#Sam is not as bad of a flirt as Dean probably anticipated

[sml-str]

Connotations

Summary: Victorian Era!AU. Castiel meets Sam Winchester by chance alone and shares a brief conversation; perhaps there’s more to come out of it than Castiel anticipated.

Word Count: 1808

Pairing: Sastiel

Important Notes: This entire fic is based on a beautiful piece of art by @yifera. Find it here. No seriously, please check it out. It’s more gorgeous than anything I could ever write. 

Last but not least, an important thank you goes to this fic’s beta, @smolstiel, who not only is a good part of why this fic even has a title and decent summary but is also the one who helped make this fic worth reading in big ways.

(Edit: You can also now read this on Ao3 if you would prefer.)

Have a nice day.

Castiel Novak had heard and uttered the phrase many times. In his neighborhood – the richer, politer, more passive-aggressive part of the city – it was practically slung around like a small child’s stuffed toy as the farewell for any context.

When passing by a neighbor or family member briefly, have a nice day. After requesting something from the help, have a nice day. When attempting to exit any conversation at a party, it was have a nice evening, and it would have to be stated at least three times before escape was finally within reach. When finally walking away from a heated discussion with one of his brothers, after voices finally started to lower again – have a nice day.

Castiel had never once heard the civil goodbye sound so very… welcoming.

Of course, the one time he did would be on the invisible line of the city between the upper classes and the slums. Castiel wouldn’t even have gone if it were not for cruelties of necessity. A business transaction had demanded it. Mr. Crowley had refused to sell ownership of one of his factories to the Novak family in any other location than his own office; a representative was required. Castiel, as always, was handed the dirty work.

So Castiel had put on a fairly nice outfit with his favored beige coat – the one his mother hated the most – grabbed his hat and walked, on his own. He could have taken a carriage, which included the constant, dutiful reminder of Samandriel, but he only liked the usage of horses for transportation if he was directly riding them. So he walked on, avoiding the shaking heads of his carriage-adoring family as he exited the manor, squinting a bit at Miss Meg when she attempted to invite him over for tea, and some ‘deeper appreciation for furniture arrangement’ as he passed her by (Have a nice day, mademoiselle), and braving the short journey ahead.

Would walking make him late to meeting Mr. Crowley? Yes. Would the weasel still sell? As soon as he was threatened with the possibility of the Novak family buying property from a certain rival instead, yes.

Castiel straightened his hat with one hand as he delved into town, strolling along the cobbled paths with his eyes set directly forwards as a man on one mission. The chatter of London surrounded him as he went, the clopping and rolling of horses pulling carriages through the streets harmonizing with the babbling of strangers going by. He ignored it all. 

He would have continued doing so if someone only a yard or so to his left pulled his eyes away from their target.

Castiel had never considered himself prone to distractions.

The someone was a rugged young man, sitting on the porch of a two-story house that was too nice to belong to him, perhaps for him to even live in, wearing a shirt that may have at some point been white, a gray cap, and worn out trousers that showcased an impressively long pair of legs splayed over the two steps. Castiel had to be at least a year his senior, but it was evident that the man ahead of him was at least four or five inches taller, despite Castiel’s already fairly impressive height.

Their eyes met and locked together for a passing moment. Castiel managed a polite nod in the stranger’s direction, keeping his feet moving ahead.

A smile crept onto the young man’s dirt-smudged face as he reached up to tip his cap. “Have a nice day.”

There was something about the man’s warm tone – something that was certainly not expecting Castiel to just carry on with his day, something that was definitely almost maybe wanting Castiel to stick around – that caused him to hang back for a few moments rather than continue on. There was something about the way the man’s mouth had moved when he said it that made Castiel want to see it again.

So Castiel lingered, one foot still ahead of him as his own mouth refused to function, his mind too scattered to repeat the sentiment back. “Oh. I, ah… have…You’re – nice.”

The man chuckled with a soft noise. His head tilted a bit, exposing the left side of his lean neck and highlighting the light dip where it met his shoulder. “Well, uh, thank you, sir.”

Castiel had the most awful feeling that his cheeks were beginning to flush, an action they hadn’t performed since the very first time someone expressed interest in him, back when he was young. “Yes.”

There was pause as the young man seemed to study Castiel, a surprising amount of intelligence seeming to shine through – blue? green? hazel? – eyes as he did so.  “Yes.” Still giving Castiel the same soft smile, he introduced himself. “I’m Sam, by the way. Sam Winchester.”

Castiel silently wrote the name down in his memory, mentally repeating it a few times before he remembered that introductions were typically mutual, shifting forward. “Castiel Novak. It’s very nice to meet you, Samuel Winchester. …Sam.”

“Nice to meet you too, Cas,” Sam grinned a bit as he spoke, eyes twinkling as he straightened up and lifted his head slightly, the new position allowing more of the sun to shine down on features that Castiel could only describe as striking. “You come around these parts often? Just – out of curiosity; I don’t think I’ve seen you.”

If Castiel hadn’t definitely known much, much better, that nickname with that specific question would have almost come across as flirtations.

“Ah, no, I do not,” Castiel answered honestly, planning to end the sentence there but his own tongue betrayed him. “Well, at least, I haven’t – at this moment in time… Perhaps? Well, wait, no, actually, I…” He clamped his mouth shut willfully, shifting his weight once again as he mentally cursed his own foolishness.

Sam let out another chuckle but quieter. If Castiel’s damned mind had thought of Sam’s words as coquettish before, Sam’s simple response to his rambling only fueled it. “Pity.”

“I could start,” Castiel blurted out suddenly, before quickly trying to rebound. “I mean to say, it’s good to know one’s own city well. I should pay more attention to what it has to offer.”

“It’s got one or two things, here and there.” Sam made eye contact with him again, that same intelligence shining from them directly into what felt like Castiel’s soul, and Sam’s words were what Castiel thought could only have been an open invitation and – no, don’t go there.

This was not an invitation, it couldn’t have been, and yet Castiel could feel the unfamiliar sensation of his heart beating against his ribcage at a faster pace, a feeling he hadn’t had since he’d come home from studying abroad. He found he couldn’t peel his eyes away again. “I can see that.”

Oh, good God, no.

What a fine time to consider carving out his own tongue, for his own sake. His brothers would be so glad to hear of this decision.

That is not what he meant to say, except it was because he’d been looking right at Sam, and that makes it worse, you fool – and there was definitely a thing in this area that made this area worth it, but now Sam would realize Castiel’s thoughts and would no longer want to talk to him further.

Instead of looking at Castiel oddly or retracting immediately from the conversation, Sam only ducked his head a bit as if embarrassed – that couldn’t be right – and lifted it and oh, why was Sam’s face tinged pink? Castiel raised his head towards the sky. Ah, right, the sun. Heat. That made more sense.

A brute force collided with Castiel’s back and propelled him forwards a few steps, his top hat being knocked off of his head and onto the stone path. Castiel lifted his head up to see the back of the large man’s head who’d bumped into him walk away, leaving in a rush of air that ruffled his coat. Then he looked around, remembering what he was actually doing there, as well as the fact that he was taking up space on the narrow walkway.

He straightened his coat lightly, then started to reach down to grab his hat. Long, nimble fingers beat him to it. He blinked, watching as Sam picked it up for him, even going so far as to brush it off, before standing and holding it out with a slightly crooked smile.

Sam was as tall as his legs had earlier predicted.

Castiel took the hat, setting it back on top of his head. “Ah, yes. Thank you. It’s unwise to perform a business meeting without a good hat.”

Another amused huff, followed by, “That’s true.” Sam reached up, tipping his own cap just a bit in agreement. “Speaking of, I should let you get back to that.” A pause. “It was nice talking to you, Cas.”

“Yes. Yes,” Castiel replied quickly with a sharp nod. “Er, I mean to say, it was nice talking to you too, Sam.” Please talk with me more.

He studied Sam’s eyes for a mere moment, blinking when the younger man before him held out his hand. It took a moment for his mind to catch up with the action, clearing his throat as he extended his arm to accept the handshake. He could feel the warmth of Sam’s hand as their wrists lifted and fell in unison; he almost cursed himself for choosing to wear gloves.

He fidgeted after their hands released each other’s, before giving a polite smile and another tip of his hat, forcing himself away before his tongue could spit out another humiliating statement. His face was heating up too much for his liking for him to check over his shoulder, but he almost thought he could feel Sam’s eyes on him. He almost wanted them to be.

He shook his head once he turned the corner of the street as if to shake away the image of Sam’s face burned into the back of his head. His hands reached up to fix his collar, lifting his head up high as he grew closer to his destination. No more distractions.

Mr. Crowley’s bearded expression was scrunched with indignation when Castiel finally arrived at his dimly lit office. “You’re late, Mr. Novak.”

Castiel had the decency to look shamed for a brief moment, nodding slowly as he let one of the servants take his coat and hat. He pulled out one of the two chairs in front of Crowley’s sleek wooden desk, sitting down gracefully without invitation. “Ah – yes. I apologize for my tardiness.” He offered a thin, considerably unapologetic smile. “I’ve been having a rather nice day.”

[lesvegas]

The Rat Pack Lexicon, or Frankenspeak

In the 1960's the Rat Pack created their own language. It was a mixture of slang and cool terms that helped make them undisputably the ‘kings of cool’ in their heyday in Las Vegas.

Decided to paste the whole glossary from here just so we can have it on tumblr. Under a readmore because it’s long as hell. Original post (some definitions were cut off).

18 Karat All the way, full-out: "An 18 karat idiot."

Baby Used as an exclamation as well as a term of endearment.

Bag A person's particular interest; as in "singing's my bag"  

Barn Burner A very stylish, classy woman  

Beard A male friend who acts as a "cover"; usually for extramarital affairs  

Beetle A girl who dresses in flashy clothes  

Big-Leaguer A resourceful man who can handle any situation

  Big Casino Death  

Bird The male or female genitalia; standard greeting: "How's your bird"?

  Bombsville Any kind of failure in life; see ville

Broad Affectionate term for a girl or woman with sex appeal

Bum A person who is despised, most frequently linked to people in the media

Bunter A man who fails in almost everything he does; the opposite of gasser

Cash Out Leave, as in "Cash me out of this party" = "I'm leaving."

Charley What the rat-packers called one another  

Charlies Admiring word for a woman's breasts

Chick A young and invariably pretty girl

Clam-Bake A party or get-together.

Clyde A word used to cover a multitude of personal observations; e.g., "I don't like her clyde" means "I don't like her voice", etc.  

Coo-Coo! See crazy  

Cool A term of admiration for a person or place. An alternative word meaning the same thing is crazy.

Crazy A term of admiration for a personal, place, or thing; similar to cool.

Creep A man who is disliked for any reason

Croaker A derogatory term for a doctor.

Crumb A person it is impossible to respect

Dame A generally derogatory term for a probably unattractive woman

Dig A term of appreciation; e.g., "I dig that broad."

Dimmer Eyes (as in "I gotta see the croaker about my bad dimmers.")

"Drop it, charley" Change the conversation; see "good night, all”

Duke Tip  

  Dying An exaggerated term to mean slightly upset; e.g. "I'm dying"

End A word to signify that someone or something is the very best; "the living end"

Endsville Total failure; similar to bombsville; see ville

Fink A person who cannot be relied upon or trusted, especially someone in the media; a crumb  

First Base The start of something, usually applied in terms of failure when someone has failed to reach it.

Fracture To make laugh; as in "that fractures me"

Gas A great situation; as in "that set was a gas"

Gasoline Alcohol

Gasser A highly admired person; the end!

Gofer Someone who performs menial jobs and tasks; "go for drinks"

Good Night All A term of invective used to change the subject of conversation

Groove A term of admiration or approval; as in "in the groove"

Harvey A person who acts in a stupid or naive fashion; sometimes shortened to "Harv"

Hacked Angry; as in "he's hacked off"

Hello! A cry of surprise to no one in particular when a beautiful woman is seen

Hey-Hey Indulging in anything of a sexual nature with a woman.

Hunker A jack-of-all-trades; see gopher

Jokes An actor's lines in a screenplay

Let's Lose Charley A term used among intimates who want to get rid of a bore in their company  

Little Hey-Hey Romance; a little action with a broad

Locked-up As in "all locked-up," a term for a forthcoming date or engagement, private or public  

Loser Anyone who has made a mess of their life, drinks too much, makes the wrong enemies, etc.

Mish-Mash Similar to loser, but refers specifically to a woman who is messed up

Mothery Terrific; wild and wicked

Mouse Usually a small, very feminine girl who invites being cuddled

Nowhere A term of failure as in "he's nowhere."

  Odds Used in connection with important decisions, as in "the odds aren't right," meaning it's a no go

Original Loser A person without talent; sometimes more fully expressed as "He is the original Major Bowes Amateur Hour loser  

Pallie Dean's nickname for everyone, whether a lifelong friend or a bellhop  

Platinum Having a big heart, generous. "You're platinum, pussycat!"

Player A man who is a gambler by nature, makes friends easily, and never gives up trying

Punks Any undesirables, in particular criminals, gangsters, or mobsters

Quin Derisive term for a woman who is an easy pick-up

  Rain As in "I think it's going to rain" indicating that it is time to leave a dull gathering or party  

Ring-a-Ding A term of approval, as in "What a ring-a-ding broad!"

Sam Used in the same way as Charley for a person whose name has been forgotten, most often applied to females

Scam To cheat at gambling, as in "Hey, what's the scam?"

Scramsville To run off

Sharp A person who dresses well and with style

Smashed A word used to describe someone who is drunk. On occasions it has been replaced with "pissed."

Solid Definite, reliable. (Note: this was also used by Linc in "The Mod Squad.")

Square A person of limited character, not unlike a harvey.

Swing v. To hang out and drink, smoke, sing, generally get real loose.

Ta-Ta Goodbye

Tomato As in "a ripe tomato" a woman ready for seduction or even marriage.

Twirl A girl who loves dancing

Ville A suffix used to indicate changes in any given situation; see endsville, splitsville, etc

Witchdoctor Member of the clergy.

Wow-ee Wow Wow Figured importantly in the Rat Pack lexicon for a while in the late 50s and early 60s. It was an expression of glee, joyful anticipation and a euphemism for lubricious fun.

The following examples are a fictitious sample of Frank in conversation using his infamous lexicon:

The English version

The bartender gives me another drink. The gathering is dull, with a surfeit of ugly women and men unworthy of respect and an insufficient number of attractive ladies and easy-going fellows. I spot an untrustworthy-looking man over by the jukebox making overtures to a woman. He fancies himself an impressive fellow, flirting with this woman who is more than just another sweet thing to cuddle with. In fact, she is extraordinary. I am awestruck by her beauty.

Now the would-be Romeo is leaning closer, pressing his romantic attack. So I cast my gaze in her direction. She gazes back: A confident connection is made. She crosses the room, stands beside me, orders a drink, tells a joke that I find quite amusing, then says she found her previous companion uninteresting. I like her and believe the reverse is also true. I sense the party is on its last legs and say so. We leave.

