#so full of love for dean winchester today (just like every other day)

[alessandra-14]

A slip of the tongue

Dean Winchester x sister!reader and slightly Sam Winchester x sister!reader

Summmery: After a tough hunt, leaving the three hunters bruised and hurt and Dean angry at his little sister. But when she slips up and calls him "Dad," everything shifts.

Warnings: none really

(It's been requested weeks ago but I just now I managed to get it done)

Being raised by two older brother who don't really know what they're doing, may not be to ideal but for Y/N that's all she could have asked for.

Their dad was rarely ever home, usually away on hunt and blinded by the need to revenge his wife. So Dean and Sam had no other choice than to step in and raise her to be a strong smart woman. And she wouldn't trade that for anything in this world.

Like that one time when Dean tried to get her ready for the day.

“Sam, do you know how to braid hair?” Dean asked, frowning at the tangled mess called a ponytail. She was 5, sitting cross-legged on the motel bed, flipping through an old, dog-eared picture book.

“No, but I’m not the one who promised she’d look like a princess today,” Sam shot back, rolling his eyes. He was fifteen, gangly and awkward but always ready to help.

Then Dean also rolled his eyes and glared at his little brother. "You know you don't have to be so sassy all the time Sammy." He sayed in an obnoxiously annoying tone, to which Sam didn't say anything further.

Dean huffed, trying to mimic the motions he’d seen in some movie Y/N had made them watch. “Hold still, kid. You’re gonna look amazing.”

Or that time when both brothers decided to take her to the fair after she had been begging to go there for days.

The fairground lights twinkled and Y/N was full of energy, practically dragged her brothers toward the entrance.

“Dean! Funnel cake first! No, wait the merry-go-round!” she shouted, her voice rising above the carnival buzz.

“Slow down!” Dean laughed and quickly tried catching up to her. Sam slightly less enthusiastic, rolled his eyes but followed close behind.

They played games. Dean won her a stuffed lion and they shared a funnel cake, When they reached the ferris wheel, Y/N squeezed into the seat between her brothers, resting her head on Dean’s arm.

“This is the best night ever,” she whispered already sleepy and exhausted after this fun night out.

Dean smiled, pulling her close. “Yeah, kiddo. It is.”

But their lives weren't always fun and peaceful. More often than not it was the complete opposite. John's anger, the constand yelling and fighting between Sam and John, the hunting. Oh especially the hunting.

The two brothers were never a big fan of taking her with them on hunts but John insisted she had to learn, so they hadn't much of a choice than to agree. But after seeing how good she actually is at this they decided to let her tag along even after John was long gone.

The Impala’s rumble was a soothing constant, a reminder of safety despite the chaos that had just unfolded. Sam’s face was taut with worry as he pressed a blood-soaked rag against her arm, the gash beneath stinging like fire. Dean’s jaw was clenched as he drove like a mad man, his knuckles white against the steering wheel.

Y/N sat in the backseat, trying not to wince every time the car hit a bump. Blood was soaking through her white shirt, but she knew better than to complain about a piece of clothing at the moment. Even if she really loved that shirt.

The hunt had gone sideways what a surprise.

Dean and Sam had both sworn to protect their sister at all costs. But lately, she’d been trying to prove she could handle herself, trying to show them she wasn't just the kid tagging along anymore.

It was supposed to be a simple salt-and-burn. Ghosts were her bread and butter. Something relatively easy to handle. But this one had been different. Angry. Vengeful. And ridiculously fast. Before anyone could react, it had slashed at her, sending the girl flying into a set of windows.

“Pull over,” Sam said suddenly, breaking the silence. His voice was calm but firm. “I need to stitch this up before she loses too much blood. We've wasted to much time so far."

Dean didn’t argue, which was how she immediately could tell he was mad. He pulled into the parking lot of a dingy gas station, threw the car into park, and slammed the door shut behind him as he got out.

Sam turned to his sister, pulling out the first-aid kit. “You okay?”

“Peachy,” she said through gritted teeth.

Sam sighed but didn’t push it. His hands were steady as he threaded the needle and got to work, his murmured apologies lost in the sharp sting of every pull. Y/N tried to focus on the familiar sounds of Dean pacing outside the car, his boots crunching on gravel.

When Sam finished, he gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze and got out to check on Dean. The girl was alone for maybe thirty seconds before the driver’s side door opened and Dean slid in loudly. He turned to face her, his green eyes scanning her pale and tear struck face and then her bandaged arm.

“You okay, kiddo?”

“I’m fine,” She muttered, avoiding his gaze.

“Fine?” His voice was sharp, edged with frustration and anger. “You know you could’ve died back there.”

She flinched at his firm tone. “I wasn’t trying to get hurt, Dean.”

“You think that matters?” he snapped. “You’re supposed to be careful. You’re supposed to stay back and let us handle it. We know what we are doing!”

“I know what I am doing too and most importantly I’m not a little kid anymore!!”

“Well, you sure as hell act like one sometimes!”

The words hit her harder than she wanted to admit. Y/N looked down at her lap, blinking back tears. She knew he didn’t mean it, not really. Dean was scared. He always got like this when something happened to her or Sam. But that didn’t make it sting any less.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered after an intense silence.

Dean sighed heavily, dragging a hand down his face. His voice softened. “I just—damn it, I can’t lose you. You get that, right? You and Sam… you’re all I’ve got.”

The tears she’d been holding back spilled over, and before she could stop yourself, the words slipped out.

“I know, Dad.”

The silence that followed was definitely awkward.

Her heart sank as soon as she realized what she’d said. “I—I mean, Dean. I didn’t mean. I—”

But he didn’t look angry. His eyes widened for a moment, then softened into something she couldn’t quite place. He reached out, his calloused hand gentle as it gripped her left hand.

“Hey,” he said softly, cutting off her rambling. “It’s okay.”

She looked at him worried and confused, her bottom lip trembling. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Yeah, you did,” he said, a small, sad smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “And it’s okay. You’re my kid as much as you’re my sister. Hell you’ve always have been.”

The weight of his words settled over her, warm and reassuring. For the first time since she’d climbed into the Impala, the tightness in her chest loosened even for just a moment.

“Thanks, Dean,” She whispered.

“Don’t thank me,” he said gruffly, though his hand lingered for a moment longer before he pulled away. “Just… stop scaring the crap outta me, alright?”

She nodded, a small smile breaking through. “I’ll try.”

“Good.” He started the car, the familiar rumble filling the space and waited for Sam to come back in too. “Now, let’s get you patched up for real. And next time, you’re wearing body armor, I don’t care how stupid it looks.”

Sam climbed back in, raising an eyebrow at the sudden shift in mood but wisely deciding not to comment. As the Impala roared back onto the highway, Y/N leaned her head against the window, a strange sense of peace settling over her.

Dean might not have been her dad in the traditional sense, but in every way that mattered, he was. And now, she didn’t have to pretend otherwise.

[lila-lou]

✨Take five✨

Summary: A migraine hits during a day of filming Supernatural, but Jensen and Jared’s calm support helps you get through it and maybe brings you a little closer.

-requested-

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2168

DISCLAIMER: Everything is purely fiction. I do not intend to attack or hurt anyone. The story is, of course, entirely made up and meant for entertainment purposes. I love them all.

The sun had barely climbed past the tops of the Vancouver trees when the first take wrapped. It was only two hours into filming, and already your cheeks ached from smiling through the scenes. Playing Dean Winchester’s girlfriend in Supernatural Season 16 wasn’t just surreal, it was your dream job. But lately, the migraines had been making everything harder.

You’d told yourself today would be fine. You had slept decently. You’d eaten. You’d even skipped the second cup of coffee. But none of that mattered when the pain came crashing down out of nowhere.

It started behind your left eye. A dull throb, like a distant drumbeat. You’d hoped it would stay there, small, manageable. But within minutes, it bloomed into something sharper, pulsing, electric. Lights from the set felt like daggers. Every line of dialogue blurred. You missed a cue.

“Cut!”, someone called.

You blinked hard, trying to stay upright, trying to stay professional. Jared was off to the side, mid-laugh about something with a crew member. Jensen stood just a few feet away, in full costume, but when his eyes landed on you, the smirk faded.

“You good?”, he asked, low and casual, but his brow furrowed.

You opened your mouth to answer, but the words stuck. It was hard to focus on anything except the thudding in your skull and the sick twist in your stomach.

Jensen stepped closer, voice dropping. “Y/N? You don’t look great”. That was putting it nicely.

You shook your head slightly. “Migraine”, you murmured, barely above a whisper. “Bad one”.

Without hesitation, he turned, waving down the assistant director. “She needs a break. Now”.

You hated how weak you felt, hated halting production. You were supposed to be the professional, the one who could keep up with veterans like Jensen and Jared. But right now, you could barely keep your eyes open.

“Hey, hey…”, Jared appeared next to you like a sudden shadow, tall and warm and concerned. He had ditched the joking tone from earlier, eyes scanning your face. “You’re really pale. You gonna throw up?”.

“I don’t know”, you muttered, squeezing your eyes shut. The pounding in your skull had made its way down your neck, every sound around you amplified like someone had cranked up the volume of the world.

“Okay, come on”, Jensen said, his hand firm on your back now. “We’re getting you somewhere dark and quiet”.

You didn’t argue.

Jared had already taken your other arm gently, his touch surprisingly soft despite his size. “We’ve got you”, he said, and together they led you off the main set and into your trailer just beyond the soundstage. It was dim inside, mercifully quiet.

“Lay down”, Jensen said, already drawing the blinds shut. “Feet up if you can”.

You did as you were told, sinking into the couch like it was the only safe place left in the universe. Jared crouched nearby, rummaging through a mini-fridge and a cabinet. “I’ve got water and… protein bars? That’s not helpful. Where’s the Advil?”, he muttered to himself.

“Top shelf”, Jensen said without looking. He was already kneeling beside you, handing you a cool, damp cloth he must’ve soaked in the small bathroom sink. “Here. For your head”.

You pressed it over your eyes, letting out a soft, grateful sigh. “I’m so sorry”, you whispered. “I didn’t want to slow everyone down”.

Jared snorted. “Oh, come on. You think we haven’t both nearly passed out on set before?”.

“Speak for yourself”, Jensen said under his breath, smirking again, but softly, this time, like he didn’t want to make the room any louder than it needed to be.

You cracked a smile through the pain. “Bet you still looked cool doing it”.

“Obviously”, he deadpanned, and that earned a quiet chuckle from Jared.

Jared was still rummaging, mumbling to himself as he found the bottle of Advil and passed it to you with a water bottle. You sat up slowly, swallowing the pills with a grimace, eyes still half-shut against the dim light.

“Alright, I’m gonna go tell Kripke what’s up”, Jared said after a moment, standing to full height and stretching with a dramatic groan. “He’ll want to know why we’re down one kickass actress for the next couple hours”.

You winced. “Tell him I’m sorry—”.

He waved a hand. “Nope. Not your fault. You’re not apologizing for having a brain that hates you”.

Jensen let out a quiet laugh. “We’ve both pulled worse. Remember that time you had the flu and still tried to film the bar fight scene?”. Jared rolled his eyes. “And you made me chug Gatorade mixed with cough syrup. Yeah, I remember”.

You couldn’t help smiling again.

Jared grabbed the door handle, then paused. “Hey. Rest, okay? You’re in good hands”. He gave Jensen a meaningful look, eyebrow raised, then vanished out the door before either of you could say anything.

Silence settled in the trailer, soft and still. Jensen lingered near the edge of the couch, arms crossed, watching you.

“You sure you’re alright?”, he asked quietly, more serious now.

You nodded slowly. “Getting there. The meds should kick in soon”.

He knelt again beside the couch, not quite touching you, but close. “You scared me back there. You looked like you were about to fall over”.

“Felt like I might”, you admitted.

Jensen exhaled slowly, a soft sigh through his nose, and reached behind your head to adjust the pillow. His fingers brushed your hair, careful and warm, and you could feel how focused he was, not on anything else, not on the set, not on the scene, just on you. “I don’t know a whole lot about migraines”, he said, his voice low, steady. “Just the basics… dark room, cold cloth… maybe some painkillers if you can keep them down”.

You nodded slowly. “Yeah. That’s usually all I can do. Wait it out”.

Jensen looked around the trailer like he was mentally checking a list. “Okay. Got the dark room. Got the cold cloth. You’ve had water and Advil”. His eyes returned to yours, thoughtful. “What else helps? Talk to me”.

You blinked at him. It wasn’t just what he said, it was how he said it. Gentle. No pressure. Just open space to answer. You swallowed. “Sometimes… just not being alone helps”, you said honestly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Something flickered in his expression, soft understanding, maybe. Or something closer to something he didn’t say out loud. “Alright”, he murmured. “Then I’ll stay”.

He didn’t make a show of it. He didn’t joke or tease. He just shifted, settled beside the couch on the floor, leaning his back against the side of it so your arm almost brushed his shoulder.

After a few minutes, he glanced up. “You want music or silence?”.

“Silence. Unless you’re gonna sing”, you added with the faintest smirk.

He chuckled under his breath. “You really must be out of it if you’re asking me to sing”.

You closed your eyes again, trying to slow your breathing, to let your muscles relax. The throbbing behind your eyes was still present, but not blinding anymore, not with the quiet, the dimness, and Jensen beside you.

He stayed silent, content to sit there on the floor with your fingers loosely curled in his. At some point, his free hand pulled out his phone. You heard the soft taps of him typing, then the quiet whoosh of a message sent.

“Kripke wanted me back on set”, Jensen said after a moment, like he could sense you were still halfway awake. “Told him I’m not going anywhere till you’re asleep”.

That made your chest ache in a different way. You gave his hand the faintest squeeze. “You didn’t have to…”.

“Yeah”, he cut in gently. “I did”.

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t, not with the way his voice had softened, the way the tension had long since bled out of his words. There was something quiet and unspoken between you now, something that felt like the beginning of something not written in any script.

The silence wrapped around both of you again. You let yourself drift, Jensen’s thumb absently brushing across the back of your hand. Just once, then again, like he wasn’t even aware he was doing it. That small, soothing gesture anchored you more than anything else had all day.

Eventually, your body gave in. The pain blurred at the edges, dulled by the medicine, the quiet, the warmth. Your breathing slowed.

Jensen glanced up, watching the way your chest rose and fell in that soft rhythm. Your hand went limp in his, and he let it rest carefully on your stomach, not wanting to wake you.

He stood slowly, muscles stiff from sitting on the floor too long. One last glance—at your peaceful face, the faint crease between your brows finally smoothed—and then he pulled the blanket up higher over your shoulders.

A whisper of a smile crossed his lips before he left, closing the trailer door quietly behind him.

-

You woke slowly, the world returning in pieces, the hum of the trailer’s air unit, the weight of the blanket draped over you, the muted gray light leaking in through the edges of the blinds. Your head was still heavy, your body sore from being curled up too long, but the blinding pain had dulled to a manageable ache.

You pushed yourself up gently, wincing as your back protested. Before you could even fully sit upright, the trailer door creaked open.

“Hey—”. Jensen’s voice broke through, quiet and cautious. His head popped in before his whole body followed, and when he saw you sitting up, relief flooded his expression. “You’re awake”, he said, with a lopsided smile. “Finally”.

You blinked at him, bleary-eyed. “How long was I out?”.

“A few hours”, he said, crossing the room in just a few steps. “I’ve been checking in. Fifth time’s the charm, I guess”.

Your lips curled slightly. “You checked on me five times?”.

He shrugged like it was nothing. “Four while you were still out. Was starting to think you were just pretending to avoid more scenes with Jared”.

You gave him a dry look. “That sounds tempting, actually”.

He laughed softly and crouched beside the couch again, just like before, eyes scanning your face carefully. “How’s the pain?”.

“Manageable”, you said. “Still there, but… I can think again. Move. Talk”.

“Good”, he said. But he didn’t move away. If anything, he stayed just a little too close, like he wasn’t quite ready to leave again. “You looked peaceful, y’know. Sleeping”.

You stretched your legs slowly beneath the blanket. “That’s probably the first real rest I’ve had in days”.

“You needed it”.

You glanced down at your lap, then back at him. “Thanks for staying. For not just… checking a box and heading back”.

Jensen tilted his head a bit, the way he always did when something mattered more than he was letting on. “Didn’t feel right to leave. You don’t leave someone behind when they’re hurting. Especially not someone who makes twelve-hour days actually feel fun”.

You tried not to let that warmth swell too obviously in your chest. “Is that a compliment?”.

“Yeah”, he said, voice low. “Think it might be”.

You both fell quiet again, but this time, it wasn’t awkward. It hung there, soft and charged, like something unsaid had just passed between you.

After a second, you looked down at the blanket still covering you. “Did you do this, too?”.

Jensen smirked. “Yeah. You were shivering a little. Told myself it was a professional courtesy”.

You gave him a tired smile. “You’re full of professional courtesies today”.

His eyes held yours for a moment longer than necessary. “I guess I am”, he murmured. “Maybe I’ll make it a habit”.

Before you could think of something clever to say back, he pushed off the floor, standing with that smooth, easy grace that made it hard to separate him from Dean sometimes. “I’ll let Jared know you’re up”, he said. “He’s convinced you’re secretly part-demon because you haven’t moved in hours”.

You let out a quiet laugh. “Sounds like him”.

But Jensen paused at the door, fingers on the handle, then looked back at you.

“I’ll come back after wrap”, he said, more gently now. “Just to check in”.

Your heart stuttered a little. “I’d like that”.

