in the sudden sensation he doesn’t notice Jensen till he’s basically on top of him.

“Well you must be the slampiece,” Jensen says, and the sound of that low, sultry Texas drawl in Jared’s ear is almost enough to make him cream himself right there. He turns quickly to find himself face-to-face with Jensen, who’s got a slow smirk on his face and mischief dancing in his warm green eyes. “They didn’t tell me you’d be so fucking pretty,” Jensen murmurs, eyes roaming over the expanse of Jared’s body before coming back to meet Jared’s gaze. He’s standing there in nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs, the thick, hard outline of his dick clearly visible through the fabric. Jared’s chest is heaving slightly, and he doesn’t know if it’s the air in the room or the arousal but his nipples are hard and all he can think of is Jensen’s hot tongue encircling them.

Jensen seems to take in Jared’s reaction and he chuckles, licking his lips before speaking again.

“Relax kid, I don’t bite,” he says with a wink. “At least, not unless you want me to. I’m Jensen, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Jared finally summons enough vocal ability to stammer, “Jared. And the pleasure is all mine-- at least I hope.”

Jensen throws his head back in laughter, clapping Jared on the back and shaking his head. “I can tell we’re gonna have a good time with this one. Kripke, we’re ready when you are.”

The director yells “places” and gives a thumbs up, and Jensen moves offset and waits for his cue. Jared stretches out on his stomach on the sofa, wrapping his arms around one of the brown pillows and burying his face in it, feigning sleep. He angles his hips toward the sofa so his ass is on display for the camera and waits. Kripke calls for action, and Jared can hear the cameras rolling as he waits for Jensen to enter the scene.

He feels Jensen climbing on top of him, straddling Jared’s hips so the hot pole of his cock is snug against Jared’s ass through his boxers and Jared’s jeans. Jensen grinds into his ass a couple times, and Jared squirms a bit, rubbing up against Jensen’s cock like he’s still halfway asleep. Jensen leans forward and kisses Jared’s shoulder blade before biting his neck softly, hot chest pressing against Jared’s back as he continues to rub his cock against Jared’s ass.

“Babe,” Jensen murmurs.

“Mmmm?”

“Wake up.”

Jared lifts his head slowly, stretching under Jensen like a cat, before he lift his hips more deliberately to rub his ass against Jensen’s cock. He turns his head to meet Jensen’s mouth with his, and Jensen kisses him slow and hard, tongue licking into Jared’s mouth. They break and Jared sighs in contentment as Jensen goes back to peppering kisses and nibbles down his body.

“Did you miss me?” Jensen asks as he licks down the dip of Jared’s spine.

“Mhmmm. Been waiting for you all day,” Jared moans, hips grinding into the sofa cushion as Jensen continues his teasing.

“That’s what I like to hear,” Jensen says, voice sounding like whiskey over gravel as he pulls back to look at Jared underneath him. “Lift your hips up.”

Jared obeys, and Jensen pulls his jeans down and off, leaving Jared bare save for the pink satin panties he’s got on. Jensen lets out a low whistle.

“You are so fucking sexy. You put on these pretty little panties for me? What a good little slut you are. So dirty for me. Want me to give you what you need?” He punctuates the question with a sharp smack to Jared’s ass, grabbing and squeezing as he returns to grinding his cock against Jared.

Jared whimpers and arches his back, nodding profusely as he feels Jensen’s hot cock just layers away from his skin. “Yes, please please please Jensen,” he begs, feeling ridiculous but too turned on to care.

“Don’t you worry, I’ll give it to you,” Jensen growls, pulling back to let Jared out from under him. “Get on your knees,” he says, yanking his boxer briefs down below his balls and pulling his cock out. Jared quickly obliges, getting on his knees in front of Jensen as he strokes his cock to full hardness inches in front of Jared’s face. Jared’s mouth is watering and Jensen looks almost feral from Jared’s vantage point, and Jared wants Jensen to eat him alive. Jensen brings his cock to Jared’s lips and he opens up, swirling his tongue around the tip and tasting him. Jensen is velvet-smooth and warm, and Jared starts to suck his cock with everything he has.

Jared takes as much of Jensen into his mouth as he can, hand around the base of his shaft to cover any ground he can’t fit down his throat. It’s messy and fast and wet and everything Jared could’ve ever dreamed of- Jensen is thick and hot and throbbing and he’s got his hands tangled in Jared’s unruly hair, holding Jared’s head in place so he can fuck into his mouth. Jared wants to memorize the musky scent of Jensen’s cock, to immortalize he sharp but quiet hitch of his breath when Jared swirls his tongue to press into the slit. He takes a hand and reaches down to jack his own cock, neglected and straining against the confines of his panties. He hollows his cheeks as Jensen pounds into his throat, rapid-fire like his life depends on it.

Jensen’s panting and sweating above him, eyes closed tight and mouth open as Jared sucks him down. He nudges Jared’s shoulder gently to motion for him to stop, pulling him up so he can kiss him hard and dirty on the mouth before pushing Jared onto his back on the couch.

Jensen pulls Jared’s legs apart, pulling his panties to the side to get better access. He buries his face in Jared’s crotch, nosing at his balls before licking his way to Jared’s hole. Jared squirms, and Jensen puts an arm up to hold him down at the hips as his tongue circles Jared’s opening. Jared shivers as Jensen’s tongue pushes in, a warm, wet, unfamiliar sensation, but comforting nonetheless. He relaxes into it as Jensen moans into Jared’s body.

Jensen follows his tongue with a finger, and Jared feels impossibly full yet not full enough all at the same time. He’s fingered himself before, countless times, but this is different. Jensen’s fingers are thick and strong, and he presses into Jared as deep as he can as his tongue continues to work what he’s not reaching with his finger. Jensen pulls back for a moment and Jared almost whimpers at the loss, but he comes back with two slick fingers this time and presses deep. He fucks his fingers in and out, mouth going up to Jared’s cock as he works Jared open, licking up the shaft and swirling around the head in a way that drives Jared absolutely mad. He scissors his fingers inside Jared as he takes Jared’s cock into his mouth. Jared moans as Jensen him down, working Jared’s cock until his mouth is flush against Jared’s pubic bone and then corkscrewing back up.

“You want more?” Jensen asks, already adding a third finger. “Filthy little cockslut, want me to fill you up and make you mine, huh?”

Jared bites his lip and nods vigorously, unable to form words.

“That’s what I thought. Greedy little bitch needs a big hard cock to fill him up.”

Jared watches through hooded eyes as Jensen slicks up his cock, rubbing his cock against Jared’s hole before he pushes in, just the tip. Jared and Jensen both groan simultaneously as Jared’s hole quivers around the head of Jensen’ cock, and Jared almost cries out. He’s never been filled like this before, and he wasn’t prepared for the intensity of the sensation.

Jensen curses and leans over to kiss Jared again, hips hovering in place until both men can get their bearings.

“So fucking tight,” Jensen mutters into Jared’s mouth as he kisses him again. “Feel so good, baby.”

Jared moans again, soaking the panties with precum as Jensen shifts, slipping deeper into Jared. Jensen looks to Jared, asking permission with his eyes, and Jared bites his lip and nods, wrapping his legs around Jensen’s waist and urging him on.

“Fuck, so fucking tight around my cock,” Jensen groans as he pushes in, pausing to breathe as he bottoms out. “Like a fucking virgin, so good for me.”

Jared’s head thunks against the arm of the sofa as Jensen fucks into him. He sets a brutal, unforgiving pace, pounding into Jared like his life depends on it. He rubs at Jared’s cock through the wet panties, slipping a hand in to jack him in time with his thrusts. Jared comes first, clenching around Jensen’s cock deep inside him as he releases spurt after spurt of hot come onto his own chest. Jensen pulls out and starts jacking his dick over Jared’s body, his fist a blur on his cock until he follows suit and comes in thick ropes onto Jared’s face, tongue, and chest. He moves up on his knees to put his cock to Jared’s lips again, shuddering as Jared licks him clean, sucking the head of Jensen’s cock into his mouth. Jensen kisses him again, their combined come sticking filthy between their chests as Jensen buries his hands in Jared’s hair and probes his mouth with his tongue. Jensen pulls back and then pressed his forehead to Jared’s, kissing him on the nose before slumping and burying his face in Jared’s neck.