The Frank version

The barkeep fills me up with gas. The joint ain't hopping; it's no clambake, brother - too many dames and crumbs, not enough broads and players. I spot a fink over by the jukebox making the moves. He thinks he's a big-leaguer, scamming on a chick who - hello! - is more than a mouse. An 18-karat barn-burner, boy- the end. Ring a ding!

Now the big-leaguer's leaning closer, feeding her a line, but she's not biting. It's bombsville. He's nowhere; he knows it, and so do I. So I shoot the broad a come-hither look, and she shoots back: Solid. She crosses the room, sidles up next to me, gasses up, tells a joke that fractures me and says the big-leaguer was a Harve. I dig her, and she digs me. "I think it's going to rain," I say. And just like that, we're scramsville.

[katehuntington]

Title: In Bad Waters - part nine Word count: ±3300 words Episode summary: Still in possession of the Winchesters’ belongings, Zoë meets up with the hunters on her next case. When it turns out to be a little more complicated than anticipated, she accepts their help in order to make an important deadline. Part nine summary: After splitting up, each hunter has their own part to play in order to solve the case. But when Sam has a vision, things go south real quick. Episode warnings: Dark! NSFW, 18+ only! Descriptions of domestic violence/child abuse. Drug use/addiction. Angst, gore, violence, character death. Description of blood, injury and medical procedures/resuscitation. Swearing, alcoholism. Supernatural creatures/entities, mentions of demon possession. Descriptions of torture and murder, drowning. Illegal/criminal practices. Mentions of nightmares and flashbacks. Author’s note: Beta’d by @winchest09​​​​​​ and @deanwanddamons​​​​​​. Thanks, girls! Gif isn’t mine. If you are the creator or know who made it, please tell me so I can credit you.

Supernatural: The Sullivan Series Masterlist

S1E02 “In Bad Waters” Masterlist

     Bored out of her skull, Zoë flips the page of her newspaper for the third time, pretending to read it. She found a good spot on the terrace of a Pizza Hut restaurant. Traffic drives by on Highway 412 constantly, but from her table she has a clear view of a house on Magnolia Drive. Taylor Dawlson, Laura’s former teacher, lives in the suburban home.

     It’s 14:30 and Zoë has been guarding the Dawlson residence for over an hour now, but nothing has happened so far. She hasn’t had a call from the boys yet either, so she presumes everything is quiet at the Shire place, and Dean is probably talking to doctor Hughes.

     Taylor Dawlson is home, busy maintaining the household while keeping her daughter entertained. The husband, whose name is Jeff, is working the lawn at the moment, a sprinkler system watering the pink magnolias by the white wooden fence. On the table in front of her, next to the slice of pepperoni pizza, Zoë installed her Macbook, which shows some information about the Dawlson family, just so that she knows who she’s dealing with. Taylor is a teacher at the Woodrow Wilson Elementary School, Jeff is into sportswear and merchandise. They’ve been married for seven years  and have a three year old daughter named Lesley. No criminal records on the parents, nothing out of the ordinary. Just a happy family, living in a normal neighborhood, right next to a church. One thing doesn’t show up on her screen, though, and it’s something the huntress knows for a fact; the mother happened to be in one of her flashbacks.

     She lets out a bored sigh and takes another bite of her pizza, but then feels her phone vibrating in her pocket. Quickly, she takes out her Nokia and checks the screen; it’s Sam.      “What’s up?” She yawns.      “Your stake out is that exciting, huh?” Sam responds sarcastically.

     Sam is comfortable in the driver’s seat of the Chevrolet Impala, which he parked across the street of the Shire residence, located on Reynolds Park Road. He has the window rolled down and rests his elbow on the door as he holds his phone to his ear. The streets are almost empty in this neighborhood just outside the downtown area of Paragould. A beautiful house by the lake seems like a fairytale to live in, and yet this place was the setting for violence and abuse for many years.

     “It’s like watching a documentary on snails,” she comments, after which she bites off a piece of pizza.      Sam can hear her chewing food and furrows his brow. “Are you eating again?”      “Dude, you sound like my dietician,” Zoë responds with her mouth full.      Sam chuckles and realizes how stern he must have sounded. “Burgers again?”      “No, I like a bit of variation in my cuisine,” she claims, putting up a snooty voice. “I’m having Italian right now.”      “Let me guess: pizza?”      Zoë laughs. “Pizza Hut to be precise.”

     “How do you do it?” Sam wonders, still chuckling.      “Do what?”      “Eat so much, without… well, you know--” he starts carefully, instantly regretting it. He’s on thin ice.      Zoë can’t help but grin, deciding to mess with him. “- getting big? Are you fucking kidding me, Sam? Someone who had a long term relationship should know this; clothes, weight and age are the forbidden subjects.”      Quickly, Sam sets things straight. “I’m sorry, I just think it’s extraordinary.”      “What? The weirdness of women or the fact that I eat so much?” she jokes.

     Sam chuckles, now that he can detect the trace of mockery in her voice.  “Seriously, though. How can you consume so much food and still look - you know - like you do?”      “Because I kick ass,” she answers, sassy.      Her response might have come out rapidly, for a brief moment there, Zoë analyzed that sentence. Was Sam’s remark a compliment or a flirt? She’s not sure what to think of it, but presumes the flirtation wasn’t intentional, considering he’s clearly still struggling to deal with his ex-girlfriend’s death. And come on, she has given him a pretty hard time; she’s been anything but charming.

     Zoë changes the subject before an awkward silence follows. “How’s it going over there?”      Sam glances through his windshield at the two individuals up at the house. “Nothing out of the ordinary. Mrs. Shire seems to mourn by cleaning up the entire house and her son is sitting by the lake, just staring out over the water,” Sam describes.      “The guy was an asshole, but he was still their family,” she realizes, after which a beep sounds in her ear; she has a different call coming in.       “Gonna put you on hold for a sec, Sam,” she notifies the hunter, and pushes the green button on her phone. “Sullivan.”

     “Doc ain’t talking.”      Dean walks down the stairs of the Arkansas Methodist Medical Center. He unbuttons his blazer and loosens his tie.      Zoë narrows her eyes, even though the recipient on the other end of the line can’t see it. “What do you mean, he isn’t talking?”      “He got all nervous when I started asking questions. There’s no way I can get a word out of his mouth. But he does know something, alright,” Dean explains.

     “Did you try everything?” she checks, questioning Dean’s interrogation skills.      “Well, I didn’t torture him, if that’s what you’re asking. I didn’t tell him the truth either,” he admits.      Zoë realizes it’s a good thing he didn’t reveal his true identity. If Dean starts talking about killer ghosts and the guy freaks out, they might have a serious problem, considering that they are identified as FBI. A call to their chief at the Bureau will ultimately result in a blown cover, which will not make solving any future case any easier.

     “You have the death report, right?” she threatens with a tone.      “Who the fuck do you think I am? Of course I have the death report,” Dean ensures cockily, as he takes out the report from his inside pocket. “Stole it from his file case. Piece of cake.”      Zoë doesn’t bother to compliment him for his deed. “Anything interesting in there?”      “Not really,” Dean presses his phone between his ear and shoulder and leafs through the pages, which contain a lot of medical talk that he doesn’t understand one bit. “It says that Laura Shire was brought in by her father around 11 PM, yada yada. Cause of death…” Dean pauses as he reads the line again and halts. “Didn’t you say that both dear daddy and Van Dyke broke their neck?” he recalls, looking up from the file.      “Yeah.”      “Laura broke hers too. Robert Shire claimed she fell down the stairs.”       Zoë scoffs. “Well that’s complete utter bullshit.”

     “One other thing,” he points out as he continues his way down the street. “Shire wasn’t just a colleague, he was his boss. Guess who the second signature on Laura’s death report belongs to.”      “Shire himself?” she assumes, stunned.      “The one and only.”      “But he’s a family member of the victim, he should have been excluded from the examination!” Zoë exclaims in disbelief.      “That’s why he got Hughes to do the autopsy. All they needed was his signature as Chief of Staff.”      The huntress gets the point now and rolls her eyes skyward. “Which makes the report valid.”      “So, what now?” Dean questions, his current mission having been completed.      “Hughes played a part in this cover up, so he might be her next candidate,” Zoë ponders, glancing at the Dawlson residence, where it’s still quiet. “There is no way you can keep an eye on him in that hospital, is there?”      “We don’t need to. Laura only attacks when her victim is alone, right?” Dean mentions.

     Zoë thinks about that for a second, her mind going over the first two murders. She didn’t notice it before, but he’s right. There were people in the house when Shire and Van Dyke were killed, but never in the same room.      “Now that you mention it. As long as the doc stays amongst people, he’ll be safe. When does he get off?”      “Already checked that; not until 6 PM,” Dean informs.      “Good, so we don’t have to worry about him until six,” she concludes, trying to think of a plan.      “Everything nice and quiet over there?” Dean wonders.      “I’m wasting my time. I’m not sure if Laura would target her anyhow.”      Dean walks into the parking lot of the Kentucky Fried Chicken only blocks away from the hospital. “And Sam?”      “Do I look like a fucking mailman to you? Why don’t you ask him yourself?” she returns annoyed.

     He enters the KFC and takes a look at the menu, even though he always goes for the classic. When Dean ignores her remark, the silence however ignites a reaction from the huntress nonetheless.      “You two had a fight or somethin’?”      “Sort of,” he admits with a mutter.      “Ah, brotherly love. What did you fight about?” Zoë asks nosy.      “That’s none of your business,” Dean returns defensive, stunned by her boldness. “Damn, you’re not curious at all, are you?”      “I’m not curious. I just want to know everything.” She shrugs, her correction sassy. “C’mon, spill it.”

     Dean sighs somewhat agitated. He doesn’t owe her an explanation, but he figures that once she knows, she might stop poking him. He keeps it as short as possible, though. “It was about Dad. Sam and I have different ideas on how to find him.”

     Surprisingly, there’s no smart counter that follows up his words. Instead, Zoë swallows back a mean remark and decides not to respond for their own good. They are finally having a conversation without yelling at each other, and although the fighting doesn’t bother her since she has no interest in becoming friends with the older Winchester, she’d rather keep it civil. Like it or not, she can use their help, so now would not be the best time to counter the hunter.

     Dean breaks the deadly silence. “Still there?”      Zoë clears her throat. “Yeah, sorry. Got distracted.”      “Want some chicken?” he jokes, as if he could teleport it to her place.      She laughs, guessing where he is. “Where are you? KFC?”      “Ahuh,” he confirms, and turns to the guy behind the counter. “One bucket of chicken wings, please.”      “Is that all?” Zoë comments.      “You’re right,” he agrees, looking back at the restaurant worker. “Could you add a Crispy Colonel Sandwich and a coke?”

     He pays for his second lunch of the day and tells the employee to keep the change.      “Did you eat?” Dean asks Zoë, as he walks out to the terrace and settles down in the sun.      She smiles at her phone. Apparently they have found common grounds.      “Yeah, pizza,” she mentions. “Which reminds me, I still have Sam on hold. If you wanna crash some place, feel free to break into my motel room.”      “Alrighty, you didn’t boobytrap it, did ya?” he checks first.      “Unless you’re a demon or a ghost you’re free to waltz in,” Zoë replies, referring to the demon trapping pentagram under the doormat and the salt lines in the windowsills.      “Room number?”      “Seventeen. Don’t break anything.”

     With those words, she disconnected her call with Dean and returns to Sam. “I’m back,” she lets him know.      But there’s not a sound on the other line. He didn’t hang up on her, she can still hear static.      “Sam? You there?”      Then she hears Sam’s voice, but it’s not comforting. A painful moan sounds from the other side of the line.      “Sam, answer me! What’s going on?” Zoë calls out, sensing something is wrong.      Sam groans. “I’m here.”

     He has the palm of his hand pressed against his forehead, eyes shut firmly. He doesn’t know what just happened to him, but a stabbing pain in his head almost knocks him out cold. The images that flashed before his eyes a moment ago remain on display, but he cannot place any of them. Visions in his sleep are one thing, but he has never experienced them during the day before.      “What’s happening?”      He hears Zoë’s voice and presses his Blackberry against his ear. “I - I think I just had a vision.”      Zoë’s eyes grow large. It has started. “What did you see?”      Sam looks up, stunned. By the sound of her words, she experienced this too. “You had one of those while awake?”      “That’s not important right now. What did you see?” she repeats firmly.      Sam thinks back, trying to recover the recollections behind closed eyes. “I saw a house, white woodwork,” he remembers. “A woman inside is terrified, screaming, and I heard a child’s voice, saying ‘You didn’t stop it’.”

     Zoë’s eyes drift from her laptop screen to the house across the street; the Dawlson home has white woodwork. Her eyes widen as she realizes what might be going on.      “It’s Laura. What else did you see, Sam?!” she pressures while getting up so abruptly, that her chair tumbles over.      “A guy mowing the lawn, sprinklers... and a church, right next to the house,” he recalls, concentrating on possible clues.

     Zoë’s runs down the terrace, leaving her Macbook behind on the table. As fast as she can she crosses the street and is barely missed by a car, but she doesn’t have eyes for it. Her eyes are fixated on the front door and she knows; Laura is here.      “Get to Magnolia Drive, now!” she orders Sam, putting away her phone right after.      Adrenaline rushes through her body as she grabs the doorknob, but the door seems to be jammed. She pulls as hard as she can, but there’s no movement whatsoever.

     “Hey! What do you think you are doing?” Jeff Dawlson exclaims at the intruder. He left his lawnmower on the grass and now approaches her with large steps.      “Your wife’s in danger! We need to get inside the house,” she tells the man straight forward.      The facial expression of the tall man changes from mad to worried, his gaze shifting to his home. “Who are you?”      “Jeff, I don’t have time to explain! We need to get in the house!” Zoë cries out, losing her cool.

     She puts her shoulder into it and tries to lift the door from his hinges, but it won’t budge. Frustrated, she looks around for another way in.     Jeff hastens to the back door, but returns soon after, panicking. “I can’t get the back door to open! My daughter is in there too!”     ��The huntress curses, ramming into the door again. Laura is doing this, she’s shutting them out so that she can work over her victim without being interrupted. It’s amazing how fast this little ten year old developed into the monster she is now. This isn’t a ghost problem anymore, this is a poltergeist.      Without hesitation, Zoë draws her gun from behind her waistband and aims for the kitchen window. She pulls the trigger, but instead of breaking the glass, the shell flings back as if it just hit bullet proof glass.

     “Taylor!” Jeff calls his wife's name, desperately.      But they don’t hear a sound, not even a horrific scream and Zoë wonders if that is a good sign. Not willing to give up, she creates some distance between her and the door and drives her shoulder into the wood again and again, until she feels sore to the bone.      “Goddamnit! Let us in!” she yells, furiously.