He smiled at you, slow and warm, and then he slipped out, leaving behind that strange, subtle electricity that made it impossible to go back to sleep.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰

-

Taglist: @blackcherrywhiskey @baby19sthings @suckitands33 @spnfamily-j2 @lyarr24 @deans-baby-momma @reignsboy19 @kawaii-arfid-memes @mekkencspony @lovziy @artemys-ackles @fitxgrld @libby99hb @lovelyvirtualperson @a-lil-pr1ncess @nancymcl @the-last-ry @spndeanwinchesterlvr @hobby27 @themarebarroww @kr804573 @impala67rollingthroughtown @deans-queen @deadlymistletoe @selfdestructionandrhum @utyblyn @winchesterwild78 @jackles010378 @chirazsstuff @foxyjwls007 @smoothdogsgirl @woooonau @whimsyfinny @freyabear @laaadygisbooornex3 @quietgirll75 @perpetualabsurdity @pughsexual @berryblues46 @deanwinchestersgirl8734 @kr804573 @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @barnes70stark @roseblue373 @shanimallina87 @ascarriel @deanwinchesters67impala @thebiggerbear @quietgirll75 @barnes70stark @kellyls04 @spxideyver @ralilda @americanvenom13 @ozwriterchick @lmg14

[stargazedwinchester]

ִ ࣪𖤐◞ ꙳ ๋࣭ ⭑ `seen, sam winchester ༘♡

summary: you're charlie's sister, and whilst your visits to the bunker are becoming more frequent, you're oblivious that someone has a little crush. word count: 902 pairing: sam winchester x fem!reader thank you for requesting @sweetiecelin <3 I hope you enjoy!! part 1

⛧°. ⋆༺☾𖤓༻⋆. °⛧

There’s been a shift in the atmosphere when you visit the bunker now.

Dean has been more attentive — Sam more so. It feels strange coming from men that usually live in their own little world.

Charlie hasn’t said a word of it. Whether she’s noticed, too, or she’s completely oblivious.

But Sam? Sweet, sweet Sam. He’s trying his hardest to accommodate to you every single time you visit.

Upon entering, Charlie races down the stairs, tossing her duffel on the floor, greeting the brothers with huge bear hugs. You walk down comfortably, unaware of the hazel eyes staring at you dreamily. “Hey, Y/N. How’ve you been?” Dean greets, pulling you into a warm hug. His familiar scent has become a soothing one. Looking up at Sam, he flashes you an awkward smile. His dimples show lightly as he tucks his hair behind his ear. “I’m good. How’re you guys?” You reply to Dean, reaching your arms out to invite Sam for a hug. He hesitates for a mere second, but then wraps his brawny arms around you. You can practically hear his heart skip a beat.

Pulling away, you can see his cheeks are flushed primrose, and luckily, Dean isn’t facing him to make fun of him.

You’ve been talking with Sam for a few weeks, basically from the first day he brought up the underlying issues. Texting back and forth, an undeniable crush.

Dean glances over at Sam, who’s been gawking at you since you pulled away. He furrows his brows, catching Sam’s eye. He shoots him a nervous glare, and Dean nods at your question. “We’ve been good, haven’t we, Sammy?” He pats his brother on the back. “Y-yeah.” He presses his lips together tightly.

Yourself and Charlie are staying at the bunker for a couple of nights. A case has hit the news a couple towns over, so the brothers decided that everyone—including you—gets involved. The more the merrier, right?

⛧°. ⋆༺☾𖤓༻⋆. °⛧

It’s later on, some time after 11PM. You’re all slouched on the couch, eyes glued to the TV. Dean has a beer in hand, his arm hanging over the arm rest. Charlie is sitting next to him, and yourself and Sam have your own sofa. A blanket drapes over you, covering yours and Sam’s lower half. A game show is playing; a hundred thousand dollar question has flashed up onto the screen.

“It’s A.”

“You haven’t even read the question!” Charlie shoves Dean playfully. He tuts. “I don’t need to read it when I know the answer already.”

The presenter finishes the question, and the timer for thirty seconds begins to countdown. Dean and Charlie bicker among themselves, Sam deep in thought about the question whilst you’re glancing up at him, admiring him.

His brows furrow and lips frown a little, his full, undivided attention on the screen before him.

Sam’s clearly put some sort of effort into his look today. He smells as if he’s just showered, fresh laundry and a little bit of cologne. You can’t help but lean into him, his scent makes you feel so comfortable and at home.

“It’s B.” Sam blurts, a few seconds before the timer runs out.

Dean and Charlie remain quiet in the last couple of seconds before the timer runs out. The silence between everyone is humourous, Dean concentrating on the screen.

B is correct.

Dean huffs, wafting his hand in the air, taking a swig of his beer. “You cheated.” He darts at Sam, making him chuckle. “Well, maybe if you read the question right, you’d see that-”

“Or, maybe, you let other people win for once.” Dean interrupts, causing a huge squabble between the brothers. Charlie is baffled by how quickly they can get into a fight over a fucking TV show, but is cackling nonetheless.

There’s no wonder why she loves them so much, they’re like a family to her. It’s something you’ve not exactly grown up with, since you never really knew them. All you had was Charlie, and that was more than enough. But there was always a missing piece when it came to it, and that missing piece was right here.

You glance up at Sam, who’s still going back and forth with Dean. You can feel his body vibrate with laughter. A deep, hearty laugh escapes his mouth as he reaches for his temple. And for a moment, he looks happy. Content. He catches your eye, his gaze softening as you’re looking at him with hearts in your eyes. He hesitates for a mere second—before placing his arm around your shoulders, testing the waters. You lean in, resting your head on his chest. Dean notices, flashing the pair of you a knowing smirk.

“Just face it, Dean. Sam’s the smart one here. No offense, Y/N.” She points over at you. “None taken.” You say, chuckling at Dean’s reaction. Dean laughs once. “Ha! Alright, y’know what? This game’s rigged anyway. I’m gettin’ another beer.” He stands up, Charlie following behind him.

The clamor fades out as Sam glances down at you again, as if making sure you’re still comfortable against him. When your eyes meet, he flashes you a warm, gentle smile. One that’s just for you. His fingers tighten briefly on your shoulder. Neither of you say anything. You don’t need to.

And for the first time visited the bunker, you don’t feel like you’re just Charlie’s sister.

You feel seen.

[ecstxsyy]

LOVE ME. | D. WINCHESTER ❦

Dean strives to please.

18+ mdni!

dean winchester x fem!hunter reader

warnings: oral (f! receiving), fingering, squirting.

requests for v-day event are closed !!

cupid’s candy hearts masterlist

───── ⋆ ⋅ ꨄ︎ ⋅⋆ ─────

DEAN WINCHESTER was the opposite of a romantic, he hated almost anything to do with it, except you of course. You were the only reason he celebrated Valentine’s Day, he knew how much you adored the holiday and frankly, Dean would do anything for you.

He booked an expensive restaurant, courtesy of whoever’s name was on the credit card he scammed his way into. After dinner, Dean took you back to the motel to watch some cheesy chick flicks. Sam complained, but your love for love trumped his complaints.

Your body was curled perfectly into Dean’s, his arm wrapped around your shoulder to hold you tight. Dean held you like someone was going to take you from him, and with his track record, someone would probably try. You loved the way he held you, it made you feel safe in a world that was everything but that.

That was until Dean started getting handsy like he usually does anytime you try to get him to watch a movie that isn’t full of action and fights. His hand slid down your thigh as it normally does, but when it trailed back up your thigh, Dean slid it slowly into the inner part of your leg. You gave him a warning look and he stopped his fingers just shy of your clothed cunt before returning his hand to his stomach.

“I’m gonna go get some snacks from the vending machine, I'll be right back,” Sam announced, grabbing his wallet and slipping on some shoes. Dean took this as an opportunity to grab the keys to the Impala and toss them to his younger brother.

“How about you go look for some leads on cases, give us a bit of time to ourselves,” Dean suggested with a wink as Sam caught the keys mid-air. Sam simply nodded, understanding the message Dean was trying to send him.

Once Sam left, Dean wasted no time crawling on top of you and capturing your lips in a kiss. You didn't hesitate and let your lips move in sync with his, your tongues smoothing over each other. The kiss deepened, Dean’s hands finding their way to the hem of your shirt to slip over your head. The rest of your clothes followed shortly, his soon after.

Dean’s fingers were quick to find your clit, rubbing slow soft circles against it. The little moans that fell from your mouth were music to Dean’s ears, he hung onto every sound he forced out of you. He began to plant small kisses across your bare chest, trailing them down your body.

Dean slowly kissed his way down your frame, continuing until he was placed between your thighs. Dean loves eating pussy, he’d do it forever if he didn't have to always go save someone. He adored the way you tasted, your juices were sweet nectar on his tongue. His mouth quickly took the place of his nimble fingers whilst his fingers found their way to your aching hole, you wanted nothing more than for his thick fingers to fill you up, and he intended to give you just that.

Dean started off slow, his index finger pushing past your ring of muscles and into the soft warmth of your pussy. A smirk found its way to his face when you let out a sigh of delight, your cunt already feeling full with just one of his fingers inside of you. His pace was slow at first, he got you all worked up before pushing his middle finger into your heat. The stretch hurt so good, but Dean’s slow pace was long gone being replaced by the rapid thrusts of his long, thick fingers.

Your legs instinctively closed around his head, moans clawing their way out of your throat. You loved to make him work for your sounds, but tonight you couldn't help it. Dean was usually fast, as he was right now, but this speed had a different feeling to it. Usually, he loved the roughness of sex you had, the way the two of you clashed so passionately. But, today you weren't just fucking, he was making love to you so sweetly.

His tongue stroked your clit in slow motions, it was the complete opposite of his fingers. You felt like your body was on fire, the pleasure consuming every single one of your senses. You swore you felt as if you were floating, the only thing grounding you being the feel of Dean’s warm skin.

“You taste so good, baby,” Dean mumbled into your cunt, he sounded so pussy drunk it made a fiery red color bloom across your cheeks.

Your moans echoed throughout the small motel room, you were sure whoever your unfortunate neighbors were could definitely hear you, but that didn't stop Dean. If anything, it made him want to continue on even more. He loved the idea of everyone knowing who you belong to, even if he’d never say it out loud, (because you’d probably shoot him) he loved claiming you.

Dean curled his fingers up slightly, the tips of his fingers pressing into your g-spot. This pulled a loud moan from your lips, your impending orgasm nearing quickly. Dean knew this and decided to suck your clit into his mouth, the suction sent tingles through your entire body. The shock of it sent you toppling over the edge, your orgasm tearing through you.

You tried to verbalize your thoughts or anything really, but nothing would come out. Your mouth hung open, the ghost of a scream lingering as your eyes rolled back into your head. But, this didn't stop Dean. His fingers quickened as he sucked harder on your clit, this sent another orgasm crashing through your body.

Your legs trembled as the evidence of your orgasm sprayed across the sheets and the lower half of Dean’s face, a smirk finding its way to his lips. The sounds that came from your pussy were lewd, the sloshing noises were unmissable.

“Did I just-”

“Squirt?” Dean cut you off, a smug grin plastered on his face.

“Shut up,” you giggled, jokingly pushing him in between your legs.

“You know you love me,” Dean teased, placing a kiss on your temple as he got up to go run the two of you a shower.

You loved that man too much.

───── ⋆ ⋅ ꨄ︎ ⋅⋆ ─────

[melwnst]

────── ⋆⋅☆WRONG DIRECTION, SAM WINCHESTER

summary. You’re falling out of love with Sam.

word count. 560

Thank you for being 100 on this blog🤍I’m super sick so I couldn’t write anything good for today but hopefully the next one will be better! This is just a short one cuz I wanted to post today! Pls interact, this is part of a small ‘falling out of love’ series so I have other parts with Dean & Sam if you’d like to read them too :)

my supernatural masterlist

my full masterlist/support my work!

──────────୨ৎ──────────

Sam is not stupid. When he sees how you act- he knows. When he sees you pull away from his kisses too quickly, like you couldn’t enjoy it less, he knows. He sees how when he reaches for your hand, you pull away acting like you didn’t see it in the first place, so he knows. Then, he notices how when he joins you in bed, you don’t turn around to say goodnight to him anymore. You lay still, pretend to be asleep, like you’d rather be anywhere else in the world than in a bed with him.

He knows- he hears it in the way you force yourself to say I love you, in the way you fake smile, because he used to think your smile was the most beautiful thing on earth, and now it just looks like you’re a completely different person. He hears it in the way your voice sounds whenever you speak to him, because you sound happier when you talk to Dean.

He knows he doesn’t please you anymore- that he’s not enough for you like he once was. And maybe he’s been kidding himself, pushing it aside trying to get more time with you, trying to make you see that he’s right there- even when you don’t see him. He’s trying so hard to reach out- to make you feel him- his presence, his love, but it doesn’t work, because you’re too far gone.

He knows there’s no one else. He knows that’s not it- maybe he’s the problem. Maybe he did something wrong, or maybe it’s just the way life is. Perhaps, this was the universe’s sick plan all along. To bring you two together, only to rip it apart in one swing of fate. Sam would feel better if he felt the same. If he’d fallen out of love, then he would understand what it feels like, and not be so mad, or sad. But he doesn’t understand.

Because one day you looked at him like he was the only thing that ever mattered, and you’d tell him you couldn’t wait to spend the rest of your life with him, and now- you pretend he’s not even there. You wanted to tell him- but in a twisted way, you knew he was aware, and you didn’t want to end it. You didn’t want to end it because it’s still Sam. It’s still the man you fell in love with. It’s still the man who brought you breakfast in bed every morning, who loved you like there was no tomorrow, still the man who you thought you’d love forever.

But people change- it’s not fair, but they do. It’s not fair because now Sam wonders how he’s gonna survive without you in his life, without you around. He wonders what the goodbye is gonna taste like. He wonders what’s gonna happen once you’re gone.

You wonder if this is the right thing. If perhaps- you should force yourself, maybe the love will come back. But you know it’s no use, because once you fall out of love, it’s over. You don’t like it anymore than he does- but he knows. He knows that you’re sorry, and he knows that you hate it.

He knows you can’t help it, and whoever’s plan that was, fucking sucks.

He knows he’ll be okay in the end, and so will you, even if this is the hardest thing he’s ever had to do.

[illumose]

Please, don’t go — d.w

⋆⭒˚.⋆ PAIRINGS : female reader ( 2nd person ) x dean winchester

⋆⭒˚.⋆ CONTENT : angst if you squint, fluff, happy ending

⋆⭒˚.⋆ SUMMARY : You weren’t supposed to stay that long with the Winchesters.

masterlist

author’s note : like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this little piece of writing

These past months, you grew accustomed to living with the Winchesters in the shitty motel of Colorado’s smallest town. It became the base of your small operation. You loved sharing meals with Dean — probably because it meant ordering pizza and drinking beer. You even shared a bed in a tiny room down the hall. It was not as comfortable as you had hoped, however, it meant cuddling with him, every single night.

The hunt wasn’t supposed to last this long. It appeared to be a simple case of werewolf. Yet, as time passed, Sam suspected that another monster was going on killing sprees. A monster that disguised itself as a werewolf. For months, you tracked him across the state, often encountering other malicious beings. A ghost, a wendigo, a lone vampire. Today, it all came to an end. Sam found a pattern in the shapeshifter’s selection of victims. Somehow, it had a thing for blondes, whether man or woman. He posted as bait while Dean and you waited with a silver blade.

Now, you were back at the motel, packing all your belongings inside a duffel bag. Dean watched you like a hawk, his lips tight. In another world, in another dimension, it would have ended differently. Nonetheless, you knew that the Winchesters worked solo. They had been functioning this way for years. Dean, especially, did not become attached to anyone. Never. He hooked up with random girls in bars that he’d never set foot in again. He’d flirt with waitresses whose names he’d forget in seconds. You were just another girl he crossed paths with. The next day, he’d have forgotten you.

"Stay," he declared, his eyes fixed on your back.

"What?"

"C’mon, you know what I’m talking about." He looked nervous, almost as if he never expected those words to leave his mouth. A mouth you dreamed to kiss everyday.

"Well, I don’t."

He walked up to you and sat on the unmade bed. He looked you right in the eyes. "I didn’t think I’d grow to love you, but I did. I don’t want to go back to the bunker and wake up alone. I don’t want to watch trash TV without your little comments. Fuck… I can’t see myself getting in the Impala and driving away from you. Your place is with us. With me."

He seemed so sincere. He litterally wore his heart on his sleeve. You were dumbfounded. How did you not see this coming, you wondered? You spent so much time afraid of being rejected that you never considered the other option. Dean liked you.

"Please, don’t go. I love you. And I feel like a teenage boy going through his emo phase."

You sat next to him, your hand immediately finding its way on his knee. "Good thing I love you too. It would’ve been awkward."

He grabbed your face and pressed a chaste kiss on your lips. "Sam’s at the window, with his goofy smile," he whispered in her ear. You let out a laugh. You knew that you owed all of this to his younger brother, a firm believer in the power of love.

"Let’s give him a show," you suggested, grabbing Dean by the collar and kissing him with fervor.

Sam withdrew almost instantly from the window with the irresistible urge to throw up and his eyes full of happiness for his brother.

[writtenbyadriana]

A spoonful of magic

@deanwinchestersgirl8734 asked:

"Can you maybe write something where Dean’s girlfriend drags Dean and Sam to Disney because she’s a Disney adult and it’s how she copes with the dark stuff they deal with?"

Pairing: Dean Winchester × fem!reader

Summary: Dean's girlfriend insisted on a spontaneous trip to Disneyland — and draged Dean and Sam along with her. To Dean, it was a ridiculous detour. To Sam, it was slightly amusing. But to her, it was more than just fun and churros — it was how she stayed sane in a world full of monsters, death, and darkness. Sometimes, you need a little magic to keep going.