“Cut!” Kripke yells. “That was fantastic, boys. Exactly what I was looking for. Let’s take 20 and then roll the next scene.”

The crew begins to ready the set for the next scene, and Jensen detangles himself from Jared, standing up to stretch. Jared can’t help admiring his strong thighs and tight, sculpted ass as he stands with his back to Jared, arms outstretched before turning back to face Jared.

“That was a good round, Jared,” he says, smiling. “You did really good. I’d almost believe the whole ‘virgin amateur’ schtick you’ve got going on.”

Jared’s face colors and he’s unable to school his expression before Jensen notices.

Jensen’s eyes widen. “Holy shit. Were you like, actually a virgin?”

Jared looks at his feet and shrugs, and Jensen winces, sitting on the couch by Jared’s feet and placing his head in his hands. “God, dude. Now I feel like a total ass.”

“Don’t,” Jared says, nudging Jensen with his foot so he looks at Jared. “It was everything that I could’ve wanted.”

Jensen snorts. “You too, huh? My agent told me that people see my cock and feel like they just gotta try it, but I never really believed him.” He shakes his head and shrugs. “Well I’m glad your experience was up to par. Please leave a review, your feedback is very important to us.”

Jared laughs, kicking Jensen in the side. Jensen grins at him, then looks thoughtful.

“Would it be crazy to ask you to dinner? I feel obligated, popping your cherry and all. Contrary to popular belief, I am a proper gentleman.”

Jared smiles, “Not as crazy as me accepting, which I plan to do.”

“Places in ten,” Kripke calls out.

“Perfect,” Jensen says. “Let’s fuck a couple more times for the camera, and then I know this great sushi place.”

Dessert and dinner? Jared’s quite the lucky guy, he decides.

FIC: Better Shaved Than Sorry (Jared/Jensen/Danneel, NC-17)

2016-03-31T17:54:21Z

Title: Better Shaved Than Sorry
Pairing: Jared/Jensen/Danneel
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 2,165
Summary: In which Danneel and Jensen know what Jared likes and give it to him.
A/N: Written as a gift for lavishsqualor for spnspringfling. Your prompts were awesome and this was so much fun to write! Hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! :)

Link to Fic | Link to AO3

FIC: The Little Things (Gen, G)

2015-12-27T16:10:01Z

Title: The Little Things
Pairing: Dean/Sam Gen
Rating: G
Word Count: 2,596
Warnings: Injury, canon neglect
Summary: Dean promised he'd be home for Christmas, and even beaten and broken Dean Winchester keeps his promises.
A/N: Written as a gift for lemondropsonice for Secret Santa! Hope you enjoy <3.

Also on AO3

It’s been eleven days.

Eleven days since Dad and Dean left. Eight days since Sam got out of school. Seven days since Sam last heard from Dad. Four days since Sam last heard from Dean. Two days since Dean said he would be back.

One day till Christmas.

It’s not like Sam was expecting something big, a tree or caroling or anything, but Dean said he would be home. Sam’s gotten used to the little half-assed Christmases they spend together, always made better by the fact that he's got Dean right beside him.

And Sam feels like a baby for being upset about it, but he was actually looking forward to Christmas this year. He’s had Dean’s gift ready for two weeks, wrapped in newspaper and twine and hidden away under his worn out t-shirts in the very back of the bureau he and Dean are sharing. He feels silly for it now, but he even bought some egg nog and hot chocolate and a tin of Christmas sugar cookies because Dean promised they'd celebrate for real this year.

But Dean isn't here.

And Sam knows he can't really blame Dean for that, he knows that sometimes hunts go longer than expected, and that sometimes Dad and Dean can't get back when they say they will, but it doesn't ever get easier to wait by the phone for a call that's not coming and it's always easy to imagine all the horrible ways Dean could’ve been ripped away from him in the four days since they last spoke.

He's just picturing the worst at this point-- Dean bleeding out in a gutter, Dean knocked out and defenseless in a snowbank, Dean trapped in a ditch with a twisted ankle and no hope of getting out. Dad didn't even have the decency to tell Sam what they were hunting, just came and got Dean from school one day and called Sam from the road.

By this point, Sam’s fucked-up brain has concocted an elaborate scenario in which Dad's unconscious and a black dog is ripping Dean to shreds, and he's so entranced in his horror daydream that he startles when the phone rings.

Sam nearly trips over his feet in his rush to pick up the receiver, and he’s breathless and hopeful when he says, “Hello?”

The line crackles a bit before his father’s gruff voice comes through. “Heya, Sam. We’re about an hour out. I need you to get the first aid stuff and have it ready for when we get back.”

Sam’s heart skips a beat, and there’s an undercurrent of worry in his voice when he answers. “Yessir. Dean-”

“Dean’s a big boy. He’ll be fine, just do what I told you.”

“Can I talk to him?” Sam asks, not the least bit reassured by his father’s affirmations.

“You can talk to him when we get there. I have to go, Sam. Be careful.” The dial tone clicks before Sam even has the chance to respond.

The first aid bag is under the bed, and Sam busies himself putting out their supplies. He lays a blanket over the ratty old couch and brings the pillow off of Dean’s bed. Gauze, peroxide, alcohol, needles, bandages, and antibiotic ointment all go in a neat little row on the coffee table. Sam finds a basin underneath the sink and fills it with soap and hot water, gathering a bunch of towels from their clean laundry.

He’s sterilizing the needles when the door to the apartment bangs open, Dad shouldering through with Dean half-hanging half-limping beside him. Sam springs up, going to Dean’s side in an instant. Dad grunts his thanks as Sam takes some of Dean’s weight, and together the three of them slowly make it to the couch.

Dean drops to the couch with a moan, stretching out as best he can. He swings his right leg up on the couch before gingerly pulling his left leg up beside it. He shifts so he’s lying flat on his back, head elevated by the armrest.

“Dean,” Sam says, and Dean reaches up to clap Sam on the arm, albeit feebly.

“I’m fine, squirt. Or at least I will be after you fix me up. Nothin’ a lil TLC won’t take care of.” Dean goes for what Sam thinks was meant to be a reassuring smile, but comes out as more of a grimace.

Sam turns to their father to ask about the hunt, but John starts speaking before Sam can get a word out. “Gorgons. Nasty goddamn creatures, claws about six inches long and venomous. One got Dean in the leg and we got the hell on out of there. Did a poultice in the car, so the venom’s cleared up, but they did a number on his thigh and he’s lost a lot of blood. I need you to fix him up, Sammy. Can you do that for me?”

Sam nods, “Yessir. What do you need me to help you with?”

John shakes his head and claps him on the shoulder. “This one’s all you, son. There’s a nest of gorgons that still needs to be cleared up, and I gotta meet Caleb in an hour. You’re fifteen, you can handle this one on your own.”

“Like you could’ve handled this hunt on your own?”

John’s face darkens, and his voice is full of thunder when he says, “Now I don’t need no lip from you, boy. I told you to take care of your brother and I expect you to follow orders without talking back.”

Dean’s voice comes weakly from the couch. “Dad-”

“It’s fine, Dean. You’ll be fine. Sam here will fix you up. I’ll be back in three days, you hear?”

There’s a chorus of “Yessir,” Sam’s defiant and Dean’s defeated. John tosses a couple of bills on the end table and fixes Sam with a hard look before he’s gone, door loudly signaling his departure.

Sam turns to Dean and sighs, dropping to sit down on the table in front of him.

“Good to see you too, Sammy,” Dean jokes, but his face falls when Sam just looks at him.

“I hate that Dad uses you the way he does, and you just let him,” Sam complains, and Dean shakes his head.

“We’re not having this argument again, Sam. He’s doing the best he can.”

“Piss-poor job of it, if you ask me,” Sam mutters as he grabs a pair of scissors, and Dean sighs but lets the comment slide.

They’re both quiet as Sam goes to work, cutting away the leg of Dean’s jeans so he has better access to the wound. Dean is breathing harshly, trying to mask the pain, but Sam can tell that it hurts like hell. When he cuts away the bloody bandage, there are three slashes going diagonally across Dean’s lower thigh, the middle one the deepest. Dean’s pale and sweating a little, and Sam fetches him a glass of water and two painkillers before he starts in on tending to the wound.

Sam first removes the butterfly bandages, tossing them in the wastebasket with the bloodied gauze.

“I’m gonna disinfect it now, it’s gonna hurt,” Sam warns, but Dean just chuckles and smirks at him.

