#“he better not have touched Dean with those hands

[crustydumpsterpossum]

I really like to think that Cas was a little bit of a jealous bitch when he found himself on a trip with Benny and Dean in purgatory.

Like he’s all: “Oh! Look at that, Dean got information out of creatures who have been here for all of eternity just to find me.”

And then he sees Benny and he’s just like: “This mf better not have touched my man.”

[fics-and-quotes-andthelike]

Better Late Than Never

Title: Better Late Than Never

Pairing: Dean Winchester x female reader

Word Count: ~2,143

In which the reader’s love language is physical touch, but has never touched Dean…in public.

A/N: I really hope you guys like this one! Thanks so much for reading and for your support. If you have any requests for a fic, feel free to give me a character and a prompt/explanation for what you’d like!

Your love language has always been physical touch. A quick brush of hands here, an innocent kiss to the cheek there. Whether it was your friend or your significant other, touch was just something you used to show that you cared.

So it meant a lot to you when, after you moved in with the Winchesters, Sam had quickly picked up on your love language and allowed you to give him occasional hugs. He’d also gone out of his way to hug you, or even just put a reassuring hand on your shoulder once in a while.

But even though you felt more than comfortable with Sam, you were the first to admit that you’d never so much as given Dean a high five.

In front of others.

In the privacy of an empty bunker or motel room, you and Dean had no problem brushing against each other and exchanging brief touches. Eventually, the brief touches had turned into longer ones, and hands drifted from your shoulder to the small of your back. Then those touches turned into sitting right beside each other, your head resting on his shoulder as he peppered kisses on the top of your head. And after that, kisses on your head turned to kisses on your lips, while hands on your back turned into hands grasping your hips.

But as soon as Sam, Cas, Charlie, or anyone else walked through the door, you would revert back to no touches at all.

It’s not that you didn’t want to. He truly meant the world to you. But every time someone would walk into the room, he would pull away. And you never wanted to make Dean feel uncomfortable, even if it was killing you inside. So, to respect his space, you’d never so much as given Dean a high five in front of other people.

Until today.

A hunt had gone sideways when a djinn had outsmarted the three of you and gotten its hands on Dean while you and Sam had been out getting dinner.

When you got back to the motel room to see that Dean was gone and not answering his phone, you and Sam had come up with a plan. A questionable plan, for sure, but it was all that you could come up with in the limited time that you were allowed.

Now, the two of you sat in Baby, reviewing the plan before you burst into the abandoned warehouse where Dean was being kept.

“Whatever you do, don’t engage with the djinn, got it? I’ll take care of him, you take care of Dean.”

You nodded stiffly, your eyes on the building ahead. “I hear you, I got it. But if you’re in any trouble-”

Sam sighed in exasperation. “Would you just listen to me for a second-”

You looked up at him, fury in your gaze. “I will not let that djinn take you, too.”

Sam’s gaze softened. For all of the sweet touches that you passed around, you were still a hunter, willing to hurt anything that came between you and your family.

He placed a comforting hand on your shoulder and leaned towards you. “Hey. We’re going to be okay, alright? Us and Dean, we’re getting out of here. And that djinn isn’t gonna know what hit him.”

He kept his hand on your shoulder until you finally nodded in agreement, a half smile taking shape on your lips. You took a deep breath and checked the bullets in your gun and the knife hidden in your jacket as Sam checked the knife dipped in lamb’s blood and the colt in his holster one last time.

As you went through your mental checklist, you couldn’t help the bolt of fear that shot through you when you realized that the djinn could have easily killed Dean hours ago.

You shook your head at the thought. Dean was tough, and if the djinn was probably desperate to make his life force last as long as possible.

You shook out your nerves one last time before you straightened up and looked towards Sam. “Alright,” you muttered. “Let’s get this thing.”

The two of you got out of the car quietly before making your way to the door of the warehouse. Sam put a finger to his lips as he tried the door. You both made a face of surprise when the door gave way easily. Sam led the way as you crept inside, hoping against all odds that the rest of the revue would go this smoothly.

But of course, it wouldn’t really be a Winchester hunt if nothing went wrong.

As soon as you and Sam entered the building, you were ambushed by the waiting djinn. With the advantage of surprise on its side, it quickly overpowered Sam and tossed him to the side before it turned its attention toward you.

You cursed under your breath and raised your gun, knowing full well that it and your knife would do nothing to save you, since the plan had been that you would never have to face the djinn. The djinn smiled at your panic, pacing towards you swiftly.

Suddenly, Sam appeared once again behind the djinn. The djinn whirled around and just barely managed to dodge the knife that Sam swung its way.

Sam risked a glance over to you. “Go! Get Dean!”

You nodded, though he had already turned back to face the djinn.

You looked around wildly, hoping for some kind of sign as to where Dean could be. You startled when you heard faint gasping coming from one of the rooms to your right.

Dean. You sighed in relief as you followed the sound. He had probably saved himself from his fantasy world. You shuddered as you remembered what he’d had to do to escape his dream, and started moving faster.

You entered the room cautiously, gun in hand. From your left, a weak voice croaked out your name.

You whirled around to find Dean weak and bound, but utterly alive. You felt tears well up in your eyes as you ran over to him, shoving your gun back in its holster so that you could grab your knife and cut through his bindings.

Dean looked up at you and smiled weakly. “Hey, sweetheart.”

You ignored him, focused solely on setting him free. Your hands were shaking, making it harder to cut through the ropes. Finally, with an extra push, your knife cut through. You dropped it so that you could catch Dean, who slumped forward as soon as he was able to move again.

You slowly lowered the two of you to the ground, allowing him to catch his breath. “Are you okay?” you asked, a slight tremor in your voice.

Dean looked up at you, his eyes soft as he searched your face. “I’m alright.”

His gaze sharpened suddenly, and he looked around the room. “Where’s Sammy?”

Your head snapped over to the door, through which you could hear sounds of a fight. You cursed lightly under your breath as you stood.

Dean moved to stand as well, but you placed your hands on his shoulders and pushed him back lightly. “Stay here,” you ordered. “I’ll help Sam.”

“I’m not gonna-”

“Stay. Here.”

Dean eyed you stubbornly, but seemed to think better of himself, and nodded once for you to go on. He watched as you picked up your knife and handed it to him before you exited the room, jumping straight into the fight.

He sighed and leaned back against the wall behind him. Normally, he wouldn’t have stayed behind, regardless of what you or Sam said. But as he lay still against the wall, he couldn’t help but remember the dream that he’d been forced into.

You, him, and Sam. There’d been no more monsters. No fighting, no war. Just the three of you, living peacefully.

Jess had been there. She and Sam had gotten married, and Sam was the happiest man around. Or maybe not the happiest. Dean himself had been pretty happy too, with you by his side, through sickness and health. Finally free to hug and love each other freely, regardless of who was around.

He smiled as he looked back on it, but immediately broke out of his memory and jerked to attention as he heard footsteps enter the room.

Panic filled his body. Was it the djinn? Had he gotten to you and Sam? He clutched the knife you had given him in his hand, ready to make good use of it.

He heard Sam call out his name, relief filling his body. Dean opened his eyes and stood slowly, smiling at the two hunters watching him with concerned eyes. “Hey, Sammy.”

You heard Sam laugh breathlessly in relief while your eyes raked over Dean’s body, making sure that he wasn’t hiding an injury.

Dean tilted his head slightly, meeting your eyes. “I’m fine. Honest.”

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. You were aware of Sam saying something next to you, but you couldn’t focus on his words, your attention solely on Dean.

When Dean looked over at you again, a small smile on his lips and concern in his eyes, you couldn’t help yourself. You threw down your weapon and ran over, throwing yourself into his arms.

You’d never been hugged like that before.

His arms wound themselves around your body and tightened, pressing you against him. His hands were open, one resting on your shoulder and one on your side, both tugging you closer than you thought possible. His head rested on top of yours, and he murmured reassurances into your ear as he slowly rocked you side to side.

Through it all, you could faintly hear the sound of Sam leaving the room, giving the two of you some space.

When you finally pulled back, Dean’s hands didn’t leave you, instead resting on your hips as he pressed his forehead to yours.

Your hands fluttered between his shoulders, his neck, and his face as you closed your eyes and inhaled a shaky breath. “I thought you were dead.”

Dean chuckled and gave the barest shake of his head, bringing his hands up to rest them on yours where they sat cradling his face. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

You laughed. “Because my life revolves around you?”

“Because then we’d never be able to tell Sam about us.”

You felt your face change, your smile dropping as you stepped away from Dean.

He looked back at you as his arms dropped down to his sides, hurt evident on his face. “What did I do? Are we not…?”

“No!” You exclaimed, shaking your head quickly.

You saw disappointment and shame flit across his features. You shook your head again. “I didn’t mean it like that. I meant…I just…I wasn’t sure.”

“Sure about what?”

“It’s just…” You steeled yourself. “You always pull away from me. I thought maybe you were embarrassed or something. Or maybe you just wanted me to help you feel better-”

Dean’s whole body jerked with surprise and he stepped towards you, arms outstretched. “No, sweetheart, that’s not it at all. I’m just…” He hesitated, only a step away from you as his arms dropped. “I’m not good with mushy gushy crap. You know that.”

You smiled cautiously. “I know. Nothing wrong with that.”

He nodded, unmoving.

You took a step towards him. “Maybe we could…work on it together?”

A smirk crossed his face as he reached an arm around your back and pulled you closer. “Oh, yeah?”

A laugh crossed your lips. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Dean leaned his head down to softly brush his lips against yours. “I know.”

You felt him stiffen as you both heard footsteps re-enter the room, with Sam loudly complaining, “You guys good to go?”

You moved to pull away, muscle memory taking over, when Dean suddenly cupped your face with one hand and pressed his other hand against your back. His eyes searched yours. “Is this okay?”

Your heart was hammering against your chest, the knowledge that what you said could determine your whole relationship with both Winchesters weighing on your brain.

You heard Sam’s footsteps moving closer and smiled breathlessly. “Yeah,” you managed to say before he connected his lips to yours.

“Guys,” Sam repeated as he stepped into the room. His eyes landed on the two of you, your hands cupping Dean’s face as he pulled you closer still. He chuckled and turned away, but not before shouting, “It’s about time!”

He could hear Dean telling him where to shove it as he walked away, and he couldn’t help but laugh at the fact that the two of you genuinely believed that nobody had noticed your secret relationship these past two years.

Oh well, he thought to himself. Better late than never.

[cosmicanakin]

picking up the pieces.

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

pairing. dean winchester x female reader.

outline. a heated argument with dean leads to a vulnerable confession of your long-held feelings.

word count. 1546.

warning(s). angst, arguments, implied sexual tension, mild language, season 1 dean, mature themes (nothing too explicit).

authors note. back with a new fic whaaaat?! i recently started rewatching supernatural to mend my broken heart after the season 15 finale… they deserved so much better & just thinking about it pisses me tf off. anyway i was listening to stairway to heaven for hours on end while writing this (that song is my childhood.) enjoooooy!

You stared out the window of the Impala, watching the roads and scenery fly by as Led Zeppelin played softly in the background. The familiar rumble of the engine and the comfort of the leather seats usually provided a sense of peace, but today all you could feel was tension.

You and Dean had gotten into a nasty argument earlier, one that had been brewing for a while now. It was about his careless flirtation with other women, even when you two weren’t officially exclusive. You couldn’t help the feelings you had harbored for him over the years, feelings that only seemed to grow stronger the more time you spent together on the road. And it hurt to see him so freely give his attention and affection to anyone but you.

You tried to push those thoughts aside, to focus on the music and the drive. But it was impossible to ignore the way Dean kept stealing glances in your direction, the way his hand would occasionally graze your thigh in a move that had become comfortable and familiar between the two of you. Each subtle touch sent a jolt of electricity through your body, a painful reminder of what you couldn’t have.

As the familiar chords of the song played on, you closed your eyes and tried to will yourself to sleep, to escape this tense situation, even if just for a little while. But just as you felt yourself starting to drift off, Dean’s hand suddenly landed firmly on your inner thigh, sending your eyes flying open as your heart raced.

Without a word, Dean pulled the Impala over to the side of the road, putting the car in park before turning to face you. The intensity in his green eyes made your breath catch in your throat, and you found yourself unable to look away.

“We need to talk,” he said, his voice low and serious.

You swallowed hard, every fiber of your being telling you to run, to avoid this conversation at all costs. But you knew it was inevitable, that the tension between the two of you had been building for too long to ignore any longer.

“Okay,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

Dean studied you for a moment, his gaze searching your face for something you couldn’t quite decipher. Finally, he let out a heavy sigh and ran a hand through his short, spiky hair.

“Look, I know things have been...tense between us lately,” he began, his eyes never leaving yours. “And I know a lot of that is my fault.”

You opened your mouth to interrupt, to argue that it was his fault, that his reckless flirting had hurt you more than you cared to admit. But he held up a hand, silencing you.

“Please, just let me say this,” he pleaded. “I’m not good at this whole...feelings thing. You know that. But I’ve been thinking a lot about what happened earlier, and I...” He paused, his brow furrowing as he struggled to find the right words.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally, his voice sincere. “I never meant to hurt you, I swear. It’s just...old habits die hard, you know? And I...” He hesitated, his gaze dropping to his hands, which were fidgeting nervously in his lap. “I guess I was...afraid.”

Your eyes widened in surprise at his confession, and you couldn’t help but lean forward slightly, your curiosity piqued.

“Afraid of what, Dean?” you asked softly.

He let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head. “Afraid of this,” he said, gesturing vaguely between the two of you. “Afraid of...of letting myself feel something real, something that could actually last.”

Your heart ached at his words, the raw vulnerability in his voice cutting you deeper than any of his careless flirtations ever could. You knew, deep down, that Dean had been through more than his fair share of pain and loss in his life, and the thought of him being afraid to open himself up to you only made you love him more.

“Dean...” you began, your voice trembling slightly. “I...I had no idea.”

He looked up then, his green eyes meeting yours, and you were struck by the raw emotion you saw there. “I know,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “And that’s my fault. I...I’ve been pushing you away, because I’m scared of what this could be. Of what we could be.”

You felt your heart skip a beat at his words, hope and fear warring within you. “What are you saying, Dean?”you asked, fiddling with your thumbs.

He reached out then, his calloused hand coming to rest on your thigh again, his thumb brushing against it in a gentle caress. “I’m saying that...I care about you, more than I’ve ever cared about anyone. And I’m tired of pretending that I don’t.”

You felt your breath catch in your throat, your eyes flooding with tears as the weight of his words settled over you. “Dean, I...I care about you, too. So much,” you whispered, your voice shaking.

A small, tentative smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and he reached up to gently brush a stray tear from your cheek. “I know,” he murmured. “And that’s what scares me the most.”

You nodded, understanding dawning on you. “Because you’re afraid of losing me, too,” you said softly.

He nodded, his hand moving to cup your face, his thumb caressing your cheek. “Yeah,” he breathed. “I’ve already lost so much in my life, Y/N. I don’t think I could handle losing you, too.”

You leaned into his touch, savoring the warmth and comfort of his hand on your skin. “You won't lose me, Dean,” you whispered. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He studied your face for a long moment, his green eyes boring into yours, before slowly leaning in. Your heart raced as his lips brushed against yours, soft and tentative at first, before deepening into a passionate kiss.

When you finally broke apart, you were both breathing heavily, your foreheads resting against each other. “I love you, Y/N,” Dean murmured, his voice barely audible but you heard him clear as day.

“I love you, too, Dean,” you whisper, your fingers tangling in the short strands of his hair.

For a long moment, the two of you simply sat there, lost in each other’s embrace, the tension and pain of earlier melting away. But then, a thought occurred to you, and you pulled back slightly, your brow furrowing.

“What about Sam?” you asked, your voice tinged with concern. “I mean, we’re on our way to pick him up from Stanford, and I don’t want him to feel...I don’t know, awkward or anything.”

Dean chuckled softly, his thumb tracing the curve of your jaw. “Don’t worry about Sammy,” he said, a mischievous glint in his eye. “He’s been rooting for us to get our heads out of our asses for years.”

You couldn't help but laugh at that, the tension in your shoulders finally starting to ease. “I should have known,” you said, shaking your head in amusement.

Dean grinned, pulling you in for another kiss, this one deeper and more passionate than the last. When you finally broke apart, you were both breathless again, your hearts racing.

“So, what does this mean for us?” you asked, your voice soft and uncertain.

Dean's expression turned serious, his hand moving to intertwine with yours. “It means that I’m all in, Y/N,” he said, his voice low and sincere. “No more flirting with other women, no more pushing you away. I want this, us, more than anything.”

You felt your heart swell with emotion, tears of joy threatening to spill over. “Me too, Dean,” you whispered, squeezing his hand gently. “I’m in, too.”

He smiled then, a genuine, warm smile that lit up his entire face, and you couldn't help but lean in and kiss him again, savoring the feeling of his lips on yours, the warmth of his body against yours.

As you pulled apart, Dean’s expression turned mischievous once more. “So, what do you say we give Sammy another day and find us a nice, secluded spot to...celebrate?" he asked wiggling his brows, a hint of suggestiveness in his tone.

You couldn’t help but laugh at what you were hearing, playfully swatting his arm. “Dean Winchester, you are such a hornball,” you teased.

He grinned, his grip on your hand tightening. “Maybe so, but you love me anyway,” he said, his voice filled with a quiet confidence that made your heart flutter.

“That I do,” you murmured, leaning in to kiss him once more.

As the Impala rumbled back to life and Dean guided the car back onto the open road, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of peace and contentment wash over you. The tension and hurt of earlier had been replaced by a deep, abiding love and trust, and you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you and Dean would face them together.

You nestled closer to Dean as he drove, your hand still intertwined with his, and Stairway to Heaven filling the air, you closed your eyes and allowed yourself to bask in the feeling of pure, unadulterated happiness.