Warnings: soft!Dean, fluff, emotional coping, references to trauma, mentions of past supernatural violence, lots of Disney references, light angst with comfort

Words: 2223

Note: English isn't my first language.

-------------------------------------------------------

I took a deep breath before stepping into the bunker kitchen. The familiar scent of coffee, toast, and old book pages hung in the air.

Sam was already sitting at the table, brows furrowed over his laptop, probably hunting down the next witch coven or werewolf pack.

Dean was leaning against the kitchen counter, coffee mug in one hand, the other arm casually crossed over his chest. His look was still half-asleep, half-suspicious — he could already tell I wanted something.

I knew this wasn't going to be easy. Not with these two. But I had made up my mind — today was the day.

"Okay," I started without preamble, stopping in the doorway like an actress waiting for her cue. "I need to ask you guys something. Actually — I’m begging you."

Dean took a sip of coffee. "That's never good."

"Disneyland."

Two seconds of silence. Then, Sam looked up, a snort of amusement, and Dean — Dean froze like someone who’d just been told he'd be stuck in an elevator with Crowley for a week.

"What?" Dean asked slowly.

I stepped closer, gesturing like I was pitching them an idea they just had to sign off on.

"One. Day. Disneyland. Just the three of us. No EMF meters, no salt circles, no corpses, no apocalyptic demonic forces. Just…mouse ears, cotton candy, roller coasters, Disney magic."

"You want us to drive to California?" Sam's voice had that analytic tone, like I'd just suggested inviting Satan himself to our next barbecue. "From Kansas to Anaheim, that's…what, a 20-hour drive?"

I turned to him, hands on my hips. "Sam. We’ve driven farther for cases. To freakin' Oregon, Maine, and back — for people who heard a cat disappear. I'm asking for one day that has nothing to do with blood, death, or Latin chants."

Dean scoffed. "Disneyland."

I turned to him — slowly, with a sweet, dangerous smile. He was still leaning against the counter, his cup now resting on the small shelf behind him. My eyes lingered on him.

My Dean. Broad shoulders, messy hair, that grumpy look — and I loved every line life had carved into his face. I stepped right up to him, close enough to feel the warmth of his body.

"Baby," I said softly, my fingertips trailing along his belt, "I promise you, tonight will exceed every fantasy you've ever had."

Dean raised an eyebrow, his mouth twitching.

I could see his gaze sticking to me. He was already on the edge — I just had to give the final push.

I glanced at Sam, who was already shaking his head in disbelief, like he knew exactly what I'd done.

Dean looked at him too, then back at me, then at Sam again.

"Come on, Sammy," Dean finally said with that grin that was so unmistakably Dean, it made my heart skip a beat. "Be like Elsa — let it go!"

I squealed in delight — a real, childish squeal that even surprised me.

Sam sighed like he'd just made a deal with a trickster.

...

The trip had been long. And I mean: fucking long. Over twenty hours on the road, what felt like twice as many gas stops, three times as many burgers. Dean had started cursing at the Impala at some point, like it was a stubborn horse, and Sam had pulled out a playlist of audiobooks that actually made me consider whether demon summoning might be the more pleasant option. But I was too excited to complain.

We'd spent the night in a run-down motel somewhere in Arizona with stains on the bedspread, weird noises from the room next door — the whole package. Dean had scolded that even the ice from the machine tasted like mothballs. But I'd been so jittery that I shoved both of them back into the car before sunrise.

And now we were here.

Right at the entrance.

Disneyland.

I saw it first: the castle. That iconic, beautiful, cheesy fairy-tale thing I'd seen a thousand times in movies but never in real life. And now…it was there. Real. Huge. Bright. And most importantly: mine.

"Oh my god…" I whispered. "Oh my god. Oh my god, it's real!"

I turned halfway to Dean, who had that crooked grin spreading across his face. "She's about to hyperventilate."

Sam crossed his arms and gave me that typical, semi-dry Sam look. "I think it's serious. I see tears."

"They're real," I shot back without a hint of shame. "I'm crying from happiness, Sam. Let me be, this is my holy place."

Dean chuckled quietly, stepped a little closer, and for a second, placed his hand against the small of my back. "You see that, Sammy? The real magic’s not in the castle. It's in that face right now."

I couldn’t help it — I squealed, turned back to the entrance, and then it happened: I ran. Just took off. Like a kid. No thinking, no hesitation, I left the guys standing and bolted straight toward the ticket gates.

"Wait! Do you even have your ticket?!" I heard Sam call after me.

Dean just yelled: "That's what I call enthusiasm!"

But I was already gone — my heart pounding in my chest, my eyes locked on the castle like it might vanish if I didn’t reach it in time. Today, this place was mine. This one day was my fairy tale.

...

We were already inside the park, and I still couldn’t believe this was really happening. The music, the people in Mickey ears, the squeaky-colored stands with overpriced snacks, the happy screams from somewhere in the distance — it was like a parallel world. No demons. No blood trails. No knot in my stomach every time the phone rang. Just laughter. Colors. Childhood dreams.

I kept turning in circles, dragging Dean this way and that, shoving a giant map in Sam's face like I was explaining a global strategy. My whole body was buzzing with excitement. I was a grown woman — but here, I was five years old again.

"Okay, next one on the list is..." I said, walking quickly toward a large square without realizing the boys were barely keeping up, "...Peter Pan's Flight. Then we're getting Minnie ears for me — maybe glitter ones. And then...”

"You do realize we're not on the run, right?" Dean muttered behind me, sunglasses on his nose, face slightly scrunched. "You can actually walk. No need to sprint."

I stopped, turned to him, kept walking backwards so I could look at him. "Oh, come on, babe. You look like you're about to perform an exorcism."

Dean sighed deeply, shoulders sagging, but I saw it — that little smile he tried to hide. He was tired, maybe a bit overwhelmed, but he was here. For me. And that meant everything.

Sam, meanwhile, was walking beside us with a wide grin, holding his phone camera up. "This is the best thing I've seen in ages. I never thought you'd lose your mind like this."

"I'm not losing my mind," I objected — but then I stopped in my tracks again as something caught my eye. "Wait…"

There he was.

STITCH.

Life-sized. Big head, huge ears, bright blue, and currently hugging a little kid. My heart stopped. My stomach flipped like it was on a rollercoaster. I audibly gasped.

"Stitch…" I whispered reverently, the way others might say "holy grail."

"Oh no," Dean mumbled. "I know that tone."

I dashed off, leaving everything behind, carefully pushing through a small group of people until I was standing right in front of my favorite alien. He noticed me, lifted his arms, wiggled his fingers.

I squealed. I. Actually. Squealed. Like a fangirl at a boyband concert.

"Hi!" I called out, sounding completely over the top. "You are my absolute favorite character, oh my god, I love you sooo much!"

Stitch did that signature move where he placed his hands over his face and slowly dragged them down like a sad puppy. I was on the verge of tears — again. I threw myself gently into his arms, and he hugged me back tightly. Someone took a photo, I laughed, and it felt like a dream. My heart felt lighter than it had in months.

In the background, I heard Dean. "Great. She's getting adopted."

Sam giggled. "I swear I'll buy her a Stitch costume if she agrees to hunt monsters wearing it."

I turned around, grinning at both of them with tears in my eyes. "Can you believe it? I hugged Stitch! STITCH! This was the best hug of my life!"

Dean raised his eyebrows, crossed his arms, and gave me that look — somewhere between annoyed and hopelessly in love. "If you've still got energy tonight, I'll show you what I think the best hug of your life feels like."

I blushed, laughed, and Sam groaned dramatically. "I'm right here, you guys. Right here."

But nothing could stop me. And somewhere between overpriced Mickey shakes, the California sun, and my favorite little alien, I had really forgotten. All the darkness. The hunt. The crushing pressure.

Today was magic. And it was real.

...

The sky had turned a soft blend of orange and pink as the sun disappeared behind the castle towers. Tiny lights were beginning to flicker on everywhere — lanterns shaped like stars, shimmering garlands, sparkling windows. It was like someone had sprinkled pixie dust across the entire park. I could barely believe the day was already coming to an end. And at the same time, it felt like it had frozen time for just a little while.

The air was filled with the scent of caramelized almonds, cotton candy, and that sweet, intangible joy you can only feel in a place like this. Kids sat on their parents' shoulders, every inch of sidewalk along Main Street was packed, and everywhere I looked, light-up toys glowed like soft constellations.

I stood right at the edge of the curb, eyes fixed ahead as the parade began. Music swelled — loud, orchestral, dramatic, and so achingly familiar that it made my heart ache in the best way. Floats glided past like scenes from a dream: Elsa in an ice chariot, Buzz Lightyear, Belle and the Beast, Aladdin and Jasmine on a flying carpet that drifted through waves of light. Every moment hit me square in the chest. Every song a hit to the heart.

Then I felt it — warm arms wrapping around me from behind. Dean.

He was right there, pressing close, pulling me gently against him. His hands resting on my stomach, his chin against my shoulder. I leaned into him, grounding myself in his weight. His stillness, the heartbeat I could feel through time and fabric and everything we'd survived.

"You know..." he murmured against my ear, his voice barely more than a breath, "...I didn't think any of this would do anything for me. But…seeing you like this…it was worth it. Every damn mile."

My throat tightened. I swallowed hard, placed my hands over his, gently tracing his knuckles with my thumbs. "Thank you," I whispered. "Thank you for doing this with me. For…giving me this day."

He hugged me tighter. I watched Rapunzel pass by with Eugene. The two of them smiling at each other the way only people do when they've been through something together.

"Do you remember that case in Michigan?" My voice wavered. "When you were trapped in that basement. And I thought I'd lost you. Everything was covered in blood, and I…I couldn't even breathe. I screamed at you because you wouldn't wake up."

Dean didn't say anything. But his arms tightened around me.

"Or that nest in Idaho," I went on. "You were ready to sacrifice yourself...again! And you didn't even talk to me first. I begged you, Dean. You would've left me behind."

I wiped my cheek with the back of my hand, but the tears kept coming. "And now we're here. At Disneyland. Watching a parade. No one's dying. No one's bleeding. I look at you and you're…alive. And here. With me."

Dean gently turned me in his arms, looked me in the eyes. The parade faded into the background. Nothing else existed. Just him. Just me.

"I'm not the guy who leaves anymore," he said quietly. "I'm the guy who stays. As long as you want me to…I'm here."

A soft, slow smile touched his face — the kind I rarely got to see, the kind that wasn't tired or guarded or haunted. It was light. And calm. And love.

"I'm not letting go," he added, then leaned in — and kissed me.

It wasn't quick or playful. It wasn't hesitant. It was deep, honest, and full. A kiss that had survived the hunt. A kiss that had beaten the monsters. A kiss that reminded me — here in Disneyland, under sparkling lights and with tears in my eyes — that maybe, just maybe, we had a home too.

The music soared, the crowd cheered. Above us, the first firework exploded across the sky. Golden stars, red hearts, green spirals. And as it boomed and sparkled above our heads, we stood there. Dean and I. Wrapped in each other. Loved. Alive.

Magic was real.

Because he was here.

With me.

-------------------------------------------------------

@deanwinchestersgirl8734 thank you so much for your request! It was fun to write this short story!🥰

[aylacavebear]

Bloodlines & Fate Chapter 31

A/N: So, bonus chapter today. Sorry I missed yesterday's upload. My first grandson was being born. A healthy baby boy. Mom and Dad are doing well, too. If you're a praying kind of person, please send prayers that these stupid doctors/nurses will start listening to them, though. That's been the hardest part and is putting all three of them under undue stress. I won't share more, respecting their privacy. Thank you in advance, for whoever does send prayers. They are greatly appreciated and welcomed.

Being Touched should have been a blessing—a mark of honor in your lineage, celebrated by your pack since childhood. But to you, it's always made you feel like an outsider, never really fitting in anywhere. Yeah, you had your best friend Jess, but for you, something always felt like it was missing. The land your pack runs on during the full moons brings you a sense of peace you don't fully understand, at first.

Paring: Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader/You

Word Count: 7050

Warning: Angst, Fluff, Dean being Dean, Pack dynamics, Thanksgiving, you might need tissues, probably gonna need tissues, reader finally settling into her wolf and what it's like to be whole.

A/N: Professor Robert Zimmerman is based off of The Doctor from Star Trek Voyager, as I absolutely love that character. Alaric Saltzman is from The Vampire Diaries.

A/N: It's my first attempt with an A/B/O fic, be gentle, please. I hope you like it. Not sure how many chapters this will be yet.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 31

Thanksgiving week arrived with a hush of snow and the quiet comfort of routine—something you never thought you’d find yourself grateful for, but here it was, blanketing the world outside in soft white and settling thick in your chest like peace.

Nearly three months had passed since that morning you and Dean agreed to talk to each other instead of keeping it bottled up. Since then, the days had stretched into something close to steady. Life hadn’t been perfect—there had been rough patches, minor missteps, moments where words came too late or tone came out wrong—but the two of you were learning. You and Dean were learning how to meet each other in the middle. To talk. To listen. To learn.

You’d had two more pre-heats since the first. Neither had hit as hard. The worst of the symptoms had been gentler, your body still adjusting, still shifting into readiness. You took it as a good sign—your system recalibrating, preparing for a true heat, for what would eventually come next. Dean had been there through both, never pressing or rushing, just anchoring you while the symptoms ran their course.

The snow had started early this year, lacing the trees and softening the edges of everything. Not enough to trap the two of you, but enough to make travel slower, tougher. Dean had reluctantly parked Baby for the season, trading her for his truck to make it through the snow. He grumbled about it every time he stomped snowy boots on the porch, but even you could see the way he softened whenever he looked at you, dry and warm inside, waiting for him.

Work on the new cabin had slowed under the weather’s weight, but the timeline still held. Your father was confident it would be finished by spring—maybe late spring, depending on how harsh the winter turned out to be. No one seemed too bothered. The foundation was strong. Everything else would come.

You had spent every full moon on Winchester land since that first shift, surrounded by the pack. With your wolf no longer locked away, it felt right to be there. Your wolf enjoyed the closeness, and both of you looked forward to those three nights: running with Dean, roughhousing in the snow with Jo and Charlie, chasing the younger pups who couldn’t shift yet through the snow. They’d all made a game of it, young pups throwing snowballs while the wolves tried to dodge them. It was more than freedom. It was family.

You and Dean had talked to Sam and Jess often, the distance softened by laughter over phone lines and long, comfortable conversations. They were flying down for Thanksgiving—even if only for a couple days—and all four of you had been counting down the days. Dean had even made a paper chain on the fridge. He’d claimed it was for fun, something lighthearted. But you caught him tearing off links every morning with that same boyish spark he got when he talked about pups.

That was another topic that had become easier to have with him after your last pre-heat. It made sense to start mapping that future out, at least a little. If you were being truly honest with yourself, you just wanted to see that sparkle in his eyes. The one that only came when pups were on his mind.

You’d mostly stopped working on your book. Just going back and doing edits, restructuring sentences to convey what you needed to. You were waiting. You had to. There were only two things your book was missing—your first real heat, and at least one pregnancy. The thought was still a little scary, but Dean was helping with that, in his own ways.

The cabin was warm. The world outside was cold. And somewhere in between, you had found a balance, not only with your wolf, but with Dean.

—------------ The Day Before Thanksgiving…

The smell of cinnamon hangs thick in the kitchen, clinging to your skin, your clothes, the ends of your hair where you’d absently tucked it behind your ear twenty times in the last hour. A batch of snickerdoodles cools on the rack near the sink—Jess’s favorite. You made them exactly the way she liked: soft in the center, just crips at the edges, still warm enough that the sugar crystals haven’t quite settled.

Dean’s to your right, slicking carrots with unnecessary intensity, like they’d wronged him in another life. He’s got flour dusted across his shoulder, a streak of it on his jaw from when you painted it there earlier, being playful. To which he covered flour over his palm then gave your ass a good smack. He was still smirking at the handprint he’d left.

There’s soft music playing somewhere in the background—something old-school and smooth, blues blending into soul. You think it’s Otis Redding, but you’re not sure. Doesn’t matter. It fits.

You nudge his hip with yours. “You know,” you say, reaching for the second batch of cookies, “if she doesn’t walk in and immediately steal one of these, I’ll know it’s not really her.” Dean grunts. “Pretty sure she used to steal three before you noticed.”

He tilts his head toward the cookies like they’re a crime scene. “Bet she’s got a sixth sense about snickerdoodles.” You laugh and start plating them anyway, arranging them with care even though you know Jess is going to demolish the first layer before she even takes her coat off. The apple crumble bars are cooling on the windowsill, golden-brown and just the right kind of rustic. You didn’t even have to think twice about them—Sam might not be fussy, but you knew he’d appreciate something warm, simple, and seasonal. The kind of thing he could grab with one hand while cradling a coffee mug in the other. No utensils. No mess. Just comfort.

Dean eyes them, then raises a brow. “Planning to tell Sam those are for him, or just let him guess?” You shrug, but your lips curve up, just a little. “He’ll know.”

You glance over at the fireplace, where the flames have settled into a low, steady burn. The warmth from it mixes with the heat of the oven, and for a moment, the world feels so still it could be a painting—just the two of you, moving in tandem, teasing, brushing shoulders, bumping hips. Making something together that’s real.

Then the porch creaks.

No knock.

No call ahead.

Just the sound of boots on the wooden steps and the door swinging open like it always has for them. Sam’s voice comes first—low and warm, tinged with snow and laughter.

“Smells like something illegal’s going on in here.” Jess is right behind him, cheeks flushed from the cold, eyes going wide when she catches sight of the tray. “Tell me those are snickerdoodles.” Dean lifts the knife in greeting. “You break into people’s homes often, or just ours?” The way he said it made your breath hitch. He hadn’t called it that before. Typically, he said it was your cabin, using your name.