“Hit me, little brother. I’m a big boy, I can take it.”

Sam rolls his eyes and grabs a couple of washcloths before pouring a little water over the cuts and carefully cleaning them. Dean hisses in pain, eyes screwed tight as he knocks his head back against the pillow. Sam puts a hand on his upper thigh and he calms a little.

“Shhh, it’s okay Dean, I’m sorry, you’re okay. Just can’t let it get infected. I’m gonna use some alcohol and then stitch you up and you’ll be all good, I promise.”

Dean nods his head a little frantically, practically pants out, “I’m good, Sammy, just-- just get it over with.”

Sam makes quick work of disinfecting Dean’s leg, cleaning up all the dried blood on his thigh and flushing out the wounds with warm water and a little bit of alcohol. He stitches up the three gashes as neatly and efficiently as he can, Dean watching him work with gritted teeth and slitted eyes the whole time.

He ties off the last stitch, grinning at Dean and patting him on his right leg.

“It’s done, man. I just gotta get some antibiotics on it and wrap it up and you’re good to go. Worst part’s over.”

Dean mirrors his smile, sitting up a little to examine Sam’s handiwork.

“You did a pretty good job, kid, thanks. You must’ve had a good teacher,” he jokes, and Sam rolls his eyes and socks him gently in the shoulder. “I’m kidding, man! But really, that’s some neat work. I’m proud of you. Look at you, saving my life and shit. Glad I have you around.” The warmth in his eyes is genuine, and Sam kind of wants to hug the shit out of him.

“Anytime, Dean. I’m gonna clean this shit up and then come back and wrap this. You need anything while I’m up?”

“Could you get me some skin mags?”

“So another glass of water and some tranquilizers, sure, I’ve got you,” Sam says dryly, and Dean cracks up.

He does take the proffered glass of water and painkillers Sam hands him, knocking them back with a gulp and a “Thanks, Sammy.”

Sam goes and puts the wastebasket back in the bathroom, dumping the used cloths with the rest of the garbage and cleaning out the basin he used. The first aid supplies go back in the duffel under the bed, save for the ointment and gauze he puts in his pocket. When he comes back out to the living room, Dean’s asleep, so Sam quietly applies the antibiotic cream over the fresh stitches and wraps Dean’s lower thigh in gauze and fastens the bandage. He carefully unlaces Dean’s boots, pulling them off with his socks and setting them in front of the couch. He grabs another blanket from the hall closet, draping it over his brother before he goes into their room and climbs into bed.

Sam falls asleep thanking his lucky stars that Dean is home for Christmas.

When Sam wakes up the next morning, he rummages in the back of his dresser drawer and pulls out his present for Dean.

It’s still pretty early, so Sam gets a pot of coffee going and makes some oatmeal. They usually make pancakes, but Sam’s never done it by himself before and isn’t particularly keen on burning down the apartment for some hotcakes.

When he comes out to the living room, Dean is blinking awake, and he groggily mumbles “mornin’, Sammy,” as Sam hands him a mug and a bowl.

“Morning, Dean. How you feelin’?” Sam asks.

“Like steam-rolled hot garbage. But now that you brought me coffee it’s all good. Thanks, Sammy,” Dean says, mouth up quirking into a smile. There’s a bruise on his cheekbone and his hair’s sticking up all weird from the way he sweat so bad the night before, but looking at him is like staring into the sun. This is all Sam needs.

“Earth to Sammy,” Dean says, waving a hand in front of his face. “I got something on my face or what?”

“Oh,” Sam says. “Nothing, um-- wait.” He reaches under the table and grabs his gift for Dean, thrusting it in his face. “Here. S’for you. I know we didn’t say anything about getting each other presents or anything but we did say we would celebrate so I, yeah um, just open it.”

“Dude,” Dean says. “No way.”

Sam colors. “I didn’t expect you to get me anything, it’s fine, I just wanted to get you something, because you deserve it. You’re so good to me even when I’m being a brat, and you take care of me so I wanted to do something for you for once-”

“Sam! Shut up. God. Go get the fucking Christmas shit you bought, and bring me my duffel, I told you we’d celebrate for real.”

Sam nods, a little confused, but does as Dean says. When he comes back into the room, Dean’s sitting up with his left leg up on the coffee table. Sam hands Dean his bag and opens the tin of Christmas cookies, laying them out on a plate and pouring a glass of egg nog for each of them. Dean's found the remote and has the shitty TV tuned to one of the cable stations, and Charlie Brown complains to Snoopy about the true meaning of Christmas through the tinny speakers.

Dean fishes out his flask and sets it on the coffee table, then fishes out a brown paper bag and hands it to Sam. He grabs one of the cookies and takes a bite, munching obnoxiously as he says, “Did you really think I wouldn’t get you anything?”

Sam shrugs sheepishly, and Dean rolls his eyes.

“Alright, moment of truth. Let’s open these babies.”

Sam takes his gift out of the paper bag as Dean rips the newspaper off of his. The contents of the bag are wrapped in paper, and Sam unwraps the paper to find a leather-bound journal, and copies of Catcher in the Rye and 1984. He looks up at Dean, who hasn’t opened the box yet, awaiting Sam’s reaction. Sam grins at him.

“This is great, Dean. Thank you.”

Dean lets out a relieved laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “I was a little worried you might’ve read them already, the librarian gave me a list of American classics and I thought these looked cool. And the journal, I figured it was time you stopped using Dad’s and had one of your own, that way you can put stuff you find important in it too, not just hunting stuff. Anyway uh, I’m glad you like it.”

“Open yours,” Sam says.

Dean lifts the top off the box, mouth dropping open when he sees what’s inside.

“Sam I-” he says incredulously, lifting the boots out of the box. “I’ve never had new boots before, these are great.” He chuckles, eyes glistening. “Heh, I’d try ‘em on, but we’ll save that for when my legs are in working order, dont’cha think? Man, this is awesome, Dad’s boots aren’t bad but damn, thank you Sammy.”

“Keep looking,” Sam says, smiling wide.

Dean reaches into the box and picks up a stack of tapes with permanent marker written accross the front. He looks up at Sam in awe, and Sam just grins harder.

“I figured since Dad gave you the Impala, it’s time you had your own music. I know you’d been wanting to make some mixtapes, so I thought I’d save you the trouble.”

“This is the best, Sam. Honestly. C’mere,” he says, and Sam goes.

Dean hugs him around the neck, ruffling his hair.

“Guess you’re not as useless as you look, huh?”

“Oh, shut up, Dean,” Sam says, punching him in the shoulder. Dean just laughs, grabs his egg nog and drinks the rest in one swallow. He motions for Sam to pour him some more before he pours a shot of whiskey from his flask into each of their cups.

Dean raises his cup, and Sam mirrors the movement, knocking his cup against Dean’s.

“Cheers, Sammy. Merry Christmas, little brother.”

“Merry Christmas, Dean,” Sam says, and they both drink.

The alcohol makes Sam feel warm, but it’s no comparison to the feeling of having Dean by his side.

It’s the little things.

FIC: Fair Game (Dean/Lisa, NC-17)

2015-12-27T05:56:00Z

Title: Fair Game
Pairing: Dean Winchester/Lisa Braeden
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1,656
Warnings: None
Summary: It’s Ben’s idea, really. He mentions it in passing, doesn’t really ask Dean or his mom if they can go, just says “There’s a fair in town, looks pretty cool." Dean figures, "why not?"
A/N: Written as a gift for rockstarpeach for spn_j2_xmas. I hope you enjoy it! I took your prompt "at the fair" and tried to get a little fluffy cuddly stuff in there. Enjoy! So sorry it's late, I hope you didn't fret about your gift, it was a pleasure writing for you. Special thanks to steeplechasers for her beta work, she came in clutch.

It’s Ben’s idea, really. He mentions it in passing, doesn’t really ask Dean or his mom if they can go, just says “There’s a fair in town, looks pretty cool,” without looking up from where he’s tying his skates, cool as you please.

The kid doesn’t mention it again, but the thought sticks in Dean’s mind. It’s Thursday night when he brings it up finally. Lisa’s in the kitchen, emptying the dishwasher. Dean slips up behind her, sliding his arms around her waist and pressing a kiss to her cheek.

Lisa giggles, setting the plates down on the marble countertop before turning her head towards Dean.