     In the meantime, Jeff got his hands on a shovel and starts hitting the windows, but none of them break. While he keeps calling out for his wife and daughter, Zoë hears the roar of a V8 engine coming around the corner. With screeching tires Sam stops the car and jumps out, rushing for the trunk.      Without pausing her efforts to get in, Zoë calls out. “You better have a bright idea, Sam!”      With two loaded shotguns in his hands he runs up the lawn, but stops in his tracks when he glances at the window. “Zoë?”

     She looks over her shoulder and sees the staggered expression on his face, triggering her to back up glances at the second story. In front of the window stands a young girl, but the sight is anything but endearing. This time she isn’t the sad little innocent kid, she looks terrifying. Here eyes seem to have sunken deep into their sockets, blood and bruises cover her pale body. Her head is tilted to the right in an unnatural way, twisted at the base. The image distorts, then she disappears.

     The next moment, they hear the sound of shattering glass. The hunters’ attention is drawn to the kitchen window; Jeff managed to break it. Hastily Zoë rushes for the door, knowing it’s unlocked now and enters the house. Sam is right behind her and hands her the shotgun in the hallway, just in case.      She looks at the gun for a moment. “This isn’t gonna help.”      “Loaded with rock salt,” Sam elaborates.      Her eyes dart to the rifle again, this time appreciating the weapon. She heard of many ways to fight ghosts, but this is a new technique. It must be a Winchester invention, seems like those lumberjacks aren’t that stupid afterall.      “You get their daughter,” she orders.      They split up and when Sam glances into the living room, he sees Jeff's and Taylor’s little girl. She doesn’t seem to realize what is going on, apparently she didn’t hear a thing. The child is playing with her dolls, as her mother told her to.

     While Sam picks up Lesley and takes her outside, Zoë rushes to the second floor. Quickly she climbs the stairs, her shotgun ready to fire. Alert, she scans the corridor; all clear. Knowing Laura might still be inside, she takes a deep breath and busts the door to what she assumes to be one of the bedrooms. What the huntress sees inside makes her stomach turn, even though she has seen her fair share of blood and violence.

     What she feared the most has happened. Laura made her teacher die an even more horrible death than her own. Taylor has collapsed against the wall, her eyes stare at the ground, as if she was unpleasantly surprised by her attacker. But she doesn’t move, she doesn’t flinch; she’s dead. Her arms and neck seem to be broken, a bad head injury that cracked her skull giving Zoë a glimpse of her brain. Blood prints of her head and hands are smeared over the pink wall paper of her daughter’s room. Crimson stains the carpet, the teddy bears on Lesley’s bed, the covers, even the ceiling.      “Damnit, Laura,” Zoë says, breathlessly.

     Footsteps echo from the staircase behind her. She looks back and sees Jeff, running onto the corridor.      “You don’t wanna see this,” she warns, trying to keep him from the doorway.      But as she would have done, he steps inside anyway. As soon as his eye catches the sight of his wife in the state that she is, he freezes. Unable to say anything, unable to move like a deer in headlights, he looks down at her dead body as tears well up in his eyes. Zoë watches him, but she can’t get a word out of her mouth. After she swallows apprehensively, she averts her eyes away from the heart wrenching scene.

     “Taylor…” Jeff whispers as tears run down his face. The cry that follows      gives Zoë chills. “Taylor!”      In a blink of an eye this family’s life has changed forever. The woman Jeff loves dearly, the mother of his child, just got ripped away from them, murdered, and there is nothing he can do to reverse that. Zoë knows the feeling, she knows it way too well. He falls down on his knees in her blood, but he doesn’t hit the floor. He hits rock bottom.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page). 

Read chapter ten here  

[shotgun--rider]

Fake It Till You Make It - Four

A Sam x Reader Series

PART FOUR

Y/N knows it’s a bad idea to try telling her family that she’s dating Sam Winchester. But it’s just for the week of her sister’s wedding, and it’s all fake anyway. What could go wrong?

Word Count: 3500

Warnings: plus size! Reader, fatphobic comments and self esteem issues, Y/N’s family are demons, gratuitous Meg pep talks because I love her and I’m sorry

A/N: Sorry for taking forever, being a depressed squid took more of my time than planned. Also sorry for any pain this part may cause, I promise to fix it next time. 

Sam and your father returned from golfing the following afternoon relatively unscathed. A few jokes were made about a lawyer not knowing how to golf, but they were surprisingly good natured, considering your family’s penchant for throwing passive-aggressive barbs around. Sam just took it in stride, the same way he had with everything that had been thrown at both of you this week, with a smile and a nod and a hand on whatever part of you was within reach. 

You, on the other hand, were in freefall. You’d known on some level even back at Dean’s dinner table that it wasn’t a particularly great plan for you to bring Sam to your sister’s wedding, but you hadn’t anticipated the reality of playing this charade. He was everything you’d ever wanted, even earning the approval of the only family members that mattered (even if Meg did still like flirting with him) and none of it was real. Kissing him had only made it all worse, and Sam’s subsequent apology for blindsiding you that evening didn’t come close to making anything better. 

Now, the two of you were curled up in one lounge chair at Ruby’s behest, and you were pretty sure that this was some personal hell devised by the devil to torture you. You weren’t entirely sure why Ruby had felt that a pre-wedding family bonfire was necessary on her last night as an unmarried woman, but she’d insisted, so here you both were. 

Gramma Lilith, who was quickly becoming the primary villain here, had started fawning over the two of you the instant you made your appearance on the back lawn, somehow strong-arming you into sharing a seat and insisting that Sam could keep you warm. (Your arguments ranged from the overall midsummer heat to the fact that you were literally sitting in front of a fire, but you didn’t bother voicing them.)

Your first thought was to try to get through this as professionally as possible (if professional was even a word that could be applied to this shitshow) but the expensive chairs circling Aunt Abaddon’s fire pit were designed at too far of a reclined angle for you not to be basically laying on top of Sam. You tried your hand weakly at looking as relaxed as Ruby, sprawled nearby across her fiance, but internally, your heart was racing, muscles tensed like you wanted to run. 

“Okay?” Sam murmured into the top of your head, one hand tracing absent designs over your arm. 

“Peachy,” you grumbled back, sarcasm bleeding into your voice in spite of yourself. You were tucked mostly between him and the arm of the lounge chair, but there was still enough of your weight on him to make you decidedly uncomfortable. You gotta lose some of that weight before you try sitting on me, Dick had said to you once, all bright white teeth and supposedly innocent teasing. 

You tried in vain to keep your stupid fat thighs from touching him, like you could convince them to condense into a smaller space through sheer force of will. Of course, the laws of physics weren’t on your side, and all you succeeded in doing was wriggling around like a particularly uncomfortable worm, earning yourself a weird look from Meg over the fire and an awkward throat-clearing from Sam.

“Y/N,” he started, sounding vaguely strained. “Can you, um, not--”

“What about you two?” Meg said suddenly, loudly, knocking both of you out of your own awkward world. She was looking at you expectantly, and, you realized with a sinking stomach, so was most of the rest of your family. 

“Sorry, what?” 

Meg rolled her eyes. “What was your first date like?” she enunciated every word with exaggerated emphasis, shaking her head at you.

“Yes,” your mother chimed in, leaning forward with interest. “We’d love to hear what you did to make...this...happen,”

It was on the tip of your tongue to just give up and blurt out, we’ve never had one. Sam must have been able to feel the tension vibrating through you, though, and pulled you to settle back against him, taking over answering the question. 

“I met her through my brother,” he said easily, and you could vaguely feel him winding some of your hair up around his finger. “I came over one afternoon and there she was, asking his boyfriend if their bees could smell fear,” 

You flushed at the memory. Yeah, you’d agreed to use the real story of how you met, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t embarrassing. Poor Cas had had to spend a solid half hour convincing you that the bees weren’t going to attack you that day. 

“She had on this pink sundress, and I heard her laughing, and I just thought...she was beautiful. Took me forever to do anything about it, though,” Sam went on, and that was all true too, the dress you’d been wearing and the fit of laughter you and Cas had broken into when Sam first showed up in the backyard. You hadn’t expected him to remember that much detail, though, and it did something strange to your insides to listen to it. 

“I took her to the diner on 5th Street,” Sam admitted, still playing with your hair. “I was too afraid of screwing up to come up with something more original.” He sounded so adorably hesitant, even now, that your head was popping up before you could think about it, could remember that he was just weaving a story.

“Hey, I liked it fine,” you protested, and it hit you like a sudden gut punch that there was something to remember. Because the first time Sam took you anywhere was to the 5th Street diner that was halfway between your place and Dean’s. You’d only done it to plan something for Dean’s birthday last year, and of course it wasn’t a real date, but the two of you really had been there. 

Sam’s only limit in this conversation was the world of his own imagination. If he wanted to, he could have told everyone that he’d taken you skydiving in New Zealand for your first date, and yet here he was, using memories from your real life with a dopey smile on his face. 

“Sickening,” Meg was saying dryly, a smirk on her lips to take the sting out of it. “Hey, Y/N, when you marry him, can I wear jeans?” If there was anything you should have been deflecting, it was that, squashing thoughts of marriage from the group’s mind before anyone latched onto it, but all you said was, “I’ll think about it,”

That was apparently enough to satisfy Meg, and the conversation moved on to other things that thankfully weren’t focused on you and Sam. You sighed heavily, and Sam slid one big palm over your hair, tucking your head down to rest against his chest. It was comfortable, and you were too tired in the flickering firelight to keep worrying, and you let yourself melt against him, absorbing his warmth as your eyes fluttered shut. Sam never let up on combing his hands through your hair, lulling you into a half-conscious state that barely registers anything beyond overlapping voices and the pop of the bonfire and Sam. 

It occurred to you suddenly, as you drifted somewhere between awareness and spaced-out calm, that it had been a very long time since someone had just held you. None of your family had ever been particularly tactile, save for the required gestures and whatever new tactic your mother was using to disguise her fussing. Dean and Cas and Charlie always gave you a hug when they saw you, but they were quick, always moving on to something else. And you’d never once had a boyfriend that held you for anything more than sex. 

“Hey,” Sam murmured lowly against the top of your head. “Still with me, darlin’?”

You blinked sleepily, raising your head to peer up at him, and he gave a low chuckle that you felt more than heard, smiling gently at you. 

“It’s late. Unless you wanna sleep out here?” he raised an eyebrow at you teasingly, shifting underneath you to sit up a bit more. 

A quick glance around showed that you were the only ones left outside, somehow, and the fire was nothing more than a handful of faintly glowing coals in the bottom of the pit. “How did we...where did everyone--” you tried, brain still not quite online enough to process how you’d somehow slept through everyone getting up and leaving. Knowing your family, they wouldn’t have been quiet about it. 

“I didn’t want to move you,” Sam shrugged sheepishly. “You seemed like you needed it,”

“Oh, yeah, I was probably drooling all over you,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes up into your skull. 

“S’fine,” Sam looked a little hesitant, a little awkward, but mostly he looked strangely content, and for just a moment, you could convince yourself that this was your real life, that you and Sam could do this whenever you wanted, that you could always be this close. 

“So I get to see you in a fancy dress tomorrow, huh?” Sam nudged you lightly, smiling. 

You huffed. “Don’t remind me, it’s ugly. It’s all...clingy,” you wrinkled your nose. 

“You make most things look good,” Sam promised, like it was the obvious thing to say and didn’t send your stomach flipping around rebelliously. 

“That’s very nice of you to say,” you said with mock sweetness before scowling at him, “and also a blatant lie.”

“Is not,” Sam looked affronted, and you were struck with a sudden desire to kiss the pout off of his soft lips. Damn it, Y/N, don’t you dare go there, you snapped at yourself instantly. 

“God, I can’t wait for this week to be over,” you groaned out instead, trying to pull the conversation onto safer ground. You flashed him a cheerful smile, your words more a reminder to yourself than to him when you tack on teasingly, “You’re almost off the hook, boyfriend,” Of course, because the universe hated you and took great pleasure in reminding you, it took very little to send everything sliding downhill from there. 

Sam’s answering smile didn’t reach his eyes, and he shifted slightly in the chair, as if he was debating something. “Y/N, I--”

“We’re so close to not having to spend every waking moment together,” you chirped, like an idiot, and, still sitting inches away from the man you had to remember you could not have, you watched hurt and something darker flash across his expression. 

Sam clenched his jaw, taking a breath in like he was going to say something, and then, for the second time in as many days, slammed his lips into yours without any warning. 

Conscious thought turned into static as you surrendered to the onslaught of his mouth moving over yours, sending a bolt of electricity flying through your entire body. If Sam’s kiss on the driveway was tinged with desperation, this one was worse. As cliche as you knew it sounded, Sam kissed you like a starving man, hands sliding across your back to pull you impossibly closer as he devoured your mouth, swallowing your meep of surprise and sliding his tongue against yours.

Sam shifted beneath you in the chair, abruptly bringing you into contact with the noticeable bulge in his well-worn jeans, and it was more instinct than anything else that had you grinding down against him, pulling a choked sound out of his throat that only encouraged you. There was a heady thrill in knowing that it was you doing this, Sam doing more in five minutes to make you feel desirable than anyone else ever had, and the slide of your bodies felt strangely inevitable, like it was the matching other half to the sensation that had been stuck in your chest since you turned off the freeway in Sam’s car a week ago. 

You wondered for a split second if his touch would still be able to set you on fire the same way if he hadn’t spent days smiling at you, talking you up, defending you, and the harsh reminder of why you were even here at all hit you like ice water. You scrambled to your feet so quickly that you narrowly missed kneeing Sam in the crotch, and then you were backing away, your hands flying uselessly around your face to push your hair back and somehow wipe the blush off your cheeks. 

You couldn’t do this. You were supposed to know better. And you weren’t going to let Sam Winchester break your heart, even unintentionally, because you didn’t know if you could survive that. 

“What are you doing?” you hissed out, straightening your clothes hastily.

Sam scrambled to sit up in the reclined lounge chair, confusion painted across his face and his chest still heaving with ragged breaths that should not have been affecting you the way they were. “W-what?”

You threw your hands up, impatience and anger rising up to protect you from the weight of your fear. “There’s nobody watching us, Sam. There’s no point in faking it,”

“Faking it,” Sam echoed flatly, hazel eyes flicking over you rapidly like he was trying so hard to understand. It might have been a little heartbreaking if you weren’t too preoccupied with guarding yours. 

“Yeah,” you went on, digging yourself further because you never knew when to stop. “Look, I know we’ve been putting on a show but you can’t just--” you trailed off limply, not even trying anymore to label the storm of emotions in your ribcage. “People like us don’t do this for real,” Guys like you don’t look at girls like me. 

“Huh. Well I’m glad I could help you with your show,” Sam spat out coldly, and you froze at the tone. You’d heard it once before, when Sam had once taken apart Castiel’s asshat older brother over immigration politics, and Luke had yet to show his face since. Charlie called it the I went to Stanford law now let me tell you all the reasons this argument is over voice. And you’d never once thought it would be directed at you. 