Jess doesn’t even slow down. She makes a beeline for the tray and swipes a cookie off the top with zero shame. “Get used to it, Dean. We’ll all be living under the same roof come spring.”

She bites in, eyes closing in something close to reverence. You laugh as you wipe your hands on a dish towel. “I’ll take that as a thank you.” Sam steps in slower, quieter. His gaze sweeps the room—not in caution, just in that way he always does, taking stock. His arm wraps around Jess’s waist automatically, pulling her back into his side, and then his eyes land on the windowsill.

“Are those… for me?” You tilt your head, feigning innocence. “Depends. Did you bring the wine?” He lifts the bag in his other hand like it’s a prize. “Two bottles. One red, one white. Jess says it’s about balance.” Dean snorts. “And I say balance is whiskey.” Jess grins. “I told you we should’ve brought whiskey.” “Thanksgiving is tomorrow,” Sam says, already eyeing the bars like they’re going to disappear if he doesn’t claim one. “You really want to start off with a hangover?” Dean doesn’t even hesitate. “It’s tradition.” You roll your eyes, but head to the pantry. The other three just watch, brows furrowing. It took you a few moments of moving things around before you found what you’d hidden. With a grin on your face, a bottle in each hand, you emerged again.

“Whiskey it is.” The three laughed, deep and hearty. Dean was standing in front of you in only two strides, smiling from ear to ear, hands on your waist.

“That’s why I love you,” he murmured before nuzzling his nose in the crook of your neck and making you giggle.

There wasn’t much you could do with your hands full except let him tease you. Sam clearing his throat was the only thing that saved you from Dean’s almost roaming hands. You set the bottles on the counter with the wine, then went back to tending the cookies, setting them out on a plate. The kitchen was loud now—full of voices and heat and movement—but it’s the kind of noise that settles in your chest instead of clawing at it. The kind that means home.

Family.

Pack.

And tomorrow, you’ll all be around the table together. But tonight? Tonight is for cookie theft and unannounced arrivals, and the smell of apples and sugar melting into woodsmoke.

It didn’t take long for Jess and Sam to drop their bags in the guest room, your parents' old room. Jess had barely stepped inside before she flopped down on the bed, arms spread wide. “Okay, yeah,” she sighed. “We’re not dragging our stuff over to my place. This is just smarter.” “Agreed,” Sam muttered, already stacking their shoes neatly near the dresser.

Across the hall, Dean caught your eye and smirked. “Told you they’d cave. No one walks away from a warm bed and fresh cookies.” Dinner was easy—roasted chicken, mashed potatoes, and the last of the green beans from the garden you’d preserved. Comfort food. No fuss. The kind of meal that filled the house with rich, savory scents and drew laughter around the table like moths to a flame. Sam told a story about a late-night library crawl in college that ended with him nearly being arrested for breaking into his own dorm. Jess made fun of Dean’s ongoing war with your stove and one of the back burners that refused to heat at the level it was set. You? You play the part of the innocent observer while Dean kept trying to rope you into his defence.

Afterward, with bellies full and the kitchen dim except for the soft amber glow above the stove, the four of you drifted into the living room.

The fire in the hearth was dancing again, this time lazy and low, casting the room in a flicker of gold. The four of you took up the couch, legs draped, bodies angled, a sprawl of comfort and closeness that came naturally now. One bottle of whiskey sat in the middle of the coffee table, half-drained, surrounded by four mismatched glasses.

Dean reached for it to top everyone off. He glanced around the room, grinning to himself as he poured. Mischief was brewing behind his eyes.

“So, he said, stretching out with one arm behind you, the other cradling his glass. “Who do we think can make their mate scream louder?”

You blinked. Sam froze mid-drink. Jess snorted.

“Jesus, Dean,” Sam muttered, setting his glass down with a thud.

You bit your lip, trying—and failing—to stifle a grin.

Dean just raised a brow. “What? It’s a valid question. Purely scientific.” Jess choked on a laugh, nearly spilling her drink. You caught her eye, and the two of you dissolved instantly into a fit of giggles.

“Oh my God,” you said, gasping through the laughter. “Are you seriously trying to turn this into a competition?” Dean gave you that smirk—the one that always hit low in your gut. “You’ve been loud enough to scare the birds off the trees, sweetheart. I’m just saying, I’ve got a strong case.” Sam groaned and scrubbed a hand down his face. “Please don’t make this weird.” Jess leaned into his side, nudging him with her elbow. “Too late.”

Dean leaned forward like he was presenting evidence to a jury. “Come on, Sammy. Back in the day, we used to bet on who could get the best pool hustle, or drink someone under the table. This is just… a new category.” Jess sipped her whiskey slowly, that smug little grin on her face. “You really wanna go down this road?” Dean lifted his glass. “Only if you’re ready to admit defeat.” You turned to Jess. “Should we tell them?” Sam’s brow furrowed. “Tell us what?” You and Jess exchanged a long look, filled with all the secrets of months on the phone, each of you curled under blankets, late-night chats filled with giggles, and plenty of confessions. You weren’t even trying to hide the grin spreading across your face now.

“Oh, they don’t know,” Jess said, eyes sparkling. “They really don’t know.” “Know what?” Sam repeated, looking from her to you and back again.

Dean narrowed his eyes. “Wait a minute.” You leaned forward, voice sweet and innocent. “Let’s just say… the real scoreboard’s been kept for a while now.” Jess laughed outright, nudging Sam’s knee with hers. “And trust me, I have notes.” Sam’s mouth opened, closed, opened again. “I’m sorry—you two talk about—?” “Everything,” you and Jess said in perfect unison.

Dean looked at you like you’d just revealed state secrets. “Everything?” You shrugged, barely hiding your grin. “Wouldn’t you like to know.” Sam groaned again, sinking deeper into the couch.

Jess smirked at him. “If it makes you feel better, you’re doing fine.” Although it didn’t help Sam’s current embarrassment. Dean huffed. “Fine? Sweetheart, she howled.” You raised your glass and clinked it gently against his. “Birds. Off the trees. I remember.” Laughter erupted again, wild and loud, rolling through the cabin like distant thunder. Even Sam gave in, chuckling as Jess leaned into him with a smug smile and a gentle kiss to his cheek.

“Besides, Sam. You should get over being shy,” you told him. “How do you think it’s going to be when we’re all living together?”

The blush that filled his cheeks was a moment you’d always remember, and the laughter that followed. It hadn’t been that long ago when Jess was giving you advice for the night you had claimed Dean. And that? That felt like a lifetime ago with everything that had happened.

The night stretched on like that—stories and teasing, whiskey warming every inch of you, the fire settling low but steady behind the mesh screen. Dean’s arm draped around your shoulders again, his thumb tracing lazy circles against your skin.

There was no rush. No lingering worry. Just four people—four souls—so intertwined now it didn’t matter whose cabin it was, or which room they were sleeping in. You were all exactly where you belonged. This was everything you missed when they were gone, and everything you cherished when they were here.

Eventually, the bottle ran dry and the laughter settled into soft hums and sleepy sighs. The fire had burned low, glowing embers casting long, slow shadows across the floor. No one said it, but you all felt it—the pull of a good night’s sleep and the kind of peace that only came from being home.

One by one, everyone stretched, yawned, and stood. Jess hugged you tight first, warm and lingering, her voice muffled against your hair. “God, I missed this. I missed you.” You smiled into her shoulder. “Same. So much.” Sam pulled you into his arms next. “Thanks for dinner. And the whiskey. And… the irreparable psychological damage.” You smacked his chest lightly and grinned. “You’ll live.” Dean gave Sam a lazy salute. “Night, Sammy. Try not to lose too much sleep wondering what Jess and I already know.” Jess flipped him off over her shoulder, earning a chuckle from both brothers. The two of them padded down the hallway, disappearing into the guest room and leaving you and Dean in the quiet aftermath.

He didn’t say anything right away—just slid his hand into yours and walked with you to your room. The door clicked softly shut behind you. The air was still warm from the fire, your skin still tingling from whiskey and laughter. You turned to say something, maybe just a simple “good night,” but Dean was already close, that look in his eyes unmistakable.

“Well,” he drawled, voice dropping half an octave, hands settling at your waist. “We could let them win by default… or…” You raised a brow, not even trying to hide the amusement in your voice. “Or?” His hands smoothed over your hips, fingers slipping under the hem of your shirt just enough to tease the skin there. “Or we could settle the score. Privately. For scientific purposes, obviously.” You groaned, already feeling your knees start to weaken as his mouth ghosted a kiss just below your ear. “Dean…”

He hummed, pleased. “That’s not a no.” “That’s a frustrated no,” you said, though your voice cracked under the weight of his touch, your body already leaning into him before you could stop it.

Dean grinned, cocky and slow. “You sound conflicted.” You pushed your hands against his chest—gently, not enough to create space, just enough to try to remind yourself why you needed to say no in the first place. “I’m trying to be responsible.” “Mmm. Lame.” You laughed, breathless now, as his hands slid around your back. “I’m serious. Thanksgivings tomorrow. The turkey needs to go in early, thanks to you getting one that was thirty pounds.”

Dean sighed, dramatic and boyish, pressing his forehead to yours. “Fine. Ruin my fun.” You kissed the corner of his mouth, smiling against his skin. “You’ll survive.” He pulled back just enough to pout at you, full bottom lip out like a challenge. “But will I thrive?”

You rolled your eyes, even as a snort of laughter escaped you. “You’re the worst.” “And yet…” he murmured, tugging you gently toward the bed, “you keep me around.” You both climbed in, limbs tangling out of habit and the comfort it brought. His arm curled beneath your neck, his other hand drawing absent circles across your stomach under the blanket. You pressed your nose into his chest, breathing him in—pine, leather, smoke—and felt your body start to ease into the rhythm of his heartbeat.

The quiet wrapped around you like a second blanket. From downstairs came the soft creak of the guest bed, Jess’s laughter muffled against Sam’s quiet reply. The sounds didn’t intrude—they settled into the night like another heartbeat. A confirmation.

Everyone was home. Your pack, under one roof.

Dean’s hand stilled, fingers warm against your skin. “I missed this,” he whispered, voice barely above a breath.

You nodded, already drifting. “Me too.” He kissed your temple, then let his head rest beside yours. Neither of you had meant each other, nor did you have to clarify. Everything felt whole when the four of you were together.

Sleep came easy. Wrapped in warmth. Wrapped in him. Wrapped in them.

—---------------

The warmth of sleep held on longer than usual, as if the blankets, Dean’s body, and the lingering feel of the laughter from the night before conspired to keep you wrapped in peace. But deep beneath that comfort was the nagging awareness of the time. The turkey. The math.

You cracked one eye open.

“Stupid bird,” you mumbled, carefully slipping out from Dean’s arms without waking him. He groaned softly but didn’t stir. You tugged on his flannel, grabbed your socks from the floor, and padded out into the hallway.

The cabin was quiet in the pre-dawn stillness. Every creak of the wood floor beneath your feet sounded louder in the hush. First, you started a fire to take the chill from the air. Then, you went to the kitchen, flicking on the light. Its soft glow spilling over countertops and catching on the aluminum foil-wrapped beast waiting in the fridge.

You took a moment to wash your hands and breathe. Then, quietly and with precision born of love and a little exasperation, you maneuvered the thirty-pound turkey into the oven. Dean really had outdone himself—like he was feeding an army instead of four people and a ridiculous number of sides.

The oven door shut with a muffled thump. Timer set. Job done.

You started the coffee next, grateful for muscle memory. While it brewed, you leaned against the counter, arms folded, eyes half-lidded. The quiet was thick but gentle. Outside, the sky was still pitch, but the faintest tint of morning blue had begun to edge the horizon.

You poured yourself a mug, letting the steam rise against your face, trying to wake up from the inside out. A long sip, then another. You moved to the table and sat, one knee tucked up under Dean’s flannel, fingers curled around the warmth of the ceramic.

Footsteps broke the silence a few minutes later—soft ones. You didn’t look up right away. You didn’t need to.

“Can’t sleep either?” Jess’s voice was hushed and a little scratchy with sleep.

You looked over, giving her a sleepy smile. “Turkey duty. Dean seems to think we’re feeding an army.” She chuckled, padding over and helped herself to a mug before sliding into the seat across from you, legs folded beneath her, oversized flannel hanging off one shoulder. Her hair was wild, eyes still heavy.

For a while, neither of you said anything. Just quiet sips of coffee in the dim morning light, surrounded by the warmth of early holiday anticipation and the deep calm of a home that didn’t need tending right now.

It was rare—this kind of silence. Not empty, not heavy. Just full of shared understanding. The world hadn’t fully woken up yet. But you had each other. Jess offered a small smile across her mug. “This is nice. I missed it.” You nodded. “Yeah. It really is. Gonna have to make time for us to have this more often.”

Jess’s fingers curled tighter around her mug, the steam dancing lazily around her face.

“Sam got his LSAT results back,” she said softly, like there was no demand to anything right now.

You blinked, tilting your head. “Yeah? How’d he do?” Her smile was soft, proud. “174.” Your jaw dropped a little. “Out of 180? Holy shit, Jess.” She grinned and gave a small nod. “I know. He’s… he’s been looking at schools. Wants something close. Like really close. Commute-distance close. He doesn’t want to be away from the land. From us.” Emotion swelled under your ribs, unexpected but welcome. “That’s amazing. Seriously.” Jess nodded, but her eyes dropped to her coffee, fingers tracing the rim. “It is. I’m so proud of him. Just… selfishly, I hate that he’s graduating a year before me. We’ve never really been apart before. It sucks. I’m going to miss him so much.” You reached across the table and touched her hand gently. “Of course you will. Anyone would. I know there are no words that will fix it. But, we’re all here for you. And, if it comes down to it, I’d get on a plane if you needed me.” She gave you a quiet smile, grateful and a little teary. Then after a moment, her gaze sharpened slightly. “We’ve been talking about me. What about you? How have the pre-heats been?” Your eyebrows lifted, but not surprised she changed the topic, just the topic she chose. “Weird,” you admitted, tucking your knee higher under Dean’s flannel. “I get these… cramps. Not all the time. They come out of nowhere and are gone just as fast. Like my body is trying to remember something it hasn’t lived yet.” Jess nodded thoughtfully, encouraging you with her eyes.

“No spotting yet,” you added. “I’ve been keeping an eye out for it. I keep wondering if it’ll ever happen. Like, every time it doesn’t happen, I wonder if I messed it up.” Jess’s brow furrowed. “Mess it up how?” You hesitated for a moment. “The last two pre-heats, Dean and I didn’t do anything. I didn’t want him to. I just wanted him to hold me.” She smiled a little, softly. “That’s actually normal. I had a couple like that my first year. Shouldn’t be long. I give it three more months.” “What’s it like… a real one?” you asked quietly, fingers gripping your mug just a little tighter.

Jess reached across the table, her hand resting over one of yours. “Intense. But Dean’ll be there. Your wolves will know what to do. And on a positive note, the first time doesn’t usually take. It’s like the last thing your body will need before it’s fully ready to carry a pup.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding, even if that was only part of what was bothering you. Jess could always tell, though. “What else has you twisted in knots?” “Shifting,” you mumbled, gaze on the black liquid in your mug. “I love our pack. I do. Family means so much to me, but…” you trailed off, trying to find the right words. “...the Winchesters, the way they don’t split up like ours does. How they all mingle together, let the pups see and interact with the wolves. It felt so right. The way they all play together. I loved it, Jess. I want to raise pups with that. I feel guilty for wanting to choose that over the way the Winters do things. Like I’m betraying where I came from.” Jess’s expression softened completely, her hand giving yours a gentle squeeze. “Y/N… you aren’t betraying anything. You’re following your heart, and your parents will understand that. When Sam and I have pups, we already decided we’ll be raising them like the Winchesters do. We want them to grow up exactly like what you feel. You aren’t choosing one pack over another. Have you told Dean yet?” That hit something deep. Something that had been itching at the back of your mind for months. You exhaled slowly, a weight lifting. Your throat tightened. Hearing that—from Jess—felt like forgiveness you hadn’t asked for but needed all the same.

“Thanks, Jess. I haven’t told him. I couldn’t figure out how to word things, and you always just understand me,” you chuckled, finally meeting her gaze. “Maybe that’s what I’ll say when we go around the table—’I’m thankful for finding the place where my pups will grow up.’”

Jess stretched with a sleepy groan, then stood. “Alright. Before we get too mushy and cry into our coffee—should we get started on the sides?” You laughed and followed her up, grabbing both mugs for a refill. “Absolutely. Gonna be weird doing it here for the last time.” Jess tilted her head. “What do you mean?” You handed her a fresh cup. “Next year, we’ll be in the new cabin. Big open kitchen, long-ass counter, full dining room. All of us under one roof for real. I can’t wait.” Jess grinned and bumped your shoulder. “Same. First Thanksgiving in the new place—Sam’s already talking about what kind of ridiculously healthy meals he’s going to make.” You snorted. “Dean’s gonna give him such a hard time. Looks like I’ll have to even it out with more sweet treats,” you mused, grabbing ingredients from the fridge.

You moved in sync, almost like muscle memory—peeling potatoes, prepping herbs, setting up pots. The turkey slowly cooking in the oven. It would still be a couple hours before the rich and savory scents started filling the cabin.

Outside, the first golden streaks of dawn finally stretched over the horizon, catching the frost on the windows. Inside, you and Jess worked quietly, soft laughter echoing between you, the stillness gently giving way to the start of the day. And as your hands moved in rhythm, you realized—this is what she meant. This quiet, shared space. This is what she missed, just like you had.