“Well hello to you too, mister. How was work?” she says, smiling up at him.

“It was good, real good. Karl says Evelyn wants us over for dinner next weekend, if that's somethin’ you’d be interested in.”

Lisa hmms , settling back against Dean’s chest. “I'll see if my sister can take Ben for the night and get back to you on that.”

“Speaking of the kid, he mentioned somethin’ the other day, a fair of some sort, said it’s in town right now. We oughta go this weekend get out of the house for a bit.” he says, and Lisa turns in his arms so she can look at him straight-on. Her eyes search his, and Dean can sense her hesitation.

“Are you sure?” she asks. “We can always go some other time, they come around every couple of months. If you’re not up to it…”

Dean shushes her with a kiss, pulls back and tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. “I’m good, Lis, I promise. Plus, it’s been a hell of a long time since I’ve had a good funnel cake.”

Lisa laughs, tossing her head back, and pushes Dean’s shoulder. “Okay, you. Let me finish with these dishes, and then I’ll meet you upstairs.”

She turns back to the counter and Dean moves his hands to her hips, chin hooked over her shoulder as she reaches to put the dishes up in the cabinet. Dean’s hand slips down to squeeze her ass, and Lisa squeals as she turns and swats him on the arm.

“You are too much,” she says, but she’s laughing even so. “Go to bed . I’ll meet you up there. I’ll cancel my Saturday classes for this fair thing. Now leave me alone, Dean Winchester, I have things to do.”

The weekend comes around, and Dean can feel the anticipation buzzing under his skin. Neither he nor Lisa told Ben they were going to the fair, so Dean’s excited to see his reaction. Right now, the kid is pissed off and sulky because his mom and Dean disrupted his weekend plans of Xbox and video chatting his friends, and he’s sitting with his arms crossed between Lisa and Dean periodically sighing obnoxiously. He thinks they’re going to Lisa’s aunt’s place, and he’s not happy about it.

“Hey bud, it’ll be fine,” Dean says, grinning at Ben and squeezing his shoulder, tossing a look over at Lisa, who’s trying to stifle her laughter. Ben glares at Dean and shrugs his arm off, mumbling under his breath about how annoying grown-ups are. Dean lets it slide and turns on the radio to one of his mullet rock stations, to which Ben just sighs and sinks deeper into his seat.

They drive for another few minutes before Dean pulls the truck into the gravel parking lot and cuts the ignition.

“We’re here, kid,” he says, flicking Ben on the thigh as he gets out of the truck. Ben scowls as he looks up from his shoelaces and meets Dean’s eyes. Then he turns to look out the windshield, and wonder breaks over his face.

“No,” he says, looking from Dean to his Mom and back again.

“Hell yes,” Dean says, and Lisa laughs. Ben scrambles out of the cab to hug him, almost knocking Dean over with how hard he launches at him.

Dean chuckles and pats the kid on the back. “What say you me and your mom go and have some fun, huh?”

They go on the Ferris Wheel first, because Ben insists. He takes his own car because he “doesn’t want to see you and Dean being gross, Mom.” Dean and Lisa board a couple of cars after, and Lisa squeezes Dean’s hand when the door shuts.

“I’m glad we did this. It was a really good idea. Thank you,” she says, cuddling in close to Dean.

“I figured it was as good a time as any to really get out, mingle, be a human being. It’s ‘cause of you I’m comfortable doin’ this, so it’s me who should be doin’ the thanking. Thanks for lookin’ after me, Lis.”

He presses his forehead to hers, and her lips meet his for a kiss. It’s soft and sweet, like she is, and Dean can smell the cucumber melon of Lisa’s shampoo. Lisa slips her arms around his shoulders and Dean’s hand tangles into her hair, pulling her closer as he slips his tongue into her mouth. Lisa moans quietly and shifts halfway into Dean’s lap, and the car tilts, breaking them apart. Lisa laughs in surprise and buries her face in Dean’s neck.

“I’m liking where this is going,” she says. “But let’s not start something we can’t finish. I don’t wanna traumatize my son by getting kicked out of the county fair for indecent exposure.”

Dean laughs and pulls Lisa closer, pressing them together from chest to back, arms wrapped around Lisa’s waist.

“Noted. I’ll try to start it up again when we get home.”

“Granted you behave and don’t do anything to piss me off,” Lisa retorts, and Dean bites her neck playfully. “You’re the absolute worst.”

“But you love it.”

“I do,” Lisa says, and kisses Dean again, chaste and sweet.

“I’m really proud of you,” Lisa murmurs. Dean squeezes her hand and kisses her hair.

“Me too.”

They spend the rest of the ride sitting in companionable silence, hands intertwined and Lisa’s head on Dean’s shoulder.

They join Ben after the ride is over and trail him through the fair grounds. They hit the dunk tank, the ring toss, the balloon darts, bumper cars, and even the petting zoo. Dean somehow manages to win the Strongman game and wins a huge teddy bear for Lisa while Ben gags audibly from the background.

Dean buys Ben a cotton candy and deep fried oreos, two corn dogs, chili cheese fries, and a bag of popcorn. He and Lisa share a funnel cake, and Dean watches Ben scarf down all his food, apparently with enough room left to still ask for a sno-cone.

Dean can’t help but think of Sam when he was Ben’s age, eating everything in sight and growing way too fast for any of it to make a dent. They went to a fair like this, once, and Dean spent half his money on food for the kid. He smiles ruefully at the memory as Ben slurps at his cherry cone, and Lisa squeezes his thigh reassuringly, like she can see what he’s thinking, and knowing her, she probably can. He smiles at her gratefully and throws an arm around her shoulder, crushing her to him and kissing her cheek. Warm. Real.

Because that’s what he needs right now.

The ride back home is quiet, Ben all tired out and falling asleep on Dean’s side, Lisa humming to a song Dean doesn’t know. When they get back, Dean rouses Ben, sending him up to bed.

“I had fun, Dean,” he says sleepily, rubbing at his eyes. “Thank you.”

“Me too, bud,” Dean says, ruffling his hair. “Now go to sleep, man, it’s late.”

They do their secret handshake and Ben wanders off to his room to sleep, and Dean turns to Lisa who’s standing in the doorway of their bedroom, dressed in a nightgown and hugging the teddy bear.

She sets the bear down in the hall and pulls Dean to her, whispers “come to bed”.

They shed clothes on their way from the doorway to the bed, Dean shutting the door with his foot as he kisses Lisa and slips her nightgown off her shoulders. They fall into bed together, Dean pressing Lisa into the mattress as he leaves her mouth and kisses a trail down her shoulders, over her breasts, down her torso to her navel. He stops to nose in her curls and then he goes down on her, pressing the flat of his tongue to her clit before licking into her.

Lisa gasps and arches her back, urging Dean on with a moan as he pushes his tongue deeper into her cunt.

“Fuck,” she groans, “God fuck, Dean, get up here and fuck me.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” he says gruffly, blanketing Lisa’s body with his and kissing her deeply.

He makes quick work of the condom, pushing in and bottoming out in one deep thrust. Lisa grinds her hips up against him and they rock together like that, lips locked, Lisa’s ankles crossed above Dean’s ass.

Dean reaches between them and rubs at Lisa’s clit in tandem with his thrusts, fucking into her deep until she clenches around him, crying out and coming on his cock. Dean only has to go a few more seconds before he’s coming too, mouthing at Lisa’s shoulder as he fills the condom.

Dean pulls out and slips off the condom, tying it off and tossing it in the wastebasket by the bed. He flops onto his back to catch his breath, and Lisa curls into his chest when he opens his arm for her. He pulls the blanket over the both of them, kissing Lisa’s forehead as she settles against him, sleepy and sated.