[octoberclidan]

Being With Dean

Request: Can you write some smutty head canons about dean, I love your work btw ☺️

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Masterlist

Note: These are 18+. Don't read them if you're under 18.

Headcannons:

Dean takes every opportunity to have his hands on you. Whether that's your waist, your ass, or just holding your hand, he wants that physical touch.

He wants people to know you're his. He's possessive, and protective, and if he catches another man flirting with you, he'll wrap his arm around you and whisper a 'mine' in your ear. Not that you need reminding.

He likes taking you out on car rides in the evenings during the summer. He keeps a hand on your thigh, squeezing every so often and smirking as he slides his hand up, feeling you squirm.

Dean's favourite place to fuck you is in a motel room right after a hunt, getting all of the adrenaline out. On nights like those, he's desperate for you, to touch you, to be inside you, to kiss and lick and bite you. He wants to make you scream his name, and he doesn't care who hears you. You can't get enough nights like those.

His is favourite place to make love to you is in the back of the Impala. He keeps a small pillow and a blanket in the back, and he likes finding secluded areas with nice views to take you to. He'll make out with you for a long time before he starts taking your clothes off. He likes taking his time with you, making sure no inch of your body goes without his attention. It can be a bit cramped in there, but he thinks it just adds to the intimacy. He likes the way the car creaks as he rocks into you, or as you ride him.

Dean is obsessed with your neck. He loves coming up behind you while you're washing dishes in the bunker, sliding his hands around your waist, and leaning down to kiss your neck. He likes to scrape his teeth against it, and he loves mumbling dirty thoughts against your neck in between kisses.

He just wants his mouth on your skin. He'll kiss you anywhere, but his favourite places after your neck are the insides of your thighs, your lips, your stomach, oh, and he loves swirling his tongue around your nipples.

He's got a praise kink. Both giving and receiving. He'll tell you how beautiful you are every morning, and he'll tell you how hot you are as he's worshipping your body. He likes telling you how well you take him, and he likes reassuring you and caressing your cheek when you pleasure him. He falls apart when you praise him. When you tell him that what he's doing is perfect, he blushes. When you compliment his body, he just wants to gather you up in his arms and kiss you. You're the only one who can make him blush.

He's a big fan of lazy morning sex. There's no better start to his day than waking up to you in his arms, your back against his chest as he spoons you. He wakes you up by kissing your neck, and he smiles as you spread your legs for him in invitation. He'll slide a hand down and lazily feel your arousal, before thrusting into you from behind. It's slow, it fills the room with moans from both of you, and you grip his arm that's firmly wrapped around your stomach as you feel your orgasm start to build.

You always come first. He likes making sure that you're satisfied before he lets himself go. He knows your body, he knows everything he needs to do to make your eyes roll back, to blur your vision, to make your ears ring. Only then will he allow himself to finish.

He's never admitted it, but you both know that he likes the cuddling just as much as he likes the sex. There's no better end to a day for Dean than fucking you, then laying on his back and pulling you on top of him so he can stroke your back until you fall asleep.

Dean Winchester taglist: @123passwort @janineb86 @k-slla @lyarr24 @candy-coated-misery0731 @jackles010378 @hobby27 @pizzagirlxnsfwx @itburnslikehelltobevega @queenie32 @livingdead-reilly @vmaier12 @littlemadamred @darthysfanfic @dramatic-long-coats @kr804573 @cutiesarah01-blog @suckitands33

[hauntedwitch04]

Baby

Words: about 3k words

Warnings: smut, daddy/baby kink, DEAN FUCKING WINCHESTER (yes he is a warning himself because he is damn hot)

Author’s note: Hi loves! Here the second day of my kinktober. I enjoyed writing this so much. I love Dean and I love the idea of him into dirty talking so, you are welcome ;)

Requests are open I Ask

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KINKTOBER ...........-..........KINKTOBER TAGLIST 2023

DAY 2: Dirty talking

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Do you like it baby?" Dean says as he looks at one of the loves of his life. With one hand he touches her gently, and whispers a few more compliments. The scene that paints itself before you is awkward, to say the least.

You can't help but snort as you watch your boyfriend "make love" with his car again. Feeling observed Dean immediately turns and looks at you, not immediately understanding what is wrong.

"Are you okay?" Seeing your face, which at the moment was not exactly the picture of happiness. You, unable to bear that situation any longer, get up from the garage counter on which you were sitting and quickly leave.

"Hey, baby, where are you going?" asks Dean following you, not understanding the reason for your discouragement.

Upon hearing that per name, fury ignites in you like a match that quickly sets a whole unsafe building made of ruined playing cards on fire. You turn toward him, anger erupting inside you, as he looks at you shocked.

"Don't even try to call me by that name Winchester! First you call your fucking car that and then your girlfriend! Are you kidding! I'm worth less than that piece of junk! If that's the case you might as well stop looking for me because you and I are done!" You scream shocking both Dean and you. When you finish an awkward silence falls between you, to say the least, so you quickly run to our room, and lock yourself in, too embarrassed to confront Dean right now about what you had said a few seconds ago. Slowly you make your way to your bed and sit down, thinking again about what had come out of your mouth. It had never occurred to you to yell like that at the oldest Winchester man, even before we started dating and were just two friends-enemies at work.

Inside you know you're a little sorry you said those things about Baby, after all, you love that car too and along with Dean and Sam, you have many of your fondest memories with them inside that car, but today has been a particularly heavy and difficult day for you, because all day long, since this morning, you've been craving to make love to Dean. You feel your cheeks immediately get hot at the idea of what you've been wanting to do to your boyfriend well since this morning, before being interrupted by Castiel, due to an emergency.

You had tried to forget the wet feeling in your panties, hoping that by merely passing time, your desire would subside until this evening, but instead seeing him move in his workshop had only inflamed even more the passion I already felt inside you.

You know you were wrong to yell at him like that, but at that moment I felt like I was going crazy, and you just wanted him to look at you and read in your eyes everything you wanted to do with him, instead of just looking at the car. For more than half an hour you had been thinking of all the ways he could take you on the hood of that car, and he was just thinking about how to polish it better. You're a little shocked by this fact because usually the one of the two of you who is usually the more resourceful in these things is him, and not you, and yet it looks like Dean Winchester had become a priest today.

You realize you are lost in your thoughts when you hear someone knocking at the door, already knowing who it was.

"Come in." You say in a whisper, so softly you're surprised I heard you, and yet, the door opens and shows your Dean in all his glory.

"Ehy" He says in an unsure voice as he looks at you waiting for your answer. You see pain shining in his eyes, from what you had said earlier probably, and immediately you feel guilty. You look into his eyes and wave to him to come and sit next to you. He pauses for a moment before doing what you had told him.

As soon as he rests on the bed you feel the warmth of his body immediately warm me, and unconsciously you move closer to him seeking comfort.

"Sorry" You say at the same time, and then look up and stare into each other's eyes and let a light laugh break free, and lighten the air a little.

"I'll start." Dean affirms and then takes a deep breath and begins to speak. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize how I was neglecting you, and I know I'm a dickhead and for that I apologize. I promise I will look at my car less and commit to doing more things with you that you enjoy. But you must promise me that next time you will tell me sooner if something bothers you and not just after so long. I love you and I want you to be okay, I don't want you to suffer anyway, and I don't want to be the cause of your discouragement especially, so please talk to me." He concludes the talk as he takes your hands and leaves a sweet kiss on both of them.

Again a wave of guilt makes its way inside you, as with your right hand I take his chin and again cause his gaze to rest in your eyes.

"You are not the one who should apologize. The fault is really only mine. Of course I would like you to look at Baby less, but I understand what it means to you, and I enjoy spending time with you fixing it and getting to know it. Today your car has been nothing more than the innocent victim of my anger and impatience." You confess, as you gently caress his cheek with your other free hand. He immediately places his face in your palm and enjoys that contact as he frowns.

"What made you so angry?" He asks curiously, before changing his expression and becoming very frightened. "Is it something I did?" He asks fearfully, and you shake your head slightly amused.

"You didn't do anything." You say, lowering your gaze. "On the contrary, it's something you didn't do." You continue in a low voice, thinking he doesn't hear you, but as always luck is not on your side and he looks at you even more confused, trying to understand the meaning of your words, like a puppy learning commands for the first time.

"What wouldn't I have done love? If you try to explain, I might find a solution. "He says, trying to be convincing, but immediately you feel your cheeks get hot and you imagine you have turned the color of a bell pepper. You stammer incomprehensible explanations for a few minutes before taking a big breath closing your eyes and deciding that the omelette was now done. You close your eyes before opening them again and looking down at your hands, while in a low voice you confess to Dean what seems to be your biggest secret.

"Do you remember this morning when Castiel arrived?" You ask unsure, not looking at him. He takes your hands and tries to lower himself to meet your gaze.

"Of course I remember." Responds the older Winchester, not understanding where this speech is actually going.

"Well, do you also happen to remember what we were doing before Castiel came along?" You go on in a whisper, thinking more and more that it was the wrong idea. He pauses for a moment, trying to bring back the images of this morning, not understanding what you are referring to. Then, like lightning in a clear sky, an image appears before his eyes.

You lying under him as he kissed your neck and you moaning his name like a prayer. His hand was under your shirt and was caressing your breasts, while he was positioned between your legs, making sure that you felt his presence in the most sensitive spot on your body. Remembering that scene, everything immediately seems to make sense now in Dean's mind and like a puzzle everything seems to take on a sensible shape.

You meanwhile had looked up, sensing this important silence on his part, and now as you are staring at him, you notice that his usual little mocking smile seems to be forming on his lips, and you realize that he now knows, too.

Dean slowly approaches you, before moving your hair away from your neck with a hand gesture as light as a gentle gust of spring wind. Soon after, you feel his lips settle, light as a butterfly on a flower, on your neck. You cannot help but let out a silent moan as you feel every muscle in your body relax and melt under his touch, as you close your eyes, enjoying the pleasure of that moment. You bend your neck slightly, giving him the chance to have access to more skin, and so he slowly begins to leave a trail of kisses along every inch of your skin, until satisfied with his work he pulls away, licking his now red and swollen plump lips, to go whisper something in your ear. At the loss of that contact you let a soft moan escape your lips, and you hear him smile against your ear as he strokes your face with his hand.

"Is my poor little girl sad because this morning Daddy didn't finish what he started? Were you in such a bad mood because you didn't get my cock? Oh poor my needy little girl." Dean whispers in your ear as he takes your earlobe between his lips. You can't help but moan, not caring that either Sam or Castiel could come in at any moment. You immediately feel your panties get wet, just hearing his words. The hunter's hand travels and passes from your face, to caress your breasts over your shirt, to pass over your belly and finally reach the beating heart of your pleasure. With an expert gesture he gets his hand into your pants, which even you cannot understand how he managed to do it, but the only thing you know is that within seconds you feel his fingers caressing your pussy. You just repeat his name like a mantra, as if it were the only certain thing in your mind clouded by the pleasure he is giving you, just with that simple gesture and his words.

"Oh feel how wet you are baby. You like what I'm doing to you, don't you? Do you like it when I talk dirty to you?" he asks, but you can't answer, so you just nod, but he, not satisfied with your answer, withdraws his fingers and brings them to his mouth, sucking on them as if they were the tastiest lollipop he's ever tasted, so much so that you let out a moan of approval.

You look at him and immediately can't help but let another involuntary sound escape from your mouth of pleasure at seeing him perform that impure act. He looks at you smiling and brings his fingers back into your pussy to collect some more of your fluids, and this time when he takes his hand away, he rests his fingers on your lips, and with his piercing green eyes he stares straight into your eyes.

"Suck baby, I want you too to know how good your pussy is." He says, in a rough and sensual tone, so keeping your gaze fixed in his eyes, you wrap his fingers between your lips and begin to suck lightly, to increase more and more the eagerness with which you do it. He cannot help but be pleased as he watches you. You feel by now that a lake has formed in your panties, so you let go of his fingers, and ask him in a whisper.

"Please Dean, I need more." You beg him, as you begin to undo his pants with one hand. He immediately stops you, laying his large rough hand on yours, while the other takes your face in his hands and brings your eyes back to his.

"What do you want baby? You have to tell me, or how can I give it to you." He says, with a mocking smile plastered on his face. You blush again, as you gather your courage.

"I-I need you Dean." You say at the end, finding no other words to say it.

"Oh my little girl is embarrassed? Is she afraid to say she wants my cock inside her? You don't have to be ashamed baby, if that's what you want you'll get it, but you have to tell Daddy well what you want first." He explains as he slowly strips you of the various garments you are wearing. First he takes off your T-shirt, then your pants, next he moves on to your bra and last your panties, letting the cold air of the room come in contact with your warm center, making you shiver, and making your mind unable to think of anything else but him fucking you so hard that he slams the headboard of the bed into the wall, so hard that it leaves its mark. You look at him begging him not to humiliate you like that, but you know deep down you like it when he talks like that, and he knows it too so he lets you go.

"Please Daddy, I need your big cock inside my little pussy. I need you to fuck hard just the way you know how, please Daddy." You beg him as again you start to undo his pants, but this time he doesn't stop you and lets you do it, smiling contentedly.

"That's right, my little girl needs to be fucked every day or she goes into withdrawal, doesn't she baby?" He says, as he watches you wrap your lips around his member and can't help but moan at that scene.

"That's right baby, you're great. You like sucking my cock, don't you?" He asks as he gathers all your hair into a messy tail, imposing the rhythm he likes best. You nod, trying not to choke, and he can't help but smile in satisfaction. "You like it when I talk to you like that, don't you, baby? I bet if I stuck two fingers in your tight pussy now this one would be all wet and hot the way I like it."

"Dean please I need you." You beg him at last, pulling away from him slightly. The man nods and as if you weighed nothing he throws you down on the bed. By now you are both naked, you feel his body on yours and can't help but draw him closer to you. You feel his cock brushing against your entrance, when with a firm gesture he enters you, making you both scream with pleasure.

"Oh God, baby, I swear I could live inside this pussy. You'd like that, wouldn't you? Having my cock inside you all the time, ready to fuck you whenever I want." Dean moans close to your ear as he continues to move inside you with firm, fast thrusts, not letting you have even a second to rest. You feel your body vibrate with pleasure as sounds come out of your mouth that you can no longer control. Your hands grip the covers of the bed tightly as you bite Dean's shoulder hard, trying to wake up anyone within a five-mile radius.

By now you can no longer conceive the conception of time, everything seems confused, and the only thing you understand is that you are getting closer and closer to your orgasm. Your hands move to the back of the man on top of you, scratching his entire back.

"Dean, please don't stop." You whisper in his ear, before tossing your head back, praying that he won't play with you and let you achieve pleasure.

"My baby girl is about to have the orgasm she so longed for. You want to come on top of my cock baby, don't you? God I could come just imagining your pussy clenching around my cock." He replies, as he increases the speed to help you achieve what you so longed for.

"Dean- Fuck, I'm cumming." You scream, reaching for the pleasure. You close your eyes, and for a moment you really feel like you are touching heaven with your finger. Your whole body quivers and can't stop stopping, and you only manage to return to your body after a few minutes.

In the meantime, he had made a few more movements, fast and bumpy, and had reached orgasm as well. You spent a few moments still, catching your breath, Dean lying on top of you, before moving to your side on the bed and surrounding you with his arms.

You spend a few minutes like this, enjoying the silence that hovers like a comfortable blanket over your bodies after that moment of passion, before Dean ruins, as is his wont, that moment.

"Honey, are you really jealous of my car?" He asks, in what sounds like a serious tone to you, so you turn to face him, but he continues. "Because you know I love that car, but you're definitely the one with the best body." He says, winking at you. "Should I start calling you my little race car?"

"Dean, one more word and I swear I'll cut your balls off."

"Received message."

TAGLSIT

@river-rat69 @ladysparkles78 @samanddeansannoyingsis @ash04w3 @l3viathanpup @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @that1nerd20 @the-house-of-rose-and-ember @hi-my-name-is-riley @shodowbane09 @supernatural-lvr

[lovelytsunoda]

954 // logan sargeant

summary: florida man fucks shy college girl. or, back home in fort lauderdale y/n’s welcome home party is sabotaged by her race winner brother, and it gives her a bit of a complex. at least her brothers best friend is there to make her feel better about it.

pairing: logan sargeant x female kirkwood! reader

warnings: straight up smut, kyle kirkwood is a lot to handle in large doses (but we love him anyways), feelings of anxiety, minor sibling rivalry, body image issues. i am going to hell, littered with spelling mistakes because of how fast I was typing and pure laziness to go back and fix it

author's note: 954 is the area code for fort lauderdale. and technically kyle kirkwood lives in jupiter, but for the sake of the story let's pretend he's also from lauderdale.

she sat at the edge of the pier, jeans rolled up past her shins as she started off into the horizon, watching the sun dip below the ocean line.

“it’s your party, what are you doing out here alone?”

she rolled her eyes, pulling her feet out of the water before following the voice. “why do you think? kyle hijacked it. I’m back home for less than a day and he’s already stealing the spotlight again.”

that was the way it always went in the kirkwood household: y/n came home from school, and everything was great, and then kyle waltzes in and suddenly everything is about him again.

logan shook his head, settling onto the pier next to her, a gentle hand resting on her thigh. she shrugged it off, anxiously twisting one of the rings on her hand.

“you know he doesn’t do it on purpose, right?” logan soothed “he loves you, and he hates that you feel like this.”

“i know. the inferiority complex is all me.”

“it’s not a complex, and your feelings are valid.”

she shook her head. “everyone tells me i shouldn’t have quit karting. even when it made me hate myself.”

she sighed, laying down on the pier, worn wood scratching at her skin, but not splintering against her baby pink tank top. “what am I doing with my life, logan?”

“hey, look at me.” logan encouraged, fingertips against her chin to angle her face towards him. “you are doing great things. deans list every semester, you’re a great artist and I’d be shocked if firms weren’t lining up to hire you as a litigator.”