Almost two hours had passed since that first quiet coffee. The kitchen was warmer now—alive with the comforting sounds of pots simmering, pans clinking, and soft laughter between you and Jess. A new pot of coffee brewed on the counter, its bold scent joining the growing chorus of aromas filling the space: turkey slow-roasting in the oven, garlic and herbs blooming on the stove, cinnamon and sugar waiting in bowls for pies yet to be assembled.

You were both more awake now, sleeves pushed up and hair tied back, moving easily around each other like you’d always done.

Jess glanced at the clock, nudging the oven door closed with her hip. “Think the boys’ll be up soon?” You gave a soft laugh, nodding toward the hallway. “Won’t be long now. That turkey’s basically a siren song.” And just like clockwork, the scent found its way down the hallway, curling into the cracked door of the guest room where Sam lay sprawled under the blankets. His nose twitched first. Then his brows furrowed, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth before his eyes even opened. He stretched with a low groan, one arm flinging over the empty side of the bed where Jess had been hours ago. The warmth was gone, but the smell of Thanksgiving dinner had taken its place.

Upstairs, Dean stirred too, one leg tangled in the quilt you’d kicked off during the night. His senses blinked awake before his eyes did, chest rising with a deep inhale—turkey, coffee, the faint sweetness of brown sugar and cloves. A soft smile curved his lips before he even cracked an eye open. The house smelled like home. And you were somewhere downstairs in the middle of it.

The brothers emerged within minutes of each other, bare feet padding softly against wood floors. No words at first. Just two men pulled by scent and instinct, their paths naturally leading straight to their mates.

Dean found you first. He slipped behind you at the counter and wrapped his arms around your waist, his voice gravely with sleep as he pressed his face into your neck. “You’re trying to kill me, sweetheart. That smells illegal.” You snorted, leaning back into his embrace. “Turkey’s not even close to done. It still has five hours. Think you’ll survive that long?” “Don’t care. Probably not. Smells like love.” 

All you could do was giggle at his broken answers. His mind in a daze of scent and sleep. God, he was adorable.

Sam moved just as quietly, arms winding around Jess from behind as she stirred a pot on the stove. He buried a kiss into her shoulder, murmuring something soft that made her smile as she tilted her head to touch his.

“You two spoil us,” Dean eventually said, pulling back just enough to snag a look at the counter. “Coffee brewed, food already in the works, and I didn’t even have to bribe anyone.” Jess rolled her eyes with a grin. “We just didn’t want you two whining the rest of the day.” Sam chuckled, grabbing two mugs from the cabinet. “Pretty sure we still might.” You and Jess exchanged a look and matching smirks as the boys filled their mugs, finally joining you at the table where the prep had briefly paused.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” you muttered into your cup, bumping Dean’s foot under the table.

Dean leaned forward, cocky smirk on his lips, mug halfway to his mouth. “I think I’m adorable, and so do you.”

The morning slipped into afternoon, slow and golden, the kind that only ever belonged to holidays and quiet homes. The four of you lingered in the kitchen, comfortable in your rhythm. Laughter came easy, conversation even easier.

It still felt surreal sometimes—how right it all was. Just six months ago, you and Jess hadn’t even known the Winchesters, not really. Now, you couldn’t imagine a world that didn’t include them.

Sam lounged in one of the kitchen chairs, a lazy smile tugging at his mouth as Jess stirred something over the stove. She was explaining the science of getting meringue just right, her hands moving animatedly, and he hung on every word like she was lecturing at Stanford. You caught the look in his eyes—the one that still said how did I get this lucky?

Dean, on the other hand, had made a home of hovering behind you, fingers forever sneaking tastes off cutting boards and out of bowls when he thought no one was looking.

“Dean Winchester,” you scolded as his hand darted out again, this time for a stray green bean with butter. “That’s the third time you’ve tried to steal something in five minutes.” He gave a dramatic groan, flopping onto the bench seat at the corner of the kitchen table. “That’s ‘cause it smells like I died and went to Thanksgiving heaven. I’m not even hungry—I’m just… spiritually starved.“ He shot a look at Sam. “Tell me you don’t feel it too.” Sam held up both hands. “I’m pacing myself.” “You had three rolls an hour ago,” Jess said without turning, the grin in her voice giving her away.

Dean pointed at Sam, mouth falling open like he’d just been betrayed. “Traitor.” You just tossed a towel at him and kept chopping. 

—---------

Conversation turned easily to the cabin over the next hour—Jess asking questions, you updating them on the latest walk-through. The skeleton had been framed, the roof was nearly done, and they’d started mapping out the wiring and plumbing.

“I still can’t believe how fast it’s going,” Sam said, nudging his foot against Jess’s.

“Both packs have been working like wolves,” you said.

“Pun absolutely intended,” Dean added, reaching for a carrot stick with no shame whatsoever. “But if we’re living in that cabin by April, I’m calling the recliner near the fireplace.” Jess raised a brow. “Why?” “That way, Sam knows which one not to sit in,” He leaned back smugly, a teasing smirk on his lips. 

At first, Sam wasn’t entirely sure what he was trying to hint at, then groaned as you chuckled. “You’re disgusting.”

“Like you won’t be testing out every surface of the new place with your mate?” Dean quipped back, but all you could do was roll your eyes.

“I prefer to keep that sort of thing behind closed doors.” “Front and back door will be closed.” You shot Dean a look. “Behave. You’re acting like a teenager going through puberty.” “Can’t help it. You bring out the wolf in me.” The kitchen filled with laughter as Dean beamed with pride at your blush.

Every hour, without fail, Dean sighed dramatically and said something along the lines of, “How is it still not time to eat?” or “I think my stomach’s eating itself—babe, check for bite marks,” just to make you laugh. It worked. Every time. You did remind him that if he hadn’t gotten a thirty-pound turkey, it would have cooked faster, but he just brushed it off.

By the time the last of the dishes were done, the pies cooling near the window and the turkey finally resting on its cutting board, the kitchen was glowing with more than just warm light. It was soft chatter and full hearts, the kind of quiet that only happened when everyone felt completely at ease.

“You two—go sit,” Dean said firmly, already stacking plates like a man on a mission.

Jess blinked. “What?” “You and Y/N cooked,” Sam said with a smile, already working on sides into serving dishes. “We set.” You and Jess looked at each other—genuinely surprised, a little touched.

“But I still have—” Dean grabbed your wrist, gently turning you toward the table. “Nope. Table. Wine. Sit. We got this.” You went, even if you didn’t trust him not to eat half the turkey before it ever made it to the table.

Jess joined you, slipping into the chair beside you with a laugh and a whisper. “They’re lucky they’re cute.” Sam poured the win—white for Jess, red for you—while Dean moved around the table setting silverware with surprising precision. Napkins folded, plates placed just right, every detail handled with care.

The brothers made several trips back and forth, carefully placing everything on the table, the turkey center stage. You hoped they would like it, as you’d cooked it differently than most people did. A trick you learned growing up—cooking it breast down so it was juicier, like the dark meat. Then, Dean sat across from you, his foot finding yours as you met his eyes. 

The table was full—of food, of warmth, of things unsaid but deeply felt. A stillness settled over the room, the kind that only happened when you were standing in the middle of something good and knew it.

Jess glanced around the table, eyes lingering on each of you. She shifted in her chair, fingers curling lightly around the stem of her wine glass.

“I know we didn’t really talk about doing this,” she began, her voice a little quieter than usual, “but I think we should say what we’re thankful for. I mean—look at this.” She gestured around at the table, then at the four of you. “This is… more than I ever thought I’d have.” Sam reached for her hand without hesitation.

Jess smiled softly and let out a breath. “I’m thankful for you,” she said, eyes fixed on Sam. “For my mate. For the boy I crushed on in grade school who used to sit in front of me and chew on pens.” Sam let out a quiet, embarrassed laugh, and Dean smirked.

“I’m thankful for you,” she said, turning to you. “For being more than a friend. More than a sister. For being the person I didn’t even realize I needed until you were there. You changed everything.” Your chest tightened, emotion catching in your throat.

“And,” Jess added, tilting her head toward Dean with a raised brow, “I guess I’m thankful for my annoying older brother now—who tries to steal every cookie Y/N bakes me, even though I label them. In marker.” Dean held up his hands, mock-innocent. “Labels are just suggestions.” That earned a laugh from everyone.

When Jess finished, Sam gave her hand a squeeze, then looked up, clearing his throat like he needed to push the emotion back far enough to speak.

“I’m thankful for you,” he said to Jess, voice low and sincere. “For being my mate, my partner… for always seeing me. Even when I didn’t see myself.” He turned his attention to you next, a soft smile forming. “Y/N, I’m thankful for you—for grounding all of us. For keeping things steady when we lose our footing. You’re the sister I never had, but somehow always needed.” Then he looked at Dean. “And you… well, I’m thankful you’ve finally stopped running from happiness. And that I get to watch you be happy now, every damn day.” Dean blinked once, the weight of those words landing harder than he probably expected. Sam leaned back, exhaling. “I’m thankful for this. For us. The four of us. Our little pack.” Dean was quiet for a second. Then, he reached for your hand across the table, lacing his fingers with yours.

“I’m thankful for you,” he said to you, not looking away. “For keeping up with me, for calling me on my crap, and for never letting me forget who I am—even when I wanted to. You keep me grounded… and seen.” You squeezed his hand.

Then Dean turned toward Jess, giving her a genuine nod. “Jess… I never told anyone this, but I’m thankful you snapped me out of it. At the celebration, when I was too scared to let her claim me… you knew exactly what to say. And if you hadn’t—” he glanced at you, something raw in his eyes, “—I don’t know how long it would’ve taken. Might’ve screwed it up completely.” Jess smiled at him, lips pressed tight with emotion.

Dean cleared his throat. “And I’m thankful for this weird, beautiful little pack of ours. I know how rare this is. I won’t ever take it for granted.” It was your turn. You felt every gaze land softly on you, warm and waiting.

You drew in a breath, heart full to the brim. “I’m thankful for all of you,” you said, your voice steady but thick with feeling. “For Dean… in more ways than I’ll ever have words for.” Dean’s thumb traced yours gently, grounding you.

“For Jess, who always knows when to be blunt, and when to be soft. Who knows what I need before I do.” Jess’s eyes shimmered, but she didn’t look away.

“For Sam,” you added, looking at him, “who’s the brother I never had. Who makes this place feel like home. I can’t imagine my life without you in it.” Sam looked down with a soft smile, touched.

You took a breath. “And I’m thankful for this morning with Jess. She helped me see that what I want is okay. I finally know the kind of traditions I want to raise pups with.” The table stilled. Not a sound. Not even a breath.

Jess’s smile turned knowing, soft, proud.

Dean’s gaze searched yours—hopeful, but something wary flickered just beneath.

“I want to raise them the Winchester way,” you said, voice unwavering now. “Because it’s how I wish I could have been raised.” Dean’s hand tightened around yours, just slightly, heart swelling. His eyes glistened.

Silence settled for a moment. Not the awkward kind—just full. Full of unspoken things, full of everything that mattered.

Then Dean let out a quiet breath and smiled, almost in disbelief. “That might be the best damn thing you’ve ever said to me—so far.” You smiled, hand tightening in his, just a little more. 

“Happy Thanksgiving,” Jess murmured.

“Yeah,” Sam echoed, lifting his glass, the rest of you following suit.

“To pack,” Dean added.

You all clinked glasses, eyes glistening, hearts full. Then finally—finally—dug in.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 32

A/B/O Master List Main Master List Series Master List

Permanent Tag List: @roseblue373 @flamencodiva @reignsboy19 @stillhere197 @foxyjwls007

@hobby27 @megs-gadom @cheekygirl2309 @mxtansy @ladysparkles78

@ambiguous-avery @spn-fanfic-reblog-writes @jackles010378 @suckitands33 @my-stories-vault

@maddie0101 @bettystonewell @whimsyfinny

Tag List: @nancymcl @lovelydisc @luahmeeks @alternativeprincess94 @kailalaland

@ladykitana90 @muhahaha303 @bitchykittenconnoisseur @suckitands33 @stoneyggirl2

[potatohater]

Big brother’s love

Fandom: Supernatural

Characters: Dean & Sam Winchester (a bit of Castiel)

Word count: 1929

MY BABIES AHHGRRR; I just NEEDED some brothers fluff and HERE WE GO, LEE!SAM FOREVER🙏 love them, here it’s like moments since childhood-season 6 (bc I’m watching it rn) (btw @cringemesstickles I know that you’re a sucker for lee!sam so you might wanna check this one out🤭)

;

Dean loved making Sam smile, even though Sam always tried to hide it, making himself look more serious, deep down Dean always knew how to crack him

**

Older Winchester woke up and sat on the bed, rubbing his eyes. Clock said 8:03 am and he had no idea how he got so early today. John left them for a week.. which turned into two as he couldn’t kill the vampire he was hunting, so two teenage boys spent most of the time in the hotel room; not bothered by trying to pick up a school if they are going to attend it only for a few days.

Sam looked up from his book to take a look at his brother when he froze for half a second, biting back a smile

“What?” Dean asked him, was it something on his face or something?

“Oh no nothing” younger boy replied, trying to focus on his book, but taking a quick glance at Dean. Now him biting back a smile was even more visible

“Is it something on my face?” Dean’s brows furrowed as he asked out loud

He took a half glance in the mirror in the middle of the room and saw how his hair in the middle was slick back, but on the sides it was sticking up in all directions, making him look ridiculous. In what pose did he even had to sleep to get this hairstyle?

He turned his eyes back to Sam, seeing how hard he tried to focus on the book in front of him. They locked eyes as Dean wiggled his eyebrows, trying to play dumb to get the kid to crack

Even though Sammy was quite serious for a kid his age, it wasn’t that hard to make him laugh. 11 year old boy mostly found Dean’s fails funny, when he tried to flirt with a girl but got rejected. This type of fails

“I see you, what’s up? Why are you acting like thi—” Dean didn’t got to finish his sentence when younger boy broke into a stream of giggles. It was really easy to make him laugh sometimes

“Ihit’s juhust youhur hahair” Sam giggled quietly, dimples appearing on his cheeks as his face broke into shy smile. Like he knew it was a bit too childish even for him

Dean took a proper look into the mirror and chuckled too. His eyes were dead and the whole hair thing looked like he experienced getting struck by a lightning

He shook his head, standing up and quickly ruffled kid’s hair too so they would match

“Hehey!” Sam shoved his hand, trying to sound annoyed, but giggles in his voice ruined the whole facade

Yes. As Dean would say, it was pretty easy and unbearably hard to make younger Winchester laugh sometimes. The kid got specific humour

**

“SAMMY”

Sam who was standing in the middle of the room doubled on the floor laughing as he saw his brother’s head sticking from the bathroom doorway. They had a little prank war going on and younger Winchester decided it would be hilarious to put some hair dye into Dean’s shampoo

Dean on the other hand wasn’t so happy. His hair was dripping wet and his neck and shoulders were also covered in dark-ish blue dye. His mouth twitched for a second when he was his brother on the floor laughing his ass off, but taking another look in the mirror reminded him that revenge is necessary

“Come here bitch!” Dean said while putting his pants on and running in Sam’s direction. Long haired teenager quickly tried to stand up, but was immediately tackled to the floor by his brother; not like he put up a fight, Sam was mostly giggling like a madman every time he looked at Dean

“Something funny?” Dean tried to look serious but small grin crept into his face as he saw his brother pinned underneath him “Oh I can give you something to laugh at”

With that said, he wiggled his fingers into Sam’s side, making his giggles transform into full on laughter

Damn it sounded good; Dean could swear his laugh immediately filled the whole room, lighting it up

“DEHehean! stOHOP IHihi aham tohoho ohOHOLD FOHOR THIHIS”

“You are only 16 kid, the only one old here is me, and apparently I’m gonna have blue hair for the next—MONTH THANKS TO YOU” Dean chuckled as he raised his voice over Sam’s so he would hear him

Sam’s laugh got higher when he darted his eyes at Dean over him who was still dripping in blue colour

“Any last words?”

“IHIHIT WAHAS SOHOHO WOHORTH IHIHIT” Sam looked at Dean one last time before losing himself in his own laughter again. Dean’s grin got wider with every second as he tickled his brother on the motel floor. Maybe he didn’t care that much about his hair

**

“Dean!” Sam squeaked as Dean made a move in his direction

“Sam!” Dean chuckled, mirroring his brother’s tone

They were standing at opposite sides of a table in the motel room, waiting for other one to make a move. Well, long story short — Dean found out Sam still had his weakness in touch, apparently Sam was surprised too

“Don’t!” Sam tried to threaten but smile on his face outweighed all the venom in his voice

Dean was wearing a grin on his own, quickly running around the table to catch his brother

They were doing it for the past few minutes, but this time Dean actually tackled Sam on the floor. Both laughing the whole time they tried to gain an upper hand

“DEHEHEHEAN!”

Older Winchester got his hands squeezing his brother’s knees as he watched his reaction

Sam was okay before.. well maybe a little tired and declined any offer to take a proper sleep, saying that “he was okay taking 2 hour naps every few days”; so as every good brother, Dean just needed an excuse to mess with him. They deserve to have fun once in a while, especially Sam

“Ha! Man you didn’t change— do you still do that? Wait let me check” Dean said as he got his hands to Sam’s ribs, playing them like a guitar

Sam’s laughter transformed into high-pitched giggles that were just music to his brother’s ears

“That’s what you get for not getting to bed. Gosh it’s like I’m 15 again, forcing you to sleep”

Sam’s laughter rang even louder at the recalling memories of their childhood, as joyful sounds came out of him

“And now you are 23 and you didn’t change a bit” Dean grinned, eliciting more sounds form Sam

**

“Ohokay okay, easy tiger” Older Winchester chuckled at his baby brother who drank a bit too much in the bar. Dean was immune for a few shots of tequila, considering how much alcohol he consumes, Sam wasn’t that strong

“What is wrong with him?” Castiel was standing in the middle of the motel room Winchesters were staying

“Has gone a little overboard, but who gives a shit. I finally convinced him to take a few days off and I don’t care that there is a fucking apocalypse, okay? He needed a moment to breathe out” Dean replied as he caught his brother from falling on the floor and threw him on the bed, making it easier for both of them

“So what now?”