“Thanks for keeping me sane,” he murmurs into her hair, and his smile is soft and genuine when she whispers back, “Anytime.”

rbb!!! yeeee

2015-11-08T18:00:41Z

you guys do not understand how excited i am for rbb! i keep looking at my claim and SQUEEING because i'm just so glad i got my first choice. i just hope i do it justice!

i'm in the super excited, enthused, enamored stage rn, and hopefully this carries me through some good brainstorming and worldbuilding before any frustration and self doubt hits.

anyway, i'm truly blessed to have this as one of my first writing challenges, and i am super excited to work with nick, my sweet sweet artist in making a kickass j2 college au.

college check-in #3

2015-11-07T20:27:49Z

it's been awhile. much has happened. a lot has changed, i'm still the same old eris though.

college has solidified the fact that i detest life sciences, and a biology major would be completely wasted on me, so i'm hopping on the business train. i hope to minor in something i am really truly interested in, but what exactly that is i've not yet decided.

work is nice. the environment is very chill, low stress work, and my boss is really cool. i'll regret not being able to work there again next year if i get an RA position, which i NEED because i adore living on campus. i meet some very interesting people at the desk, and i feel working there is one of the ways i learn and grow so much.

even as a first year, i'm super involved, and sad i am not more involved than i am. i think i need to find my niches and focus on them though, and not spread myself too thin trying to do anything and everything.

i've made a lot of friends, and a lot of them i can see lasting awhile, and i'm so glad for that. one of them is particularly special; that same guy i mentioned months ago. a full foray into him and our dynamic is soon to come. it's interesting and also intense.

lastly, i gotta take care of myself more. physically, but also emotionally. so if you don't see me for ages come bother me and tell me i need to watch some tv or read some fic bc i'm probably not doing it as much as i need. toodaloo for now.

college check in #2

2015-08-30T14:48:51Z

i don't have the hang of it yet.

i missed my initial readings for my polisci class because i failed to read the syllabus-- a classic rookie mistake, i feel like such a scrub. i've decided next semester i'll start switching my classes over to business-oriented so that i can change my major come next academic year and not be behind so much that i'll need to stay one extra year.

my classes seem okay. i find it difficult to talk to people, but that's normal for me unless they make the first move. i've met a few fantastic people though, and several friendships i hope last a long long time.

there's this amazing guy, and i'm so ridiculous abt him already. it doesn't make any sense at all but he's just radiant, or something. entry about him soon to come, probably.

i'm glad i ended up at this school, even if i didn't choose it. even just this first week, the experiences i've had and people i've met have led me to believe i belong here. and i'm beginning to think i really really do.

when you think it can't possibly get any worse?

2015-08-16T21:29:24Z

well you're absolutely mistaken

mom's up and decided she doesn't want to pay my tuition. just not her idea of a good investment of her money since (according to her) I'm the devil and also conspiring against her. but that's no big. I can either drop all my classes at university and kick it back here at this house with her hating my guts, or I can get $5.5k in student loans and pay everything I've ever made to work them off. it's no big deal. I'll probably even sell my con tickets!

my mom pulls shit like this all the time and basically yells "sike!" at the end to prove it was all a long elaborate lesson, but this time it doesn't feel like a joke. it feels real. and I've never hated a person as much as I hate her just right now.

I don't know how to do this anymore.

college check-in #1

2015-08-14T13:23:49Z

i've been at uni for 5 days, and honestly, it's been incredible. there's barely anyone here bc move-in hasn't started, but i came early for a job. i've explored campus, met some great people, ate some weird ass food.

i've fallen in with a group of my fellow coworkers, and i hope this lasts. i'm a late edition- they all met tuesday and have been getting to know each other, i msg them yesterday- but i'm already so into our dynamic. hope school starting doesn't change things.

i made the mistake of not bringing any food but snacks, so i am struggling a little, but otherwise man i love being here. i'm just so ready to start this phase of my life.

:/

2015-08-08T23:31:29Z

reactivated my twitter. i'm finding myself generally disillusioned with the entire experience, so i've yet to tweet anything. faved a couple friends tweets, and idk if they didn't notice or just didn't care that i was back, or maybe they just didn't notice i'd left in the first place. stupid thing to be upset about, idk why i expected some sort of fanfare of people telling me they missed me, considering i wouldn't miss me either.

ready to move tf away...

2015-07-31T23:02:06Z

even if university is only a thirty-minute drive away from home. my mom yelled at me and made me feel worthless over something absolutely ridiculous today, and i'm just so totally over it. i think i'll go read some fic to cheer myself up or something.

on another note, i'm so excited to start college. hopefully i thrive like i think i will.

i need a work tag

2015-07-29T23:00:37Z

i think i'm just going with my original plan of bio major. hopefully my mom will let me go back to that without too much fuss. anyway, i am however excited about starting my second job, and my first one on campus. it'll help me meet new people and hone a lot of skills. here's to hoping school, and work, both work out for me this year.

discouraged pt. 2

2015-07-29T19:09:08Z

welp. talked to momther. no dice. my options now are pursue a four year degree in biology or go to community college and become a nurse. sigh.

discouraged...

2015-07-28T00:45:39Z

things aren't going very well right now. i recently (try three days ago) came to the conclusion that i have no desire to either 1) major in biology or 2) become a doctor, which was the plan for my college career. with a month left before the beginning of my freshman year, i realized i want to major in english. no big deal, i'll just email the school and see if i can get it changed. piece of cake.

except not.

like most people, i was too mediocre a student in high school to get enough scholarships to pay my full college tuition. meaning my mom's gotta pay ~8k for my college this year. given that, she feels she has license to have a say in what i study. which is fair enough. except for the fact that she has no care or consideration for what i want, nor does she have reasonable expectations for where i should be as an eighteen year old student.

basically, i wanna major in a liberal arts degree, the EVUL BEAST english bachelor of arts that everyone either dreads or detests. and she's not having it. i brought my proposal, a reasonable one, i might add, with tentative plans, career options, marketable skills, and a plan to minor in something more appealing to employers. but she wouldn't even consider it. she gave me a long lecture about cost of living and being able to support a family (which she didn't ask whether or not i want. spoiler alert: i don't) and levels of fulfillment of WOC in the positions i'm planning to apply for. she expects me to have a one year, five year, ten year, and twenty-five year plan when i don't even know what i wanna do next week. like, dafuq is the deal with these expectations?????

anyway, i'm ranty and pissy and idek if anyone will read this or if any of that will even make sense to anyone who comes across it but whatever, this is sorta therapeutic. maybe if things change we'll get a happy update. here's to hoping

FICLET: Brotherly (Gen, G)

2015-07-18T22:14:26Z

Title: Brotherly
Pairing: Gen
Rating: G
Summary: Sam doesn't see anything wrong with Dean being his whole entire world.
A/N: Quick little Weechester ficlet (drabble?). Believe it or not it's not meant to be incestuous at all, just an early dose of that sweet sweet codependency.

When Sam is in second grade, his teacher assigns the class a project on their favorite thing in the world.

Sam is excited, and he makes Dean walk him to the convenience store they saw when they first pulled up into town, so he can get materials. Dean grumbles and rolls his eyes, and Sam pretends he doesn’t see the small smile on Dean’s face as Sam reaches for his brother’s hand so they can walk across the street. Sam makes Dean stand at the front of the store so he can get the stuff he needs in private and Dean huffs a laugh when Sam teeters on his tiptoes to get the basket onto the conveyor belt.

They walk back to the motel, one of Sam’s small hands clasped tightly in Dean’s, the other gripping the bag full of art supplies. Dean grins down at Sammy and hands him the Snickers bar he’s snuck into his pocket.

Sam’s so excited about his project, and he won’t tell Dean what it is or let him see, because he wants to show it to Dean after he turns it in and Ms. Applebaum puts one of those scratch n’ sniff stickers on it that says “Good Job!”, because he wants Dean to be proud of him, to see how good he can be.

Sam never gets the opportunity to bring his project home to Dean. Sam knows he’s done something wrong because Ms. Applebaum is frowning at him even though she insists he’s not in trouble, there’s that little furrow in her brow that appears whenever she gets upset and crinkles her face up all weird, and then he’s in a chair in the guidance counselor’s office and the woman with the bushy eyebrows is asking him weird questions about Dad and Dean.

“It’s okay, you can tell me,” she tells him, eyes wide and voice breathy. “If they’re hurting you you can tell me, you won’t get in any trouble. You’re safe here, Sam.”

He’s sent to sit outside in a hard plastic chair like the ones from the emergency room, and he can hear Ms. Applebaum and the bushy eyebrow lady saying things like “unsafe environment for a child” and “attachment bordering on obsession” and “absent parent” and “unhealthy codependency” and Sam really, really doesn’t wanna be there, wishes he could be anywhere else in this moment, really. He doesn’t understand what’s going on, but he can tell that it’s bad because all the adults are shooting him these worried, sympathetic looks and he heard the words “should probably be removed from the home” a couple of minutes ago and he knows that they’re talking about him, even if he can’t fathom why.