“you’re just saying that.” she refused to meet his eyes. logan was kyles best friend, for god sakes. she’d crumble under his stare, his touch.

“but I’m not.” logan insisted, gripping her face now, making her look at him. she needed to know how wonderful she was, and he was going to be the one to tel her. “you are smart and funny and all kinds of wonderful, kirkwood. any guy would be lucky to have you, and anyone else should consider themselves blessed to have you as a friend.”

“you really mean that?”

“why would I lie to you, y/n?”

she barely had time to respond before logans lips were on hers. she was hesitant at first, unsure if logan really knew what he was doing. unsure if he was really kissing her because he wanted to or because he pitied her.

the intrusive thoughts didn’t stay long, however, as she snapped to attention and moved her lips against his, wrapping her body around his.

“jesus.” logan breathed. “those jeans make your ass look incredible. well, your ass always looks incredible, but these jeans are really doing it for me.”

she laughed at how red logan's face was, a shade that looked more salmon under the sunset. the pier was digging into her skin, and she was starting to get uncomfortable, logan's lips along her neck not quite enough to distract from the discomfort of what she was sure would become a splinter if their activities were not relocated.

somehow they made it to her bedroom without being discovered by the partygoers, much less kyle. the fairy lights tacked to her dusty pink walls were the only light in the room as logan backed her up against her bookshelf, securely caging her body against his.

she felt safe in logan's arms. protected.

"i've been crazy about you for years now." logan growled in between kisses. "every night i came over to watch panthers games with your brother, and you were there in those tight little jean shorts, laughing and giggling with your friends. or when i'd stay the night and you'd walk past his bedroom door to get to the bathroom in the middle of the night, your skimpy silk top falling down your shoulder just enough to give me a taste of your gorgeous body. do you know how many times i've jerked off to the thought of you in kyle's bathroom? you're stunning, y/n. don't let anybody tell you otherwise."

her mind was reeling, and she couldn't find the proper words as she tugged at the collar of logan's button down shirt, pressing her lips back to his. logan sargeant was interested in her.

logan saw her for her, not just as kyle kirkwood's baby sister.

clothes were shed, buttons ripped off shirts. her head was spinning, elated and giddy and she couldn't find the words to tell logan how incredible she felt as his large hands squeezed her breasts over the mesh padding of her bralette.

she gasped, logan taking that chance to slip his tongue into her mouth, his fingers grappling for the clasp on her bra.

all at once, reality came crashing back down on her. she pulled away, hands flying up to cover her exposed breasts as the pale fabric tumbled to the hardwood floor.

she wouldn't meet logan's eyes, scared to know what he thought of her naked body. scared to see him stare at her and not know what he was thinking.

his eyes softened, the lust drawing back as concern seeped in to his irises. "y/n, pretty girl, you don't need to hide yourself around me. who made you think that you weren't sexy as all hell? i never want you feel like you have to be shy around me."

he gently gripped her arms, guiding her towards the wall length mirror hanging on the back of the ensuite door. logan stood behind her, lifting her chin so that she would meet his eyes in the mirror. placing his hands over hers, he gently pulled her palms off her breasts, exposing her bare torso to the soft lighting in the room.

"look at you beautiful you are, y/n. i'm serious."

"you're just saying that so you can get your dick wet." even as she said it, she knew it didn't sound like she meant it.

but even still, staring at herself in the mirror, all she could focus on was the way that she looked: the stretch marks on her breasts, the smattering of freckles up her arms (or were they moles, like the two on her back?).

"what will it take to show you how sexy you are, y/n?" logan rasped, undoing the button on her jeans. "should i make you watch yourself as i touch you?"

"yeah." her voice was shaky. "i think you should show me how sexy i am. clearly, i need reminding." where was this sudden boldness coming from?

"that;s my sexy, shy girl." logan cooed, tugging her jeans down her legs, kissing over her ass and down her leg before coming back up, eyes hungry at the sight of the young woman in front of him, panties hiked high on her hips and fairly see through as he slipped a hand over teh fabric and between her legs, teasing at the dampness beginning to form.

she gasped as logan slicked up his fingers, slipping them inside of her in one swift movement, working around the fabric of her cheeky panties. she was breathing hard, biting her bottom lip as she took in the sight in the mirror: logan's fingers flexing in and out of her, arousal running over his pale skin, his face contorted in concentration as he growled down her ear, telling her how tight she felt, and how good she was for him.

her own skin was rosy and flushed, a sheen of sweat beginning ro form as she felt her body heating up. there was something sinful about watching herself in the mirror, finally allowing herself to let loose a moan.

"that's my girl. don't get shy on me now, i want to know that you feel as good as i do." logan groaned, sucking on her neck. "touch me, baby. i know you want to. feel how fucking hard i am for you."

she loosened her grip on logan's wrist, internally grinning at the nail marks that she left behind in his skin before slipping an arm behind her, cupping his bulge in her hand.

she was floored. she knew logan was big (she could always see the outline in his swim shorts, forcing herself to stop staring before he noticed) but knowing that she had this effect on him?

it was a powerful thing.

"jesus, logan." she whined. "i need it inside of me."

logan's eyes sparkled. "what do you need inside of you, sweetheart? i need you to say it for me." he started pumping his fingers faster, his other hand moving to fondle her left breast, tweaking the rosy bud of her nipple between his fingers.

she sighed heavily, feeling her legs turn mushy as she leaned back against logan. "need your cock." she mumbled, unsure if she could speak any louder.

"what was that, darling? don't be shy now, i can't give you what you need if you don't tell me, love."

fuck you, she thought, biting her lip hard enough to draw blood. she was clenching around his fingers now, unsure of hoe much longer she'd be able to last. but she needed him inside of her, felt like she might die if he wasn't.

"your cock!" she shouted. "please, logan, i need your big cock inside me, please, god, i need it."

why did she say that? she should never have said that. it made her sound desperate. but in a way, she was desperate, wasn't she?

logans fingers stopped their ministrations, pulling out of her and taking a trail of her juices with them. she thought her eyes were going to roll back in her head before logan laid her down on her queen bed, her hair fanning out behind her as he started to undo his jeans, resort shirt still hanging off his frame, face flushed and covered in a sheen of sweat as he licked her arousal off his fingers.

"do you have condoms, kirkwood? because i really don't want to have to go digging for them in kyle's room."

"please don't talk about my brother when i want you to fuck my brains out."

logan smirked. "not so shy now, are we, my sexy girl."

"shut up! go the ensuite, top vanity drawer on the left. you literally cannot miss the box."

she could have laughed, lying back on the bed and kicking off her panties as logan ran, half naked and dropping his resort shirt behind him, to the ensuite.

he stumbled back, tripping over discarded clothes and the fluffy carpet, triumphantly holding the box above his head.

"the whole box? how much do you think you're getting tonight, sarge?"

logan raised an eyebrow. "call me that, and i'm going to make you forget how shy you are and have you scream my name all night long."

[samdeancrimespree]

there’s something about wincest in the pre-slash era (whenever that is) where i think the dynamic is: one of them does not have sex with men. doesn’t think of them that way, because it feels too dangerous, too easy to slip into those fantasies he keeps locked away. and the other one fucks guys, but only ones who are eerily similar, carbon copies to his brother. the type of resemblance that would turn most siblings off. and the roles could go either way, for either of them. just… the dynamics of the different types of desperate “unrequited” feelings and the way they try to get away from them.

like. dean getting drunk and making out with some tall, long haired guy at a bar. nasty desperate hands down the back of the guys jeans, stifling a sigh that his ass isn’t quite round enough to be sam’s. he has blue eyes, not brown, but dean isn’t looking at his face anyway. fucking not-sam rough in the back of the impala, moaning baby and cutting off before brother, saying sam’s name when he cums, trying not to stare at the army figure in the ashtray. hating himself for it, swearing off it, but always crawling back, chasing the high like an addict. feeling deep in his soul that sam was right to leave, that he’s better off without his sick freak of a brother.

sam being into girls with short hair, accidentally hitting on lesbians because he struggles to be attracted to anything not wearing a crew cut, flannel and work boots. he’s sick, he knows, that’s part of why he had to leave. frosh week drunk, he lets a guy flirt with him, because he’s just tall enough, just different enough, that sam can give himself plausible deniability. his lips are too thin, he’s too gentle, he smells like axe and fake leather, but sam needs something, and this is all he can get. it’s going fine, until the guy— too late now to ask his name— goes for sam’s belt and sam feels like he’s going to puke. the wrongness of it comes over him all at once, like a fever or a hex. clarity pierces his drunken state: not dean’s hands, not dean’s voice, not dean, wrong. at least it gives him an excuse to back out, a good reason to lock himself in the bathroom and sit on the floor, trying to determine if the dry heaving is cheap beer or grief.

girls are— safe. long hair, soft hands, sweet and gentle and nowhere close to 6’1. this way, there’s nothing reminding sam of the absence, nothing pushing against the barrier he’s made around what he really wants. he can be normal.

he knows it’s dean after the first strike, knows his footsteps and his breath and the outline of his shoulders, even now, even in the dark. but sam doesn’t stop fighting, because he’ll have to stop touching dean, and sam can allow himself this one thing, after so long. dean’s leather jacket on sam’s bare arms is making him dizzy, and sam lets dean take him down, the beginning and end of sam’s understanding of desire. a reminder, familiar like dean’s rough palms on his wrists, his weight pinning sam, his shit-eating grin and drawled easy, tiger; sam has never been normal.

[all-alone-he-turns-to-stone]

Messy Eating

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Summary: Dean’s messy. Whenever he eats, it always falls everywhere on the table, on his chin, on his fingers… It was all fine, until it wasn't. Until that hunt with only you and him. Until jealousy and anger mixed with pie and sexual tension.

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F!Reader

Word count: 7202

Warning: Smut, unprotected sex, fingering, p in v, hickeys, lots of finger sucking, food play, messy eating, bit of angst, minor injury

Square filled:  finger sucking for @spnkinkbingo​

A/n: Here it is! I wrote that one a while ago but never posted it for some reason... I think I didn’t think it was good enough. But I read it again today and it’s so much better than what i do now, which is nothing cause of my writer block xD anyway, enjoy!

“You’re messy.”

It always started the same.

The day started normally. You got up, the second after Sam but before Dean. As you walked into the kitchen, the smell of coffee greeted you with a good morning from the youngest Winchester making lunch. Since you've been living with them, you've never seen Sam miss a single breakfast cooking surprise.

Around the time of your sixth sip of coffee, the bacon roasting in the pan, Dean arrived still half asleep. He poured himself a cup of coffee, complimenting the delicious smell of bacon and how his brother knew him so well, making him his favorite meal every morning.

Then he ate.

The fat from the bacon trickled down his chin as he took a too big mouthful, his tongue struggling to get it all back in his mouth. Crumbs fell on his plate like leaves in autumn, always surprising you how badly he could eat.

Since it clearly was not going to fit in his mouth by itself, Dean used his fingers, pushing the escaping food back inside.

The fat trickled down his fingers as he did so, slowly, it traced the outline of his digits to land in his palms and also between his knuckles… Like a fucking delicious porno… And that was when your day turned into a nightmare. A nightmare filled with dirty thoughts, heat mounting between your legs, wetness flooding your panties.

Dean had big hands, nothing more than normal with how tall he was. Over six feet of muscle and sheer beauty to the eyes. Sam also had big hands. But Dean’s fingers… Dean's fingers were thick, long, large and blunt and from having touched them once or twice during hunts or when you had to bandage bruised knuckles, you knew they were warm, strong and soft to the touch, yet rough from his years of work and hunting. 

And then you would start picturing them everywhere on your body, squeezing your flesh, your throat, sliding between your folds…

Fingering you…

And then you, sucking them clean- Him fucking your mouth with his fingers, taping at your tongue cirling them, praising how good of a cocksucker you’ll be when he’ll allow you to have his cock in your mouth-

“You're so messy,” you repeated, tearing your eyes from his fingers now glistening with grease under the neon lights in the kitchen. Christ, you couldn’t keep doing that, picturing every single utility of his fingers, not when Dean and Sam were in the same room! Faking a disgusted face, you hoped neither of the brothers noticed the truth behind your comment. I'm turned on by those fucking fingers, again!

It was unfair, so fucking unfair. Dean was single, you knew that very well. He really enjoyed having fun with women, that too you were sure, you had seen him leave bars more than once with a well-fitted bimbo.

And meanwhile, there was you, Y/n Y/l/n, a hunter-in-training who accompanied the Winchesters on hunts to learn and fix whatever injury they would get. Little Y/n who never left bars with anyone and always watched the dream on two bow legs leave with a different person every night.

It was so unfair when he was so close, but yet so far to you. It was unfair how you wanted him but were too shy and hesitant to do the first step, scared of rejection and how it could ruin your relationship with him.

Clearly, there was something more than friendship you felt for the green-eyed hunter. At first you thought it was only admiration and a little crush, after all, he was a very hot and beautiful man, but then… It grew up. More. And more. And recently those feelings, if you could call them that, had taken a turn… In the most uncomfortable craving way. It wasn't just that you loved the girth of his fingers or his tongues licking their lengths, or his lips wrapping around his digits… 

It was worse than that.

His hands. His fucking fingers. You would catch yourself staring at them for long periods of time now. As he cleaned his guns, washed the dishes, or passed them against his face or through his hair. You stared at his hands all the time, so much it hurt your focus during hunts.

When you couldn't watch them, you were imagining them. Alone in your room, your hands buried in your panties, fingering yourself at the thought of him. Picturing his thick fingers instead of yours as you touched yourself… So lost in that fantasy you could almost hear his growls and feel the warmth of his body against you on the bed-

And at first, masturbating while thinking about Dean managed to lower down your needs enough to be in the same room as him. Okay, looking him in the eyes was still impossible, and the first few times you were so embarrassed, like he knew, and you had to leave immediately, but your core wasn't burning up anymore in the mere presence of him. But then, it wasn't enough. Thinking about him, about his hands, about his lips… It didn’t do it anymore, it didn’t fill the need or satiate your arousal.

The worst was when he ate. It was like no one taught him table etiquette, or that he was doing it on purpose to make you fucking horny. Food would trickle down his fingers like an invitation, any sauce, grease, jelly, cream… It drove you so fucking crazy!

“Can't help it when it's that good,” Dean muttered with his mouth full, bringing you back to the present. “Delicious,” he purred, and suddenly, it was like he knew. You were sure he heard your thoughts, that’s it, Dean’s a mind reader. Because next thing he did was put his fingers in his mouth. One at a time, slowly, he sucked his fingers clean.

Dean started with his thumb. He put the larger digits in his mouth and sucked it clean, the skin glistening with saliva, an adventurous droll of spit still linking his lips to it. For the index, he did the same, but then, there was still grease left between two fingers, so he had to use his tongue… Sliding perfectly in the tight, narrow space. For the remaining fingers, he licked them up like lolipop, from the bottom to the top, humming and moaning his approval at the taste.

You were dripping. You could feel it, the warm puddle between your legs was growing intensely as he finished cleaning his hand. Melting on the chair at the fucking sight.

And when the right hand was done, he licked his lips, eyes wide with the pleasure of the taste, stared at his left hand and… started licking it.

Under the table, your legs closed together. In the useless attempt to release some tension, you rubbed them together, trying to find some friction, but when a moan almost escaped you, you knew you had to leave. “Excuse me,” you suddenly got up, not even touching your breakfast and leaving your coffee on the table. Sam looked at you questioningly, but you barely acknowledged him before you almost ran out of the kitchen.

Now in the security of your room, the door locked, you quickly stripped off your pajama pants and panties to look at the damage.

Yeah, it was a close one.

And now you were so horny, you couldn’t leave it like that. You had two choices. Rub one out, hoping you could be fast and silent enough for the Winchesters to not notice, or take a freezing shower to cool out your head.

“Y/n, dress up, Sam found a case!”

His voice alone had powers over you, even when he was saying the most normal of things. Because, again, your imagination drove the wild route, and you started to imagine him giving you orders and dirty talking to you- that mouth was made for sins after all.

“Gimme 10 minutes!” It took a couple of tries, but you could actually manage to answer without missing a single word. 

Cold shower it is.

-

That was mostly what you had to go through every day. 

It couldn’t continue like that, it was now not only uncomfortable because of your inadequate arousal, but also because jealousy was starting to break your heart. But what could you do? Tell him? No way.

10 minutes later, you were ready to go on the hunt that Sam had found. It didn't look very complicated, mysterious disappearances, all the victims had been in the same building, cold spots, most likely a ghost.

You were waiting for Sam and Dean by the car when the green-eyed hunter entered the garage, his bag on his shoulder. "Hop in sweetheart, you're riding shotgun."

A crooked smile tugged his perfect lips as his perfect arms tucked his bag into the trunk of his perfect car. "Sam will sit in the back?" You asked, opening the door to sit in front, Dean sitting next to you. Usually, for Sam’s gigantic legs, he had to be in the front and you in the back, so this was new. 

The immediate proximity with Dean gave you a heat stroke that took your breath away for a moment. Wait, how do we breathe again? Why is my heart reacting like this? It's not normal, usually I can at least breathe! Don’t look at him, you’ll look weird, you are weird, stop!

Your eyes fell on his hands on the steering wheel despite your mind just ordering your body not to look at him. His thick fingers played with the key before inserting it into the ignition. Ah, yes, to breathe, I have to inhale. Okay, I can do it. You let the air enter your lungs through your nose, but it only made things worse when his perfect scent reached your senses. Fucking perfect he smell divine.

And now his scent was already all over the habitacle.

Dean twisted the key and the engine purred its sweet melody. "No need, it's just you and me today," he simply announced. As if he had just announced a discount at the grocery store.

"What?" Your voice came out sharp and a little broken, like a seagull being strangled. Your eyes searched for him as he shifted the gear into reverse, the garage door opening behind you.