“Well, I’m gonna take his coat and shoes off and let him sleep. Oh man, a hangover tomorrow is going to be ruthless” Older brother chuckled

He motioned Cas to come closer and hold Sam’s abdomen as he took the coat of him. On accident, one of Cas’ hands got under younger Winchester’s arms, making him squirm a bit and let out a quiet giggle

“What was that?” Dean and Cas almost said in unison as Dean put his brother’s clothes and shoes in the wardrobe

Dean’s brows knitted together as a small grin broke his face

“Hey Cas, can you spread his elbows like— yeah like that” Dean full on smiled

Angel did as he was told, grabbing both Sam’s elbows and raised them up, spreading them. Meanwhile Sam was too tired to stop anything.

Dean took a step closer, warming his fingers under Sam’s arms. His brother’s face immediately broke down into wide smile when he clamped his arms down, doing nothing to stop the sensation

“What are you do— waHAHEHehait!” Sam got out of Castiel’s grip and slammed his back into the bed where he was previously sitting (or at least tried to). His eyes were squeezed and smile shining, showing all his teeth

“Damn Sammy, a drop of alcohol in you, and you become even more ticklish than when you were a kid” Dean beamed

“What is wrong with him?” Cas now stood up, and standing next to the bed stared at laughing younger brother who couldn’t even put up a fight because he was so intoxicated and an older brother who now was sitting on his lower half, pinning him and tickling him, having a smile on his face as big as Sam’s. A look of confusion and amusement mixing up in angel

“Oh, it’s called tickling. It’s when you touch some parts of the body that make other person laugh. It’s a body reaction our ancestors had back in the day for surviving. Now it’s.. for messing with your baby brother for example”

“And he laughs because it’s body’s reaction” Cas repeated, trying to make sense out of it

“Pretty much”

“Huh” Cas wanted to say something but his hearing focused on Sam’s high-pitched laughter again. Making his face to share the same kind of grin Dean has been wearing

Right now and there he noticed that Sam didn’t laugh enough. His laugh is too nice to hide it under all these layers of seriousness

“heheHESTOHOHOP DEhehean!” Sam laughed, eyes squeezed shut and hands trying to catch his brother but he even when he did he was to tired to do anything that shove lightly at them

Cas and Dean joined him, chuckling everytime he made some funny noise. “Yeah” Cas thought “humans are cute”

**

“Hey, you okay?” Dean’s voice rang through the living room where his brother was sitting

They stayed at Bobby’s for some time, trying to find out more about this “Mother” bullshit, someone that can ruin their world and kill everyone (again)

“You know what I did, Dean. That whole year was—” Sam was interrupted by his brother who nudged him in the side with his elbow

“Come on, we’ve been through this. I— you can’t believe how glad I’m that you’re back. That was not you Sammy”

Sam tried to fight, but found that it’s easier just to listen to Dean. “Yeah, maybe you’re right”

“Dude you couldn’t believe how DRY you were, I mean, your humour was purely based on making fun of something. We were almost killed multiple times because you found demons funny and just laughed at their faces” Dean recalled with amused chuckle

Sam let his own small smile to tug at his lips

“Well, at least I got you back, and you still think I’m a god of comedy” Older brother wigged his brows

“Oh you wish” Sam shook his head with a snicker

“What? I’m hilarious” Dean said, poking his brother which made him giggle

“See? You do still find me funny” Each word was highlighted by a poke to Sam’s side, making him giggle again and playfully slap Dean’s hand

“Yeheah, maybe I stihil do”

[radioactivatedspider]

The Hardest Goodbye

Main Masterlist Supernatural Masterlist

My Wattpad📖

Radio's Café☆ - my official discord server!

Want to be added to my taglist? Just a few clicks away! -> Taglist Form

Next Time... Pt. 2

pairing: Dean Winchester x oc

genre; angst-heavy romance, drama, supernatural fiction

warnings; Emotional intensity, Mentions of death/danger, Bittersweet ending

Summary: As Courtney walks away from hunting to build a peaceful life, Dean struggles with the pain of letting go, torn between love and his past.

695 words

The night was still, except for the soft rustling of the trees outside the bunker. Courtney sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the duffel bag in front of her. It was half-packed—her clothes, her favorite sweater, the small golden heart necklace Dean had given her on their first anniversary. The weight of it pressed against her collarbone, a reminder of everything she was about to leave behind.

She heard his footsteps before he spoke. Dean had a way of walking that was impossible to miss—steady, and confident, but tonight there was hesitation in every step. When he appeared in the doorway, his expression was unreadable.

"You gonna tell me where you're going, or do I have to guess?" His voice was rough, guarded.

Courtney took a deep breath. "I can't do this anymore, Dean."

He scoffed, stepping inside and folding his arms. "Do what? Hunt? Run from monsters? Save people? Because that's kinda what we do."

"Exactly. It's what we do. But it’s not what I want anymore."

Dean exhaled sharply and ran a hand over his face. "Come on, Court. We've been at this for years. You're one of the best hunters out there. Why now?"

She looked down at her hands. "Because I'm tired. I'm tired of waking up and wondering if today’s the day I don’t make it back. I’m tired of losing people. And I’m tired of pretending like I don’t want more than this."

Dean stared at her, his jaw tightening. "You think I don’t get that? You think I don’t wake up every damn day wondering if I’ll make it back? If you’ll make it back? But we don’t get normal, Courtney. That’s not how this works."

"You tried," she reminded him. "With Lisa. When Sam was gone. You walked away."

"And look how that turned out," he shot back. "It didn’t last. Because this life—it finds you. No matter how hard you run."

Courtney stood up, stepping toward him. "Maybe. But I have to try. I want a real life, Dean. A home, a job that doesn’t involve killing things. Maybe even a family someday. Don’t you?"

He didn’t answer right away, and that silence cut deeper than any blade. He swallowed hard, looking away. "I want you."

Her heart clenched. "Then come with me."

Dean let out a short, bitter laugh. "You know I can’t do that."

"Why not? You did it before."

"Because Sam’s still here. Cas is still out there. And there’s a world full of things that need stopping. I walk away, and people die. You know that."

Courtney reached out, touching his face gently. "And if you stay, what happens to you? How much more of yourself do you lose?"

Dean closed his eyes at her touch, leaning into it for just a second before he pulled away. "I don’t know any other way to live."

Her throat tightened. She had hoped—maybe foolishly—that he would say yes, that he would choose her, choose them, the way she had already chosen him. But hunting was in his blood, in his bones, and maybe it was too much to ask him to give it up.

A tear slipped down her cheek, and Dean reached out, brushing it away with his thumb. "So that’s it, huh? You’re just gonna go?"

"I have to."

Dean nodded slowly, the weight of the moment settling over both of them. "I’m not gonna stop you."

She let out a shaky breath, half-grateful, half-broken. "I don’t want this to be goodbye."

He smirked, though it didn’t reach his eyes. "Nothing in this life is ever that simple."

She hesitated for a long moment before standing on her toes, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. He kissed her back, desperate and aching, but when they pulled away, they both knew the truth. This was the end of something—maybe not forever, but for now.

Courtney grabbed her bag, walking past him toward the door. Dean didn’t turn around as she left, and she didn’t look back.

The night was still again, except for the soft rustling of the trees outside the bunker. But this time, it felt emptier.

Taglist: @star-yawnznn

[engelofthelord]

I'm drinking redbull rn (left out all night don't judge) and it tastes horrible so I wrote this

wouldn't consider this wincest, there's small moments but.. no

dad’s been gone two days. some hunt down in Kentucky — “vamp nest, not your problem,” he’d said as he slung his duffel over his shoulder and slammed the motel door behind him. left us the usual: a few twenties, a loaded shotgun, and zero warning on when he’d be back.

honestly? I didn’t mind.

motel room’s quiet without him stomping around, barking orders. Sam and I get the bed closest to the TV, the remote all to ourselves. no drills, no Latin flashcards, no John Winchester manifestos about how “the war never ends.”

just me, Sammy, and a vending machine that eats quarters like candy.

and today? today I brought home something special.

“okay,” I say, dropping the can on the rickety nightstand between our beds with a proud clunk. “check this out.”

Sam looks up from his book — a Wrinkle in Time, or some other nerdy crap he can’t stop reading — and narrows his eyes. “what is it?”

“Red Bull,” I grin. “gives you wings.”

he blinks at the can like it might sprout legs and walk. “wings? that’s stupid. It’s just soda.”

“shows what you know,” I say, already popping the tab. It hisses and fizzes, metallic and weird. “It’s not soda. It’s energy.”

“energy?”

“liquid lightning, Sammy. one sip and you’ll be wide awake ‘til next week.”

he hesitates, sets his book down on the pillow, and scoots closer. his legs are bare — he’s in those dorky flannel pajama shorts I hate to admit I think are kinda cute — and his hair’s sticking up in every direction like he forgot how to use a comb.

“I dunno,” he says, peering at the label. “caffeine makes your heart explode.”

I snort. “yeah, if you drink seventeen. You’ll be fine. here—” I hand him the can, fingers brushing his. his skin’s warm. familiar. always too soft for someone raised on the road.

he gives me a look — that little half-glare he uses when he thinks I’m about to get him into trouble. then, like he always does, he gives in.

god, I love that he always gives in. (uhm, woah..?)

he takes the tiniest sip, lips puckering immediately. “ugh,” he says, scrunching his nose. “that tastes like cough syrup mixed with a battery.”

“accurate,” I laugh, leaning back on the bed, arms behind my head. “you’ll get used to it.”

“I don’t wanna get used to it.”

“too late,” I tease. “you’ve been inducted. part of the cult now.”

he rolls his eyes but takes another sip anyway.

ten minutes later, he’s bouncing.

not full-on bouncing-off-the-walls bouncing, but definitely Sam-style bouncing — legs twitching under the covers, fingers tapping on his knees, eyes wide as dinner plates.

“I feel weird,” he says.

“you look weird,” I say, throwing a chip at him.

he throws the chip back and it bounces off my forehead. “I feel like I could solve a math problem and then run five miles.”

“sounds like the Red Bull’s working.”

“Dean,” he says, and he looks serious now, his voice a little breathless. “we should do something. let’s go somewhere.”

“It’s eleven o’clock at night, genius.”

“I don’t care.”

“you don’t even have shoes on.”

“I don’t care.”

I grin. “alright, alright, slow down, speed Racer. we’re not going anywhere, but—” I dig around in the duffel by my bed, pull out the old deck of cards we use when the power goes out or Dad gets extra paranoid. “you wanna play blackjack ‘til you crash?”

he lights up. “yeah. yeah, okay.”

I set up the cards between us, motel blanket pulled over both our legs, his knee pressed against mine. he’s got that glow in his cheeks now — caffeine, adrenaline, maybe the fact that I’m looking at him like he’s the most entertaining thing in the world. which, honestly? He is.

“dealer takes two,” I say, flipping the cards. “house rules: if you lose, you gotta say something nice about me.”

“that’s dumb.”

“nope. that’s the rules. dad’s not here, I’m king of the room. deal with it.”

he grumbles, but his smile’s peeking through.

he loses the first hand.

“you have nice eyes,” he mumbles, looking anywhere but at me.

I feel my ears go hot. “that’s cheating. that’s a fact, not a compliment.”

“It counts.”

“fine. but you’re not getting out of the next one.”

by the time he finally crashes — Red Bull wearing off like fairy dust at midnight — he’s curled up next to me, deck of cards scattered across the bed, face smushed into my shoulder.

his breathing’s slowed. hair tickling my neck. fingers twitching like he’s dreaming about whatever his overloaded brain couldn’t process.

I should probably move. should turn off the light. should go back to my own bed.

but I don’t.

Instead, I lean back, slide my arm around him, pull him in close.

he doesn’t wake up.

I watch him for a while. let the quiet sink in. let the world pause just long enough to believe this could last.

he tastes dumb energy drinks because I told him to. smiles at me like I’m his whole world. still trusts me more than anyone else on earth.

god help me, I’d give him a hundred more Red Bulls if it meant I could keep him looking at me like that.

[dewinchester1979]

That Type of Girl Part 1

Pairing: Dean x reader (Eventual), Sam x reader (Platonic)

Warnings: language, unrequited love, slight angst, some fluff

This is the first fic I have ever written, all mistakes are my own. Please be gentle on me!

_____________________

I had never been the type of girl that men would look at twice. I have always been on the heavy side of the scale. I have a big gut, small ass, and ok sized boobs. After struggling with my confidence for a better part of my life, when I hit my 20’s I stopped caring about what others thought of me. But I would still wear clothes a size or two too big. But I felt confident (for the most part). I didn’t give a rats ass what most people thought of me, which definitely helped when it came to hunting. 

My life changed forever when I met the Winchesters. Sam was like the big brother I never had. Dean…well, that was a different story. Everything in me knew the moment I met him, that he was something special. The way he could make me laugh, make me smile, make me feel appreciated. No one had ever made me feel the things he did. But I knew he would never see me as more than a friend, and after some time I was ok with that. I knew a man like him would never even consider being with a girl like me. 

“What ya thinking about Y/N?” said Sam. We were currently sitting in a roadside bar after we finished our most recent hunt. Of course Dean was busy flirting with some gorgeous blonde, leaving Sam and I to our own devices.

“Just thinking about what life would be like if we weren’t hunters.” I lied of course. I was thinking about why couldn’t I be the type of girl Dean would turn to for more than friendship. Something I thought about pretty frequently.

“Do you really want that type of life ?” Sam stated with a curious look on his face. 

“Hell no, I’m not made for normal. Just always like to think about where I would be ya know? Would I be married, have 2.5 kids, and a full time job or would I be a crazy cat lady.” I giggled.

“Well considering you're allergic to cats you definitely would not be a crazy cat lady.” Sam was laughing.

“You’re right Sammy, guess there goes that day dream.” I said. I couldn’t stop watching Dean. I really needed to find something else to occupy my time.

“You know I see how you look at him.” Sam said.

“I don’t know what you mean Sammy.” I replied.

“Y/N you should tell him how you feel, you never know he may feel the same way.” Sam looked at me with an optimistic grin.

“Yeah right Sam, I’m going to the restroom then I’m heading out. You boys can stay and have some much deserved fun.” I got up to head towards the restroom, if only Sam knew how deep I was in.

______

The following day after returning to the bunker the night before, I got up around 6:00 to make the boys breakfast. It was something I did every now and then, even though I made a pretty shitty cook. I rolled out of bed and put some shorts on. I had an old AC/DC shirt on (I didn’t bother wearing a bra since the shirt was baggy), threw my hair up in a messy bun and was ready to get to work. I made my way to the kitchen as quietly as I could. Evidently I tend to stomp when I walk in the bunker halls (according to Sam), so it is something I am trying to work on. I got the eggs and bacon out. Scrambled would have to be it for today because I don’t have the patience to try anything else. Sam made his way into the kitchen as I was finishing up with the bacon.

“Well good morning sunshine!” Sam sang.

“Damn Sammy can you keep it down somewhat, you know how I feel about being happy first thing in the morning.” I covered my ears.

“Oh yes so sorry grumpy pants” Sam laughed.

“I’m pretty sure you are like the only person I have ever seen to be so excited at 6:30 in the morning.” I finished putting some eggs on a plate for him.

“Well why are you up so early anyway? You made us breakfast?” Sam asked.

“Well yes you big giant, I did. I felt like doing something nice even if I am a grumpy pants.” I sat his plate down in front of him.

“Well I appreciate it and I’m sure Dean will too. Where is Dean?” Sam took a bite of his eggs.

“Pretty sure he is still sleeping, I’ll wake him up on my way to shower. How does it taste?” I asked.

“It is actually pretty good, way to go Y/N you have finally learned how to make eggs!” Sam was laughing. I enjoyed the teasing banter we had with one another, it made me happy that we didn’t always have to take things so seriously.

“Haha very funny, looks like now I will have to cook more often.” I stated as I walked out of the kitchen.

Heading down the hall I stopped at Dean’s room. I opened his door slightly, he was sprawled out over his bed snoring loudly. Blondie must have tired him out last night. I usually don’t like waking him up because he has such a hard time sleeping. Especially lately but I knew he would be pissed if he missed out on bacon. I made my way over to him.

“Dean” I whispered.

“Dean I made breakfast” I patted his shoulder.

He rolled over and opened his eyes. Looking at me in a way that almost made me blush.

“Hey sweetheart, what time is it?” he asked.

“7:00” I stated.

“Damn I actually slept in some, that was amazing.”

I’m sure it was, I stated to myself. Damn my jealousy.

“Well I just wanted to let you know there is eggs and bacon, Sam said that I actually learned how to make eggs so guess that means they are good this time. I laughed. “ I’m gonna take a quick shower then I will meet you back out there” I said.

“You had me at bacon” he got up and stretched. 

“Well good morning sleeping beauty” stated Sam.

“God it smells amazing in here” Dean said with a grin.

Dean loaded up a plate with tons of bacon and a few scoops of eggs.

“Damn this is awesome” Dean moaned.

“Would you like me to give you some alone time with that?” Sam laughed.

“Sammy, she seriously knows how to make my damn morning. This bacon might be the best I have ever eaten.”

“Well she has been up since 6 working on it so I’m glad you are enjoying it.” Sam was reading something on his laptop now.

“What would we do without her?” Dean wondered aloud.