The lady at the reception desk gives him a piece of candy and a letter for his dad, saying “make sure he gets this and comes up to the school, this is very, very important Sam and I’m trusting you with this because your dad didn’t come to the phone,” and Sam hides the letter at the bottom of his backpack and is relieved for the first time ever that Dad moves them out of the town 3 days later.

He never mentions it to Dean or to Dad, and after that Sam stops trying to explain how much he loves his brother, because people don’t seem to understand and he doesn’t want to lose Dean.

trying to get the hang of things

2015-07-18T22:08:35Z

formatting on this website seems to be a total nightmare, to be quite honest. i'm posting some old work from AO3 and tumblr on here just to have it also to figure out how the heck to work this. will be back soon with updates.

FICLET: xxxii (Dean/Sam, PG-13)

2015-07-18T21:56:59Z

Title: XXXII
Pairing: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Rating: PG-13
Summary: For a special boy on a special day.
A/N: I promise I wrote this on time I'm just posting it here very very late.

Birthdays aren’t really worth acknowledging. Being a Winchester, Sam’s never put too much stock into celebrating. It’s pretty overrated, if he’s being honest. Growing up, they never stayed in one place long enough to lay down roots, so it’s not like he ever really went to class birthday bashes or Christmas parties or saluted the New Year with anything other than Dick Clark’s. He hasn’t had a valentine since the last year his whole third grade class had to participate, and Easter egg hunting was often forfeited in favor of tracking down a black dog or dismantling a nest of ghouls.

It’s not that he minds it, at least not now. When he was a kid, Sam wanted to be able to invite everyone over for punch and cupcakes and lame party games, but these days his birthday isn’t quite as big of a deal. It’s just him and Dean now, and sometimes Cas, and with all that’s been going on the past couple years, any birthday that isn’t spent fighting for his life constitutes as a pretty good one.

In the midst of everything- the Mark, the Novaks, Rowena and Crowley- Sam completely forgets his birthday is coming up. All his energy is focused on interpreting the Book of the Damned and lifting the curse on his brother, so naturally something as trivial as being one year older completely slips Sam’s mind.

It’s typical that too many days spent cooped up in the bunker poring over dusty tomes and ancient archives exacerbates Dean’s need to blow off steam, so Sam doesn’t think anything of it when Dean comes into the library one afternoon and demands Sam get his lame ass up so they can go out. He doesn’t think much of it when they end up at the cinema and Dean buys a large popcorn, two tickets to Furious 7, a box of Sour Patch Kids for Sam, and a large coke and a bag of M&M’s for himself. When they’re settled in their seats in the back of the theater, Dean’s arm slung around Sam’s shoulder and Sam’s tongue working around a piece of candy, it finally occurs to him that they don’t do this.

“Dean,” he whispers, lowering his voice as his brother’s gaze falls on him. “Is this a date?” Dean freezes, before he recovers himself and goes back to shoving popcorn into his mouth. “Did you take me out on a date?”

Dean glances at him and scoffs, as if that’s the most preposterous thing he’s ever heard Sam say. “Dude, no,” he answers, turning back towards the screen. Sam’s about to argue, until he hears his brother’s voice, softer this time. “Maybe.”

Sam’s a little perturbed by this, doesn’t know what to make of it. Dean’s still staring dutifully at the movie screen, and Sam is mulling it over in his head when his brother speaks again.

“Okay, yes it’s a date, sue me. It’s a special day, and we’ve both been so worked up lately, so I just thought it’d be as good an excuse as any to celebrate. Catch a flick, get a bite afterward, fuck if you’re up to it. Y'know, the whole nine yards.”

A woman sitting in the row in front of them turns around and shushes Dean, who completely ignores her. Sam stares at him and makes a conscious effort to keep his own voice down when he says, “But why?”

Dean turns to look at him again, eyebrows creeping up his forehead.

“It’s your birthday, genius!” he hisses, and that makes all the sense in the world but also none at all. The woman in front of them turns around to glare again, and Dean flicks her off before turning back to Sam.

“God, you’re so dense sometimes,” he says, exasperated, but his voice is fond and all of a sudden he’s pressing his lips to Sam’s.

Even though Sam’s taken by surprise, he gets with the program pretty quickly. Dean kisses him soft and slow, nipping at Sam’s bottom lip, and when his tongue pushes at Sam’s mouth, he obediently opens and lets his brother in.

Dean tastes like chocolate and artificial butter, and Sam’s skin tingles where Dean’s got a thumb rubbing circles into his hipbone. Sam feels like he should be a little more indignant about the fact that time’s running out for Dean and they’re sat here necking in a movie theater like teenagers, but Dean wanted to give him this and Sam wants Dean to be happy and it feels damn good to have Dean’s tongue licking into his mouth, so he’ll allow it.

Dean breaks this kiss and presses his forehead to Sam’s, hand not on Sam’s hip going up to grip the back of his neck, squeezing lightly as he presses his lips to Sam’s collarbone.

“Thirty-two, Sam,” Dean murmurs into Sam’s skin. “Glad you’re still around to watch out for my dumb ass.”

“Your nice ass,” Sam counters, and Dean huffs a laugh, breath puffing out warm and wet against Sam’s clavicle. “And I’m glad I’m still around, too.”

Dean looks up at him then, and Sam holds his gaze, and nothing else needs to be said about that, not right now. Sam’s made it through another year, and Dean’s right there with him, where he should be, and they’re going to do whatever it takes to keep it that way, as far as Sam’s concerned.

Dean taps Sam’s forehead, uses a hand to brush his hair back from where it’s falling into his face. “What are you thinking about in that big ol’ brain of yours, huh?”

Sam smiles at his brother and shakes his head. “It’s nothing. You wanna get out of here?”

Dean’s grin turns smarmy at that, and Sam rolls his eyes. “Why Sammy,” he says. “Hadn’t pegged you as a fucks-on-the-first-date kinda gal.”

Sam shoves at his brother, and Dean falls away, laughing. Sam stands up and looks down at Dean, and he feels ridiculously happy in this moment. “You said the whole nine yards. You coming or not?”

Dean scrambles after him, and they make their way out of the cinema and out to the Impala. Before Sam can climb in, Dean crowds into his space, pushing him against the passenger side door as he presses another kiss to Sam’s lips.

“Happy birthday, Sammy,” he says, and Sam ducks his head down to kiss his brother again.

“So, I’m up for it,” he says, and Dean looks at him quizzically. “You said you wanted to fuck me,” he explains, and that puts Dean back into gear.

“Get in the car, birthday boy,” Dean says, and Sam thinks maybe celebration isn’t all that overrated after all.

FIC: Soul Survivor (Dean/Sam, NC-17)

2015-07-18T21:01:24Z

Title: Soul Survivor

Pairing: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester

Rating: NC-17

Word Count: 4,500

Warnings: Depression, hurt/comfort, incest

Summary: Sam is certain of one thing: he can't do this without his brother.

A/N: This is the first part in a coda series I am planning to write for certain S10 episodes, depending on how this one goes. This is also the first SPN fic I've published, and the first time I've written from Sam's perspective, so feedback is extremely welcome. Unbeta'd, so all mistakes are mine.

I originally posted this months ago on AO3, but since this place is barren and I'm trying to figure out how to use it, I thought I might as well post it here too. This still may or may not become a series, I'm not entirely sure.