"Don't worry, you'll be fine." He patted your thigh as he said this, green eyes glancing your way slightly. Your whole body stiffened at the sight and touch of his large warm hand on your body. “You're ready for a two person hunt.”

Only one ear listened to him, and you watched with sadness his hand leave your thigh to land on the bench behind you. The hunter leaned dangerously towards you, head turned towards the back to reverse out of the garage.

“Oh, I’m not worried about that,” you muttered under your breath, looking at the bunker disappearing in the rearview mirror as he drove away.

-

“The fuck was that!”

Now in a motel room, the hunt was finally over but it was not thanks to you. It was a ghost, exactly like you suspected, but then, it wasn’t only that. They were two, twins, kids, they died horribly in that building decades ago and now, every year at their anniversary, they kill the people that entered the building the same way they died. Blocked all doors, played hide and seek with them and then…

Locked them forever in the building, slowly killing them of starvation and madness.

“You had one job, how could you screw it up that bad!!”

The bones were easy to find, but at the same time, impossible. They were both still in their hiding place, the place they died all those years ago. The moment you arrived, you and Dean split up to search the grounds, but then, because you really were not focused, you missed all the important clues that were leading you to the place you had to go.

And here you were now, sitting on a chair, a bag of ice on your head where it hit the wall, your hand stuck in a bandage where you burned yourself trying to burn the bones.

“I’m sorry,” you tried again, but Dean wasn’t having it. He had nothing, no scratch, no wound, he burned his bones easy peasy, and when he went and checked on you, it was to see you with blood on your forehead, struggling to light your matches and burning yourself with them when you noticed him.

“I thought you were ready,” the hunter groaned, his hand rubbing his eyes slowly. Your gaze followed the movement and you couldn’t help but lick your lips. Christ, Y/n, not the time!

“I’m sorry,” you tried again. “It doesn’t hurt though,” you removed the bag of ice to show him your forehead. Dean opened his beautiful green eyes and worry could be read in them like in an open book. Guilt too. He regretted coming with you on this hunt alone. And you bet he would never allow it like, ever again.

Dean reached out to you suddenly, leaving you no time to think of a proper reaction to his proximity. Big, wide hands rested on your cheek, lifting your head up, concerned eyes focusing on your forehead. Swallowing hard, you let him do, feeling one of his hands leaving your face to gently stroke your wound. A hiss left your mouth. It was sensitive. “Doesn’t hurt my ass,” Dean let go of your face, stepping back. “What happened back there? I know you can deal with ghosts just fine, and the ghosts were not even there.”

Crap. Your lie wasn’t working anymore. The ghost twins only appeared at their birthday, which was not today. 

You glanced down at your hands, playing with them nervously. Truth was, you tripped, simply, you were not focused, thinking about things and a certain person you should have not been thinking about, tripped on a plank and hit the wall face first. And when you heard Dean coming, ashamed of your clumsiness, you burned yourself trying to light the bones on fire as quickly as you could.

“I tripped and fell, that’s all,” you ended up replying, still avoiding his eyes.

“I can’t believe it!” Glancing up, you looked at him, not understanding why he was so pissed about this.

“What’s wrong with you? Why are you making a scene?” You got up, voice louder echoing in the small motel room. “I tripped, it happens! Can you let it go!”

“Let it go? Sure!” Dean exploded, anger filling his eyes and you really tried to understand why he was so pissed. “I’m letting it go, I’m going,” he took his jacket, his keys, and slammed the door on his way out.

“What the fuck?” You sat back down, putting back the bag of ice rather roughly on your head and winced. “What's wrong with him?”

-

You still had no idea why Dean was so mad. You got hurt, it happens, and the hunt went well, you burned the bones and that was it. Still, you felt like you did something wrong and didn’t like having fights with him, so you did what you thought was safe, you walked to the grocery store and bought Dean a pie. Maybe it wouldn’t be enough for him to forgive you for whatever you did, but you knew he wouldn’t be able to stay moody when he would get back if he had a pie. Dean could never be mad with a pie. 

If… He came back.

You suspected he went to a bar and would probably spend the night with another nameless chick, so you left the pie on the table with a note, saying you were going out and you were sorry. Anger and jealousy were boiling in your veins at the thought of him with another girl, but you were still wondering why he was so mad in the first place.

You decided it was time to dress up for the rare occasion of you going out and even put on some makeup, glad you brought all of those things with you this morning. The fed outfit would do the job, short, black pencil skirt with a tight white blouse.

The bar was close to the motel, and no Impala in the parking lot informed you Dean wasn’t there. Perfect. It was your turn to have some fun, you had to let him go, Dean would never be interested in you, and tonight's weird reaction only confirmed that.

After a few drinks and a few men crossing your path, you finally found the right one and were ready to leave with him for the night. It wasn’t something you did often, one night stand with strangers, especially after you drank and after a fight with Dean, but tonight, you wanted to. Be like him a little, be wild, do whatever you wanted, and the guy was handsome. Tall, short hair, brown eyes… shorter than Dean tho. And more muscular. But it wasn’t Dean you wanted.

Also the stranger’s hands… They were not like his. Big, yeah, but his fingers were longer, less thick, nails not as blunt. Probably someone working in an office, those hands never saw hard work in his life, other than holding a pen to sign some documents or lifting weights at the gym.

No, you had to stop comparing him to Dean, it wasn’t Dean you wanted.

Your high heels were starting to get uncomfortable as you walked with the stranger to his car, his name was Glenn or… Sean… Or… His name had no importance whatsoever. 

One moment, you were sure of yourself, dizzily walking to his car, but then, you were not so sure anymore and you stopped on the spot. 

“Everything okay sweetheart?”

The way he said that pet name wasn’t him. It wasn’t…. He wasn’t the man you loved. You drank tonight, but not enough to lose the last remains of your consciousness. This, this wasn’t you, sleeping all around with strangers, pretending your feelings and your attraction for the green eyed hunter didn't exist.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized, starting to step back, scared he would suddenly get really mad at you for changing your mind. Men were like that, getting angry, treating women like sluts and teases for changing their minds. “I can’t…”

“Hey,” he softly said, a soft smile drawing up on his lips. “It’s okay, we don’t have to either. Don’t worry.” Even if his words seemed trustfull, you were still suspicious. Your hunter instinct kicked in, but in that outfit, there were no pockets, so you had no weapon to defend yourself. “I know how it feels.”

“What?” You frowned, your head tilting to the side as he stepped back instead of closer. 

“I came here to forget, and… And well, I don’t want this to turn bad. I had a great evening, it can end up like that,” he proposed, shrugging his shoulders.

You studied him for real. “Wow, they still exist,” you laughed, really believing him now. Truth could be seen in his eyes, you were good with reading people’s intentions. “I must confess, I had a nice time too, Steven.”

“Glenn,” he laughed, and this time, you really felt the tension leaving your shoulder. “But close enough.” Glenn walked closer to his car and then turned to you. “Let me drive you home at least?”

-

In the end, even if the bar was close by foot to the motel, you accepted Glenn’s proposition. It felt good to trust someone, not immediately jumping to the conclusion he had to be a monster or possessed or a complete dick. Glenn was nice, kind, too, and in the car you learned he was the CEO of a paper company downtown and well, things weren’t going well at his job, that was the reason he was at that bar.

The drive ended up rather quickly, and that was when you noticed the beautiful 67 car in the parking lot. “Damn it…” You cursed. You wanted to drown in the seat. 

“What’s up?” Glenn asked and you turned to him, rolling your eyes. 

“Someone I don’t really want to face is there,” you confessed, staring at your wounded hand. Glenn probably followed your gaze, because you felt him tense beside you.

“He's the one that hurt you?” You turned your head to look at him. “Saw your head,” he added, and you were sure if you didn’t stop him, he would leave his car and beat the shit out of Dean, only Dean would end up beating the shit out of Glenn.

“No! God, no,” you hastened to say. “I tripped, that’s all. I swear,” you raised your hand like a promise and laughed, but he didn’t seem really convinced. “Tell you what,” you continued, picking up a pen from your purse and then his hand to write something in his palm. His skin was so soft and warm, you really wanted to stay with him in the car more, just holding his hand. It felt… Normal. You didn’t know you wanted normal until now. Just a hand to hold on to, a body to cuddle, some warmth. “Here’s my number. Text me, I’ll have yours, does that reassure you?” You smiled.

“Yeah,” it was Glenn’s turn to smile. “Thank you, have a nice night, Y/n. Call me if you need anything.”

“Will do,” you said, and then, purely because he was the nicest guy you ever met, you leaned down and kissed his cheek. “Good night.”

You watched the car leave the motel parking lot until it got swallowed into the darkness of the night. Your phone buzzed in your purse, a sign Glenn just texted you. Good, you had his number. Maybe you could see him again one day.

You stayed outside a little bit more, standing alone in the silent parking lot, staring at the motel. Now, you had to enter the room you shared with Dean, really hoping he was alone and not screwing another chick. Actually, you hoped he was with a chick, you would have a good reason to call Glenn back and go to his place. Anything to avoid another confrontation with Dean that would end up breaking your heart.

When you entered the room, at first you saw nothing. It was pitch black. But then, a light turned on on your left and you turned your head to see Dean sitting at the table in front of the pie you got him. Talking about an entrance.

“Had fun?” 

You watched the hunter sit back against his chair, legs spread, feet tapping on the floor, arms crossed on his chest. He was still wearing the same shirt but didn’t have his plaid shirt on. Your eyes immediately stared at his biceps a bit too long. No, Y/n, you are mad at him. Stop looking at his perfection.

“Lots,” you replied, walking to your bed, ignoring his eyes burning your neck as he kept on staring at you.

“Glad you had fun with Glenn,” Dean continued and your head snapped towards him. 

“What?” You were on the verge of exploding. “You followed me? How did you-”

“Got his license number, less than a minute and I had his name, age, address. Did you know his company is falling apart?” Dean continued, green eyes burning as he kept on looking at you. “I read some very interesting stuff about the CEO sucking at his job.”

“That’s not of your fucking buisiness! I’m a fucking adult, I do the fuck I want with who I want,” you exploded finally, walking towards him. 

“He could have been a monster, Y/n, did you think of that?” Dean leaned forward, still sitting on his chair. He was lower than you since you were standing up, but you never felt smaller. Not with the way he was looking at you. Almost… Disappointed. “Or a demon, you didn’t even have holy water on you!” He gestured to your outfit with his hand. Yep. Disappointed. Disapproving your choices.

“I can take care of myself!” You groaned, walking even closer to him. One more step and you would be standing right between his legs.

“Guess not, or you wouldn’t have hurt yourself in the hunt!” He grabbed your wrist, showing you your bandaged hand.

“Will you let the hunt out of the conversation? Christ, what the fuck is wrong with you? I got hurt, get over it!” You tried to get back your hand, but his grip tightened.

“What’s wrong with me?” Dean rose up, his height swallowing you down immediately. You lifted your head, not breaking eye contact. You were fed up with his attitude. “What’s wrong with me is, I know. How you look at me, disapear in your room the moment I do something remotely sexual, like this!” Taking the hand that wasn’t holding your wrist, Dean suddenly dipped two fingers into the pie, cupping some cream from it. Showing you his now messy fingers, he put them in his mouth, sucking them slowly. Some cream stayed on the corner of his mouth and you felt yourself choking the need to reach up and clean it. “I know. I see you,” his voice was now rusty, low and dangerous. “I hear you when you touch yourself. Do you think about me? About my hands? Do you imagine my fingers instead of yours when you finger your tight little cunt?”

Your lips parted to breathe, but Dean took it as an invitation. Sugary and thick, the fingers he just put in his own mouth stroke your lower lips, inviting you to open wider. Completely under his spell, you obeyed and felt him slip his fingers in your mouth.

It had an immediate effect, you felt yourself growing weak as your tongue licked his digits even cleaner than they already were, tasting the flavor of the pie on them. Closing your lips around them, you started sucking, eyes not leaving his green gems, like two magnets, impossible to look away.

Dean tilted his head to the side and removed his fingers, a thread of saliva connecting your mouth to them. “You’re driving me fucking crazy and you have no idea how much I dreamed of this…” Leaning towards you, Dean’s face was so close you could feel his breath on your lips. Beer, the sugar of the pie, you were hungry and only a slight distance separated you from kissing him. “So… Were you picturing me, all those times I heard your little whimpers? All those times the smell of arousal lingered in your room… Meaning you just touched yourself and got off, huh? Tell me…” His hand was still holding your wrist, but the other had free access to your whole body. Even if his skin was warm, burning, even, shivers still climbed your skin whenever his fingers grazed your flesh. They ended their exploration against your neck, playing with your hair and then, circled your throat gently. “You need to use your words, sweetheart… How badly did you want your fingers to be mine?”

“So… So bad,” you whispered, chasing his lips like he was the only oxygen in the room. Heart pounding fast, you could feel the beatings between your legs where it ached to be touched. Dean groaned, not letting you kiss him yet.

“Hmmm,” he hummed, his hand leaving your throat, touching every accessible part of your body as it got lower but avoiding your breasts. “Hmm… Say please,” he muttered, green eyes locking with yours again. You could feel his fingers against your thigh, going up under your skirt, so close to your core and yet, so far.

“P-Please…” You begged, your mouth obeying his demands without your mind needing to order your body. “Please, Dean… Need you… Your fingers…”

“Where? Where do you need my fingers, sweetheart?” He was doing it on purpose, stroking the inside of your thighs and you moaned, trying to get him to touch you faster. “Nuh huh… Words.”

Reaching down, you captured his hand, guiding him towards your core, panties now drenched and hot with your arousal. “Here… On me… In me… Please…” You whimpered, your head now a mess of him. Your thoughts were a mess of his voice, face, how good he smelled, how bad your lips burned with the need to kiss him, to have everything, to have him whole. “Please, I want your fingers inside of me… Please…” You grinded on his hands, biting your lips, moaning when you felt him shiver. 

“Fuck, begging me so good… So fucking wet, all for me?” You could feel Dean’s smirk as he placed his lips on yours, finally kissing you. And like that, you let go, your free hand gripping his shirt, kissing back with everything you got. Tongue out, you licked his lower lip, Dean groaning as he opened his own mouth to let you in. For a couple of seconds, you dominated the kiss, it was messy, loud, your moans filled the room with his low growls as you kept on grinding on his hand. But you lost any rhythm when you felt him toss your panties to the side to immediately sink two fingers inside of your drenching hole.

“Oh, fuck,” you broke the kiss, trying to breathe, the sensation so perfect. You felt already full, full of him, his digits so thick inside of you. How many nights have you dreamed of those fingers inside of you, pumping your tight entrance? Way too many lost nights, trying to get off, picturing him, all of him on you, in you… A shameless moan escaped your lips, immediately swallowed by his mouth.

Once again, you tried to find your breath, it was so much, almost too much all at once, your legs shaking with the stimulation, but Dean cut down that possibility as he kissed you once again, his fingers already moving inside of you. They were going slow at first, teasing, even, almost exploring. You could feel them move inside of you, stretching your entrance, and then finding the spot that turned your moan into a high pitched whimper.

“Found it,” Dean smirked against your lips, and then, he started pistoning that spot again and again. Your visions whiten and you closed your eyes, struggling to stay up as pleasure attacked you in waves. The sound of your wetness as he moved his fingers was almost nasty, so loud, but you couldn’t hear it very well, not under all the sounds you were making. “That’s it, cum on my fingers…”

Like it was an order your body was eager to obey, you let go, your orgasm exploding between your thighs. It felt powerful, washing over your whole body, shaking as you struggled to stay up once again, and you felt something warm trickling down your legs. “Hm…” Resting your forehead on his shoulder, you moaned lazily as his fingers slowed down to a stop.

“Nuh huh, look at me,” he ordered, and even if you were still stuck in the high of your orgasm, you tilted your head back just enough to look at him. Dean had his hand up, fingers glistening with your juice and smiled as he slowly and teasingly licked his fingers clean. “Hmm… Sweet, just like I thought…”

The sight made you quiver and you swallowed, staring at every single one of his gestures. How his tongue was so pink, agile, moving languidly from bottom to top and then twisting around his digits, not missing a single spot, his chest vibrating a satisfied hum. He took his sweet time, on purpose, making your need for him stronger by the minute. And before he even finished, you freed your hand, grabbed him by the collar and pinned him to the wall, lips already stuck to his, kissing him. Hands started undressing each other until there was only flesh against flesh, hands on skin and tongue against tongue.

Once you were both naked, Dean guided you to the bed, his hands burning wherever he touched, and right now they were on your waist. You landed on the bed in a soft hmf. Your breath cut, but before you could even find it again, Dean was stealing it with his lips, kissing you again. 

“Please,” you begged, your hands lost in his hair as his face was hidden against your neck, kissing and leaving his mark on your skin. Tugging, you tried to make him look at you, but only a groan answered you. “Dean, please,” you tried again, and then you felt it. Without him even looking at you, Dean pressed his cock to your entrance and pushed in slowly, stretching you and filling you up so good your head rolled back, giving him even more access to your throat he kept on attacking. 

“So tight for me sweetheart,” Dean groaned, kissing your throat once more before looking at you.

It was a moment frozen in time. Two bodies joined, two souls staring at each other, eyes lit by desire, a fire that was almost extinct but always there, finally eating, finally living for real. And he was beautiful, Dean was beautiful, inside, out, everything about him was beautiful. You found yourself reaching up, cupping his face inside your palm, fingers brushing his scruff. It tickled your skin and you felt your heart flutter in pure love when he leaned against your touch, closing his eyes. A soft exhale brushed your face, like all the pressure of the world just left his back. 

“Dean…” It was a whisper, only his name, but how you said it, the moment you said it, it meant everything. It was everything Dean needed to hear, everything he dreamed of. It was sex, but at the same time, it was so much more. It was the hunter allowing himself some happiness, it was him allowing his needs and desires to be true, to get them, like he deserved.