“What would we do without who?” I stated as I made my way back into the kitchen. I had taken a quick shower and changed into jeans and a flannel. Baggy of course. I never wore tight fitting shirts. My hair was still a little wet but I wanted to make sure the boys were taken care of before I moved on with my routine.

“You sweetheart, you are seriously too good to us.” Dean stated, staring at me. 

I blushed, “Well I would do anything to make your guys day a little better.” Sam looked at me with a knowing look, please dear lord do not let him say anything.

Sam continued reading something on his laptop without saying a word. 

“Well I’m gonna head to the library to check out this book I need, do you guys need anything?” asked Sam.

“I’m good, thank you though Sammy.” I stated.

“Unless you are stopping at the store, in that case we need pie.” Dean said while stuffing his face with more bacon.

“Of course Dean, I will make sure to get your precious pie.” Sam said while laughing.

With Sam gone, I struggled to find something to say to Dean but the silence was killing me. 

“What time did you guys end up coming home last night?” I asked. I really didn’t want to know but yet I needed to.

“Uh not too long after you, it was kinda a bust.” stated Dean.

“What happened to Blondie?” I asked without even thinking.

Dean looked up at me, “She was talking my ear off about her ex. I told her if she couldn’t stop thinking about him then she probably needed to talk it out with him.”

Good I thought to myself, I knew he deserved a good time but I am glad he struck out. I really need to stop thinking like this.

“Well I am sure you will have better luck next time” I said with a smile. It took everything in me to muster that up.

“Nah next time we need to work on finding someone for you.” Dean stated.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Well I know it's been awhile since you have found a guy for you, so I figured I could help you look.” Dean said with a shrug.

Did he seriously think I wanted to find someone? I really was not the love them and leave them type. I tended to get too attached. So I just took care of things on my own. Plus it was hard to find someone to spend the night with when you are desperately in love with someone else.

“I’m really not interested Dean. I would rather just drink and make a fool of myself.” I laughed.

“Come on Y/N, I’m sure you could use a night of romance or whatever you want to call it” Dean looked at me.

Anytime I had even considered taking a guy home they would make comments about my body. Which usually ended with my fist bleeding and the guy laying on the bar floor.

“Dean, do you seriously not remember the last time I looked for a guy, he ended up calling me a fat bitch and I knocked his lights out.” I picked at my nails. I couldn’t look at his face right now.

“Yes I remember, that was just one shitty guy. I have faith we can find a good one.” Dean got up to clear his plate.

The one guy I want doesn’t want me so I really don’t want to try to find another one. I will just end up with my feelings hurt and my confidence wounded. It’s not worth it to me.

“I appreciate the offer truly, but I don’t want a night of romance. I just want to spend a night with my two best friends. That’s it. Can we please drop it?” I got up to start working on the dishes.

“If that is what you want Y/N.” Dean looked at me softly. “I will get them sweetheart, the least I can do since you cooked.” Dean started working on the dishes.

"Thanks" I said. "I'm gonna go finish fixing my hair." I made my way out of the kitchen as fast as I could. I wish he could understand how I felt, but this is one area in which Dean and I are very different.

[stardust-goddess]

Effort

Dean Winchester x Plus Size! Reader

Summary: Reader feels like she needs to put in extra effort to look and feel beautiful. Dean doesn’t think so.

A/N: hi everyone! I’m new to tumblr and writing but wanted to give this a shot. I feel like I might have made Dean out of character, but I think of this almost every morning when I get ready and just loved the idea. This is the first fanfic I’ve ever written, so let me know what you think and Enjoy!💕

The room was full of sunlight when you opened your eyes. Squinting at the brightness you took in the familiar surroundings of the motel room as you became more alert.

You and the boys were in Montana. Sam had found news articles of multiple murders from the past few months, all in close proximity to each other. With all the evidence leaning towards a possible werewolf, you and the boys packed up Baby and made your way to the latest murder scene to investigate. After a few days the hunt was successful and you all went back to the motel to get some sleep before heading back to the bunker.

Looking across from where you were, you noticed Sam’s bed was empty with a note on the pillow. ‘Probably out for his morning run’ you thought. Making a mental note to confirm that as soon as you got up. Turning slightly, you found Dean. He was still asleep, arms and body completely wrapped around you encasing you in warmth. You snuggled a little deeper in his embrace giving yourself a few extra minutes before finally getting up to start getting ready.

Slowly sitting up from the bed so Dean wouldn’t be disturbed, you untangled yourself from his arms. After checking Sam’s note and confirming he was in fact on a run and promised to bring back breakfast, you made your way to the bathroom. Starting to wash up for the day you looked over yourself in the mirror.

Looking at your bare face you sighed, today was definitely another makeup day. You’re skin looked a little blotchier then usual, with dark circles under your eyes, and a dull complexion. Eyes traveling a little further down you took in the rest of your body. Big arms, stomach, and thighs bounced back at you.

You had always felt insecure about your appearance. Being the size you were, you felt like whenever you were out in public people would stare. That they were judging you, and thinking you were big and sloppy looking when you really weren’t. This led you to putting extra effort into your appearance. Makeup always on, hair nicely styled, and a well put together outfit for the day. Being a hunter, this wasn’t something that you could pull off everyday, but you tried your best. On the days that you couldn’t, you always felt a little anxious, but Dean always made you feel better.

Dean made you feel like the most beautiful girl in the world. Underneath his tough hunter persona, he was so gentle and loving. Always complimenting you, and taking care of you. While he helped your confidence little by little, you still couldn’t stop those negative thoughts racing through your mind from time to time. Those thoughts where you wished you looked like the women you saw on TV and magazines. Women who were skinny and effortlessly beautiful. Women who could throw on leggings and a t-shirt with little to no makeup, and looked like they stepped off the runway.

Shaking those thoughts from your head. You finished washing up. Grabbing your hand held mirror and makeup bag to bring back to the bed. You always like doing your makeup sitting on your bed. It was comfortable and you had plenty of space to spread your products around. Walking out of the bathroom you noticed Sam was still out. You also noticed that Dean was now awake, sitting against the headboard, and scrolling through his phone. Seeing you in his peripheral vision, Dean looked up and gave you a breathtaking smile. God he was so gorgeous.

“Good Morning Baby.” Dean said lovingly reaching his arm out for you.

“Morning Handsome.” giving him a smile of your own, you grabbed his outstretched hand and let him lead you back to the bed. Settling you in between his legs, he pressed a kiss to your cheek, making his way down to the part of your shoulder that was peeking out of your oversized shirt. His arms wrapped around you to pull you a little closer.

“How’d you sleep?”

“Good, I always sleep the best when you’re with me, you?” you replied grabbing your makeup bag to get what you needed.

“Great, because my gorgeous girl was next to me.”

Dean dropped more kisses to your shoulder making you giggle, but inside you felt a little pang of sadness. You just woke up there’s no way you looked gorgeous right now.

you fell into a comfortable silence after that, enjoying each other’s presence while you started your makeup. Putting concealer first then foundation you started to bounce your beauty blender across your face, making sure everything got covered evenly. Once that was done you started coating your lashes in mascara. Dean watched you from your little mirror as you worked. Rubbing little circles into your hips with his thumbs, Dean broke the silence.

“Baby, you know we’re going to be in the car most of the day right? You don’t have to get all dolled up if you don’t want to.”

Stopping mid mascara swipe you looked down in your lap for a second before continuing

“I know, but I have too. If I want to look good I have to put the extra effort in.”

Dean’s brows scrunched together in confusion.

“Extra effort? What do you mean? You always look beautiful.”

Finishing your mascara you close the tube and look back down in your lap.

“I have to put more work in to look pretty. If I don’t people will see me and think I’m lazy and sloppy. I’m already big I don’t need to add more fuel to the fire”

Dean couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He knew you had insecurities and did his best to remind you that you were amazing and let your confidence shine through. Despite this you did still have some bad days, but this is first time you expressed those negative thoughts so bluntly. He couldn’t let those thoughts continue a second longer. Angling your body more towards him, Dean tucked some loose hair behind your ear before tilting your chin up.

“Listen to me baby, strangers opinions on the street don’t matter. They don’t have the honor of knowing how amazing you are. You’re so selfless and hard working. You constantly put others before yourself, saving people and helping me and Sammy make the world a little better. You’re not lazy and definitely not sloppy you’re stunning.”

Pulling you a little closer Dean continues

“Makeup, or no makeup, dressed up or dressed down you always look so pretty and so amazing. I get lost in those gorgeous eyes and this gorgeous body. I love the way you feel in my hands and pressed against me. You’re absolutely beautiful inside and out.”

You close your eyes, a little overwhelmed by his sweet words. He was right, others opinions didn’t matter. Finally finding your voice you speak up

“I just can’t help it sometimes. You could have any gorgeous woman on your arm, but you picked me. I feel like I have to prove to the world that I deserve you.”

Closing the rest of the distance between you, Dean presses a searing kiss to your lips. A kiss so full of love and want you feel warmth spread through your body. Breaking the kiss Dean cups your cheek, thumb running across your bottom lip.

“You have nothing to prove. I already have a gorgeous woman and I’m not letting her go anywhere.”

Blushing you let a smile work it’s way across your lips.

“There’s that smile I love, brightens my whole day.”

Moving you back into your original position, Dean slips his hand under your shirt. Rubbing small circles on your back while the other hand grabs your lipstick handing it to you.

“You already look beautiful baby but might as well finish what you started.”

Grabbing the tube you also grab your discarded mirror to finish up. Feeling lighter after talking with Dean. You were beautiful, you were confident, and with Dean by your side you could take on the world.

“I love you Dean, thank you.”

“I love you too baby, always.”

[reigningqueenofwords]

Property of John Winchester

Pairing: John x Reader Word count: 2,107 Warnings: Daddy kink, unprotected sex, anal, jealousy Request: Anonymous. Can I please, when you get the time, get some just really good, rough, dirty John smut. I’ve been watching a lot of JDM movies and shows and just ugh. Like throw in any kinks you want, I just need some john or jeffrey whichever you prefer.

John Winchester was the only man you ever had eyes for. At first, he was a bit hesitant because of the age difference, but that was soon pushed aside. You worked for him and Mary when you were a teenager. You had babysat the boys from the time you were 14, until you were 17. You were 5 years older than Dean, so John lumped you in now as being ‘Dean’s age’.

At 25, you’d finally landed your man. After ten years of crushing on him, at that. As a teenager, you never thought it would happen. He was older, and married. As you got older, your mind would run away from you, of course, but again- same issues. The summer after your sophomore year of college, you’d come home to find out that Mary had been killed in a drunk driving accident. You felt terrible, as she was such a nice person, always smiling, and you weren’t there to help the boys through it.

Now, you woke up in his arms every morning. You loved how his scruff felt between your thighs, the way his strong hands gripped your hips, how his deep voice would whisper dirty things in your ear when you couldn’t fuck him, and the way he looked at you like you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

He told you early in he didn’t want anymore kids. That stage of life was over. You had no problems with that, as you had no desire for children, either. “Morning, gorgeous.” His voice was still heavy from sleep.

Smiling, you stretched slightly, your ass rubbing against his morning wood. “How about we make it a good morning?” You teased.

“You mean like this?” His large, warm hand slid down your stomach, his middle finger slipping into your folds. “So wet for me.” He groaned. Taking his hand, he cupped your inner thigh, opening your legs. John rolled his hips, his cock slipping through your slit. Finally, he thrust into you.

Your arm went behind you, your hand gripping the short hairs on the back of his head as he lazily rolled his hips. Morning sex was the only time it wasn’t about making each other cum. Your focus was each other. Being one. His lips brushed the back of your neck and over your shoulder. “John.” You breathed, your tone full of love. Turning your head, your lips met his.

He broke the kiss to watch your face as the bliss took over. Your eyes closed, your lips parted slightly as you panted, a small whimper escaping now and then. “Mine.” He groaned, his own eyes closing.

“Yours.” You nodded.

You worked as a secretary in an accounting firm down the block from John’s garage. It was nice when you were able to visit him for lunch. Your usual work outfit consisted of a dark pencil skirt, a nice top, and heels. While John hated other men eying you, he got off on watching them get upset seeing you all over him.

Today was not one of the days that you were able to visit him. The office was extremely busy, and you were rushing around. One of the top accountants had quit, out of nowhere. And now, everyone was scrambling to cover his accounts while training a new hire. You got the grunt work.

Towards the end of the day, you were sitting at your desk, your feet up, ankles crossed. The new guy, Don, came over with a smirk on his face. “Well, hello.” He said as he sat on the edge of your desk.

Raising an eyebrow at him, you didn’t bother to move. “Hello, Don.” You said politely.

“So, how’s about you join me for some drinks later.” He offered.

“Sorry, you aren’t my type.” You told him.

He cocked an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? What’s your type?” it didn’t seem he was used to hearing such things.

Smirking, you slowly put your feet down and made a show if standing up. You grabbed his tie and pulled him forward. “A man who doesn’t wear ties, but knows exactly how to use them.” You’re other hand went to his cheek. “Doesn’t keep clean shaven because he knows just how good the slight burn from it feels.” He swallowed, getting your drift. Moving your hand up, you gripped his hair. “Salt and pepper hair, making it even hotter when I call him daddy…” Don groaned. “And most of all?” You pulled him so your noses were almost touching. “Doesn’t wear a fucking suit and knows how to get real dirty.” Letting his tie go, you smoothed it out. Hearing the elevator ding, you looked around him and bit your lip. “Speaking of… I just saw the man that has me wrapped around him. Nightly.” You winked at him as you grabbed your purse, and walked by, swinging your hips.

As soon as you were within reach, John grabbed you and pulled you close. His eyes were set on yours. “Last I checked you belonged to me so who the hell is that?” His voice was low, and possessive.

“Some pretty boy who thinks he has the right to hit on me. Don’t worry, Daddy. I put him in his place. Got him all wound up telling him all about my type. You.” You smirked before his lips came crashing down on yours, his hands gripping your ass tight.

Don watched you from over his shoulder until Mike came over. “Don’t bother. You don’t stand a chance. That’s John Winchester’s woman. You’ll hear stories. Just wait.”

Don glanced at you again, this time John had your ass in his hands as he kissed you. Grinning, you laced your fingers with his and joined him on the elevator.

As soon as the doors shut, his mouth was on your neck. “You’re getting punished when we get home, baby girl.” He growled. “I’m going to have you soaked while you beg for me to fuck you.” You bit your lip. “After that sweet pussy clenches around my cock, I’m going to pound into your tight ass. I’m going to pump you full of my hot cum. You want that, baby girl?”

“Yes, Daddy.” You panted, already feeling your arousal soak through your underwear.

He shifted so that his arm was around your waist innocently, you leaning against his side. The doors opened and a few others stepped on. You glanced up at him and smirked.

The house you shared with John was about half an hour outside of town. Which gave you one hell of a drive. Once you were past the city limits, you kicked off your heels and pushed your skirt up. He did a double take, licking his lips. “What’re you doin’, baby girl?” He asked.

“Letting daddy see how wet he gets me.” You replied, slipping your thumbs in the sides of your underwear and slipping them down. Hanging them from the tip of your finger, you smirked. “Soaked right through.”

John shifted in his seat, his bulge pushing against his jeans. “I’m smacking that ass so hard when we get home.” He growled.

Shifting so that you were laying on your stomach, you slowly unzipped his jeans. Once he was free, you wasted no time taking him in your mouth, his hand tangling in your hair. Bobbing up and down on his length, moaning. As he just barely reached the back of your throat, you pulled back up, teasing him.

After you did this a few times, he started pushing your head. You moaned happily at the feeling of him pushing you down further. “Fuck, baby girl.” He groaned, hissing through his teeth. You were close to cumming just from him talking. His hand held you down as he came down your throat. You rolled your hips, looking for friction as you swallowed, whimpering.

You licked him clean and sat up, eyes wet, and cheeks tinted pink. “Thank you, Daddy.” You grinned.

“You’re fucking welcome. Goddamn.” He chuckled.

Back at home, John kicked off his boots. “I’m hopping in the shower. Go put on something that’ll really get me going. Bend over the end of the bed, ass in the air, baby girl.” He kissed you gently, nipping your lip at the end and slapping your ass.

“Yes, Daddy.” You nodded, carrying your heels up stairs and heading towards your shared room. You put your heels away and stripped completely, contemplating what to wear. He’d spoiled you since you moved in, so you had no shortage of options. Biting your lip, you decided on one of his button up shirts, and a pair of lace crotch-less panties.

Bending over the end of the bed, you leaned on your forearms. Your feet were shoulder width apart, putting you on full display for him. His showers were never long, so you didn’t have to wait to hear his intake of breath when he saw you. He walked over to where you were, his hands running over the lace resting on your ass. You moaned as he gripped them and massaged them. He always did this before a good spanking. Extreme pleasure, followed by slight pain.

Only, this time, his hand ran over your slit, putting a slight amount of pressure against your clit. You were already throbbing for him. “Please, Daddy.” You whimpered, needing something. Anything.

John chuckled lightly before removing his hand, your ache increasing. You cried out when his hand connected with your backside.

“One, daddy.” You breathed.

He repeated the action ten times before massaging your ass again. “Learn your lesson, baby girl?” He asked, kissing up your back, the fabric moving slightly.

You wiggled your ass. “Yes, daddy.”

“Good girl.” He growled. John always saved those types of praises, so when those words rolled off his tongue, it had one hell of an effect. He wrapped your hair around his hand as he thrust into you. His right hand held him up as he slammed into you, over and over. Your eyes were screwed shut at the stretching feeling that he gave you.

“Right there, daddy.” You whimpered as he angled his hips up slightly. He pulled on your hair slightly, bringing your head back. He straightened himself up, his right hand gripping your hip tightly. “Can I cum, daddy? Please!” You begged, trying to hold off the wave of bliss trying to wash over you.