Sam's blood had run cold when he’d walked back into the dungeon to find the door open. The chair Dean'd been bound to had been empty, cuffs and rope laid casually across it, taunting him. He hadn't been gone long, not even five minutes, and he’d been sure Dean's bonds were secure when he left.
Serves him right to have underestimated his brother.
Now, he and Dean are face to face, Sam’s knife pressed against Dean’s jugular. Dean is sneering at him, pretty features distorted as he tries to goad Sam into slitting his throat. Dean’s eyes are glittering, and he looks so clearly like Sam's brother that Sam hesitates for a moment.
“Well… Look at you,” Dean murmurs, two parts amusement and one part disdain. "Do it. It’s all you."
And Sam can't. He never could. Not now, not after everything they've been through. He lowers the blade and Dean grins, green eyes flickering to black. Dean takes a step forward, but he never gets the chance to attack. All of a sudden, strong arms encircle Dean, holding him in place.
“It’s over,” Castiel says, voice thrumming with a power that Sam hasn’t heard in a while. His eyes glow an intense blue, echoes of grace resonating through the hall. Dean grunts, struggling against him, but Cas's grip is solid. "Dean, it's over."
Dean pitches his head back and yells, eyes rolling back into his head as he passes out.
--
It takes the two of them to haul Dean's limp body back to the dungeon, Cas’s arms wrapped around Dean’s torso and Sam's good arm around his legs. Sam is reminded of the last time he had to carry his brother, and he has to force himself to take a deep breath and shake it off. He doesn't have time for thoughts like that now.
Sam adjusts his grip on his brother, and Cas gets the cue, shifting so that he's taking all of Dean's weight. Cas sets Dean down in the chair, manhandling him upright while Sam fetches the sanctified blood.
Neither of them have said a word to each other since Cas arrived, too preoccupied with transporting Dean. The silence is almost oppressive, so Sam speaks up.
"Are we doing the right thing, Cas?" he asks, running his hand through his hair. “Are we really making the right choice?”
Cas’s voice is solemn, a perturbed frown etched into his brow. “Sam, it’s the only choice we have.”
“And if it doesn’t work?”
“We have to try. Father Thompson was successful, there’s nothing to say you won’t be as well.”
Sam takes a deep breath. “I just don’t want to lose him, Cas. I can’t lose him, not after everything.”
“I know, Sam,” Cas murmurs, and suddenly he’s at Sam’s side, squeezing his shoulder reassuringly. Sam makes a choked-off noise, almost a sob, and Cas wraps his arms around him, mindful of his injured shoulder. Sam drops the syringe he was holding, arm coming up to return his friend's embrace. He feels like he’s one step from spiraling into despair, but Cas’s grip is grounding. They stand there for a moment while Sam gets his bearings, Castiel’s hand running up and down Sam’s back. It’s oddly soothing.
Sam clears his throat and pulls away, clapping Cas on the shoulder. Cas releases him, stepping back and bending to retrieve the syringe Sam had dropped. Cas smiles as he hands Sam the syringe, and for the first time in months, Sam’s answering smile is genuine.
They make quick work of the rest of the ritual, drawing a fresh syringe and dosing Dean again. They’re down to one last dose to complete the cure, and Dean still hasn’t woken up. Sam’s a little anxious, because Dean should be conscious and blubbering about humanity at this point, but he hasn’t roused since they carried him back to the dungeon, and Sam doesn’t know what to do with that. He’s been debating whether they got the lore wrong, whether the ritual won't work because of that accursed Mark scorched into Dean's flesh, and the notion is terrifying.
“Relax,” Cas says, and Sam wonders if Cas's new grace has him attuned to human feelings or if Sam’s just that transparent. “We have no reason to believe the ritual will fail. The Mark is its own issue entirely; I doubt it’ll have any effect on Dean being cured. And if it does, we’ll deal with it when the problem arises.”
Sam nods, reassured. He takes a deep breath and steels himself, drawing the last syringe of sanctified blood.
This is it.
Sam walks over to where Dean’s tied up, grits his teeth, and jabs the needle into Dean’s arm, pressing down on the plunger. Sam removes the syringe, stepping back slowly, eyes lingering on the eight puncture wounds in Dean’s forearm and the unmarred Mark of Cain standing out starkly against Dean’s pale skin, almost mocking.
Sam and Cas stand poised and ready, waiting.
Nothing happens.
“What the hell are we doing to him, Cas? I mean, even after I gave him all that blood, he still said he didn’t want to be cured, that he didn’t want to be human.” Sam stares at his brother, motionless in the chair, and feels like his chest is being ripped in two.
“Well… I see his point. You know, only humans can feel real joy, but … also such profound pain. This is easier.” Sam glances at Cas sidelong, but the angel is staring at Dean.
It seems to happen all at once. Dean shakes his head almost imperceptibly and grunts, and then he does it again, and then he's lifting his head and his eyes are opening and they're black but then they're that clear green again, and Sam is staring in disbelief. Dean's eyes close and he shakes his head again, letting out a harsh breath. When he opens his eyes a second time, he looks uncertain.
"You look worried, fellas," he says, and it's Dean, Sam knows it's Dean, but he throws the holy water anyway.
There's no hissing flesh, no screams of agony, just the normal, human disdain associated with being splashed in the face.
A smile spreads across Sam's face, and he knows that Castiel is echoing the expression beside him.
"Welcome back, Dean."
--
It's been one hell of a night.
Sam sends Cas off once he comes back with some food, promising the angel they'll talk once Dean is back on his feet. Sam wants to know about Hannah, and about Cas's grace, and they need to figure out more about this Mark Dean's toting, but he has to tend to his brother first.
He knocks on Dean's door, greasy McDonald's bag of burgers in hand.
"Yeah?" Dean says, and Sam takes it as permission to come in. Dean's sitting on his bed, head in hands, but he looks up when Sam enters the room.
"How you feelin'?" Sam asks, stepping further into the room so he can fully shut the door.
Dean chuckles humorlessly.
"Like shit." Sam hands him the bag, and Dean takes out a burger and unwraps it. "Thanks," he says hesitantly. "Sam, I-"
"I know, dude, dont worry about it. I mean- well, you know what I mean. We can talk about it later, man."
Dean opens his mouth like he's gonna protest, but Sam cuts him off.
"I'm serious dude, I'm wiped, and I know you are too. We'll talk about it in the morning." Dean is staring at the ground by Sam's foot, mouth twisted in a frown, and Sam doesn't think he's seen his brother look this lost since he admitted he was scared of going to hell. It pulls on Sam's heartstrings a little bit. "There are pies in there, those little apple ones that they sell for like, fifty cents?" he says, and for some reason, he feels unsure. "I got a few, thought you might like them."
Dean quirks a smile, and it's not much, but it's something.
"And Dean?"
Dean meets his eye again, jaw ticking. He looks terrible- pale, tired, with a haunted look about him. But Sam's got his brother back, and that's good enough for Sam, right now.
"I really am glad to have you back."
--
Sam doesn’t get drunk that night. He pulls a bottle of Jim Beam from the liquor cabinet, fetches and rinses a glass. He sets the glass and bottle on the table and sits. But he doesn't drink. He doesn't need to get shitfaced tonight. He needs to sleep. He can hit the liquor tomorrow when the shock of the whole situation has worn off and the guilt has taken its place.
Leaving the bottle and glass on the table, Sam heads to his room. He undresses quickly, taking off the sling before stripping down to t-shirt and boxers.
He climbs into bed, nestling down under the covers. He curls up on his left side, back to the door. It's not how he usually likes to sleep, but it's the easiest position not to jostle his shoulder if he rolls over in the night.
Sam spends an indeterminate amount of time staring at a spot on the wall, willing himself to fall asleep. He's tired as hell, but his mind is racing a mile a minute and he can't seem to quiet it. Maybe he should've had a drink. Or seven. He probably would've been able to pass out, at least. Instead, the weight of the day- hell, the weight of the last few weeks, months- washes over him. Guilt sits at the pit of his stomach, heavy like an anchor.
Even though Sam had brushed off Dean's insults when he spat them viciously, they're all playing through his mind now. Logically, he knows that Dean didn’t mean any of it, that none of it is true, and he was just being intentionally malicious to try to get to Sam. And it hadn’t worked.
Except for the fact that it had.
Sam can’t shake the feeling that even though Dean wasn’t himself, that doesn’t mean his words weren’t true. Sam knows Lester’s death is on him, and he’ll never forgive himself for that. He knows that some of the things he did, the lengths he went to in his search for Dean- there’s no coming back from that. He doesn’t deserve redemption.
And the other thing. Weighing Dean down, keeping him from living his own life. Sam’s felt that for years, has been dreading it most of his life. It’s part of why he left the life when he did, a big part of it.