“Sam, I--”

He was already gone, a rapidly shrinking shadow disappearing into the house on long legs you couldn’t hope to catch up with. Fuck. 

You spent the night before Ruby’s wedding staring at the ceiling, hands folded across your chest and so still you could probably have passed for a medieval tomb effigy. Beside you in the dark, Sam’s breaths were too shallow, too even to pass for sleep, but neither of you said a word. He’d already had the lights off by the time you convinced your leaden legs to carry you back into the house and up the stairs, and you’d just changed into pajamas like a robot and laid down in defeat. You didn’t sleep. 

Sam had no day-of obligations, so you left him in bed when the sun finally rose, swallowing against the sick pit in your stomach and making your way to Ruby’s bedroom, where there was already enough shrieking to compound the headache drilling through your skull. For the first time, though, you actually felt grateful for your sister and her antics--the storm of chaos she was whipping up and her endless, high-pitched demands left you with no brain space to think about your monumental fuck-up the night before. 

You jammed a pin into your hair impatiently, cursing when the ends slipped out of your fingers for the hundredth time, and bit down hard on your red-painted lip. The maid of honor didn’t get to throw a tantrum on the wedding day. 

“Well don’t you look like cold shit,” Meg commented dryly, her head popping up in the mirror over your shoulder. She was already dressed, wearing the gray bridesmaid dress fair better than you were going to, and she snapped her fingers impatiently. “Gimme,”

You put the card of hair pins into her hand wordlessly, fighting the irrational sting of tears in your eyes when she coiled your hair up easily, looking for just a second like she was your little cousin again, soaking wet on the bathroom floor and laughing. 

“Is Ruby getting to you?” she murmured, a calculating look on her face as she studied you in the mirror, trying to crack your shitty mood. “You’re almost done, you know.”

“Yeah, no, I know,” you said hollowly. 

Meg cocked her head, reaching around you for a bottle of hairspray. “Okay, not Ruby. Which is shocking, by the way. So what gives?”

“Nothing,”

“Wow. You’re usually better at bullshitting than this.” She arched a brow. “Tell you what. I can cover you for five minutes, go find your boy. Can’t have you moping your way down the aisle, Ruby’ll kill you if you ruin the photos.”

“Sam can’t do anything,” you returned flatly, leaning forward mechanically toward the mirror to examine your slightly-wobbly eyeliner. 

“Sure he can. Boy’s so in love with you it’s nauseating,” Meg countered cheerfully, making a face at you. 

“He’s not,”

Meg scrunched up her face at those words, frowning as she pulled up the bodice of her dress. “What’d you do, have a fight or something? Jesus, just kiss and make up,”

“It’s fake,” you blurted out before you could stop yourself, and once you’d started, it took very little for the whole story to come pouring out to the one person that might listen. “It’s fake, the whole thing’s fake, he’s...he’s just Dean’s brother, we wanted to get my mom off my back--” You took a shuddering breath, wincing at how stupidly hysterical the whole thing made you sound.

“Bullshit,” Meg declared solidly, grabbing the eyeliner pen out of your hand impatiently. “Give me that, you’re doing a shit job.”

You surrendered to the gale force that was your cousin, letting her manhandle your head into her preferred position and shutting your eyes obediently while she drew a neat line across your eyelid. “No, Meg, it’s--”

“It’s bullshit,” she repeated, holding up a hand to stop you as you reopened your eyes to protest. “No, I don’t care what you’re gonna say. Maybe it was fake for you, but there’s no way in hell anybody could fake the way he looks at you. That boy is so gone on you it’s not even funny. He’s your unicorn, and I’m kinda jealous, so whatever you did,” she narrowed her eyes. “Fix it.”

“Meg, you don’t understand--”

“Yeah, you’re damn right I don’t understand.” She cut you off, crossing her arms and somehow managing to look just as intimidating in a bridesmaid’s dress as she did in a black leather jacket. “This family is a shitshow. I know it, you know it, everybody knows it. So why are you still listening to them?”

“I don’t--” you started weakly.

“Just because you’re not a size two and marrying into the Roman Enterprises fortune doesn’t mean anything, Y/N. You don’t not deserve him, or whatever, so get your fucking head on straight.” Meg rolled her eyes, gesturing to the dress hanging next to you in a clear sign that her warm fuzzy conversation capacity had been reached. “Get dressed.”

It took you a long time to obey, staring at yourself in the little mirror station that Aunt Abaddon had had set up for everyone in the bridal party to get ready. As you zipped up the clingy gray dress, Meg’s blunt words bouncing around in your head, your eyes catalogued every curve, every flaw you’d had memorized and hated by the time you were thirteen. It was just something you lived with, a low hum in the back of your conscious that reminded you not to pose the wrong way for photos and to stay away from bikinis and to adjust the way your clothes fit when you sat down. 

Except Sam had never once made you feel that you had to. Sam made you feel like a person before a body, somehow convinced you that the words your family had been hurling at you for years were lies, and when he called you beautiful you wanted to believe him. And as Meg’s words echoed in your head once more, you wondered if maybe, just maybe, she was right about some of it. 

You pinched your lips into a wry smile in the mirror, giving yourself one last cursory onceover before you resolutely turned away to go see if Ruby was ready. Your job today was to be a maid of honor. And anything else, no matter what Meg thought she knew...you knew it was already too late. 

tags: @vicmc624​ @thebookisbtr​ @alicedopey​ @still-a-demon-very-ineffable​

[callsign-hummingbird]

Lonely Nights and Sometimes a Miracle(Dean Winchester x OFC/Reader)

A/N: So It is currently almost 4 and I could not sleep. I spent almost all night watching Supernatural and then I started thinking about all my problems in life. Then the waterworks came and then this little baby came out. Also this is just an excuse to put myself in a story with Dean. I may post this again, but instead of my name, it will be a reader insert. Message me if you want that. Anyways, enjoy?

Summary: Shania is watching Supernatural and wishes so much that she could just have one chat with Dean. The things that she would tell him. Possibly even just go out and have a burger with him. He’s a fictional character though and isn’t real. One night while she is watching Supernatural again, something weird happens. (All written in Shania’s Point of View)

Warnings: Crying, Sad Thoughts, Fluff, Fluffy Dean, Crack Story

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 Another night up watching Supernatural again. I had good intentions of going to sleep at a decent hour, but that all seemed to pass when I turned on Supernatural. Ever since I started watching the show, I have not been able to have a decent sleep schedule. You know, I blame this all on the Winchesters and their perfect genes. Men aren’t supposed to look like they do! Well, at least real men anyways. It was all their fault and I was going to continue to stand by my argument until the day I die. 

The episode that I was on was just getting to a good part. This episode had to do with Claire being bit and becoming a werewolf and McDavies, from the British Men of Letters joining the Winchesters on a hunt. I wasn’t going to lie, I actually really liked McDavies. He was actually a nice guy and really had a knack for hunting. Dean really needs to be easier on him. He’s really trying to do the best that he knows how. 

The part that I was on was where McDavies had just injected Claire with the serum that was supposed to reverse the transformation. Sam and Dean waited in anticipation, while McDavies stood in the background hoping to Heaven that it would work. I sat on the comfortable sofa, staring at the tv, hoping that it would work as well. Claire didn’t deserve to be changed into a wolf. I felt really bad for her because it reminded me of the time where I had caught the Coronavirus. I didn’t want to believe it at first, like Claire. The look on her face, when she found out was everything that I was feeling at the time that I caught the disease. We were both hoping it was a bad dream, just in different times of our lives. 

The episode soon came to an end. It had to be one of the best episodes that I had watched all night. I had remembered the first time that the Winchesters had met Claire. Everything was alright between her and Sam, but her and Dean had a rough start. Now look at them! They both cared for her like a niece and my heart was eating it up! This was one of the reasons why I loved this show. It was because of the relationships that were developed and how much everyone grew to love each other. It was so perfectly written and acted out and almost got a cry out of me every time. These people made it so believable. 

After the episode, I got up and started to get ready for bed. I took my time with the my pajamas and got what I needed to have a good nights rest, or at least what was left of it. Then I sat down back on the couch. For some reason after the show, I had been feeling very sad and felt like my heart was about to burst. Memories and guilt washed over me and made me feel like I was about to cry. I rested the side of my head on the head of the sofa. Tears started making waterfalls down my eyes, ruining my mascara from today, while my heart felt like it was about to break in two. There were nights like this where I would get deep in thought and think about how I had no one to talk to. Then when I thought about it too much, I would start crying. I mean, as much as I  hated it, I also felt like it was a good thing for me. If I couldn’t find anyone to talk to then I could at least talk to myself and listen to myself. Wallowing in my tears and letting it out was definitely better then not letting it out at all. 

I looked the picture that Netflix had of Sam and Dean on the tv. For some reason that picture gave comfort to me in a somewhat weird way. On nights like these, when I let it out, I imagined myself talking to them while they listened on the screen. It was comforting, but sometimes I wish that it was real. 

Have you ever felt like you had a connection with a fictional character so much that you felt like if you could, that you would marry them? I feel that way about Dean Winchester sometimes. As weird as it may sound, I do picture that the dork will show up in  my life and ask me to marry him. If that did happen though, it might be really weird. Like how did you two meet? Um, well... you might want to sit down for this one Steve. It made me laugh sometimes, just thinking about it. 

I closed my eyes as the tears rolled down my face, pretending that someone was there listening to me. I started talking to myself again. It was just hard sometimes and like I said, it was really therapeutic for me. I continued to talk about my problems when the tv light started flickering on and off. This got my attention. I wiped away my tears and the little clumps of mascara that were left on my skin. Sitting up, I grabbed the remote and started pressing the up and down button. The tv screen stopped what it was doing, but only for a little while. After about a minute or so, it started to flicker again. This was so weird and never happened to me before. I stood up, remote in hand and was about to turn off the tv, when I heard deep voice behind me. “ I wouldn’t do that if I were you sweetheart.” I knew that voice from anywhere. It belonged to the one man that I spent hours a night watching on the big flat screen tv. It couldn’t be though. He was in tv land and wasn’t real... Could he?

I turned around and almost jumped. Sitting on my comfortable sofa was Dean Winchester in the flesh. His green eyes piercing right through my soul. “D-Dean?” I stuttered, not knowing how to take this. He gave me his famous side smirk. “In the flesh.” He said. I was speechless and didn’t know what to say. He probably noticed and shifted his gaze to the floor, while taking the time to itch his nose. He looked back up at me.”OK, I know that this is a little hard to take in. What is is the handsomely, gorgeous Dean Winchester doing in such a pretty girls house?” I just nodded my head as he said that. He patted the spot right next to him, like he wanted to me to take a seat there. “Well?” He asked, sounding like I should have taken the hint. I slowly moved towards him and sat down where he patted. This was definitely so weird. Who in their right mind would have thought that a fictional character that they were so in love with would just pop up at their house and want to talk? I must have been going crazy because it was happening to me right now. Either that, or I died and went to Heaven. A heaven that involved me talking to Dean Winchester out of all people. 

“So.” He began. “So.” I said back. I looked up at him because compared to me, he was very tall. He looked down at my very short frame, making eye contact. His eyes were the deepest shade of forest green that I had ever seen. They were even more perfect in human than on the tv screen. The tv screen did nothing to highlight his exquisite beauty. I felt like a child compared to him. Here was Dean Winchester, model like creature crafted to perfection, sitting next to me, a girl who had yet to grow into her body. 

I broke the eye contact between us and looked towards the tv, trying to make myself comfortable. The silence was thickening and the tension grew between us. Finally, what seemed like forever was broken by the first comment made by Dean. “You do know why I’m here, right?”He asked like it was obvious. I shook my head, still staring at the tv. He chuckled at my response. “I thought you wouldn’t.” He sighed, continuing what he was going to say. “ I heard you crying through the tv.” This made me stop what I was dong and turn my attention back to him. I was intrigued. “ Go on.” I said- my attention on him. He smiled at this. “Sweetheart, your cries aren’t that hard to miss. I heard you and asked Rowena to do a spell, which brought me here.” He said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

I didn’t say a word and thought about what he said. My brain was on overdrive right now, just thinking about it. Could this really happen? How did it even work? “How did you hear me?” I asked, finally trying to quiet my thoughts. He smiled. at my response. Scooting a little closer, he just answered with “ I think we were meant to be.” I didn’t know what to say to that. This whole experience was making me lost for words. What else are you supposed to say when your fictional crush appears out of nowhere and tells you that he thinks that you both are meant to be? I surely didn't know what to say to that. 

“Um, Dean.” I started. “How do you know?” This made him smile even more. “I just feel it.” He simply answered. I internally blushed at his response. I possibly was fangirling inside as well, but I wasn’t going to tell him that in fear of making the conversation awkward. Not that it wasn’t awkward already, but still. I didn’t want to make it awkward. 

“So, tell me about yourself.” I blushed a little at this and ran my hands through my hair. Why would Dean Winchester ever want to know about me? “ Um.” I started.” Um, my name is Shania. I’m a Sagittarius. I like good hikes on a nice day and impeccably handsome men.” I said, attempting to flirt. This earned a laugh from him, which in turn made me loosen up a bit. “I like you.” He said, making me smile. “So Dean, tell me a little bit about yourself?” I asked, meeting my gaze with his. Now it was his turn to look at the tv and think. “Well shoot. hmm..” I rested my chin on my palm waiting for his answer. Finally after a few minutes, he came back with a response. With all the responses that he could have come up with, he chose the one that made me fall for him in the first place. Looking at me and smiling, he said” My name is Dean Winchester. I’m an Aquarius. I enjoy sunsets, long walks on the beach and frisky women. And I did not kill anyone. But I know who did.” Now it was my turn to laugh. “Who did?” I asked, showing interest in the fun conversation that we were having. “I can’t tell you that sweetheart. It’s confidential.” “I think I already know.” I said knowingly. 

Silence fell between us again. Dean’s hand went up to the tip of my forehead, pushing my hair behind my ears. “So princess, why don’t you tell me why you were crying.” He said, breaking the silence. I closed my eyes and sighed. “Do I have to?” I asked, whining like a little kid. I opened my eyes to see him just nodding his head. “If you do tell me, I might just give you one of my famous Dean Winchester kisses, wanted by all women.” I just rolled my eyes and smiled. “Whatever.” I said and sighed. There was a long, pregnant pause between us before I started. 

  “I was crying because I have no one to talk to and I just have a whole lot of problems in my life” I said, shakily. I could feel the tears beginning to surface. Dean just nodded, encouraging me to go on. I told him about all of my issues that I have been having and keeping in for a while. I thought at first that he was going to be a little rude about it, but I should have known better. This was Dean Winchester who I was talking to. He had struggles of his own, but here he was trying to help me with mine. The thought of his service warmed my heart, making me fall in love with him all over again. 