“Cum on daddy’s cock, baby girl.”

Crying out for him, you gripped the sheets, your head falling to the bed. He fucked  you through it, and then pulled out. John moved around the side of the bed, grabbing the lube from the nightstand. Your eyes went to him as he sat back against the headboard, opening the lube. He groaned as he began stroking himself, applying plenty of lube.

“Get on up here, baby girl.” He smirked as you scrambled up the bed. “Turn around.” He told you, slapping your ass when it was in sight. You opened your legs so your feet were on the outside of his thighs, your hands holding you up. He held your hip with one hand, and lined himself up with the other. Biting your lip, you lowered yourself onto his hard cock, taking him inch by inch into your ass.

You sat there for a minute before his strong hands were holding you up, his feet flat on the bed. “Daddy!” You gasped as he began pounding into you ass. His groans adding to your pleasure.

His head was back as he fucked you as hard as he could. “Fuck yourself, baby girl. Play with that sweet pussy.” He panted.

Nodding, you moved one of your hands between your legs and curled two fingers into your entrance. “So good.” You sighed.

John was barely pulling out at this point, keeping himself as deep as he could. You rolled your hips as he thrust before he slammed you down as his hips went up. He was deeper than ever before. He groaned as he pulsed inside you. You shook as you came, his name falling from your lips.

Your back was to his chest as you closed your eyes, a smile on your face. His arms wrapped around you, his lips brushed your neck, and you could feel his lips turn up, as well. “How’d I get so damn lucky, baby girl?”

You couldn’t help but smirk. “You haven’t felt that cock pounding into you.” You teased, earning a playful nip. “I’ve loved you for years, John. That’s how it happened.” You were tracing lines on his arm.

“Thank fucking God for that.”

[agirlwithdemonblood]

Through the Shadows: Chapter 29 - The Happy Ending

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Reader

Series Summary: A hunter's Journey through despair and recovery is guided by Dean Winchester's unwavering love, leading her to reclaim her strength, voice and hope for their shared future.

Chapter Summary: Life didn't just return back to normal for Dean and Y/N, it became greater than ever could be imagined.

Series Masterlist here!! & Main masterlist here!

A/N: Here we are, the end to this series! Thanks so much for reading, and for all your support <3

Months turned to a year, and life had slowly begun to blossom with a sense of normalcy. The days had become a beautiful rhythm of healing and growth, a testament to the strength and love that had carried her through the darkest times.

Her ability to walk had improved immensely, each step a milestone celebrated with joyous smiles and quiet moments of reflection. Talking had also become easier, her voice gradually finding its strength, the raspy whisper evolving into a soft yet clear sound.

Dean's encouragement had been her constant companion, his faith in her unwavering even when hers faltered.

Today, as Y/N stood at the edge of the shore, staring at the sun dipping over the water, she felt a profound sense of peace. Dean stood beside her, his eyes warm with pride and love.

The place was special to both of them, a secluded spot that became a second home, a place where the past and future seemed to merge into a single, beautiful moment.

Dean reached for her hand, his touch gentle and reassuring. "Ready to go?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver of anticipation throughout her body.

She nodded, a smile curving her lips as she began to walk with him. Y/N moved with a grace that had once seemed impossible, a reflection of the countless hours of practice and the relentless determination that had driven her forward.

As she walked, memories of their journey together flooded her mind. The countless hunts, the moments of laughter and tears, the quiet evenings spent wrapped in each-other's arms-all these moments had shaped the love they shared, had brought them to a future where love was achievable.

When they reached a small hill, Dean paused, his eyes shining with emotion. "I have something for you," he spoke, pulling a small, worn box from his pocket.

Y/N's heart quickened as he knelt down, the world seeming to hold its breath. He opened the box to reveal a simple yet elegant ring, it's delicate design a perfect reflection of your journey together-beautiful, enduring and full of hope.

"Since the day I met you, my life changed in ways I never thought possible." he said, his voice thick with emotion. "Remember when we made that promise? That we wouldn't fall in love? We thought it would protect us, keep things simple. But you.. you were impossible not to love. You showed me what true strength is, what it means to fight even when everything seems lost."

Tears welled up in her eyes as she listened, each word ringing deeply within her soul. "You turned my world upside down, and I wouldn't change a single moment of it," he continued, his voice breaking with emotions. "You taught me that love isn't about avoiding pain like I usually do. It's about finding someone who makes every struggle worth it. You are that person for me. You are my strength, my light and my reason to believe in something more. Please, I love you, will you marry me?"

Y/N's heart swelled with a penetrating love as she looked down at him, the world narrowing to this single, perfect moment. "Dean," she whispered, her voice steady and filled with emotions. "When I couldn't walk, you took the steps for me, when I couldn't breathe, couldn't speak, couldn't process, you did that all for me. You showed me that I was worthy of love, you did everything for me. I love you more than I could ever say. Of course I'll marry you."

His hand trembled slightly as he slipped the ring onto her finger. The world seemed to hold its breath as Y/N fell into his arms, laughter and tears mingling in a joyous harmony. His hand brushed the hair out of her face, pressing a kiss tenderly to her lips. "I love you." he murmured, his voice a soft caress. "Always."

Y/N smiled through her tears, her heart brimming with hapiness. "I love you too."

As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in beautiful colours of gold and pink, they stood together, a sihouette against the fading light. The future stretched out before them, a canvas of endless possibilities.

In that moment, Y/N knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, she would face them with Dean by her side, hearts forever intertwined. As she looked into Dean's eyes, she couldn't help but echo the words that once felt impossible, but now held a truth deeper than she could have either imagined: "I guess some promises were meant to be broken."

The End

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! This series is now complete.

Like, comment, and reblog, feedback is my fuel 💕

[scottishcat1988]

Knight in shining armor - Dean Winchester x Reader

part 4

You let out a soft sigh as you sat down on your bed. You took your book in your hands but only fidgeted with its pages instead of reading some. You had woken up extra early today and as usual Anna and the rest of the maids had come to help you get dressed. It surely was something you could do on your own, especially in this case that no corset was involved, but they insisted nonetheless. They had gotten you ready quickly, mostly since they did not have to do much other than help you put on a quite simple and yet elegant dress and style your hair.

Now you were just sitting on your own in your room playing with the book in your hands with plenty of time to kill till… Dean would come for you.

You bit your lip at the thought of it and the fact that you were going to spend the entire day with him. You would occasionally go on stroll in the woods with your father, riding your horses and chatting while enjoying the warmth of the sun. As your father had told you yesterday night, though, he would not be able to come with you because he had some sort of business. He had told you, though, that Dean would be by your side the entire day. It seemed as if he was the only one that your father thought would be enough qualified to not only protect you properly in case something happened but also keep you good company. Sure you would have a few other soldiers, just like every time, there with you to make sure you were alright but luckily for you your dad did not think that was enough.

“If I am not there, then the only person that I trust to take good care of you is Dean” he had said and you clearly remember being unable to hide the smile from your face.

The thought of getting to spend an entire day just with Dean excited you to no end. You loved being close to him, that you had realized from the very beginning. You loved being able to see his forest-green eyes, to gaze into them and try to study Dean. You certainly wanted to know him better. You loved being able to see the freckles that dusted over his nose and cheeks. Every time you were close you tried to count them but as expected you failed. You loved taking in every little detail of his, whether it would be his soft-looking spiky hair, his strong jaw or his full lips that, you would confess to that, you had caught yourself thinking more than plenty of time how they would taste.

Thoughts like that kept running through your mind and thoughts like that had been running through your mind all night, leaving little to no room for sleep. You had barely managed to sleep that was very much true but you found yourself not to really caring. You were so excited for getting to spend time with Dean today that you could not think about anything else, sleep included. You had fallen asleep at some point, yes, but had you also woken up pretty early. Your excitement was taking the best of you and you had to remind yourself a good few times that there was not much to expect from this. Like what could come from it? Him to suddenly confess that he was in love with you?

You scoffed at the thought. No way. You had just known each other - well at least you him - for a day and you suddenly expected him to say it? No you didn’t. Why would he even say it when you - that there was no doubt you felt something about him - could not even admit to yourself that you were in love with that man. It was not something that you had experienced before, though, so you could not really know.

But other than being in his presence, having a talk with him was what made you even more excited. The small talk you’ve had the night before had given you the chance to to know him a little bit more. It gave an insight on his personality and you would be lying if you said you didn’t like him even more after that. Just like you would be lying if you said it didn’t hurt to hear him talk about himself the way he just had. Hearing him say how he believed he did not deserve something good hurt you and it certainly was something you wanted to change.

A knock on the door made your head snap to its direction and your breath hitch on your throat. A smile spread on your lips as you could barely hold yourself from running to open the door.

“Hey” you breathed out as soon you opened the door.

“Hey. ‘Morning” he said with a smile.

“So are you… ready to go or do you need some more time?” he asked and you shook your head.

“No, no I’m good. We can go” you said with a smile of your own, and closing the door behind you you followed him as he lead you to the back of the castle where they kept the animals and therefore the horses.

“So how was your morning so far?” you asked in hoped of starting a conversation with him again.

You saw a smile form on his lips and he soon burst into laughter.

“What?” you asked immediately.

“Nothing it’s just- really?” he raised an eyebrow and you crossed your arms over your chest.

“Yes, really. I don’t understand what you find funny in this. I was simply asking you a question” you said, trying to fake hurt but the smile on your face said otherwise. Mostly because you were happy to have gotten him to be more open towards you and not formal all the time, calling you constantly princess like last night.

“Alright then” he said the smile still on his lips, putting his hands behind his back “It was quite good. What about you, princess” he faked an accent.

You playfully groaned “Good till now. Why do you keep calling me princess, though?” you looked at him a little bit seriously and a little bit sad because you had yet to hear him say your name “I mean yes I am one but that doesn’t really matter to me. Can’t you just call me (Y/n)?” you asked softly and he let out a sigh.

“I’m sorry princess but I don’t have that right. You are above me. You are the king’s daughter and I just a knight in your castle.” he said apologetically.

“But… can’t you just call me by my name when it’s only you and me?” you asked, voice soft and low like a whisper.

Dean bit his lip in thought and you could see his inner battle. Before he could answer, though, you had already reached your destination.

“Princess!” one of the soldiers that had joined you many times before and would join you now came closer to you holding something that looked like a greenish-blue cape.

“It is a really sunny day, your mother insisted that you take this.” he said and you gave him a small nod, walking a little bit forward so that he could put it over your shoulders.

But before he could even so touch you Dean stopped him, a small glare evident on his face “No, I’ll do it. You go make sure our princess’ horse is ready” he said taking the cape.

The soldier was hesitant in the beginning, looking at Dean with a frown but did as he was told nonetheless. Dean was higher in hierarchy after all, so he could not do otherwise but followed his orders.

Dean muttered something under his breath but clearing his throat he turned to you coming behind you he drapped the cape over your bear shoulders. His hands came into contact with them and made you slightly jump at the shot of electricity that run through you.

“You alright?” he asked worried and swallowing you gave him a small nod.

His hands made their way in front of you - even though he was still behind you - to tie the straps of your cape. You slightly turned your head to look at him and felt your breath hitch on your throat when you saw his face over your shoulder and so close to yours. He turned his head and your faces were now just a few inches apart as he gazed down at you and you found yourself unable to take your eyes off his. His warm breath that was fanning over your cheek was now mixed with yours and everything seemed to get hazy.

“There” his rough voice said, breaking you out of your daze; after having tied the straps of the cape so it wouldn’t fall off.

“Thank you, Dean” you whispered and he smiled just slightly.

“No problem… (Y/n)” he said and you took in a sharp breath, a smile forming on your lips at his words.

Oh boy, did you love how your name rolled off his tongue and how sweet it sounded even when he said it with that husky voice of his.

“Now…” he came in front of you and put the hoodie of the cape over your head, fixing some of your hair out of your face or behind your ear “Come on. We must get going” he finished, brushing his thumb just lightly over your cheek and you gave him a final and small nod.

~~~

You would be lying if you said that you didn’t enjoy this stroll in the woods more than any other before. Sure your father was not with you today but what made it better than any other time before it was the fact that Dean was with you.

Just like when it was you and your father, the four soldiers that accompanied you were on their horses but a good few feet away from you that were on the front. They were far enough so that they would not be able to hear what you were talking about but far enough just to be able to see that you were alright and that you didn’t need anything.

You and Dean were on your horses on the front talking about anything and everything that came to your mind. You loved even more the fact that you got to hear some more of his stories, adventures that he’s been through. This time with his brother Sam. You were having an amazing time with him as you enjoyed the warmth of the sun and the slight breeze that blew through the rustling leafs of the trees. The sound of the birds singing gave to it a more fairy-tale-like environment.

But you actually caught yourself more interested in Dean than anything else around you. You talked more and you were glad you finally got the chance to get to know him better. He was just like you had thought he would be. The first impressions you had from him and your small talk the previous night proved to the fact that he truly a man that cared for his loved ones deeply and would do anything for them. He had a big heart, he was caring and damn was he funny! Your stomach still hurt from the previous feat of laughter he had thrown you in with one more of his lame - but rather funny to you - jokes. He was a little bit cocky as well, you had to point that one out, but you were glad that he was being his true self in front of you instead of just pretending to be someone he wasn’t just so that you would like him.

And the best thing of all was that he no longer used that title you had come to hate over the years. Princess. You loved how your name rolled off his lips. It made pleasant shivers run down your spine and a smile always appear on your lips. Even though he would not say it often, every time felt like a true melody. At some point you actually caught yourself wondering how it would be to hear him sing.

“Oh my gosh. You- you have to be kidding me now, right?!” you exclaimed, putting a hand in front of your mouth.

“Nope. Did happen” he said pursing his lips.

You snickered a few times before you burst into a full feat of laughter.

You were now off your horses and you and Dean had decided to take a small walk through the forest while the horses rested next to the small lake that was nearby. The soldiers had stayed back as well, after Dean’s orders. And you couldn’t be more glad at that. To finally have gotten some alone (completely) time with Dean.

“Oh come on” Dean whined “You promised you wouldn’t laugh”

“I-I k-know I-I just- oh my gosh.” you couldn’t say much in between laughing “I-I know I promised but oh- oh my. Dean! You- you pulled your pants down and shouted what? Pudding?”

“Hey I was five, ok?” he grumbled but you just laughed more.

“That does not justify you. Or wait. Were you really five or maybe you’re lying so that I won’t tease you more?” you said after your laughter died off a little bit.

“Oh please yes I was five” he said with a playful roll of his eyes.

“Ok, I guess it is to be expected from you. You almost set my father’s beard on fire! No wonder he’s become a maniac with shaving ever since” you said with a giggle.

“That was an accident ok? I didn’t plan on setting it on fire nor did I plan on hitting him while skiing with one of the knights’ shields”

“You what? You hit him? How? Where? When?” you asked intrigued.

“Well, it was winter and really long time ago and as per usual I was watching the knights train but after a while I got bored. There was a lot of snow so I decided to have fun. I just was not expecting your father to show up so suddenly so instead of landing on the snow with the shield I… landed on top of him” he said with a small shake of his head.

“Oh you Winchester are unbelievable! Now I know why I every time I asked him to play snowball fight with me he refuses to.”

“Yeah uh” he laughed nervously “I don’t think it would be because of that. I once – when I was much younger - was playing snowball fight with one of my friends in the castle and you know I kinda like winning so uhm instead of making a small snowball I uh maybe made a quite bidder one and decided to throw it on the head of my friend… but your father just walked in and yeah… I guess I couldn’t stop gravity”

“Oh. My. God.” you breathed out and started laughing hysterically.

Dean soon joined you and you both could not stop.

“Yeah. And I better not start about what I did with his crown. Actually, it is kinda hard to believe how after all of the things I’ve put him through he chose me to be his right hand.” Dean said with a chuckle and a shake of his head.

“Well, he obviously took a liking on you. And… it’s not really hard if you ask me” you said with a small shrug, looking at him. His head immediately snapped to your direction.

“You think?”

“Yeah, he obviously trusts you a lot” you shrugged.

“No, no I don’t mean that” he shook his head “I mean, you think it is not hard to take a liking on me? Like… have you- have you taken a liking on me?”

“As I said… it’s not really hard to” you said, voice barely above a whisper.

A big grin appeared on his face, like that of a child on Christmas day, as he took a few steps closer to you. Little to no space separating you anymore. As you looked up at him and biting your lip to keep your smile from getting bigger.

“Glad to know that” he murmured.

“And… can I ask you about me?” you whispered.

“I can say that it is not hard to take a liking on you either” he said and you both chuckled lightly.

You looked down, tucking a few strands of hair behind your ear. In vain through as they fell back in front of your face.

“Here. Let me” he mumbled and brushing the strands out of your face he tucked them behind your ear, this time they stayed in place.

Just like his hand, though. Slightly cupping your face.

Almost silence had surrounded you and you actually found yourself enjoying it while you gazed back at Dean. The distance you had became even less as he seemed to lean in. But once again you did not care.

The silence, though, as well as moment was ruined when the horses making a rather disturbed noise were heard. The fact they would not stop was that made Dean pull away.

He groaned, as if he didn’t want this moment to be ruined and you actually felt happy for that “Sorry. I better go see what’s going on. I’ll be back soon ok?” he asked and you nodded.

He gave you a final smile and brushing a hand over your shoulder - creating goosebumps in the meantime let’s not forget - and he quickly left towards the direction you had come from.

You turned to watch him as he disappeared through the trees and bit your lip. You heart was hammering in your chest…

…but it soon stopped beating as your blood run cold.

A hand covered your mouth and a dagger was placed over your throat.

Oh no