I love this moment, and it has nothing to do with Dean’s love for the grenade launcher finally coming to fruition.
For the entire run of Supernatural, and especially in the later seasons, various characters have often reduced Dean to being big and dumb, or being just a pretty face. Sometimes it was apparently meant to be hurtful or demeaning (Gwen, Lady Bevell), sometimes it seemed to be unintentional (Tara, Henry, often Sam). Either way, we saw repeatedly that it threw Dean off, that it did hurt him, that it made him feel inadequate.
So to see Dean walk up with the grenade launcher, confident and smiling as he proudly declares “Big, beautiful and dumb” right in Uppity Lady Bevell’s face, and then save the day, felt like a big “Screw you” to everyone who only saw him as the dumb grunt with a pretty face. And I think it was fully intentional on Dean’s part.
Request: Anonymous said: How’d you think Lucifer
would react to the reader using a safeword?
Warnings: Mentions of bruises/welts. Fear of abandonment.
Lucifer’s eyes locked
onto you as his entire body froze, hovering over you while his wicked
grin slowly slid from his face and a look of askance creased his
pressed, surprise laden in his tone with an underlying note of
Your chest rose and fell
heavily while your body quaked, trembling from unspent passion and
built up pain. You’d never had an occasion to use the word before,
but now, after it had fallen from your lips in haste, you were
grateful that the two of you had initially decided on one.
His eyes darted back and
forth between yours, waiting for confirmation as though perhaps you’d
spoken the word by accident, as opposed to saying it out of need.
When you nodded, repeating the word again you felt a pang of guilt
well up inside you. Things had been going so well and you felt as
though this could upset him or potentially drive him away from you.
Easing back slightly, he
shifted his weight to lift his hand, causing you to flinch
subconsciously beneath it. His gaze softened almost imperceptibly as
he gently lowered his hand to you, resting it against your chest and
urging you to lay flat. You obliged, laying on your back and staring
up at him, wondering what he was planning and silently praying that
he wasn’t disappointed in you.
He stared at you for a
moment longer, remaining inhumanly still until the racing of your
heart had slowed to a near normal pace. Watching you closely, he
lowered his face to your skin, hesitant as if ready for you to tell
him to stop. When you didn’t, he brought his lips to the small welt
he’d left on your stomach, one of the many love bites he was so fond
of leaving. The cool touch of his lips against the burning heat of
the raised welt felt nothing short of divine, and the tension
gradually began to ease out of your muscles.
Lucifer exhaled softly
as he moved to the next mark he’d left on you, slowing his movements
and trying to make sure he didn’t startle you again. One by one, his
lips found every blemish he’d left on you, though you were certain
he’d added a few kisses here and there. When he was adequately
satisfied by how relaxed you were, he curled his body up beside
yours, draping his arm over you and carefully tracing circles around
the bruises that were already beginning to form.
You loved to play rough
with your Devil, even if you both took it a little too far on
occasion. The striking difference between his playful and caring side
were nothing short of jarring, but in these quiet moments where he
let his guard down, you revelled in just how sweet he could be.
“That’s my girl” he
reassured, placating not only your body, but your mind as well as his
lips absently kissed at your shoulder and collar bone.
Despite having to use
your safeword this time, you were already eagerly anticipating the
next time he’d try to push you to your limits.