After I was all done telling him about my problems, he stood up. At first, I thought that he was going to disappear and then everything would be over. The thought tore my heart a little. Why would Dean Winchester stay when he had problems of his own to take care of? What he did next though, had amazed me. he stood in front of me, grabbed my very small hands into his big ones and pulled me up towards him. He pulled me into his chest and wrapped his strong, muscular arms around my petite frame. The hug was bone crushing, but it made me feel like I was safe and everything was going to be okay.. Tears were now tumbling down my face, making the last of my mascara fall off. I’m pretty sure that I got some on his shirt too. I breathed in his scent of leather, whiskey, and a hint of apple pie to calm me down. I relaxed in his grasp as his scent did just that. 

We stood there for a while, until finally he was the one to pull away. There were tears in his eyes as he looked at me. “I’m so sorry that you are going through that sweetheart.” “It’s okay.” I said, starting to pull away. He didn’t let me though and pulled me back towards him. His large hands cupped my face as he wiped my tears away with the pad of his thumb. “It’s not” He said, resting his forehead on mine. “It’s not.” He said again, but this time in more of a whisper.

Before I knew what I was doing, my hand went up to the back of his neck and pushed him gently to me, until our lips met. The kiss was slow and chaste, involving nothing but just our lips dancing with each other. We continued to kiss as I let him him guide me to the couch. He broke the kiss as he sat down, pulling me onto his lap. I wrapped my arms around his neck as he rested his hands on my hips, gently holding me in place. Our lips moved together in sync, sending tingles down my spine. This was everything I ever wanted. Dean Winchester, here with me and me kissing the daylights out of him. 

He pulled away and rested his forehead on mine, opening his eyes meeting mine. “ Wow.” He stated. I looked at his lips and nodded, biting my bottom lip while doing so. “Where did that come from?” He asked. This made me blush and hide my face in his chest. I felt rumbles go through his body as he chuckled. His hands went up to my back, rubbing up and down. I didn’t want to bring myself to meet his face. I was too embarrassed to do so. “It’s okay sweetheart. You don’t have to be shy around me.” He said, still smoothing my back out. 

I slowly pulled my face away from his chest and looked at him shyly. “I’ve always wanted to kiss you. “ I said  He smiled at my response and leaned in again. This time,  he was the one to initiate the kiss. It was the best thing to ever happen to me that night. 

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A few hours later and soon it was time for him to go back to his universe. I had learned so much about him and how much he cared for his brother. He kept telling me that he was so happy that I was nothing near compared to Becky Rosin. I just smiled and laughed. By the end, I felt like I had lived a lifetime with Dean Winchester, but alas it wasn’t meant to be in this life. 

I hugged him tightly and kissed him one more time as we stood in front of the tv. He told me to close my eyes and only to open them when he counted to ten. I did as he asked and opened my when he said ten. Slowly my heart started to break as he was no longer in front of  me. 

Sitting down on the couch, I tried to understand what happened. As I did, I felt a warm sensation flutter through my heart. Maybe we were meant to be in some weird way. Maybe we would see each other soon. Somewhere in the near distant future and have a life together. Hopefully so. 

I laid and down closed my eyes. My thoughts drifting off to my prince in a far away land. Hopefully, we would meet again soon. 

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Well, that’s that on that. Hopefully you all liked it? It’s kind of a crack story and was just floating in my head. Thanks so much for the follows and reads! Message me if you all ever need anything and remember that Dean Winchester loves you all! Love you !  -S

[takikojou]

Imagine Sammy all sweaty and desperate while he watches Dean flirt with some bar broad right next to him. He can't stand it. Can't stand her hands all over him. But what is he supposed to do?? When they finally go home Sam is silent and Dean is giddy and its not until they get to the motel room that it dawns on Dean that something wrong. Only, Sam won't tell him what it is. Instead he goes to bed right away. What will Dean do? And does he even know how much his brother really loves him?

Immediately after arrival, Sam went straight to the bathroom, brushing his teeth and changing into his pyjama. Usually he has a better control of himself, but this evening, it really got to him. „This fucking bitch... No, hold on, it's not on her. She's probably nice, a little dumb, but nice...“ But the way her hands found every excuse to touch him. A tap on the shoulder, then a stroke over his arm followed by her hands staying on his...

Sam felt like a petulant child, but Dean forgot about him after a while. His whole attention was with her and it drove him mad.

He went to bed, back towards Dean who was a bit puzzled about Sam's bad mood. „Hey, did I piss you of somehow?“ „Just tired.“ „You're sure?“ „Didn't sleep well last night.“

Dean sat down on the edge of Sam's bed, he could feel the mattress dip. “If something's wrong, you gotta tell me, right?” Sam made some agreeing murmur. He has no idea why he's reacting so extremely today and having Dean close makes it kind of worse. “Are you feeling alright?” “I'm fine...”

Dean puts his hand on his forehead. “Gosh, you're sweaty! What's up with you? Feeling sick?” “Dean, I'm fine. I just need some sleep.” Dean got up again. “Oh, come on. I can smell that you are pissed at me. So just tell me. It's sucks when you're sulky over days.”

Sam sits up, looking at Dean. “It's nothing, Dean, I'm fine. You did nothing wrong, just let me.” “It's the girl, right? Next time I get you one as well.” “I don't want some random girl.” “Then, what is it? For fuck sake, talk to me! Punch me if it's that bad.” “There's nothing wrong. With. You.” Sam's voice was very stern and he just prayed that Dean will give up now.

“Then you're angry with yourself? Why? What's eating you? You got to talk to me, man. Those fucking secret always got us in trouble.” Sam just lowered his head, shaking it. Dean sat back beside him again, voice calm again. “Whatever problem there is, we figure it out, okay?” Sam just shook his head again. “I mean it. Whatever it is, tell me. We'll handle it together.“ Sam squeezed his eyes just and kept shaking his head. Dean could see that there are a myriad of words that need to get out but his mouth stays shut.

Dean lowered his head as well, leaning his forehead onto his brother's, whispering. “I'm here for you, Sammy.”

They stay like that in silence for a while. Sam's heart was running wild and after a rush of blood to the head, his self-control dropped. He whispered: “Forgive me.”

Sam placed both hands on Dean's cheeks and just kissed him. He pressed his lips on his brother, who didn't move. Sam had his eyes closed, he didn't dare to look into the shocked, maybe even disgusted eyes. Sam's lips moved but Dean's didn't and the younger one broke inside. He felt tears that were about to fall when he felt Dean's hands on his head as well and suddenly, his lips started to part, becoming soft and the tip of his tongue touched Sam's mouth.

Now Sam froze for a second, overwhelmed by this reaction before he joined Dean's tongue play. The most intense kiss in his life and it tasted so sweet. Feeling Dean's tongue entering his mouth, exploring him, his whole body shivered in anticipation. Dean biting down Sam's lower lip, Sam licking over Dean's tongue.

Breaking their kiss, Sam and Dean looked in each other's eyes. Dean's were so gentle that Sam started to cry in relief, so Dean pulled him in for a hug. “You fucking moron, what took you so long?” Dean asked with a shaky voice. Sam huffed, a little smile on his lips but Dean couldn't see because Sam's wrapped his arms even tighter around his brother.

(This is a tricky subject, but I genuinely appreciated that prompt! ♥hug♥ - I gave it a happy ending bc everything’s weird and I needed that little happiness. ♥)

[allthings-fantasy]

See You Again - Part One

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 2900-ish

Warning: underaged drinking, minimal language, flirty teen!dean

Summary: From the second Dean Winchester walked into your life, he completely turned your world upside down. The love the two of you shared was fierce but left the two of you heartbroken. When he waltzes back into your life years later, it may just be to late for him to make amends. 

A/Ns: GUESS WHO’S BACK - this is loosely based off the song Springsteen by Eric Church --> Check out my bio for my MASTERLIST

August 25th, 2009 (Present Day) - Dean POV

Oklahoma was a success. It was an easy enough hunt, just a simple salt and burn. With all the shit going on in our lives right now, all we wanted was a guaranteed win. Now Sam thinks he may have found another one. “Where did you say this is again?”

“Uh..” Sam's eyebrows furrowed as he scrolled back to the top of the article on his laptop. “It's in Indiana. Fairfax, Indiana.” A sinking feeling settled in the center of my chest. This had to be some kind of sick joke. “Didn't we use to live there? Yeah! It was like… your senior year of high school when we moved there?”

And I haven't been back to that stupid hick town since ‘99. I don't know why I'm stressing out, she probably doesn't even live there anymore. She was always smart, no doubt she got outta that town as soon as possible. I don't think I'd be able to look her in the eyes even if she still did live there. Not after what I did to her.

Those voicemails she left me still replayed in the back of my head after I've had one too many. It's been ten years and one of my biggest regrets in life. “Dean? Are you even listening to me?” My head snapped in Sam's direction as his voice finally pulled me from my thoughts.

“Huh? Yeah, sorry I was just trying to think the last time we were there.” I cleared my throat and turned the engine over, Baby roaring to life. The music blared from the speakers, prompting Sam to stop talking about this dreaded down. I was finally doing something I should've done 10 years ago, I was coming back.

August 17th, 1997

The sound of your phone ringing pulled you from the pot of boiling pasta on the stove. Without looking at the caller id, you flipped open your phone and wedged it between your shoulder and ear. “Hello?”

Your ears were met with a squeal. “Are you excited for tonight?” Sarah’s voice sang through the line, you could practically see the smile on her face in your head. With a small chuckle you stirred the contents in the pot and shook your head. “Oh, c’mon Y/N! You know the Jones’ throw a big banger every year before the summer is over. This is the last hoorah before we start junior year!”

With a sigh, you turned off the burner and switched the phone to your other ear. “Of course I’m coming, it’s just the same thing every year. Someone gets in someone else’s face and drama starts, or there’s one too many noise complaints and we’re stuck running through the woods again.”

“Yeah, but you still have fun though?” Sarah was your best friend, sometimes incredibly annoying, but she was your best friend nonetheless. Every year she looked forward to this party and every year you got stuck holding her hair back over the toilet. “Plus, apparently there’s like this new kid in town. He’s going to be a senior and I think he has a younger brother going into 9th.”

New kids were something of a rarity, the small town usually had newcomers running towards the private school two towns over. “And how did you hear about this?”

Sarah paused for a second, “Jason and Tyler ran into him out by the park. I guess they started chatting him up and they invited him tonight. I don’t remember his name… something with a D, I think.”

You let out a dramatic sigh, “You know you don’t have to keep trying to convince me to go, I’m already coming. I’ll pick you up at 9, okay?”

She let out another squeal and agreed before saying her goodbyes. You weren’t sure why she was so excited over this new guy. He’d only be here for a year, plus why would he go for a junior when there are plenty of senior girls?

The next few hours went by quicker than you had anticipated. Before you knew it, you were standing in your bathroom putting finishing touches on your hair and glancing at the clock. You had five minutes before you had to go pick up Sarah. Slipping on your sandals and securing the buckle around the ankle, you made your way downstairs. “Hey, mom. I’m going to pick up Sarah okay?”

She turned and gave you a sweet smile. “Sure thing honey, I know you go to that party every year but be careful okay? And call if you need me to pick you up. Be safe!”

“Of course, mom.” You gave her a quick goodbye and grabbed your keys and wallet before heading out your front door. Luckily Sarah only lived right about around the corner from you and the party was only another twenty minutes down the road from that.

Sarah talked your ear off the entire drive over to the fields of the Jones’ property. You could see the silhouettes of your peers shining from the large bonfire. “Let’s go!” Sarah hopped out of your car with extra pep in her step.

Music flooded your eardrums as you hightailed it behind Sarah, she really was eager to get her eyes on the new guy. Beer and smoke filled your nose the closer you walked to the center of the party. You spotted Jason by the keg, refilling his solo cup. “C’mon, let’s go say hi to Jason. Maybe he can point you to your new mystery man.” The two of you fell into a fit of giggles before making your way over.

“Y/N! Well, if it isn’t my favorite girl.” Jason smirked at you, extending his arm to wrap around your shoulder. “I was getting a little worried you weren’t gonna come this year.” He put on his fake pout before sipping his drink. Jason was cute and has been your friends since fifth grade. Even when he became the star running back for your high school football team, he never treated you any different. His shaggy blonde hair and baby blue eyes had the freshmen girls falling at his feet.

Taking the cup from his hand, one of your eyebrows arched in his direction. “Me? Miss one of your parties? Jas, I would never.” You innocently batted your eyes at him before taking a sip of his beer. “Plus, Sarah is just dying to meet the new kid you invited.” You laughed as she nodded eagerly, no shame in the glint in her eyes.

Jason’s eyes widened before he nodded. “Ah, well I’ll introduce Sarah, but I’m not introducing you.” He gave you a pointed look before stealing his cup back.

Your nose wrinkled while you arched your neck to look up at him. “And why the hell not?”

He simply shrugged. “Because in the words of Tiffany he’s like so totally dreamy and I can’t have him sweeping my best friend off her feet.” Jason sent you a wink which caused you to roll your eyes.

“You know that will never happen.”

“Mhm…” He looked at you skeptically and handed you his cup. “This way, he’s over here.” Jason kept his grip on your shoulder as he directed you and Sarah over to the beer pong tables. You could tell which one was the new guy just from looking at the back of his head. No one around here wore leather jackets, plus it’s like 80 degrees. How is he not sweating? “Hey, Dean! Got someone I want you to meet.”

Dean turned his back on the girl he was currently talking to. She seemed upset as she turned and walked away, back towards the fire. So maybe Tiffany was right, he was kind of dreamy. Not that you would ever admit that to Jason. Dean’s lips twitched into a smile as he glanced across the three of you. You would be fixated on his mouth if his eyes weren’t so damn distracting.  

“Dude, this is Sarah.” Jason used his free arm to point to the strawberry blonde beside you.

She instantly perked up and held her hand out, which Dean eagerly shook. “Nice to meet you, Dean.”

He flashed his teeth in a drool worthy smile and quickly glanced across her face. “Trust me, pleasure’s all mine.” After he dropped her hand, Dean turned his attention back towards you. A question in his eyes as he looked at Jason’s arm wrapped around you. “This your girlfriend?” The question was aimed at Jason but he kept his eyes on you.

You cut Jason off before he had the chance to speak. “He wishes.” Taking a step closer to Dean, you allowed Jason’s hand to drop from your shoulder. “I’m Y/N.” You sent him a sweet smile while extending your hand.

Dean’s fingers wrapped around yours and gave your fingers a quick squeeze. “It’s… very nice to meet you.” He held your gaze longer than you thought he would. You shivered under his stare before dropping your hand.

Jason cleared his throat in an annoyed manner and you could feel him shifting behind you. “I’m just uh, gonna go get another drink. Y/N, find me later okay?” He gave your arm a quick squeeze and a glance before walking back towards the crowd.