Green irises met yours as he opened his eyes, looking at you like you were the most precious thing he ever saw. It made you feel special, like you belonged to him, so many unspoken words readable in only one second of staring into his eyes.

“Y/n…”

The moment he muttered your name, his lips parted, letting the groans he was holding escape his mouth. And only then did you understood that what you felt for him wasn’t only attraction or sexual desire. It was more. Maybe he felt it too, because right now, you were closer to him than you ever were. And the moment he said your name, you felt him start moving, hips rutting, his length easily slipping back and forth inside of you. You moaned, your hand gripping his neck, inciting him to lean down and kiss you, and who was he to deny you anything? Dean leaned down, capturing your lips and stealing both your breath and your moans.

At first, it was soft, but quickly, the heat and the need that was previously so strong came back with force. And quickly, he was pounding into you, fast and hard, your hands scratching his back as your head rolled back, moans of pure pleasure flooding out of your lips. Breathing fast, Dean was groaning, mumbling things like good girl, feels so good, and the few times you managed to keep your eyes open was to see him close his. And then you could admire him, truly, without any mask, pleasure flooding his beautiful face. Cheeks red with the heat and maybe the situation, he was even more beautiful.

“Fuck, so close,” you heard him groan as a rough thrust made you see some stars. He heard the change in your voice, because his thrusts changed to keep doing that. Rough, long thrusts going even deeper into your core. “Gonna cum, cum with me Y/n,” Dean instructed and then you felt it, warm and thick, his thumb asking for access to your mouth. You let it in, parting your lips, sucking on his digit and biting into it as you felt the knot in your core expanding more and more. Moans got muffled by his finger and you bit harder, eyes rolling back as you felt it come, your walls fluttering around his shaft, it got higher and higher and then, it finally snapped in a pure bliss of pleasure. 

It was so good you closed your eyes on the spot, breathing hard to get oxygen into your lungs. It was almost impossible for you to hear anymore, your ears shrilling, but you were glad to still have some hearing left to hear him as he reached his own climax.

Dean removed his finger from your mouth to place both of his hands on the bed. Rougher thrusts met your cervix, spasms of overstimulation controlling your body, and then he stilled and a long groan softly echoed in the room as you felt him spill inside of you.

“Oh… fuck…” Dean’s face dropped back against your neck, breathing in your scent, kissing the sensitive flesh of your throat. And even if his lips were burning and bruised by all the kisses you shared, pleasant shivers ran down your skin, bringing a nice, refreshing feeling. Giggling, you stroke his back softly, your fingers tracing the muscles around his spine, skin covered in sweat.

“Dean, it tickles,” you whispered. One last kiss and Dean was pulling out, laying down beside you on the bed. The two of you stared at the ceiling for a while in silence, not knowing what to say. It wasn’t awkward per say, the moment was needed to cool down, from the intense sex, yeah, but also to get back rational thoughts. 

“You asked what was wrong with me,” Dean ended up breaking the silence, and you immediately turned to your side to look at him. He was still staring at the ceiling and licked his lips. “Everything’s wrong with me,” he ended up confessing, and even if you really wanted to cut him off and deny his words, you let him continue. “When I saw you were hurt, I got angry, because it was my fault.”

“It wasn’t-” You couldn’t help it, you had to make him understand none of this was his fault, but Dean shook his head.

“It was. I knew it, for a while now, not very subtle, Y/n…” A smile stretched his lips, and if the conversation wasn’t so serious, you would have adored watching him smile. It was precious, it wasn’t often you could admire that smile. “I knew how distracting I am, can’t help it, I know I’m hot,” he joked again and you rolled your eyes. Of course, having a heart to heart conversation with Dean Winchester would always end with jokes. The hunter was never known to enjoy serious and deep conversation involving feelings, like he wasn’t allowing himself to have them. Like it was forbidden to feel things. “But… I still chose to go hunting with you, and you got hurt, and I got so mad, but not at you, at me, and then I came back and you weren’t there… And even if I was a complete jerk, you still got me a pie to apologize for something you didn’t even do, I…”

“Dean,” you tried again. Dean finally turned his head towards you, and you could see hurt shining in his eyes. Your heart sank. 

“I tracked your phone, found you at the bar. With that guy. I got angry with jealousy, so I left and came back here, and then when you weren’t leaving his car, I tracked his license number. His company failing isn’t his fault. Steven is mister perfect nice guy. ”

“Glenn,” you couldn’t help but correct. Dean rolled his eyes, a glint of jealousy still shining in his eyes at the mention of him. You knew how Dean could be possessive sometimes, of his car, for example, but being jealous of a perfect stranger… It was hiding something deeper than that. You don’t get jealous of people without any feelings. “So…” You changed the subject, really hating to see so much pain in his eyes. “Not only did you know how I felt, you enjoyed it, you enjoyed torturing me.”

Dean turned completely towards you, frowning. “That’s all you get from this conversation?”

“What I get,” you got closer and watched his Adam apple bob up and down in nervousness. “Is that you knew, and on purpose, tortured me with your damn hands.”

“I mean, yeah, but,” Dean trailed off, wide eyes clearly confused as to where the conversation was going.

“Dean, I’m usually really good at reading people. And when… When we…” You searched for your words, heat invading your face as the thought of it. “Had sex, I saw it. What I get is, you don’t allow yourself to feel. I know you think you can’t be loved, that you’re the wrong in what’s wrong. But it’s not true.” You got even closer, now completely invading his personal space. “What I get is, I… I have feelings for you. But now, I need to know, do you have feelings for me too?”

There was another silence. It wasn’t long, the time of two hearts synchronizing with the other as realization hit. And in those couple of seconds, you could see every emotion going through him by simply looking in his eyes. It was a whole book, a complete story of how he felt, from doubt, sadness, anger, understanding. 

Love.

“I do, I think… I think I love you…” He finally said, and this time, the smile that stretched his lips was true and you welcomed it with great joy. Softly, you placed your hand on his cheek, stroking his skin with your fingers. “But you’re really bad at reading people,” his smile turned into a smirk and you frowned. “Cause you never understood I was doing it on purpose.”

“Oh, I’ll get my revenge just fine,” you grinned, your thumb slowly stroking his lower lip. “You can count on that.”

“I’d like to see you try… But first, can we huh…” Tongue poking out of his mouth, Dean licked his lips, purposely touching your thumb. Arousal poked you between your legs, suddenly really awake and aware of the proximity of the naked man in the bed with you.

“Hm?” You trailed, your attention focused on what he was doing with his mouth.

“Eat the pie? Cause it’s there and I’m hungry,” he casually said, but again, you could see all the mischief glowing in his eyes.

“You want to eat it with your hands, right.”

“Oh yeah,” Dean was already up, bouncing towards the table. “So you can lick my fingers clean after.”

“I hate you,” you sat up, looking at him now sitting at the table in all of his naked glory. Gosh, he was so beautiful, it was unfair. Shining with happiness and love. Starting to allow himself to feel.

“No you don’t.”

And like that, with the nastiest and hottest expression on his face, Dean dipped his thick fingers inside of the pie. It shouldn’t be turning you on so bad. But yet, it did.

Forever taglist: @nitnat6245​​​ @b3autyfuldisast3r​​​ @eevvvaa​​​ @wickedinspirations​​​ @fictional-affairs​​​ @awkward-and-indecisive​​​ @cryptichobbit​​​

Supernatural Tag List: @cryptichobbit​​ @sexyvixen7​ @stixnstripesworld​ @charred-angelwings​ @treat-winchesterswith-kindness​​ @lyarr24​​ @fiftyshadesgrl​​

Dean Winchester Tag List: @akshi8278​​​ @siospins2​​​ @kazsrm67​​​ @wtrpxrks​​​ @deanwanddamons​​​ @thoughts-and-funnies​​​ @charred-angelwings​​​ @jensendreamland​​​ @deanswaywardgirl​​​ @happyt0exist​​​ @waynes-multiverse​

[little-diable]

Sins, desires, longings - Dean Winchester (smut)

A big thank you to @deathofpeaceofmind for inspiring this! This came to us as I shared the lyrics of the song "No Mercy" by Austin Giorgio. This could have a part two? Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Dean thinks Sam is dead, hence why he tries to rip himself free from his old life, which means leaving (y/n) behind. But as he hides away in a church, slipping into the role of a priest, he keeps committing sins. Or: pwp

Warnings: 18+, piv smut, jerking off, religious connotations, priest!Dean, pretty much pwp

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader (1.6k words)

The sound of his boots meeting the ground echoed through the cold church, echoing off the walls like the cries of those burying Jesus had echoed through the afternoon air. With his forest green eyes focused on the altar, Dead dropped to his knees, making a cross sign with two fingers before he clasped his hands together.

His eyes fluttered close, speaking a prayer he had learned a few days ago, trying to swallow down the thoughts welling up in his mind, wanting to drown him like the waves Moses had parted had tried to do. Dean had to focus on the words that left him, rolling off his tongue all too easily.

It was a strange sight, a sight so foreign that those who have once crossed paths with the hunter wouldn’t believe their own eyes. Without opening his eyes, Dean’s hand began to move up his chest, finding the rosary dangling from his neck. Slowly he grasped the pearls, wooden beads that took his mind off the prayer he should focus on.

“Dean.” She whispered his name, eyes rolling back into her head as his tongue found its way to her inner thighs, smirking against her skin. Once again (y/n) called out his name, arching her back off the mattress, giving into the strong feeling. With his tongue pressing against her arousal covered folds, his fingers started moving, circling her pulsing bundle. 

“Mhm, tastes so sweet, darling.” The praise made her gasp, unable to bite down her moans. He had her trapped, was still wearing the collar around his neck, was still wearing the rosary dangling from his neck - perfectly taking on the role of a priest. 

Another hunt had lured them into this town, forcing the two to act as people they have never wanted to be. And yet the two of them found their joy in tricking those that were too oblivious for their own good. 

“Fuck, don’t stop, please don’t stop.”

“Dean, there you are!” John’s voice ripped Dean out of his flashback, having to clear his throat as he tried to forget the memory he had just been forced to live through once again. The elderly priest came to a halt next to Dean’s kneeling frame, waiting for the younger man to rise to his feet. “How are we feeling today? Are you ready for our service?”

“I’m getting there, thank you, John.” Dean had lost count on the days flashing past ever since Sam’s death, days that had a dark touch to them, forcing the older Winchester brother to leave his old life behind, to leave his memories behind, to leave her behind. Her. The woman who owned his heart, the woman he had unleashed his anger upon as he worked through Sam’s death. 

Dean had decided to run, had left all his things behind – besides Baby – had decided to join a church he had known for years, begging the priest that knew him better than others to take him in. And now he was here, living a life he had once made fun of, a calm life that focused on prayers, on services, on those in need. But perhaps this life wasn’t as different as the one he had lead weeks ago, set on helping those that needed him. 

“It always takes its time, and that is alright, Dean. God is good, he wants to give you time to grieve.” John’s words forced tears to well up in Dean’s green eyes, forced to choke on the knot growing in his throat, unable to reply. His body was trembling, forced into another memory he had tried to bury six feet under. 

“Fuck, I love you, I love you so much, sweetheart.” Dean’s pants filled Baby, eyes set on (y/n)‘s pleasure drunken features. He fucked her into the backseat, no longer caring if his tight grasp was leaving marks on the leather fabric. She was everything Dean could focus on, the sweetest temptation known to humankind. 

"Never let me go, Dean, promise me.” (Y/n) whispered her words, eyes momentarily focusing on Dean’s wide ones. She saw him swallow, collecting enough air to murmur a soft though clear “I promise”.

“I don’t know John, it feels like I’m clinging to things I can’t let go. I don’t have the strength to.” Dean averted his gaze in shame, fumbling with the fingers that have once searched for her, needing to feel her close. He could still hear the angry words she had spoken, the fight the two had been trapped in, a fight that had given Dean the final push, disappearing in the middle of the night.

He had left behind a note for her to find, a simple “I’m sorry, I will always love you”. Nothing more, nothing less. By now he deeply regretted the way they’ve parted, or at least how he had parted from her, Dean could only hope that she’d be able to make her peace with it, someday at least. 

“Time will heal your wounds, Dean. Allow God to guide you, put your trust in him.”

……

Dean’s gasps and moans echoed through his small room, he had his head thrown back against the thin pillow, hand wrapped around his twitching cock. Her name rolled off his tongue, a sound so strong, a sound so emotional, Dean could only hope the others living in the rooms close by won’t hear him. 

His hand moved with quick strokes, needing to chase the high he had been aching for for days. It was wrong - at least that’s what he’s been told - he was committing another sin, and yet Dean couldn’t care about the punishment that may eventually follow. In this very moment Dean couldn’t care about crossing paths with the Devil, or at least the one those surrounding him were fearing, he had played this game for too long, he knew what was awaiting him, eventually. 

“Dean, look at me.” He was forced to lift his gaze, bloodshot eyes meeting her worried ones. (Y/n) sat down next to him, reaching for the bottle of beer he kept clinging to as if he was scared to lose yet another thing. Dean tried to protest, but he was interrupted by the clicking of her tongue, eyes snapping close once again. “Look at me, please.” 

No words left him as he finally looked at her, (y/n), the one who owned his heart, his closest friend, his most trustworthy companion. Slowly she cupped his cheek, thumb running over his skin, tracing the freckles that reminded her of stars covering the night sky, a sight so beautiful she’d always stop to marvel at him. 

“What can I do? Anything you want, you need.” His teeth sank into his lower lip, eyes once again fluttering close as he reached for her wrist, pulling her into his lap. (Y/n) didn’t dare speak up, allowing Dean to take what he needed, lips finding hers all too forcefully, leaving her gasping. He tasted of beer, of sadness, of pain. Dean rose to his feet with (y/n) clinging to him, forcing her down on the table, pushing her back. 

Her gasps drowned out Dean’s low groans, undoing his belt, freeing his hardening cock. No further warning was spoken as he shuffled her shirt up to her waist, pulling her panties aside. Their eyes met again, a silent question being shared between them, waiting for her consent. 

(Y/n) pulled him in for another teeth-clashing kiss, freeing yet another groan bubbling out of them. He parted from her to spit into his hand, lubing his cock up before he pushed into her. Both moaned in unison, set on chasing their highs, set on pushing one another over the edge with no mercy. 

Dean ripped his eyes wide open seconds before he came, ripped from the flashback like those that have grieved for Jesus’ death, reliving their last moments with their saviour. Sweat pearled on Dean’s forehead, sweat that rolled down his forehead like the red blood that had once dripped from four nails, forced through skin and wood. He choked on (y/n)’s name, painting his hands and stomach white as he came, lazily pumping his cock a few more times. 

“Fuck,” Dean murmured the curse, forcing a few deep breaths into his lungs before he rose to his feet, slowly cleaning himself up. He was heavily breathing, still hung up on the memories that have forced themselves into his brain, flashing before his eyes like lightning striking the dark sky. 

His eyes found the wooden rosary placed on his desk, next to the white collar he was now wearing on a daily basis. Dean moved closer, slowly picking up the rosary as his doubts came flooding back through his system. He should have spoken to her, should have explained his every fear to (y/n), but he hadn’t, he had kept his mouth shut – like a scared boy. 

The sound of somebody knocking on the wooden door leading to his room forced his green eyes to snap towards the door. He cleared his throat, reaching for a shirt before he walked closer. Slowly Dean pulled the door open, freezing as his eyes fell onto two pairs of all too familiar eyes. 

“Sam? (Y/n)?”

[apocalypseornaw]

Don't Blame Me (Pt 3/5)

Dean Winchester x Reader

Dean confronts Crowley who recounts exactly what did happen to you, sparing no details to Dean's horror. You look for a way to ward yourself from Dean finding you.

Dean was half in shock when you blinked out. You were alive? When he looked at Crowley he knew the anger he felt showed in his eyes because the demon took a step back even before Dean grabbed him, slamming him back into a wall. "BRING HER BACK"

Crowley shook his head slowly "I didn't send her a way and I try not to summon her. She gets upset, it causes a mess. She killed ten demons the first time I summoned her and let's just say I like keeping her as calm as possible"

Dean shook his head before pulling the demon blade up to hold the point against Crowleys neck "Last time I saw her she was getting on a plane. What the fuck did you do to her?" Crowley laughed sharply "What did I do? Squirrel you should really ask what did you do?"

Dean's grip loosened at Crowleys words "What do you mean what Dean did?" Sam asked as Crowley untangled himself from Dean's grasp. Crowleys eyes were on Dean when he said "She made a deal. I didn't go after her soul. It was already in hell"

Dean shook his head "She wouldn't. Y/N knows the risks" Crowley shrugged "and yet she did for you" "for me?" Dean asked and Crowley sighed "This is dramatic. Her soul already went to hell so contract fulfilled. She's gonna try to kill me but.." before Dean or Sam could ask Crowley touched two fingers to Dean's forehead. Flashes of an Okami, pain of claws ripping into his chest and the heartbreaking sound of your sobs tore through Dean's head.

"She couldn't face losing you so she made a deal. Be glad I took over when I did. Lucifer and his flunkies were having fun with your girl" "She wouldn't agree to be a demon" Sam argued but Crowley shrugged "A little over four hundred years of torture. A hundred of those were under Lucifer and Zachariah. She's stronger than most of the souls in hell but the things they did to her.." he trailed off and Dean could feel his jaw clench with anger even before Crowley met his eyes "No angelic interference for her, guess she wasn't important enough. I needed an attack dog. Someone who if they were spotted working at my side the threats were taken seriously"

"So you've been using her?" Sam asked. Crowley scoffed "I gave her freedom from the racks. I put her body back together so she'd have it. I made sure to keep her off the angels radar. I've gotten her to kill a few dozen demons but nothing she wouldn't have done in life. How the hell have I been using her? Would you two prefer me to have left her to an eternity of whatever being decided to plunge a blade or other things into her?"