Sam's honestly not sure which hurt worse: seeing his brother in so much pain or hearing all his biggest fears and insecurities recited back to him like some sort of joke track, the timbre and cadence of his brother’s voice making each little jab that much sharper.
Sam hasn’t been here in a while, hasn’t had the time to dwell on his mistakes and failures. What with the research and the hunting, the single-mindedness with which he sought Dean out, he’s been able to ignore the niggling voice in the back of his head telling him what a worthless, selfish waste of space he is. He hasn’t missed this, this despair and self-loathing, but now that it’s resurfaced, Sam doesn’t know how to push it back down.
Sam’s interrupted from his thoughts by the sound a throat clearing, and he turns to find Dean standing in his doorway. He didn’t hear the door open, but obviously it did, because Dean is standing at the foot of Sam’s bed where he hadn’t been two minutes ago.
They stare at each other for what feels like an eternity, Dean not moving any closer to Sam and Sam not saying a word. The room is stifling with everything not being said, all the unspoken words and repressed emotions building up in a crescendo of need and want and pain. This thing between them, this undefinable, irrefutable, sick need they have for each other, neither of them have acknowledged it in what feels like forever. Even before the Mark and Gadreel and Kevin, there was baggage between them, Purgatory and Benny and Amelia, and the trials, all sorts of distractions and reasons not to get back into this thing they’ve been doing practically all their lives. It’s been months since Dean’s even stood in Sam’s room, and the air between them now feels charged, electric.
It's clear what Dean wants, and Sam would be lying if he said he doesn't want it too. It’s not about sex, it’s shared blood and bond and duty and necessity, it’s joy and pain and weakness and desire. Sam doesn’t know if starting this again will fix anything- actually he’s more of the opinion that it might make things worse- but Sam needs his brother.
Sam pulls back the covers and shifts on the mattress, making space in the bed for Dean.
“Sam,” Dean asks quietly, hesitant, and Sam huffs, almost a laugh.
“You need a formal invitation or something?” he quips, turning away from Dean and scooting a little more to give Dean more room if he wants it. He feels the mattress dip behind him, and then Dean is plastered up against his back, arms snaking under and around Sam, careful not to knock his shoulder. Sam’s skin is alight every place it’s in contact with Dean’s, and he feels like a live wire, and it’s exhilarating. Dean’s legs tangle with his, and his brother pulls the covers up over the both of them.
It’s easy, surprisingly so, to fall back into this rhythm with Dean. It’s not until they come back to this that Sam realizes how much it grounds him, opening himself up to his brother this way. It’s an unlikely peace in their otherwise hectic lives, and Sam feels himself finally giving in to sleep.
"'M sorry," Dean mumbles into his neck, and he's so quiet and Sam's so close to unconsciousness it's lucky he even hears Dean at all.
"Not your fault," Sam murmurs back. "Wasn't really you."
Dean makes a soft sound halfway between a snort and a scoff, like he disagrees, but he doesn't say anything. He does press a kiss to Sam's nape, breathing deeply before resting his forehead on Sam's shoulder blade.
Sam isn’t quite sure what exactly Dean’s apologizing for. He doesn’t know how much of it Dean really remembers- if he remembers what he said, or what he did, or how he ripped Sam's heart clean out of his chest and fed it to the dogs while Sam was still bleeding. But none of that matters, at least not right now. It doesn't matter because he's got Dean back, his Dean, and that means that they're both more okay than they've been in awhile. There'll be talking, sure, about them and about Crowley and about the Mark, but for now Sam's content with just being. He deserves to get to ignore everything else for a little while.
“It’s gonna be okay, Sammy,” Sam hears as he drifts off, Dean’s thumb stroking back and forth on his forearm, hypnotic. “We got each other. We’re gonna be okay.”
--
Sam wakes up slowly, warm and content and safe in his brother’s arms. Dean’s not awake yet, so Sam relaxes, twining his fingers with his brother’s.
Sam glances around his room, taking in his mostly-bare walls, noting the lack of his personality in the one place he can call his own. He makes a mental note to change that, to make the place his home when he has the time, instead of just the place where he sleeps.
He feels it when Dean wakes up. Dean snuffles against Sam’s neck, lips smacking a couple times as he tightens his arms around Sam.
“Mornin’.”
“Morning,” Sam says, turning in the circle of Dean’s arms. Dean moves one arm to accommodate Sam’s shoulder, placing it on Sam’s hip instead.
“Sleep well?” he asks, eyes half-lidded as he gazes at Sam.
“Yeah. Surprisingly. Actually, this was the first good night’s sleep I’ve had in a while. I think, uh, I think it helped that you were here.”
Dean makes a noncommittal noise. The hand not on Sam’s hip goes to his neck, pulling him closer so that his and Dean’s foreheads are touching.
Dean presses his lips to Sam’s and kisses him slow and sweet. Sam returns the kiss with fervor, trying to speed things up, but Dean just chuckles and pulls back slightly when Sam chases after his lips.
“Easy, tiger,” he says, and his eyes are glittering, clear and bright, and Sam is so grateful for that green, so glad to have his brother back.
“I wanna do this slow,” Dean murmurs, thumb tracing Sam’s bottom lip. “Wanna take you apart, make you feel good. Will you let me do that, Sammy?”
Sam whimpers, nudging his half-hard cock up against Dean’s thigh and nodding. Dean leans in again, taking Sam’s face in his hands and kissing him deeply. Sam’s mouth falls open when Dean’s tongue pushes at the seam of his lips, and he moans as Dean’s tongue curls around his.
Sam’s hands slide up Dean’s back, rucking his t-shirt up. Dean pulls back for a moment so Sam can pull his brother’s shirt up and over his head, quick to do the same with his own, before they’re meeting back in the middle, panting breaths and hot flash of tongue.
Dean rolls them over so Sam's under him, spread out on the bed. "Shoulder okay?" he asks, trailing kisses down Sam's throat, pressing his lips to his brother's collarbones.
"Fine," Sam replies, breathless, choking on a moan as Dean slips a hand into his boxers and jacks him slow.
"What happened? To your shoulder, I mean."
Sam groans. "Do you really wanna have this conversation now," he grits out, but Dean just laughs and tightens his fist around Sam's cock. Sam rolls his eyes but indulges him. "Was a demon. Me and Cas were hunting, searching for you. We got separated, and it got hairy there for a second, but we came out fine." And we found you, he doesn't say, but maybe Dean can feel it in his gaze.
Dean nods, like he understands, and he leans down to kiss Sam again. His hands come up to frame Sam's face, and Sam is so overwhelmed, so much sensation and so much emotion that he just feels like he's going to burst, and tears start brimming before he can school his expression.
"No, c'mon, don't do that, Sammy," Dean says, wiping at the corners of Sam's eyes. "I've got you, little brother." He kisses the apples of Sam's cheeks, strokes his hair. "I'm here now, and I'm gonna take care of you, okay?" Sam nods mutely, and Dean kisses him once more before pulling away.
He reaches over Sam to rummage in the nightstand, procuring a bottle of lube and a condom and dropping them on the bed. Then he turns his attention back to Sam, kissing him slow and deep and dirty before peppering kisses down his body. He kisses Sam's throat, Sam's shoulders, Sam's collarbones, down his chest, gently rolling a nipple between his teeth and soothing the sting with his tongue. Dean kisses Sam's underarms, his belly, his forearms, his palms, sucks each of Sam's fingers into his mouth and lavishes them with attention. Sam feels like he's being worshipped, and he sure as hell doesn't deserve it, but he arches into Dean's touch anyway, greedy for it.
Dean continues down the long line of Sam's body, circumventing Sam's cock, hard and leaking precome as it strains against his boxers. He kisses Sam's inner thighs instead, nosing at his balls. He keeps going down until he reaches Sam's feet, kissing the pad of each foot and lavishing the same attention on Sam's toes as he did Sam's fingers. Sam is shaking with the pleasure of it all, feels like he's gonna come apart at the seams, it's so good. Dean comes back up, hovering at Sam's waist, tongue swirling into the notch of his belly button. He hooks his fingers in the waistband of Sam's shorts, tapping Sam's hip to get him to lift up. He pulls the boxers down and off, tossing them on the floor before divesting himself of his own boxers and doing the same.
Dean crawls up Sam's body once again, positioning himself over Sam so their cocks are lined up. He thrusts against Sam, and it's slick with their precome and oh-so hot. Sam feels like he's gonna lose it and they've barely just started, that's how good it feels. Dean catches Sam's lips with his again, kissing Sam slow and sensual as they find a rhythm

i'm gonna try to use this site, actually

2015-07-11T16:21:48Z

I've got soso much to share tbh, just so little motivation to finish my work. But I'm starting university this fall, and it's time to get serious about my life, and I figure I should get serious about my writing as well. That being said, I'm going to buck up and use this journal as a platform to share my work, fan-inspired and otherwise. Here goes nothing.