You gave him a nod before turning your attention back to the guy in front of you. “So you guys go to Truman High?” He glanced between the two of you, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Yeah, we’re both going to be juniors this year.” Sarah crossed her arms over her chest, pushing a little extra cleavage out of her crop top. “What about you, Dean? I heard you’re going to be a senior.” She carefully chewed on her bottom lip and you had to resist the urge to snort at her attempt at flirting.

He smiled and nodded, a small blush coming across his cheeks. It was funny, you didn’t picture him as the type of guy who blushed. “You heard right. My family and I move around a lot, usually a couple times a year, but Dad said I can finish out my high school career here.” He shrugged and sent you another smile.

Before Sarah could say anything, Laura came up behind her and tapped her on the shoulder. “Hey girl, sorry but uh, Jamie said she needs to talk to you… She didn’t say what it was about but it seemed important.” Laura stole a glance at Dean and blushed. “She asked me to come get you.”

You almost felt bad because of how disappointed she looked. But Dean said it himself, he’ll be here all year. Sarah pouted and looked between you and Dean before nodding. “I’ll be back.”

“And then there were two…” Dean chuckled to himself and shifted his weight between his feet. “Uh, do you want to get another drink? I’m sure that beer in your cup is warm.”

“Yeah, I’d like that.” You smiled at him as he shifted one of his hands out of his pocket and onto your middle back.

“Lead the way, sweetheart.” His words shouldn’t have made you blush, but they did. And he saw it too, that damn smirk coming across his lips again.

You had to bite your lip to keep the grin off of your face as you lead Dean back towards the kegs. Along the way ignoring Jason’s questioning glances. “Here, I’ll get that for you.” Dean took your almost empty cup and threw it in the trash before grabbing you a fresh one.

“Such a gentleman, Dean.” You teased as he handed you your fresh cup before grabbing his own. “Making a great first impression.”

He chuckled and nodded his head. “I sure hope so, would hate for you to get the wrong impression of me.” Dean’s eyes flashed down to your lips before back to your eyes. “Why don’t we go sit on one of those hay bales over there? Getting tired of standing.”

Dean picked a bale a little further away from all the noise, making it easier to hear each other. More people were beginning to file in and you were grateful you found a place to sit. He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, slowly sipping on his beer. Your eyes watched his lips form around the rim of the cup, to his jaw clenching when he swallowed. “You know, it’s not polite to stare.” He smirked and looked at you over his shoulder.

Your shoulders shrugged and you smiled, “You got a problem with it?”

“Not at all, sweetheart. Look all you want.” The boy practically oozed confidence, it was almost infectious. You let out a laugh and shifted in your seat, trying to keep the hay from irritating your thighs too much. Dean seemed to notice your shifting. “You alright?”

“Yeah, they hay just itches my legs a little.” You lifted your leg slightly to run your hand over the backs of your thigh.

His brows furrowed as he glanced down at your legs. “Stand up.” Before you could respond, he gently gripped your elbow and pushed you to stand. Dean shrugged off his leather jacket and laid it down where you were sitting. “There… you should’ve said something.”

You could feel your heart flutter in your chest and your cheeks become warm. “You didn’t have to do that.” As soon as you sat down your legs instantly thanked you for the soft material beneath you.

“All about making that first impression.” He winked and fiddled with the watch on his wrist.

“And what impression are you trying to make?” You hid your smile behind your cup, downing what was left in it.

Dean shrugged and leaned back on the palm of his one hand. “The type of impression where you realize I am ridiculously handsome, incredibly kind and charming, and you just can’t help yourself from falling in love with me.” His head turned to the side and he gently licked his bottom lip. “How am I doing so far?”

It was impossible not to laugh. Dean’s face screamed seriousness but you just had to laugh. This guy was completely out of his mind, but you couldn’t see yourself not talking to him. He was adorable, funny, and already nicer than 95% of the guys who lived in Fairfax. “As sweet as that laugh is, it’s kind of hurting my ego a little bit.”

You bit down on your bottom lip and took a deep breath to calm yourself down. “No, I’m sorry. You’re doing great so far.”

The two of you were interrupted by Sarah, carrying three shots in her hands. “Guys! Guess what Lucas brought.” Her singsong voice filled your ears as she passed two of them to you and Dean. You knew your best friend, she was trying to figure out just how cozy the two of you were getting.

She cleared her throat and held her glass up a little bit. “Cheers!” You mocked her glass lift and threw the amber liquid down your throat. A cringe ran through you as you felt the taste linger in your mouth, warmth flooding through your veins. “Aw, Dean. You didn’t take yours?”

Looking over at Dean, you noticed the little cup still in his hands. You weren’t one to judge someone on their choice of drink. Plus, he was new, he probably didn’t want to get wasted at his first party with these people.

Apparently, Sarah didn’t have the same thought process as you. She stepped closer to him until her knees were pressing against his legs. “C’mon D, it’s not thaat bad.” Sarah nudged at his elbow. From the slur in her voice you could tell that wasn’t her first shot of the night. Dean cleared his throat and shifted back slightly in his seat, looking a little uncomfortable.

“Sar, back off a little bit okay? He’s been drinking beer, he probably just doesn’t want to mix alcohol.” You shrugged and reached over to take Dean’s shot from his hand and downing it yourself. “See? Now it didn’t go to waste.”

Her eyes glared at you before setting her lips into a frown. Sarah grumbled something under her breath and turned on her heels, stalking away. “I’m sorry about her, she gets really forward when she drinks.”

Dean went back to his relaxing position. “It’s not that I don’t like liquor, I just have to drive home after this so… can’t really get plastered.” You nodded in understanding and the two of you fell into a comfortable silence. “So uh, who’s your ride home?”

“Huh? Oh, uh I’m not sure. My mom will come pick me up if anything, she’s pretty laid back as long as she knows where I am.” You shrugged and moved back on the bale, crossing your legs. “Why’d you ask?”

“Well I can’t really let you drive home now, can’t have that pretty face getting into an accident…” He paused for a moment, as if debating on saying his next words. “I could always drive you home.”

You smiled at him, squinting your eyes slightly. “I don’t even know you.”

It was Dean's turn to laugh and you tried denying the butterflies you felt in your stomach at the sound of it. Blame the alcohol, yeah that's what it is, the alcohol. “Then get to know me, ask and you shall receive.”

“Who says I want to?”

He scoffed and nodded. “Oh you want to. I can see it in your eyes, sweetheart. You want to know me.”

[stusbunker]

Twitterpated with a Side of Ex-Demon

A Through the Years OS

Featuring: Dean Winchester x Unnamed Female Character, Human!Crowley, Borrowed Grace!Castiel

A/N: This is part of a larger AU where Sam closed the gates of Hell and Crowley was cured. Dean met our mystery nurse while Sam was in the coma from the Trials. Nothing to warn you about, however there is smut-ish parts and regular Crowley attitude. xoxo Stu

*^*

Dean answered without looking at the caller ID, “Agent Neil.”

“Shit, must be a wrong number, I was looking for a Winchester.”

“I might be able to help you out, Miss?”

“It’s Nurse, actually.”

“Well, it seems to be my lucky day. Where you stuck this month?”

“Cedar Rapids, you?”

“I’m a couple days out. What’s your schedule like?”

“Twelve on, Twenty four off.”

“A whole day huh?”

“If you time it right, you may just get a day and a half, AGENT.”

“There are no speed limits for Feds.”

She chuckled back at him. “Sure, just get here in one piece.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Dean couldn’t keep the stupor of anticipated bliss off his features.

“You done flirting? We have a witness to interrogate!” Crowley’s posturing broke into Dean’s happy place.

Dean rolled his eyes at his temporary partner’s impatience, climbing out of the Impala five paces in front of the other man. “Question the witness. You interrogate the suspects.”

“Well, lots of times they’re one in the same, yeah?”

“How many cop shows have you been binging?”

“You do your research, I’ll do mine.”

“I’ll give you something to research.”

“Come again? Get your head out of the booty call and get to work, Agent.”

Dean knocked on the door, bemused to be falling into Crowley’s orders. It was a long case, generally because Crowley wasn’t used to putting in actual human effort and insisted on questioning Dean’s every move. It was fine, the cursed object was whisked away into a spelled box and everybody lived. Dean couldn’t wait to lose his shadow and make good on his promise.

As soon as Dean was heading for the door, barely a half hour after reaching the Bunker, Crowley started to stew. “Fine, just leave me here to rot.”

“You could do some work, find a case while I’m gone. Won’t be more than a couple of days.”

“Is that all I am to you? Your secretary?”

“Look, I’m giving you a place to lay low. A place to avoid all those big bads on your very HUMAN ass, man. Don’t go reading into things.”

“I suppose I should thank you.”

“You should, but you won’t.” Dean popped the Impala’s trunk, tossing his restocked duffel inside.

“You know me so well.”

“Yeah, well, don’t wait up.” Without looking back to see his reaction, Dean slipped into the driver’s seat.

*^*

Dean barely made it through the door before her hands were on him, her warm lips kissed the night air from his skin. It felt good to have somebody waiting for him, somebody who knew crazy hours and sacrifice. Somebody who got him. She had his jacket off before he could hang up his keys, his duffel laid forgotten at the door. She dragged him to the bedroom and gave him the welcome he never knew he needed, one he definitely didn’t deserve. Like always, he took what he could get with her and she more than reciprocated.

It was after midnight when Dean woke to an empty bed, the gentle closing of cabinets bumping down the hall from the kitchen. The whole loft was dark, her assigned flat, cavernous and bare. His gun was in the slightly open drawer on his bedside table, he stared at it for a solid five seconds before leaving it to find her stark naked and grinning over a spoon full of peanut butter.

“Well now I feel upstaged.” Dean’s face dipped, his eyes sultry beneath his heavy lashes as she continued to rake her tongue up and around the metal curve, challenging his stare. Her only reply was a hummed, unimpressed note, but the mischievous spark had ignited. Dean carefully leaned one wide palm on the countertop, trailing it behind him as he pointedly circled the island, rounding on her and that devilishly distracting snack.

She felt the delicious apprehension as he approached, the set of her spine and puckering of flesh tensing from his potential threat; such danger he possessed. Would he scoop her up and lay her out on the tile? Would he take his time and have a treat of his own? Her mind grew fuzzy as he lingered, taking in her every twitch and smirk.

“Uh, there is a dress code after midnight, Mister. Drop ‘em.”

Dean quickly dipped out of the offending boxer briefs, bunching them in his hand and tossing them over his back. “Should of known you were going to start nagging me.”

Her eyebrows shot up, the empty spoon hovering in midair. “Excuse me?”

“With all these sudden rules.” Dean slid behind her, brushing himself against the swell of her backside. His hands threading around her waist, leaning on the countertop. “And you don’t even share,” he teased. “A guy should really cut his loses.”

“Yeah,” she mock agreed, dropping her head back onto his shoulder as Dean lifted the jar of Skippy Natural up, noting the giant canyon she had left in the middle. “You’re really getting to the low parts of being in a relationship.”

She dipped the spoon back into the depths, holding it just out of the reach of his mouth. “I mean, what guy is gonna stand for being spoon fed by a naked chick at one A.M.?”

She spun and almost choked him with it; shoving the handle up, playfully through his mouth, smearing his lips with the sticky paste. “Thiff, thiffs whad ‘m talging aboud!”

They laughed, the easy comfortable kind that sits in the seams of eyes and lips, the kind that buries itself for memory sake. Eventually, she pushed her chest into his. Dean’s hands rubbing her arms as she licked him clean. Spoon forgotten somewhere between the floor and their embrace. Tongues met in a true kiss while the blood started to thrum between them once more. Once he got her on the counter, she knew they weren’t making it back to bed anytime soon.

His lips roamed without worry or rush. She used her healer’s hands to pull and prod his neck and back, working him in slow, deep drags down to his ass. Dean’s fingers dropped between them and just as he found an angle that worked, one she liked; his phone erupted in the other room.

“Ignore it,” Dean grunted, leaving a kiss on her neck as he tried to work her over once more.

“Dean?” She worried, another call following the last.

He sighed, pulling back and resting his hands on her spread thighs. His forehead rested on hers in defeat. “I could kill him?”

“I know you could, Babe. But he’s your friend and he probably found something.” Her whole face smiled at his repulsion to her choice of words.

“Something that is going to take me away from this, from you.” Dean groaned. As quickly as the third call broke through, Dean bent over, locking his arms around her waist and hips before throwing her over his shoulder and trotting her back to the bedroom.

Only once Dean found her suitably tucked into his side did he answer the unrelenting ring. “What?!” He barked, earning a giggle from her as his face broke from keeping up the front of anger.

“It’s Wings, Squirrel. He’s a mess and he isn’t exactly in the chatting mood.”

“What, is he hurt?”

“Define hurt?”

“Crowley!”

“He’s coughing like Patient 0 and could use a, make that several, washes.”

Dean heard Cas’s voice in the background, but couldn’t make out much from their end of the line. He weighed Crowley’s dramatics and Cas’s fortitude before giving himself a few hour respite. “Alright, sit tight. I’ll be there when I can.”

“Oh, don’t rush the reunion sex on our account.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t.” Dean winked at her as she played with his free hand, fingers dancing in little patterns over his lifeline.

“Figures.”

“Yep.”

“You gonna hang up?”

“Are you?”

“ I call you, out of the goodness of my–” Dean rolled his eyes and ended the call before powering down his phone for the rest of the night.

*^*

She watched him walk back to the sleek black car, bowlegs in a perpetual strut. The predawn haze a dreamscape of goodbyes. He bit the lip of his take away coffee cup and settled the contents of his trunk. She was getting cold waiting on the patio, but she insisted to see him go, to have him for as long as possible. They were completely impractical, but somehow, it worked. A weekend here and a night there, states and battles apart. He stirred a part of her she almost let fade, a part full of purpose and most importantly: hope.

He gave her a two finger salute and a scruffy pout as he pulled out of the parking lot. It actually hurt to watch him go, like an organ being transplanted from a conscious patient. She understood what was happening, but she could do nothing but see what happened next. Dean was worth it, they were worth it. Besides, who doesn’t love a bad boy, especially one with a heart of gold and too many chips on his shoulder?

*^*

[frejahertziswritingthistime]

Mine

A/N: This was a request from a sweet anon! Thank you for requesting, buttercup!

Prompt: Could you do a jealous John x reader smut, please and thank you! An age gap is my favorite thing, if you wanna throw that in there too, I’ll love you forever!

As always, remember I always say yes to requests, and feedback feed the writer!

MASTERLIST

PORN GIF UNDER THE CUT!