Dean swallowed down the bile in his throat at Crowleys words and the images that accompanied them to ask "Why didn't she let me know?"  and Crowley laughed again "Did you not see that little performance? She was afraid you'd hate her so she stayed off the beaten path" "Then why did you bring her here tonight?" Sam demanded.

"She's wrong for lack of better terms. She shouldn't care like she still does, shouldn't have so much left of her human personality. Her soul was stronger than I gave it credit for. If she stays a demon she's gonna e a threat to my throne" Dean swung without thinking and connected a hard punch to Crowleys jaw "You've kept her from me for years, YEARS. and now you're only telling me so she can't dethrone you? The only reason I'm not killing you is so you can help me find her"

Ireland, Scotland, Australia, New Zealand and South America. It was hard to find a coven that would play well with a demon, let alone one marked by the king of hell as his right hand woman but you finally did. 

You sat in the middle of the circle, watching the woman paint sigils onto your skin. Once she was done she rejoined the circle. You sat silently as they chanted, the sigil glowing then absorbing into your skin. You looked at the head witch "No one can summon me now?" She nodded "Your boss can probably still get a feed on where you are but no one can summon you" you paid her the fee and thanked the rest of the coven before blinking out. You were back in Washington state, almost at the Canadian line. 

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

You had a cabin there, somewhere you stayed when Crowley didn't need you at his side. Somewhere you were able to ignore everything that had happened. You weren't right as a demon. They weren't supposed to feel, weren't supposed to care yet here you were. 

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

You washed your face then looked at yourself in the mirror letting your eyes slip to black. Even as a demon you were held together by paperclips and rubber bands. The memory of the look on Dean's face flashed through your head and you smashed the mirror. What the hell were you supposed to do now?

@lacilou @suckitands33 @lyarr24 @decadentstrangernacho @nix-rose @irgendwas122 @deans-baby-momma @deans-spinster-witch @tas898 @starkleila

[hearteyes-for-killmonger]

Bedridden.

Imagine: Dean won't let you take care of him.

Pairing: Dean Winchester × Black Reader

Dean's been lagging and coughing. You suspect he's sick, but he's so damn stubborn. "Let me take your temperature," you insist, thermometer in hand. His cheeks are stuffed with Monster Burger, extra sauce dripping down his chin. He looks you up and down like you've lost your mind.

"No thanks, House."

You're pretty sure he's feverish. You touch his forehead. "Dean, you're burning up!"

"I'm hot-blooded.. like Roxette."

He's been on your Spotify account. He must've accessed your phone. No wonder Pornhub had found its way into your history. 'Busty ebony babes.'

"Let me take your temperature," you insist, hanging over him. If he's stubborn, so are you.

"Piece of advice? NEVER come between a man and his Monster Burger." He cuts his eyes at you, taking another heaping bite. You snatch the burger from his hand and sit it down, squeezing his chipmunk cheeks to push out the chewed beef and bun.

"Thank you." You ignore his wide green eyes as you force the thermometer under his tongue. "Hold still." After the beep, you swipe the string of spit on his shirt. He stifles another cough.

"You know, where I'm from, I'd get a cigar after something like that."

"Hush. I swear you bring the black mama out of me, stressing me out and shit... Yep. It's just as I thought. You DO have a fever."

Dean looks shocked. "Let me see that." He grabs the thermometer from your hand, tossing it with a sarcastic smile. "Problem solved." He grabs for his burger, but you take it hostage.

"When's the last time you had something healthy?"

"Are you-" He coughs. "That's literally a salad with protein and croutons!"

"This is high blood pressure and cholesterol."

"I don't care about 20 years from now. I care about now and right now you need to get it together." You look him in the eye as you trash the remains.

"Isn't it wonderful," he giggles. You glare motherly. "Oh, COME ON! It's not like we hunters have long life spans. I could die this week. You think I care about something that'll end me in 20 years?"

"NO!!!"

"Yes, Dean. You're sick right now and that's not gonna help you get better. Your body needs fuel."

"Bacon is fuel..."

You sigh, refusing to get caught in those green puppy dog eyes. "I'm making you some vegetables. When's the last time you had some broccoli or greens."

His face scrunches in disgust. "You want me to eat leaves? What am I, Thumper? I can't eat grass and twigs. Are you kidding me? Look at this body. You think I got these monster gains by grazing hay? No way, sweet cakes."

"Are the muscles in the room with us?" Your head tilts.

"Ha-ha.. I'm not eating green shit unless it comes on a beef patty between two buns and that's final.

"Boy shut up... You haven't had greens the black way. Let me hook some up and pop that food cherry." You smirk when he blinks in surprise. You start rinsing putting the greens you bought for yourself on the stove, meanwhile Dean is still delusional about his health. "In the meantime, you need to be in bed."

"That's an idea I can get behind... Would you be coming with me?"

"Hell no. You need to rest your body, hydrate, and get that fever down. Now, do what I say before I get irritable. Go upstairs to your room, get in bed."

"And do what!?"

His eyes look tired.

"Watch TV! Sleep!"

"I don't wanna," he pouts. You nearly forgot he raised himself AND Sam growing up. No wonder he's so stubborn. You kindly escort him to his room and ignore his cheesing when you remove his pants. You turn on his TV and find something you know will keep him in place for a few hours. A marathon of Walker Texas Ranger. "Fuckin Chuck Norris."

"Yes. Watch TV and I'll be up to check on you." You touch his forehead, still hot. He's pretending to be strong and unaffected by exhaustion and illness, but the second you step out... you put your ear to the door and listen to the facade drop. He's sighing, coughing as quietly as he can, and going through it privately. He's so stubborn.

You bring him a bowl of your southern soul greens and grits suddenly, he looks bright-eyed as if you didn't hear him. "Great!.. You brought me grass..." He takes a sniff.

"Yeah, it smells good don't it. You gone learn to trust me when it comes to food. There's more to cuisine than TV dinners, fast food, and turducken."

His eyes roll the second he puts the greens in his mouth. The moment his taste buds get a hit, you can see his soul leave his body.

"Oh my GOD," he grunts, having had an orgasmic experience.

"Told you so."

He pats the bed. "This is the one where Trivette goes undercover in a jail to eliminate a drug ring."

"No thanks," you smile, "I wouldn't watch Walker Texas Ranger, MASH, Clint Eastwood, none of it. Not even if you paid me."

"Oh come on, everyone likes Chuck Norris. He's Chuck Norris!"

"Overrated," you shrug. His jaw drops.

"You take that back you sicko."

"He's totally mid. The only reason you don't agree is because you grew up with him 200 years ago in the 80s."

His eyes narrow at you as he takes another mouthful of greens. On that note, you slip out of the room, a smirk on your face. The truth is the truth. You give him water, tea, and tylenol. When come back again, he's fallen asleep. It gives you time to take a little nap. You feel like a babysitter. It's the sound of keys jingling that wakes you up on the couch.

"Hm?" You sit up quickly, seeing Dean fully dressed with his boots and jacket. "Where the hell do you think you're going?"

"Beer run. I'll be brief."

"Dean, I swear. If I have to strap you down! Step out that door, I'll never sleep with you again," you rush. He closes the door quickly like you thought he might. "I don't know why you insist on torturing yourself. Sit your bowlegged ass down."

You sneeze.

"Aw shit," he sighs.

"Aw shit is right! You got me sick."

You can tell by his face he feels a tiny bit bad. He waddles over and eases down next to you, sitting a moment in silence. He's about to bring up Walker Texas Ranger again, you feel it. He turns to you and you hold up your hand.

"No.. Aht. No," you point.

"Fine..... But you're missing out on the baddest of rangers!"

"UGH!" He goes on and on and on and ON as you hold your head. "Do you want me to her into my Twilight discourse," you threaten. "Sounds like you want me to talk about Twilight." Instant retreat for him back up the stairs. You shake your head and sigh. "...Let me get me some of these damn greens."

@dashhoney25 @lettidarawest @soufcakmistress @ljstraightnochaser @princessstevens-blog @eye-raq @thiccdaddy-mbaku @destinio1 @iamrheaspeaks @hidden-treasures21 @bidibidibombaclaat @forbeautyandlife @blowmymbackout @misspooh @thotyana-in-this-hoe @purplehairgawdess @thegucciwaffle @goddessofthundathighs @theegoldenchild @thadelightfulone @sultanabby @mysticalblackhottie @baekhyunbabybunni @fd-writes @richonne4life @thehomierobbstark @capswife @blackpinup22 @harleycativy @lishabaybeee-blog @playgurlxoxo

[zepskies]

Never Say Goodbye - Bonus Track #3

Pairing: Dean x Female Reader 

Summary: The first time you and Dean sensed each other’s thoughts and feelings, you were just kids. It would take years to realize that you both were bonded for life, and even longer to finally meet. [Soulmate AU] (18+)

AN: Aaand Part 3! I’ve so enjoyed this series. 

Word Count: 2,500 Tags/Warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort, cavity-inducing fluff

Bonus Track #3: To Be Loved

Sam and Eileen stayed with Bobby while Dean brought you home. 

Jack had been blowing up his phone all day, and Dean knew he’d have to have to fill in your dad eventually. But right now, all he could think about was taking care of you.

You were quiet the entire car ride home. Your thoughts were a mess, and Dean could only glean so much. But he accompanied you into the bathroom while you showered, just to make sure you were all right. 

After you were dressed in soft pajamas, you finally spoke. 

“We should call my dad, let him know what…what happened,” you said. You tried to find your cell phone. You looked all over the apartment, but frowned when you realized you had no idea where your purse was. 

Dean approached and calmed your shaking hands, grounding you with his firm, but gentle touch. 

“Hey, take a breath, okay?” He guided you to sit down on the couch in the living room. 

“I remember…being at work,” you said with difficulty. “I touched that damn book.”

Dean nodded grimly. “It’s burnt to a crisp.”

You sighed. “What the hell am I going to tell Jerry?”

“I told him you were mugged, and the book got stolen in the process,” he said. 

You raised a brow. 

“And he bought that?” you asked incredulously. 

“He seemed to,” Dean said. “You might have to smooth things over, but for now, you can just chill here at home, okay? You don’t have to go anywhere, talk to anyone, until you’re up to it.”

He settled you on the couch with your favorite throw blanket. 

“You hungry?” he asked. “I can make us something…or better yet, let’s order in. What do you feel like?”

You were too preoccupied to answer. Dean sighed and sat down beside you on the couch. He could tell that your mind was racing, but he couldn’t pinpoint more than a few stray thoughts. You bit your lip and looked up at him with tears in your eyes. 

“She killed all those people…using me,” you choked out. “And I can’t even remember most of it…”

“We destroyed the tapes,” Dean said. Though he knew that wasn’t what you were getting at. “There’s an active investigation, but she mainly used magic. If there’s any fingerprints, your dad will take care of it.”

You gripped your head with both hands in dismay. 

“He shouldn’t have to break the law for me. This is insane…”

Dean scooted over so he could hold you, rubbing your back while you dissolved into tears. It all but broke his heart. 

Deciding you might be more comfortable in bed, he picked you up bridal style. You continued to keep your face covered as he carried you to bed. 

Dean then settled in himself, but you surprised him a bit by turning to him. You moved over to his side of the bed and buried your face into his neck. He wrapped his arms around you, shushing you gently and soothing a warm hand up and down your back.

I can’t stand it, Dean, you whispered in his mind through the bond. So many people died because of me, in a single day.

It’s not your fault, he replied. Someone would’ve touched the book eventually. 

You just don’t know that. 

“What I know is you’re alive. And I'm damn grateful,” Dean said out loud, soft in your ear.

You sucked in a breath at that. You pulled away, just enough to see his face. Despite the tears clinging to your lashes, making your eyes red and puffy, you still looked beautiful to him. 

Because he recognized you—the size and strength of your heart. You were crying for people you hadn’t known, over something you had no control over, and had only vague memories of. But he knew you still felt responsible for their deaths, just as Dean would have, if he were in your shoes.   

“I’m grateful for you,” you replied, sniffling and stroking his cheek. “I’m so sorry for all this.”

Dean shook his head and pressed a kiss to your forehead, followed closely by your lips. 

The next day, Dean woke you with a kiss above your brow. 

“Morning, sleepyhead,” he said. He sat down the edge of the bed, already dressed in his usual jeans, undershirt and opened buttoned down ensemble. 

You smiled, until you spied the alarm clock on the nightstand and realized how late it was.

“I talked to Jerry, called you out of work on official police business,” he said, guessing at your thoughts. “Need your help tracking down the ‘mugger.’”

You gave a soft huff at that. “I don’t think that coverup is going to stick.”

Dean’s shrug was deceptive; he had already broken things down with Jack this morning, in painstaking detail, so that the murders of ten people likely wouldn’t be traced back to you. Jerry was, quite frankly, the least of his worries.

“It’s gonna be fine. I’ve got it all worked out,” he told you. “But are you hungry? Want some eggs, pancakes, bacon, or all three? Breakfast of champions.”

He rubbed his palms together with a grin, one you tried to match, despite being sleepy. Really, you still felt like total crap. But you appreciated the way he was trying to lift your spirits. 

“Whatever you want, baby,” you said, grabbing his hand, the one that held his mother’s ring. He looked down at you with a softer smile. He brought your hand up to his lips. 

“All right, beautiful. Breakfast of champions it is,” he said. You were able to smile a bit more as you watched him leave the bedroom.

Getting up was a monumental effort, but you made yourself do it, or you knew you would spend the entire day lying in bed and feeling sorry for yourself. 

Your guilt was still eating at you. You knew you could only try to move forward, like Sam and Dean used to have to do after a rough hunt. You tried to focus on one task, and the next, until you were dressed, freshened up, and sitting down across from Dean in the dining room, eating breakfast. 

But he picked up on the predictable course of your thoughts, most of them following the path of self-loathing. He took your hand across the table, which prompted you to look up at him from your eggs.

“You didn’t know the book was cursed,” he said. “Just because I’m retired from hunting, doesn’t mean this shit isn’t still out there.”

A fact that elicited his own guilt. 

That he got to have his normal life while other hunters scraped and struggled and died. You sensed his thoughts, and it broke you out of your own inner world. You squeezed his hand, feeling tears well up in your eyes. 

“You’ve earned this, Dean,” you said. “You’re finally living your life for you.”

He considered your hand in his. “That doesn’t make me selfish?”

“You deserve to be happy…even if I’ve been making that part difficult.” You wiped away the first couple of tears that broke down your cheeks when you remembered how angry you had been at him a few days ago. How selfish. “The fight we had, before all this started…”

Dean leaned over and brushed a lock of hair away from your eyes, along with a stray tear from your cheek. 

“Listen, whatever we were arguing about, it’s petty shit. Let’s just move on, okay?”

“It’s not petty,” you replied with a sniff. “You were right…about Jason. I shouldn’t have been out all night at his place.”

Dean was uncomfortably silent then, even though a part of him felt vindicated, deep down. It did also feel stupid now. 

“Look, I trust you,” he said.

“I know. But it’s still not fair to you,” you said with a sigh. “I know between my job, the wedding planning, and everything else, it doesn’t feel like we’ve actually been together for the past few months. I don’t want us to feel like that before, or after we get married.”

Dean folded his hands on the table. “Okay. So what do we do?”

You raised a brow at him. A teasing smile worked its way onto your face. 

“You’re letting me call the shots?” you asked. 

Dean noted that smile, spying a glimpse of your old self.

“Well, you generally do what you want anyway. So I figured I’d just tag along,” he remarked.

You pushed at his chest. “You’re not getting off that easily.” 

He grabbed that hand and held it. And he kissed the inside of your palm, then down your wrist. It was tender, languid, and sweet. Until the heat in his eyes made you blush, earning a smile from you.

“Come ‘ere,” he said. 

He tugged you over by your hand, and you got up, willingly being guided into his lap. Your free hand delved into his hair, nails scraping lightly against his scalp. He gave a pleased hum and tugged you down into a kiss. The heat of it made your toes curl as his hands molded to the curve of your ass. 

You held his face, pressing lingering kisses against his lips, along his jawline, down his neck…

Desire coursed through both of you, echoing through the soul bond in perfect symmetry. 

“I need you,” you whispered in his ear. 

Dean grinned against your neck. He slid an arm beneath your legs and around your back, and lifted you into the air, eliciting a squeal from you as he made a quick path to the bedroom.

Three weeks later…

“Hun, you need to calm down,” Jo told you. She was stifling her laughter as she fixed the lay of your wedding gown. 

It was ten more minutes of waiting.

Ten more minutes, and you wouldn’t have your last name anymore. You would be a Winchester. 

Sweet Jesus, you were about to be an honest-to-God wife.  

“I need ice,” you said, trying to air out your underarms. “Someone blot me. I’m sweating like a whore in church.”

Jo resisted the urge to remind you that you were in a church. Or at least, in the women’s dressing room.

“You’re gonna be fine,” Eileen said in amusement. You made sure to turn to her when you replied, so she could read your lips. 

“I feel bloated.” You grimaced, rubbing your chest as if that would quell your sudden anxiety. Or was it Dean’s? You couldn’t tell anymore. 

“Or possibly heartburn. Maybe the breakfast burrito wasn’t a good idea.”

“What’s to be nervous about? He faced down a literal goddess for you,” Eileen replied with a smile. You gave a wry smile, even if that was a somewhat painful reminder. 

“I know. And no matter the words, it’s just not enough to describe how much I love him. But it’s just…” you took in a deep breath. “What if I’m stopping him from being who he’s supposed to be, you know?”

Both women had to know what you meant. They were still hunters. Eileen and Jo shared a glance, but it was Eileen who touched your hand. 

“When I met Sam, I thought I had my life figured out. I was on my way out of New York. I never meant to stay, let alone for six months,” she said. 

And you knew this story, but it still warmed your heart to hear it again. 

“We’re still figuring it out,” Eileen admitted. “But I see you and Dean, and it gives me hope. It makes me think I can still be myself without hunting…maybe even a better version.”

You teared up, like the emotional wreck you were, but Eileen and Jo immediately went to blot it away from your mascara. 