Pairing: John x reader

Warnings: Language, Jealous!John (totally a warning, tbh), SMUT-CITY, age-gap (reader is 24, John will be around 40), Dom!John (serious Dom, like not even playing), oral (male receiving), gagging, spanking  

Y/N was laughing loudly at something Dean had said, and John bristled at the sound – she gently grazed Dean’s arm, running it up and down, while she was drinking her beer and laughing the night away. Y/N had decided to celebrate a hunt well-done, and she had bought plenty of beer – Sam had already crashed on the bed, but her and Dean were laughing and flirting, while John sat, sulking, on the third bed in the room – his eyes were trained on her every move, and she must have felt his eyes burning into her, because she turned her head to look at John with a sweet smile on her lips. Dean leaned in and whispered something, and she blushed, clutching his knee – John broke. “Y/N, can I talk to you outside for a minute?” He growled as he stood up, body shaking slightly. she looked confused but stood up all the same. “sure, John.” she followed him outside of the motel, and John immediately rounded on her, his hands on your hips, guiding her towards the parked Impala. “what the hell do you think you’re doing?” He growled angrily. she looked confused. “What are you on about, John?” she asked timidly. “Fucking hell, Y/N, you’re sitting, not even two feet from me, flirting with my goddamn son while I just… Sit and watch you?” He growled – he had her backed up against the cool metal of the Impala, and she gasped, as it came into contact with her thighs – her skirt didn’t cover much, and she shivered a little. “John, why would I be… Wait… Are you… Jealous?” Her voice lifted a bit, almost amused. “Of fucking course, I am, Y/N!” He shouted. “You’re mine, and Dean is flirting with you, trying to get you to… And you flirted back!” He said before biting down on her pulse-point, making her squirm under him. “John, you were the one who wanted to keep it a secret!” She said indignantly. He just groaned in response, before pushing her slightly off the car to open the backseat-door. “Fuck that.” He whispered, his voice gruff, and pushed Y/N in.

He made a predatory noise, and her legs trembled – John noticed, and smirked. “Are you already worked up for me, baby?” He said, his voice suddenly silky smooth, which meant trouble – she bit your lip, and John’s fingers snaked their way up along her legs, before ghosting over her already soaking pussy. “You’ve been so fucking bad, baby… Flirting with Dean and not wearing panties…. Fuck, baby girl…” He whispered. Without warning, his palm collided with her pussy, making her yelp in both pain and pleasure, and her legs twitched. “Fuck me, baby…” John’s voice was rough with arousal, as his fingers glided over her wet panties, pinching the soft skin on her thighs as he went. Y/N moaned, the sound going straight to his already rock-hard cock. “Color?” he asked, sliding somewhat out of his dominant side. She smirked up at him. “Green.” He growled and pounced on her, locking his lips with hers, and she mewled against his lips, her arms wrapping themselves around his neck, as if she was holding on for dear life. “I’m going to fuck you so hard, you’re gonna be screaming my name, baby girl…” He mumbled against her lips, and she tugged lightly on his hair in response.

He sat up as much as he could within the confines of the car and pulled his pants off, letting his cock spring free, twitching proudly in front of Y/N. “I want my cock in your throat.” He said harshly, pinching her thigh lightly, eliciting a mewl from her. Y/N pulled yourself up to his cock and wrapped your lips around the tip of him. John groaned at the feeling of her hot, wet mouth and her tongue, which slid along the tip of his cock. He jerked his hips forward, burying himself in her mouth – she gagged slightly, and he wrapped his hands in her soft hair, smirking slightly as he held her in place. He reveled in the feeling of her throat trying to adjust to his size, and the spit dripping slightly out of the corner of her mouth, as she tried to take all of him. Her small hands were on his thighs, balancing herself, and John groaned and started moving slightly. “I’m going to fuck your throat, baby girl…” he mumbled, and Y/N moaned, the vibrations making him jerk forwards again; he loved fucking her mouth, and he could feel how much she were struggling, which only made him more horny. “Breathe through your nose, baby.” He ordered, and he could feel a small rush of air on the tip of his cock, as she breathed in, as he drove his cock in and out of her dripping mouth. The sounds of his groaning and his cock in your throat filled the Impala. Y/N wrapped a hand around his balls, fondling them gently, while he fucked her mouth harder and harder. “Fuck baby…” He pulled out as his cock started to twitch in her throat, making her gag again. “I’m not gonna cum in your mouth today, baby girl… On your knees.” He ordered, and she flipped over, standing on her knees and elbows on the backseat of the Impala, the skirt riding up to expose her dripping pussy, moaning at the feeling of the cold air hitting her exposed core. He slid a finger along her dripping folds, and she pushed her hips back a little, trying to get him inside of her. John grabbed her hips with his fingers, bruisingly hard, and chuckled. “Not yet, baby. Count for me.” His hand moved from her dripping folds to smack down on her bare ass. She yelped in pain and pleasure, her strangled voice counting the smacks that rained down on her ass.

John groaned in anticipation, when he saw her red ass and dripping folds. “You ready for me, baby girl?” Y/N moaned in response. “Words, baby.” He chuckled, his fingers gliding once again along her folds. “Please, John, please, fuck me….” She said in a strangled voice. He chuckled and pushed a finger inside of her – she bucked, pressing her hips further backwards, trying to get even more of him. “More, baby?” He knew he was being tantalizingly slow, torturing her, but he couldn’t help it; it was like a drug to him to see her like this, and she mewled. “John…” He put another finger inside of her, feeling her walls flutter and her pussy clench around the intrusion, and he started pumped his finger in and out of her. She was shaking like a leaf, and when he added a third finger and curled them upwards towards her g-spot, she screamed out for him, rocking back and forth on his fingers, fucking herself into an orgasm. Wetness exploded from her, coating his hand and arm in her slick, and she panted as she came down from her high, her pussy still clenching around his fingers. He pulled them out slowly, before positioning himself at her slick entrance. “Fuck, I love that I can make you do that, baby… You squirting for me, you dirty girl…” He mumbled. She moaned his name.  

He teased her entrance with the tip of his cock, and let his fingers wander to her mouth. “Suck them, baby girl…” He ordered, and she took the still slicked fingers in her mouth with a loud moan, that vibrated around his fingers. He pushed himself inside her, looking down at his thick cock sliding into her dripping heat and groaned at the sight; Y/N was probably the hottest person he had ever seen, let alone fucked, and he almost came at the sight of her pushing down on him; she was impatient. He pulled his fingers from her mouth with a loud pop, and he slammed into her – she mewled and buckled, her upper body falling down unto the leather of the backseat, as he bottomed out in her. She was already clenching around his cock, close to an orgasm, and he smirked – John loved seeing her with his cock in her, and he started pumping in and out of her with fervor. “You’re mine, baby girl…” He grunted in between thrusts, and he could feel her flutter against him, her orgasm fast approaching, along with his own. “Say it!” He wrapped a hand in her hair, fisting it into a ponytail, as he pounded her dripping pussy. “Fuck, John, I’m yours! Yours!” She screamed as her pussy clamped down on him, coming undone around him, and he grunted as he felt his cock swell inside of her, before he came; hit ropes of cum coated her walls, as her pussy milked him completely.

She collapsed down on the backseat on her stomach and sighed happily. John laughed and slapped her ass playfully, before closing his jeans and sitting down with a huff. “I like it when you get jealous.” Y/N mumbled. She sat up with difficulty. John smiled at her, and stroked her hair gently, before he kissed her forehead. “I don’t. I think it’s time we told the boys, baby.” He said softly. Her eyes lit up. “Are you sure? The age gap…” She sighed and his heart lurched at the sad expression on her face. “Baby, I don’t really care about that anymore. It was never really about your age. I was scared, Y/N.” He said and wrapped his arm around her. She nodded gently into his chest. “Okay. I’m pretty sure at least Dean will know as soon as we step inside, though.” John raised his eyebrows. “Oh, yeah? Why’s that?” She grinned wickedly. “Because I’m going to have your fucking cum running down my legs.” She said before opening the door and jumping outside on unsteady legs, and sure enough, John could see the wetness of their collective spending slowly snaking their way down her inner-thighs. He grinned and stepped out of the Impala, locking it and wrapping his arm around his girl.

“Fuck, I love you, Y/N.” He grinned.

 FOREVERLIST: @supernaturalmagicfolk, @redeyedvixen, @al1y, @roonyxx, @sea040561          

[ao3feedsastiel]

Connotations

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2JBRZ0r

by yelloweyes

Castiel Novak meets Sam Winchester by chance alone and shares a brief conversation; perhaps there is more to come out of it than Castiel initially anticipated.

Words: 1797, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Supernatural

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Sam Winchester, Castiel, Crowley (a bit), mentions of other characters briefly

Relationships: Castiel/Sam Winchester

Additional Tags: Awkward Cas is Awkward, Sam is not as bad of a flirt as Dean would probably anticipate, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Victorian era!AU, Inspired by Art (link in the notes)

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2JBRZ0r

[superstrangerthings]

Stop That (part 2/2)

Word count: 1,402

Warning: smut, rough sex, oral (male receiving), mouth fucking

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary/Request: Part two of this fanfic Stop That

Basically just the pure smut to end all the angst ;)

Your mind was going absolutely mental. A minute ago you had been arguing with Dean about his irrational anger and now he had confessed his feelings to you and you were pressed against him as his lips were moving against yours. The electricity you had felt in your veins, originally of nerves, then of anger, was now of lust and wonder that this man could actually love you as you loved him.

Dean’s hands seemed to feel every part of you, starting off gripping your face tightly as if you were going to run away if he didn’t, but now they were settled on your hips so that he could hold your hips close to his. And yet it still felt like the two of you were too far apart. The thin layer of clothing separating you felt like a mile when all you wanted was to be pressed against him, skin to skin.

“Oh god, I’m so glad you came to my room because I don’t think I would’ve said anything to you otherwise.” Dean panted. Because his lips were now detached from yours his eyes could wander your body, just as his hands had done before.

“I’m so glad you feel the same way I do because I could barely contain it anymore. Every time you would flirt with Jo, I felt as if I were going to explode.” You laughed.

“Yeah that probably wasn’t my best idea. It was about as good an idea as you going into that vamp nest.” Dean raised his eyebrow, waiting to see if he could create a fiery response from you.

“Just shut up and fuck me.”

“Sounds good to me baby.”

Suddenly you were pressed firmly up against the door. Dean grabbed your hips again and pulled you up so that your legs were wrapped around his hips. His boner was pressed right on your core and when you started making out again he began slowly grinding it against you, elicting sweet moans of half-satisfaction and growing arousal from you.

With his now plump lips making their way down your neck and his dick pressing against your clit, everything in you seemed to be vibrating with arousal. His lips trailed slowly down your neck, only the tip of his tongue brushing against the veins in your neck. The anticipation caused you to run your fingers through his hair and pull him closer. When he reached your collar bone he began to nibble and suck bruises, small whines leaving your lips even though you were biting your bottom lip firmly between your teeth.

With every little move you made, trying to anticipate his next move, caused your core to press down on him. Your whines grew louder as Dean let out a low groan into your neck.

“Baby, please…I need you to fuck me now.”

“Do you want it gentle or rough baby girl?” He asked but he already knew the answer and you knew what he wanted because the desperate look in his eye reflected your own.

“I want to be bruised in the morning.” You whispered seductively. That was all it took for the two of you to start ripping each other’s clothes off. In no time at all you were standing naked in front of Dean, who was similarly attired. Your eyes roamed his chest and toned stomach before reaching his dick. It was standing straight up rock hard against his stomach and already dribbling some precum.

Suddenly Dean grabbed the backs of your thighs which made a small yelp fall from your lips as he pushed you back up against the door with your legs wrapped around his hips. He paused for a moment, driving you crazy as your arousal almost dripped from you.

“Beg for it. Tell me exactly what you want.” Dean commanded so authoritatively that you had to comply. You were just too deperate; you had been waiting for this for far too long.

“Please Dean, I need to feel you stretching me wide open with your big dick. I want you to pound into me so hard that Sam wonders why the door is cracked. I want you to make me shake as I reach climax around you. Please…” you were quickly cut off as Dean entered you in one fluid movement. The breath was completely knocked out of you because of how full you suddenly were – the pain subsided to make you feel only the most immense pleasure.

“Oh fuck Y/N baby, you’re so fucking tight. I should have told you how I felt a long time ago.”

You began to worry and stopped Dean before he started moving, “Dean, this isn’t just going to be sex is it?”

Dean cupped your cheek in his hand and placed a passionate kiss on your lips. “No Y/N I want it all, not just the sex. I want the movie days and the cuddling and the dates, all of it.”

You smiled but it was replaced when he started moving inside you and your face contorted in pleasure.

His pace was fast but it kept getting quicker as your back hit against the door so hard that you knew you would be bruised in the morning but you didn’t care because you were finally having sex with the man who you loved, and who loved you back. Also he was hitting so hard deep inside you that you could barely even form words through the pleasure that flooded your brain. You could feel every inch of him inside of you.

“Don’t stop Dean, it feels so good.”

“You sound so good moaning my name like that.” Dean groaned.

You could feel your entire body tensing as you were about to climax when suddenly Dean pulled out of you. A smirk was plastered on his face as you glared in shock and anger at him. “You were a very bad girl Y/N, going into that vamp nest, making me so worried. I don’t know if you deserve to cum.” He spoke slyly.

“Oh so that’s how you want to play. Lie down on the bed and I’ll show you why I deserve to cum.”

Dean grinned at this new side of you; he had obviously been trying to push you to see what you would do. He complied and moved over to lie down on the bed. You followed him and quickly sat down on his dick again. He gasped but he barely had time to catch his breath before you were grinding down on his painstakingly slowly, but so deep that it still caused both of you an overload of pleasure.

Leaning down you caught both his hands and brought them up to your chest. He immediately started to squeeze your breasts and play with your nipples causing you even more pleasure. The knot in your stomach built up again quickly and before you knew it you were soaring into your euphoric climax. Dean continued to thrust up into you as you rode out your climax. But when you were done it was your turn to smirk.

“Are you close Dean?”

He didn’t see your smirk because he had his eyes scrunched up so he groaned out, “yes so close.”

And that’s when you lifted yourself off of his dick and knelt down on the bed beside him. His eyes suddenly shot open and he glared at you. “Oh no you don’t, I’m in charge got that?” And so he grabbed the back of your head and brought you down to his dick. How could this man know exactly what way you liked to be treated in bed without ever having been with you? It was incredible.

Willingly, you took him in your mouth, hollowing out your cheeks and letting him take control of your movements. He pushed your head down and thrust up into your mouth at the same time while trying not to hurt you or make you uncomfortable. It only took him a minute or so before he was shooting his load straight into your mouth and down the back of your throat.

Both of you lay down and took a moment to catch your breath before Dean pulled you into his side and said, “I can’t wait to fuck you all the time but I also can’t wait to be the best boyfriend you’ve ever had.”

“I can’t wait for that either.”