You didn’t know that Dean was having a similar meltdown.

“Dude, quit fidgeting. You’re gonna be fine,” Sam said in amusement. He was fixing Dean’s cuffs, then the burgundy carnation pinned to his breast pocket.

“I don’t know if this monkey suit is fitting right,” Dean groused.

“It is,” Sam informed him. 

“Does it really need to be a flower,” Dean gestured at the pocket Sam was adjusting, along with the satin pocket square. 

“It does,” Sam once again informed him.

“I don’t know why. It’s not a fucking prom,” Dean muttered. 

Sam resisted the urge to laugh at his brother’s evident nervousness. “All right, just calm down.”

A knock sounded at the door to the men’s dressing room. In came Jack, popping his head in and asking if it was a good time.

“Perfect time,” Sam said, straightening his brother’s tie. “I’m going to check in with the ladies, see if they’re ready.”

Dean nodded, though his anxiousness grew to see him leave. Still, he welcomed Jack in to take a seat across from him on a wooden stool. Jack obliged, but first, he pulled out a flask from the inner pocket of his blazer. 

Dean raised a brow. “Whiskey?”

“You gotta ask?” Jack said. Dean grinned and took the flask, and then a sip. 

“The day I married my wife, I was much like you. Shittin’ my pants,” Jack said with a wry chuckle. Dean looked down, both embarrassed and amused.

“For me it was questions. So many questions,” Jack continued. “The world’s telling me this is it. This is the girl. But what does that mean…practically?”

Dean could relate to that. 

“You know what I found out?” Jack asked.

Dean looked up at him. “What?”

“The bond…it matters, but it doesn’t always make things easier either,” Jack said. “It just gives you a reason to be honest. To have someone you can be fully yourself with, no matter the repercussions. Someone who can be your true support system.”

“That sounds about right,” Dean said after a moment. Jack leaned across the divide to pat his shoulder. 

“After her mother died, I worried about my daughter every day,” he said, with some deeper emotion shining through his eyes. “I didn’t realize that she came up strong, stubborn, with her own ideas about the world and what she wanted from it.”

Dean nodded. That definitely sounded like you.

“We didn’t have the best start, you and I. But I see how you look after my girl. How you support each other,” he said. “I’m proud of you, son. Proud to call you that too.”

Dean’s throat constricted with unexpected emotion. On days like today, he really wished his dad could’ve lived to see this. 

But Dean was grateful to shake his father-in-law’s hand.

“Thank you, sir.”

Dean stood alone at the altar inside the church sanctuary. But he wouldn’t be alone for long.

Five minutes.

His gaze roamed, finding Bobby and Ellen in the first row. The latter was already teared up, smiling with almost motherly pride. Even Bobby shot him a wink and a smile. 

Dean smiled back at them and took in a steadying breath. There was Jody Mills and her husband, some of your friends from work, and from school. There were other friends of his from the precinct. 

Then he noticed someone in the back—a lanky kid with shaggy brown hair and an attitude. Dean grinned when Jessie Deluca met him with a lazy salute.

He’d been dropping by the precinct lately. Dean had taken him out a few times for burgers and pizza and light conversation. 

You had even suggested that Bobby give him a part-time job after school, at the tow yard, and a safe place to stay when he needed it. So far, Jessie hadn’t taken Bobby up on that offer. Dean was working on it.  

But the fact that he’d accepted Dean’s offhand invitation to his wedding spoke volumes. He sent the kid a little salute back, along with his grin. 

And then the music started. A hush drew over the crowd, and even Jessie took a seat in one of the pews. The double doors opened in the back, and down the aisle came Sam and Eileen. She looked beautiful in her wine-red dress. Sam was tall and dapper in his light gray suit, contrasting Dean’s darker one. 

Jo was next, being escorted by one of your buddies from college, then your cousin Lily and her boyfriend. And finally, your father walked you down the aisle. 

Dean sucked in a subtle breath. He’d never seen the dress, of course, but it was beautiful. You were beautiful. 

The moment you reached out and took his hand, he could breathe again. 

And he knew then that he was ready…because this felt right. 

He later showed you the ring before he slipped it on your finger — engraved with an anti-possession star. You smiled up at him wryly. 

But then your smile became more genuine, more lovely. Your eyes shone bright with unshed tears. 

You held nothing back from the soul bond, and so Dean got a full picture of what it was to be loved. 

His eyes burned too. He hoped you were able to read his WiFi signals right back. Because just now, he wasn’t sure if his voice was going to cooperate with him.

The simple fact of it was, you were his girl. His person.

And that was something that couldn’t be broken.

AN: I hope you enjoyed this more official epilogue to Never Say Goodbye! ❤️

It’s been so much fun to write this story. But let me know if there are any requests in this story-verse! I’d be happy to come back to it someday. 🥹

Keep Reading:

Ready for another bonus one-shot?

Read on: The Old-Fashioned Way You and Dean are having trouble trying to start a family. What happens when you turn to a spell for a possible solution?

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[moonligsposts]

Dean Winchester x Reader

Not a boring life

«Are you listening to me? Dean.» Castiel puts his hand on my shoulder .

«I was thinking… you can read minds, don’t you?» Castiel looks at me.

«Yes, I can. Why?»

«The son of a bitch of that fucking angel made me see a reality in 6 years from now and… Sam had become his vassal, and Y/n was with him. They were, I mean… together. Besides, the devil told me I would lose her because he offered her something I can never give her. I know there’s a chance he’ll take Sam, but her?»

In my mind, I relive that damn moment a hundred of times: Sam, who isn’t Sammy anymore, possessed by the devil and Y/n who is at his side and he caressed her! That drives me crazy.

«So?» Castiel asks.

«Read Y/n’s mind, see if you can find something that she has lost or someone. Maybe she desires something more than anything.»

«Wouldn’t be better if you ask her?»

«Wouldn’t be better if you do what I asked you and don’t say a thing?!» he nods and disappears.

2 minutes later

«Done.»

«Oh, you’re already back.» I lean against the wall.

«So, what is her biggest secret?» I say funny but Castiel looks at me with a serious, too much seriousness, face.

«She lost her family: her dad died of a cancer when she was young and then her mother and her brother died in a car accident five years ago.» He tells me the story, and I see in his eyes the sadness.

«is there anything else? Why do you have that face?»

« I saw her feeling, Dean. It was distressing to see her memories, devastating to live them I guess. Besides it was hard to find those memories, it was like she erased them. She was alone most the time of her life. A child growing up too fast. But when she lost her mom and her brother in a car accident, she was in the car but she survived. She spent months to recovery, she wanted die with them...»

«She wanted to die? Why she didn’t tell me nothing?»

«Calm yourself, Dean, she has her reasons.»

«Yeah, and she can talk to me! I could help her.»

«Don’t you understand, Dean? She can’t even think about it… losing before her father, then all the rest of her family. Y/n just wants…»

«What?» Castiel and I turn around and see Y/n at the door. She just looked at Castiel, though.

«Cass, say that is not what I’m thinking…» Cass looks down at his feet.

«Why did you do that?» Her eyes begin to fill with tears.

«I’m sorry, Y/n…» Cass says.

«Why did you do that? Why are you talking to him about it?» Her breath becomes irregular. I approach her, but she immediately backs up.

«I wanna an answer Cass! Why did you do that?» Y/n yells at him. Cass’s embarrassment is evident.

«I asked him to do that.» as I said that she slowly turns to me.

«Why…?» I try again to get close to her, but she still backs up.

«That was my life! I had to be the one to tell you that not an angel who can reads minds! Why did you do that?» Y/n yells at me preventing me from approaching her.

«Baby, I asked Cass to do that because I need to know why you in 6 years, you would’ve said yes to the devil… the fucking angel made me see a reality, in 6 years from now, where you and Sam were with Lucifer and I realised I have to make things work differently…»

«Why didn’t you ask me, first?» i try to approach her again but she won’t let me touch her.

«Honey, why didn’t you tell me that? I could help you. I love you, I’m sorry for what you had to live through.»

But these words don’t calm her down, they make her more nervous.

«Yes? What would you have done? Take them back? That is impossible, and all I want is to forget! Forget about everything that has happened to me before this life with you! Sorry for not telling you anything that happens on this or whatever happen before that we met but I can’t…» she makes a pause, then say

«But you didn’t have the right to steal my secrets.» When she finishes talking, she turns and leaves the room.

«Oh, maybe you, Cass, could read my mind so you’ll explain to your friend how I feel right now. Steal this from me too.» She says defiantly to Castiel.

Now I feel guilty for both her and Cass too.

«Y/n, please listen to me…»

«LEAVE ME ALONE!I always respect the fact that you didn’t wanna talk about what fucking happened in the hell and I was okay with that! I never said nothing even when you didn’t wanna explain why you were sad or angry or whatever. Why can’t you do the same with me? Or maybe you could ask me instead…»

«Come on, love, lemme explain…»

«Yeah, no. The only thing that I wanna do is run away from here. Before you destroy everything, with you I never think about that! But you have to know, right? All that matters was that you know.

Don’t follow me, I hate you right now and I don’t wanna even see you.»

These words strike me deeply... but it is true, I never told her what had happened in hell or the shit life I had before meeting her. Yet, she was always by my side when all I needed was a hug.

The sound of the door closing makes me lose my mind.

«Sorry Cass… »I say quickly and I go to the room. Y/n's voice is the only thing I can hear when I look in the mirror and see myself.

I punch the mirror, hurting my hand, then

I throw the TV and lampshades on the ground. Then I take the chair and split it on the dresser...

After completely destroying the room, I sit on the floor leaning against the wall, covering my face with my hands.

I’m tired of always trying to do the right thing to protect the people I love but, no matter what I do, everything has to fuck up!

Every fucking time!

Y/n’s pov

After running until my feet begged me to stop, I sat by a lake.

Dean didn’t have to do this to me, he didn’t have to steal my thoughts. And yet it’s his style. Getting what he wants by any means...

After the last double funeral, I walked out of that house and vowed never to return. All my life, forgetting was the antidote to everything that hurt me.

But even if I try, I can’t forget, and every time these thoughts come back, I get lost.

One year after my mother and brother died, Dean came along, like a bolt from the blue. And damn me falling in love with him... of him, of the life that appeared in front me, of Sam, of hunting.

Not a boring life.

Maybe I exaggerated... the words I said to him definitely hurt him. I pick up the phone and find a message from Dean.

“I’m sorry, I know I fucked up, I know, but please before everything talk to me. Love you.”

I don’t answer the message, but I get up and go back.

I open the front door and go to the kitchen where the light is on.

«It’s very late.» Dean says.

«I’m sorry, I…» as soon as I start talking he turns to me. I see his bloody hands.

«What happen?» This time, I’m getting close to him.

«I’m sorry. I lost my mind. Look Yn, I’m really sorry. But all I wanted to do was keep you safe from Lucifer and I need to know why you would’ve chosen him.»

«I never would choose him.»

«He would promise you to take them back.»Seeing his shiny eyes saddens me and, even all he does, the only thing I wanna do is kiss him.

«This is impossible. And even if this is possible in a certain demoniac way, I don’t care: they are dead and I know that pretty well.»

I love you, Y/n. » Dean smiles and continues

«I know that I love you, sweetheart. I loved you since the first time I saw you. Every time I'm with him, I find myself forgetting all the pain I've endured when we look into each other's eyes.

«Can I touch you? » Dean asks me.

«You have to.» I find myself in his arms in a flash.

«I love you, Dean.» I hear his laugh in my ears. He takes me in his arms and rests me on the kitchen counter, I gird his life with my legs.

«You don’t know how much I love you, Y/n.» He says as he kisses my neck and my hands caress his hair.

«I’m yours…» Dean says.

«And I’m yours, Dean.»

«Say it again, I think I could come.»

«Just like this? I didn’t even touch you there…» He lifts his head from the hollow of my neck and takes my face in his hands.

«You don’t need to touch me to turn me on.» I smile and kiss him on his beautiful lips.

This is all I need to make me feel alive...

[trashmoutth]

When I see you again (Fred Weasley x Reader)

PARTS 1. 2. female!reader, Gryffindor!reader Summary: It takes place during the Second Wizarding War, months after Bill and Fleur’s wedding. Reader is on the run after her family has been caught by the Snatchers. Loosely following cannon. Pairing: Fred Weasley x reader (mentioned) Characters: Dean Thomas, Fred Weasley (mentioned),George Weasley (mentioned), Ted Tonks (mentioned), Dirk Cresswell (mentioned) Warnings: war, mentions of death, angst, swearing, english is not my first language so there might be grammatical mistakes, capital letters, etc.

—

During the next couple of days there was a strange feeling of excitement in the air. For the first time in a while, you felt like there was something to hope for, like you had a goal. The sudden burst of adrenaline in your veins had you wandering around this old house of yours all day and all night. It was driving Dean crazy, but you didn’t care. He showed you how to replay old PotterWatch recordings, so you had them playing in the background through the day while searching through your grandma’s old books in hopes of finding something helpful.

Dean was being as supportive as he could’ve been, considering he was also aching to get in touch with his parents and sisters, however, he was reluctant to get his hopes up. You didn’t have the same problem. It wasn’t a choice for you.

“I’d tell her that her family is alive and well and desperate for news of her whereabouts. As are quite frankly, all of us here at the PotterWatch”.

When you weren’t replaying the recording, you were replaying those words in your head.

You had to find a way.

There was another resident in the house who didn’t seem to be too keen on contacting the wizarding world. A goblin named Ricbert. He was badly injured and spent most of the time resting. You couldn’t blame him for not wanting to risk exposure, not after Dean has told you everything they had to go through to get to a safe house. They were travelling with Ted Tonks, Dirk Cresswell and another goblin named Gornuk. They crossed miles and miles being actively hunted by the Snatchers and Death Eaters. Gornuk has split himself while apparating in a hurry and got captured. Dirk went after him while urging the others to run away, but Ted Tonks would not leave anyone behind. Unfortunately, that resulted in Dean and Ricbert having to fend for themselves.

Listening to that story made you shiver. But if anything, it made you even more determined to stop running and hiding. It wasn’t even just about seeing your family and friends again. It wasn’t just about Fred either. People were fighting for their lives! You couldn’t stay put! You had to do something!

When you weren’t practicing defensive spells, you spent your time obsessively collecting herbs and brewing healing remedies for Ricbert. It made you feel a bit better, being useful to someone. You were trying out all kinds of recipes you thought might come in handy.

You made a batch of Polyjuice Potion, Cure for boils, Antidote to Common Poisons, Antidote to Uncommon Poisons. You even tried to make Felix Felicis, but the ingredients for it were way too hard to find even in regular circumstances.

You were brewing so much that Dean eventually had to take you by the hand and force you to sit down and take a break.

“If Snape could see me now!”, you said with a tired smile.

Dean chuckled.

“He’d probably put you in detention for working too hard”.

“Ah, yes! Did you know he actually did do that to me once?”

“What, really?”

“Yeah… I wrote an essay in my third year that was accidentally a little too good. He accused me of using a magical quill and put me in detention”, you rolled your eyes.

“Blimey, what a git!”

“Well, I’ll tell you what, I’ve never tried to work too hard on my homework again!”, you laughed.

It was nice talking to Dean, the two of you became fast friends during your stay in the house. You gave each other space through the day, but in the evenings, you would sit down and enjoy each other’s company. Just like you were back in the Gryffindor common room, chatting about muggle films and sports. You found your grandparents’ stash of Firewhiskey and Nettlewine, so you’d light the fireplace and open a bottle. Ricbert also joined you on occasion.

You tried not to talk too much about PotterWatch, even though that was all you wanted to talk about, and tried avoiding mentioning Fred and George’s name completely. At least until you’ve figured out the way to find them. On the first night, you and Dean went through all the options of how to get in touch with someone from your world. Floo powder was out of question. So was sending and owl, obviously. Most importantly, even if you did find a way to send anyone a message, you wouldn’t know where to send it. Apparating to any location was an unnecessary risk, especially now that you seemed to be perfectly safe and sound for the first time in months. Not to mention the fact that you didn’t want to put Ricbert in danger just because, as he so delicately put one evening,

“You heard your boyfriend mention your name on a radio two weeks ago”.

The word “boyfriend” stupidly made your heart flutter. It wasn’t, strictly speaking, true, but you didn’t correct him. Dean didn’t question it either at the time. However, that evening, after a few glasses of Nettlewine, his curiosity got the best of him.

“So…”, he started, “You and Weasley, eh?”

“Huh?”

“You and Fred Weasley? You’re like… an item, right?”

“What makes you say that?”, you feigned surprise.

He raised his eyebrows and smirked at you.

“Oh, please!”

“No! We are just friends”, you tried to protest, but a small smile escaped your lips and betrayed you.

“Sure you are!”, Dean chuckled, “I also fall asleep every night while listening to recordings of my friend’s voices on the radio”.

“Well maybe you should, it’s very calming”, you teased.

“Besides”, you continued, “How do you know it’s not Georgie I’m listening for?”

“Oh”, he laughed, “You’re right, my apologies”.

“Why do you think they call him Tentacula?”.

He snorted and threw a pillow at you.

“Don’t put images in my head!”

“Well, you’re the one who started this conversation!”, you threw the pillow back at him.

He groaned.

“I was just being nosy, I didn’t want the details!”

“Curiosity killed the hippogriff!”

“Also…”, Dean continued, “Ginny mentioned something to me back when we were dating…”

Your heart jumped in your chest.

“About what?”, you asked as calmly as possible.

“You know… about you and Weasley… Fred, I mean”.

“What did she say?”

Dean looked at you sternly as if what he was about to say is very serious indeed, but then his face stretched into a wide grin, and he burst out laughing.

“Nothing! I just wanted to see your reaction!”

You groaned.

“Oi, Thomas, that was really low!”

“Sorry, better work on your poker face Y/LN!”, he teased you.

You rolled your eyes.

“Well, it’s not like it matters anyway. I mean… who knows if I’ll ever see him again”, your voice suddenly turned sad.

Dean’s expression softened.

“You’ll see him”, he said.

You looked at him with teary eyes and gently smiled with gratitude.

“You think so?”, you asked quietly, before you could stop yourself.

“Yes”, he replied, “We’ll find a way. But then you have to do it”.

“Do what?”

“Shoot your shot”, he said and threw a pillow at you again.

...

You’ve spent the next couple of days trying to figure out how to bring up your newest plan of sending a message to Fred and George. It seemed like a good plan; the only problem was the fact that you had no idea how to execute it.

“Dean…”, you started one afternoon.

“Yes?”, he asked.

“I’ve figured it out”, you said slowly.

“You have?”, he jumped in excitement.

“Yes… sort of”.

“What does that mean?”

“Well…”, you started, “There might be a way to send someone a message without having to know exactly where they are, I think… but it requires a really powerful witch or wizard to do so”.

“I’m not worried about that part!”, he winked at you.

You laughed bitterly.

“I don’t know, mate. I’ve never been able to do it before… that’s why I didn’t bring it up until now”.

“What is it?”, his voice suddenly got a bit more serious.

You took a deep breath.

“The thing is… you can send someone a message using the Patronus charm”.

“You can?”, he asked in a surprise.

“Yes”, you replied, “I’ve seen it”.

The image of a silver, gleaming lynx with a voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt suddenly entered your mind.

“Well, that’s… good news, right?”, Dean asked.

You sighed.

“Yes… and no”.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… I’ve never been able to produce a corporal Patronus before… and even if I did it, I have no idea how to get it to send someone a message!”, you said, with slight frustration in your voice.

“Oh…”, Dean said.

“Can you produce it?”

He shook his head.

“No… never been able to”.

“Well… that’s why I didn’t say anything until now… but it seems like it might be the only option we have left”.

He looked at you in disbelief.

“What kind of option is that? We’d have to become able to produce a corporal Patronus, and then we’d also have to somehow figure out a way to make it reach someone else for us… it would take us weeks, months, maybe even years!”

“You have somewhere to be?”, you asked sarcastically.

He sighed.

“No…”

“Well, then… unless you can come up with a better plan, I suggest you roll up your sleeves and start practicing the charm!”, you said in a tone of voice that reminded you a bit of Professor McGonagall.

A similar thought has clearly crossed Dean’s mind, because he smirked at you and said,

“Yes, professor!”

You softened your expression and smiled at him.

The following couple of days were spent by your useless attempts to preform the Patronus charm. When you weren’t whispering, mumbling, or screaming:

“Expecto Patronum!”

you were cooped up in your room, reading your grandmas old books, trying to find anything at all about the Patronus charm. It was hopeless.

To be fair, you managed to produce a glowing, silver shield that danced around the room, but there was no sign of fur, tail, claws, hooves, or anything like that. It was driving you mad, which, obviously, wasn’t helpful while trying to focus on your happiest memories.

One evening, as you were lying in your bed and rewinding old recordings of PotterWatch, a shocking realisation suddenly hit you.

Of course you would not be able to create a Patronus, you didn’t have a memory that was strong enough! All your happiest thoughts were somehow tainted by the fact that you were here, locked inside a safe house, completely isolated from the people that you loved the most. But if you could do it… If you could be strong enough to perform the spell…

You didn’t have a happiest memory because all of them were set in the future! And you held the power to make them into reality!

It was a paradoxical thought, but the realisation made your heart fill up with hope, and perhaps, that could be enough to summon a Patronus!

You jumped out of the bed, in a sudden rush of adrenaline, and raised your wand.

You closed your eyes.

What would make you happy? What is the happiest thing you can think of at this very moment?

An image of your parents glimmered in your mind. They were smiling at you while embracing you into a tight hug.

Then another image appeared. Your friends! George Weasley gifting you one of his infectious smiles and congratulating you on a spell well-done! Lee Jordan, shaking your hand and kissing your cheeks.

A small grin appeared on your lips.

It was working!

Then, you saw his face. Fred.

His flaming red locks and glistening eyes. He reached his hands towards you and pulled you in his arms. You knew his scent all too well. He smelled of cinnamon and fireworks. He didn’t say anything to you, and you didn’t say anything to him. You just stood there, embracing. No words were needed.

You felt your heart swell up as happy tears started to fill your eyes. You took a deep breath.

You were almost there!

You raised your wand higher and pictured yourself as exactly the person you wanted to be in this very moment. You were strong enough to summon a Patronus. You were clever enough to reach your friends. You were brave enough to protect Ricbert and Dean. You could do it! You just had to believe in it!

“Excpecto Patronum”, you whispered.

A beam of silver light shot out of your wand. It seemed to be forming into a shape.

Was that a claw? Or maybe antlers?

The beautiful silver light blazing from your wand gave you more confidence, so you repeated, this time more loudly and more clearly,

“Excpecto Patronum!”

This time the light started to form into a shape a lot more distinctively. You watched in an awe as you tried to figure out what animal in reminded you of, still focusing hard on your happy thoughts.

The silver light fell apart once again, but you didn’t get discouraged. You were certain this time you’d do it. You took a deep breath and pictured Fred’s smiling face. His eyes. His voice. His laughter… You’ll see him again! You will! You were so close…

“EXPECTO PATRONUM!”, you yelled out.

The light shooting out of your wand was almost blinding this time. You squinted as you watched it prance around the room, forming into a shape of a beautiful, silvery creature. After it made a circle around the room it stopped right in front of you, looking at you with its intelligent, glowing eyes. You gasped in awe and reached for it to touch it. You recognized it instantly.

It was a (your Patronus).

You did it!

The realisation made a surge of euphoric sensation shoot through your body.

You fucking did it!

You started laughing. You wanted to call for Dean, but you were worried the animal would disappear if you did that. So, instead, you just stood there, trying to get your brain to start working again. As soon as it did, another thought has crossed your mind.

What now?

That’s right! Summoning a Patronus was only a part of the problem. As happy as you were to have succeeded, you still didn’t know how to fulfil the other part.

What if I just… ask?

it was a silly thought. And yet…

It couldn’t hurt!

You struggled for a moment to find your voice. Your Patronus was still looking at you. It seemed like it already knew what you were about to do.

“Can you… help me?”, you heard yourself say stupidly.

The Patronus blinked.

“I need to send a message… to Fred Weasley. He’s… my best friend. Perhaps you already know that…?”

The animal didn’t move or react in any way that would make it seem like it understood you. You groaned in frustration.

“Well, it was worth a shot”, you mumbled.

The frustration in your voice made the Patronus start to slowly fade out. It made you panic for a moment, but then you let it go.

If you could summon it once, you can do it again!

However, the Patronus didn’t disappear, you realized a second later. Instead, it turned itself into a tiny, floating ball of light that began slowly approaching you. Just when you thought it was about to stop, it went straight inside your neck and nested itself at the bottom of your throat.

“What the…”, you spoke in a surprise.

And then you froze in shock. You could hear your own voice, just like it was magically enhanced by Sonorous. However, you had a strange feeling that if anyone else was around you, they would only see you open your mouth and silently move it like a fish.

“Did I… do it?”, you asked.

You were still hearing your own voice inside your head. That must be it! It must be working!

“Fred…”, you started, “If you can hear me… if this reaches you somehow… I’m safe. I’m in a safe location. I can’t tell you exactly where it is, it’s heavily protected…”.

You thought for a moment about what you should and shouldn’t say. You didn’t want to compromise anyone’s safety if this message was heard by someone else.

“If you can reach my parents, would you tell them I’m okay?”, you asked.

There were so many things that you dreamt about saying to him if you got the chance, and now… it felt like there was nothing on your mind.

“Oh, I’m with Dean Thomas!”, you remembered suddenly, “He’s safe too… we’re with a goblin named Ricbert… Fred…”.

You took a deep breath.

“If you can… try to find me… please”.

Just when you started thinking about how silly that sounded, the ball of light nested in your throat flew out. It reached the middle of the room and slowly transformed back into its corporal form. The beautiful, shimmering animal stood before you once again, only this time there was a little ball of light flickering in its neck. You realised, in amazement, that that was your voice.

“Find Fred Weasley… please”, you said pleadingly.

The Patronus blinked at you once again, like it perfectly understood the assignment you just gave it, and slowly began to fade out.

For a second or two you did not move. You were still a bit unsure that what you just saw really happened. You wanted to call Dean and tell him all about it, but before you could do that, you felt yourself slowly sinking into bed. You were exhausted.

You didn’t know for sure how long you slept. Was it five hours or five minutes. You only knew that in one moment your eyes were shut and you were sleeping, and in another something in the room has made you groan out in frustration.

Did somebody turn on the light?

“Turn… it… off…”, you mumbled as you tried to cover your closed eyes with a pillow.

But it felt like the light was burning through the pillowcase. You threw the pillow away and sat up straight, like someone had just pinched you.

Your eyes widened in shock. Something was in the room with you. Through the haze of sleepiness, it looked like another glowing ball of light, only this ball was a lot larger than the one you had summoned. It made a few circles around the room before it finally settled and landed at the top of the pillow you just threw away. It was a bird. A magpie. A glowing, silvery magpie! It was spreading its shimmering wings and looking at you like it wanted your undivided attention.

Another Patronus, you realised.

Your mouth had gone dry from suspense. Then, the bird opened its silver beak and spoke in the voice of Fred Weasley,

“Y/N? Is that really you?”

Your heart stopped.

—

[octoberclidan]

It Will All Be Okay

Summary: Dean is upset after Sam and Cas were sent to another universe during a hunt, and he doesn't know how or if he'll get them back. [Y/N] is there to comfort him as best she can.

Note: this wasn't requested. I have a lot of requests to go through, and I will get to them, I just felt like writing this for myself this evening.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Masterlist

Story:

"Dean?" [Y/N] quietly called as she pushed open the door to Dean's room. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands, elbows leaning on his knees. He was broken. He didn't react to the light that flowed into his dark room as the door opened wide enough to let [Y/N] slip in, and he didn't react to movement as she stepped over to stand in front of him. "Dean, it's going to be okay, we can fix this", she said as she knelt down, placing her hands on his knees and looking up at him. His hands were covering his eyes, but she knew that he'd been crying. His jeans were patterned with little tear stains, and he sniffed as he shook his head.

"They're gone".

"No, they're not Dean, they're still alive, we'll get them back, okay?" They'd had a tough hunt recently that had turned sideways when both Sam and Cas ended up being sent into another universe, and Dean and [Y/N] currently had no way of knowing which universe they were sent to or how to get them back. They didn't have the ingredients they needed to open a door, and even if they did, they didn't know where they needed to look. Dean was taking it hard. [Y/N] was too, Cas and Sam were like family to her, but she wasn't as hopeless as Dean was.

"You don't know that", he sniffed again, a slight snap to his tone which she ignored. "You don't know what kind of world they were sent to, they could be dead".

"They're both more than capable of keeping themselves safe. Cas is an angel, he can't get hurt easily. And Sam... you raised him yourself, you know how strong and intelligent he is. He'll probably figure out their way back before we do, and he has Cas to heal him if he does get hurt". She said softly as she started to rub her hands up and down his legs soothingly. She hated seeing him like this, but she knew it was better than Dean pushing it all down inside him and locking her out, or going off to try and find a demon who'd make a deal. If Dean took either of those routes, she'd have a tough time stopping him. This route, the one where he lets his grief out, was a route that she could take with him.

He let his hands fall from his eyes and he finally looked at her. His eyes were red, and tears fell as he blinked. "Do you really think we'll get them back?" He sounded so innocent as he spoke, like he'd believe whatever she said, like she had all the answers. He only showed this side of himself to [Y/N]. He never let anyone else see him like this, he'd always maintained his tough hunter persona around everyone else. He'd cried in front of Sam and Cas, sure, but he'd never let himself be quite so vulnerable and open with them.

"Don't we always?" She asked as she reached her hand up to cup his cheek, using her thumb to wipe away one of his tears. "I promise you, Dean, we will find a way to get them back. We always find a way". She wiped away another tear and he gave her a sad smile, and she smiled back. He closed his eyes and leaned into her touch, placing his hand over hers, like he was afraid she was going to take it away from him. He needed her touch. "I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere", she whispered, and he opened his eyes again to look into hers. He took a deep breath and then reached under her arms, pulling her up and onto his lap. He wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face into her neck, breathing her in. She could feel that his breath was shaky as he breathed out and tightened his grip on her. She rubbed his back comfortingly with one hand and slid her fingers into the hair on the back of his head with her other, holding him close.

"Do you want to take a nap? Try and get some sleep? Then we can do a bit of research with more of a clear mind", she suggested, and she felt him nod against her. "Okay, come on then, let's lie down". She slid off his lap and pulled back the covers on his bed, getting in and holding her arms open to him. "Come here".

He sighed, and stood up, kicking off his boots before crawling on top of her and letting her wrap her arms around him, pulling him down to lay his head on her chest. He wrapped his arms around her waist and snuggled into her, closing his eyes as he listened to her heartbeat beneath him. She started to scratch his back lightly, and held his head close to her, gently rubbing his scalp as she stared up at the ceiling. She had no idea how they were going to get Sam and Cas back, but she knew she needed to, and quickly.

Dean was heavy, but it wasn't uncomfortable having his weight on top of her, or having the slight tickle of his hair just under her chin. He never did this normally, he'd always insist on being the one holding her, or being the big spoon. He always wanted to be the one doing the protecting. He needed this though. He needed to feel like there was someone on his side, someone who wanted to be there for him, someone who wanted to help him, and she did that.

He was still terrified that he'd never find his brother or Cas, and even more terrified that he'd find them too late, but now he had a little bit of hope. He smiled as he felt [Y/N] kiss the top of his head, and she pulled the covers up over his shoulders, keeping him warm. "I'm here, and I'll be here when you wake up. Let yourself rest Dean, we'll get them back and it will all be okay". He couldn't explain how she did it, how she could give him hope and comfort when just moments ago he'd felt so hopeless and frustrated. He knew she was right though, she always was. He knew that if she said it would all be okay, then it would all be okay. He sighed as he let himself enjoy the feeling of her breathing beneath him, and her hands on his back and in his hair. He let himself drift off to a calming sleep in her hold. He let himself be okay for now.

The end

Dean Winchester taglist: @123passwort @janineb86 @k-slla @lyarr24 @candy-coated-misery0731 @jackles010378 @hobby27 @pizzagirlxnsfwx @itburnslikehelltobevega @queenie32

[soaringeag1e]

Christmas Boredom

Dean x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Language?, A Mix of Sadness and Fluffiness

Words: 782

Main Masterlist - Patreon

A light dusting of snow was leftover from a bit of snowfall earlier in the week, but nothing that jeopardized the roads too much. Christmas was right around the corner and honestly, it felt different this year. In a good way though. A really good way.

Needing some things for dinner and just a few things to stock up the cabinets at home, you had run out to the store along with a trip to the post office and stopping for gas plus a few other things that came to mind while you were out. Needless to say, instead of spending just a couple hours out and about, you were gone for more than five hours. But you felt accomplished, your to-do list was now crossed off.

Once you pulled down your street, you admired all the decorations that your neighbors have been putting up over the past few weeks, loving how creative a lot of them were. It’s only when your eyes catch a certain batch of new decor that you become a bit shocked.

Pulling into your driveway, you can’t take your eyes off the roof as you put your car in park. Leaving the groceries for the moment, you climb out, your eyes glued to the top of your house as you walk a little closer. Your smile slowly comes back along with an excitement within you as you look over the string of lights that somehow just decided to blanket your house for the season.

“I can’t tell if you’re in the Christmas spirit or if you’re just bored!” Those gorgeous green eyes you love so much eventually pop out from behind a large snowflake decoration that’s standing tall on the shingles and then something else you love joins them. That damn smirk of his.

“Uh…both!” The man admits before securing the snowflake for good and then he turns to climb off the roof. You know he’s perfectly capable of doing such a task, but the thought of him falling still makes you nervous.

When his boots land on solid ground, he turns, his smile growing as he leans down and kisses you sweetly, melting your heart and probably even the snow around you.

“Hi.” his gruff voice sends shivers down your spine and always has. You love it just as much as you love him.

“Hi.” When your eyes go to scan his handy work, his green orbs drop to the snow at your feet before he lets out a heavy sigh.

“Do you know how hard it’s been to not look up weird things or to check the news for suspicious activity?” Your expression softens. “I mean…I am trying so hard but it’s just…” he huffs, slapping a hand to his thigh as he scans the neighborhood.

Feeling his struggle, you step forward and place your hands on his cheeks. He seems too ashamed to look you in the eye at first, but eventually he does. But you can see how bad he’s beating himself up for all this.

“I want this.” he admits, his voice coming off crackly. “I really do. I want you to know that.”

“I do know that.” you tell him, your voice as soft as your touch. But he still hates himself for struggling with the normal life.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” you tell him, a little more firmly. Your hands press a little tighter on his face as you force him to look at you once again. “It’s hard. I know it is and I am so proud of you.” he scoffs, not because he doesn’t believe you but because you know that he doesn’t think there’s anything for you to be proud of. “Hey. You’re doing better than you think.” He tries to hide his eye roll, but you know him too well. “One day at a time.”

“I just don’t want to let you down.” Hearing that hits you hard. Your chest starts to hurt and tears instantly fill your eyes.

“You’re not.” you tell him as strongly as you can, but your voice is weaker than you want it to be. “I swear to you that you’re not.” With tears in both your eyes, Dean leans in again, kissing you like he hasn’t seen you in years. “Now…” you get out when he takes a second to breathe, getting him to hold off on another kiss. “If you end up going on a hunt and lie to me about it? That’s a different story.” That’s what brings his grin back.

“I won’t. I promise.”

“Damn straight you won’t. Because you’ll be taking me with you.” Dean’s smile grows before he captures your lips again.

“That’s my girl.”