Supernatural tags: @badwolfy08 @jensen-gal @moons-and-stars-cas @pastapizzacheesedragon @winchester-negan-one-shots @thedevilsbestie @hemmo1996b @curlyxtomato @pandabear91812 @createdbybadappreciation @unstoppableangel8  @sammynughh @67chevycamaro @bleh-tato-bitch @eonalean998 @shaddyytree @18crazybutcutealsopsycho @benjerry707 @schizonephilim @multireality @rindulacre @archangels-lollipop @uniquewerewolfsuit @wafflesrlyfe123 @rockfairy @freddy-fuckboy-tammy @the-wintergirl @random-stupid-stuffs

Stop That tags: @cinnam0n-buns @shut-ur-face-and-get-in-the-car @lostsoldieronahill @strawberryjuiceboxxx @weirdsupernaturalgirl @peaceloveancolor 

[punk-is-notdead]

Fic title: All I Want For Christmas Is Pie, by tfw_cas

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Tags: Castiel (Supernatural) Dean Winchester Christmas Fluff Pie Drunken Shenanigans First Kiss Bad Jokes Drunken Flirting

Summary:  Cas wants to close the bakery for the night, but Dean really wants some pie.

AO3

Cas was getting ready to lock up for the night; this close to Christmas the bakery was insanely busy, and he just wanted to crawl upstairs to his apartment and rest for a few hours.

As he walked towards the door a clearly drunk elf crashed through it. Was it an elf? No, of course not, it was a customer that Cas recognised, wearing an elf outfit. A very attractive customer that Cas had not secretly been thinking about or trying to work up the nerve to talk to. Dean? Yes, Cas had seen him in the bakery before with his brother Sam, and his name was definitely Dean.

"I’m sorry Dean," he said "I’m closing for the night."

"But I need pie" said Dean, as he swayed drunkenly.

"I don’t think that’s a very good idea, do you? In your condition you would probably vomit it back up."

"In my condition? Wait, am I pregnant?"

Cas rolled his eyes. "I think you need to go home and sleep it off Dean."

"Pieeeee" slurred Dean.

"Come on Dean" said Cas. "I really need to go to bed now." Oh shit, did he really just mention to Dean about going to bed?

"Yes, let’s… bed" said Dean. "Er… what’s your name, blue eyes?"

"My name is Castiel, but most people call me Cas."

"Cas-tiel. Ok, let’s go."

"No Dean, you need to go home."

"Shit" Dean exclaimed. "I can’t, I lost Santa. He was going to take me… sleigh." Dean laughed then, and sat down heavily on a seat near the door.

Cas was so tired he was about to lose the spirit of Christmas altogether and turn into Scrooge if Dean did not leave right now. "Please…" he started.

"Cas-tiel" Dean said "I need to test your pies, I’m from elf and safety." He roared with laughter, until he started to look a bit green.

Cas tried very hard not to laugh too, but this drunken elf was wearing down his resistance. Still, he tried another tactic to get him to leave. "Dean, why don’t we ring your brother Sam and ask him to come and get you?"

"Ahh, Sammy. He told me to talk to you, cos he knows I like you… Cas-tiel."

Cas blushed furiously as he supressed a smile. "Oh, that’s… nice."

"Nice? Nice? Do you know what’s nice? Your pie. I need pie."

"Ok Dean, I’ll give you some pie. But then you have to leave."

"And coffee. Mmm… coffee."

Cas went into the kitchen and started to make some coffee and cut a slice of pie. He was startled when, a couple of minutes later, Dean appeared behind him.

"Heya Cas" he said, sounding a little less drunk. "Pie?"

"Yes, sit back down and I’ll bring it through to you."

Dean almost left the kitchen, but he glanced up and smiled mischievously. "Mistletoe" he said. "That means we have to kiss."

Gabriel thought Cas. I’m going to kill him.

Dean puckered his lips and closed his eyes in anticipation of the kiss he was sure was coming.

"I’m sorry Dean" said Cas. "We don’t know each other, it would be inappropriate."

"Sure we do" said Dean, looking very disappointed. "You know that my name is Dean, and that I have a brother Sammy. I like to come in here and buy pie and look at the very handsome owner. You are Cas-tiel and you give free food to customers who can’t afford to pay and you take your leftover food to the homeless shelter."

Dean looked like that speech had been a little too taxing for his still fairly drunk brain, so Cas moved closer to grab him if he fell. They made eye contact, and stood staring at each other for far longer than would normally be considered comfortable. As they moved ever closer to each other Cas noticed that his heart was thumping much faster than usual, and his breathing had become shallow.

They were now mere millimetres apart, and Cas could feel Dean’s breath. Fuck it he thought, this attractive, adorable man wants to kiss you. Just do it!

So he closed the last bit of space between them and their lips met in a burst of fireworks. When they eventually pulled apart (because they both needed to breathe at some point), they smiled shyly at each other.

"Do you know what I really want for Christmas Cas?" Dean asked coyly.

"No," he replied, thinking me? Please let it be me.

"Pie. I want pie."

Oh.

"And I would also like a date with the most handsome baker in town."

Oh.

"Well you’ll have to give me his number so that I can ask him" said Cas, with a smirk on his face.

"Cas, what’s your number?"

"I can’t remember. You’ll need to come upstairs to my apartment so that I can find it for you."

Oh, thought Dean. Happy Christmas to me.

[bamby0304]

The Hart: Chapter One

Summary:  When Lizzie was just a few months old, she lost her father. Fifteen years later she lost her mother, and then her sister. Now in her early twenties Lizzie spends her days and nights hunting things and saving people. When the Winchesters meet the bright eyed and bubbly blonde they don’t realise what they’re in for… and neither does she…

Part Twelve: Crossing the Line

Masterlist

Warnings: Nothing really...

Bamby

EPOV

I watched Dean as he got up off the bed next to Sam's and quietly moved to the door, stepping out of the room to join me in the hall. "I'm guessing you heard all of that?" he asked as he closed the door behind him.

"Only if you want me to."

He chuckled lightly, amused for a moment before he let out a sigh and shook his head. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do here, Liz. My brother is falling apart and I don't know how to keep him together." I could see the stress in his tired eyes.

Sighing, I stepped closer to him, resting a hand on his shoulder. "Just be there for him. Be the brother he needs."

"I can't kill him."

I flinched at the words. Sam and I were friends. Hell, I'd even call him a best friend. So the idea of him turning 'evil', it terrified me. He was one of the kindest, sweetest people I knew. There was no way he could become evil. The idea of him going bad and Dean killing him... It scared me.

"You won't have to." I assured him, giving a light smile. "Sam could never turn into a monster. Not when he has a brother like you keeping an eye on him."

He looked up at me, searching my eyes.

I wondered if I helped with the stress or if I made it worse. Sometimes I felt guilty for being around. Maybe I was a distraction keeping Dean from taking care of his brother? Maybe I was a risk that could draw more hunters their way? Maybe I was just simply annoying?

As my mind wondered, I was caught by surprise when Dean leaned forward and pressed his lips to mine.

With my mind now confused and fuzzy from the kiss, it took a moment for it to actually register. Dean was warm, and surprisingly soft. He smelt like leather, peppermint and the distinctive smell I would always associate with him. He was gentle, yet rough. His kiss asking if it was okay, while taking what he wanted all at the same time.

All I could do was kiss him back.

Months of flirting. Months of coming close to this, but never crossing the line. I'd imagined what kissing Dean would be like but I'd never thought it would be like this.

The desire and heat that I'd been holding back for sometime now was making itself known. It was singing in praise at every touch, every second the two of us stayed like this. Never had a kiss felt so right. Never had anything felt this right. It was like every cell, every fibre inside me was now awake, aware of what was happening, and thanking the stars, moon and sun.

My head was dizzy with desire. My heart was racing with anticipation. My hands shook with nerves. My stomach flipped with excitement. Everything inside me was alive.

When Dean turned us around and pressed me against our room door, I was taken by surprise again. His lips pressed against mine with more urgency as his hands grasped my waist. His body moulded against me, I found myself now stuck between him and the door, unable to move or escape. Not that I wanted to. My own hands came up to grasp his hair as I finally dived into the kiss as much as him. Grabbing him and pulling him closer. Wanting more and everything. All I could get, all he would give me. I wanted it all.

That was until I remembered. Where we were... What we were doing...

Pushing him away, I looked to the ground, shaking my head. "We can't do this, Dean."

"Why not?" he grinned, leaning in closer. "We both want this. We've wanted this for a while." that grin was killing me.

"Yeah. I do... No point in denying it." I noted as I looked him in the eyes again. "But that doesn't mean we should."

It took a moment as he searched my eyes, looking for a reason. When he finally found one, I'd suddenly wish he'd stayed quiet. "Is this about Gordon?" my silence was his answer. "What happened with him, won't happen with me. I promise."

"He's not the only hunter I've slept with, Dean. And they all stabbed me in the back. Gordon was just my last."

"I'd never let anything happen to you. Not on purpose. You know that." he lifted my chin so I'd look at him. "Hey. You can trust me."

He was right. All the excuses in the world couldn't change the fact that Sam and Dean would do anything for me, just like I'd do anything for them. We were... I guess we were kinda like family now...

"I know." I nodded. "But, Dean, you're only doing this because you're upset about Sam and everything. By the time morning comes, you'll have wished you'd never done anything."

"You're wrong." he insisted.

But I didn't believe him. "I tell you what. Give it some time. Think it over. Wait until everything with Sam blows over. If you still think this is what you want, then okay. Maybe we'll see."

Sighing, he nodded as he stepped back, seeing no point in trying anymore- for the time being at least. "You should probably head to bed. Get some rest."

"Where are you gonna go?"

"I'm gonna look for some answers." he answered as he turned and walked down the hall, leaving me standing there alone.

DPOV

I headed straight for the bar where I found Sherwin cleaning up. Other than that, the place was empty.

Things with Liz left me feeling more stressed and tired. She was right in a way. I probably wouldn't have kissed her if it wasn't for all the drama. But she was also wrong. I'd wanted to kiss her since I met her. I wanted a lot more than that. If we'd gone through with it, I wouldn't have regretted it later.

Any idiot that regretted sleeping with her, or being with her in anyway, or screwed it up- by using her as bait, for example- was a douche. A stupid, moronic, empty-headed, douche, and she deserved a lot better than that.

"Find any good antiques?" Sherwin asked as I took a seat at the bar.

"No." I shook my head. "No. Got distracted."

"Have a drink." he grabbed a glass before pouring me a drink.

"Thanks." I nodded. "So, poor guy. Killing himself."

"That kind of thing seems to be going around lately."

"Yeah, yeah. I heard about the other ones. It's almost like this hotel is cursed or something."

"Every hotel has its spilled blood. If people only knew what's gone on in some of those rooms they've checked into..."

"You know a lot about this place, don't you?"

"Down to the last nail."

"I'd love to hear some stories."

He paused and looked to me with a slight grin on his face. "Boy, you should never say that to an old man."

I followed Sherwin up the stairs as he gestured to some photos on the wall. "This is little Miss Susan and her mother, Rose. Happier days."

"They're not happy now?"

"Well, would you be, leaving the only home you ever knew?"

"I don't know." I shrugged. "Never really knew one."

"Well, this is Rose's home. It's been in the family over a century. Used to be the family estate. And now she gets to live in some senior living graveyard and they tear this place down."

"That's too bad." I noted as we started down the stairs again, looking at more photos. "I hear Rose isn't feeling well either."

"No, she isn't."

"What's wrong with her?"

"It's not my business to say."

Not pressing for more, I looked to some photos on a table, noticing one where a little girl sat on an African American woman's lap. "Who's this?"

"That's Rose." Sherwin lifted the photo off the table. "When she was a little girl."

The woman wore a Hoodoo cross on her uniform. Just like the ones Sam found around the hotel. "Who's that with her?"

"That's her nanny, Marie. She looked after Rose more than her own mother."

EPOV

I sat on the bed, looking over at Sam as he knelt by the toilet in the bathroom, groaning and moaning. He was clearly regretting all the alcohol he'd drunk last night.

Dean walked back into the room, grinning at his brother. "How are you feeling, Sammy?" he laughed. "I guess mixing whiskey and Jager wasn't such a gangbuster idea, was it?"

"You're mean." I noted.

He just turned his grin to me, offering a wink. "I'll bet you don't remember a thing from last night, do you?" he asked Sam.

After Dean came back to the room last night he'd climbed into the bed with me. We were sharing, so that was fine. But then I'd smelt the whiskey on his breath, and felt his arm wrap around me as he fell asleep. That was a little less fine.

In the morning, before Sam had woken up, I'd rolled over to find Dean already awake. We hadn't said anything, but there'd been an understanding in our silence. We weren't going to mention anything to anyone. Not even to ourselves. At least not for a while. The last thing I wanted was for things to be awkward and uncomfortable between us.

So the fact we were being our normal, joking selves, made me feel a little less anxious about the whole situation.

Sam groaned. "I can still taste the tequila."

Dean nodded. "You know there's a really good hangover remedy. It's, uh, it's a greasy pork sandwich served in a dirty ashtray."

Sam groaned as he leaned into the toilet more. "Oh, I hate you."

"I know you do." Dean looked so proud of himself.

I got off the bed and walked into the bathroom to kneel by Sam. Rubbing his back gently, I stayed silent as I helped him feel a little better.

"So, turns out when Grandma Rose was a tyke she had a Creole nanny who wore a Hoodoo necklace." Dean noted as he walked into the bathroom as well, only to stop at the smell. "How can you be kneeling so close to him when it smells this bad?" he shook his head at me as his face twisted in disgust.

I shrugged. "My sister used to sneak out and get drunk when my mum was at work on the weekends. I'd take care of her in the morning. So I'm used to it."

"Wait...you had a sister?"

I rolled my eyes at him. "Yes."

"So, do we think the nanny taught Rose Hoodoo?" Sam asked, getting back to the point.

"Yes, I do." Dean nodded.

"By the way, the maid saw nothing last night." I noted. "Felt no cold spots. Power was fine. It just looked like an ordinary suicide, apparently."

"All right." Sam pulled himself up as I helped him. Once he was on his feet he turned to Dean. "I think it's time we talk to Rose."

Dean frowned, looking away from Sam. "You need to brush your teeth first." he told him before walking out of the room.

I followed, shaking my head. "I repeat. You're mean."

He just grinned again. "You love it." pointing to my clothes, he gestured to my bag. "I suggest you get dressed if you're planning on coming with us.

I looked down at my black shorts and grey tank I slept in. "They're comfy." when his grin widened as he looked me up and down, I grabbed the nearest thing and threw it at him. It was a cushion. A soft, harmless cushion.

He caught it effortlessly, stepping closer to me. Too close. "That the best you got?"

So much for things being normal... I swallowed hard, watching as his eyes lowered to look at my lips. You have no idea how much I want to kiss him right now. "Maybe I should stay here. Let you guys go see Grandma Rose."

"Everything okay?"

Dean stepped back and turned to his brother, nodding. "Everything's fine, Sammy. Let's go."

SPOV

"Is there something I should know?" I asked Dean as we headed for the private door to Susan's home in the hotel.

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about you and Lizzie. Did something happen I should know about?"

"Nope." he shook his head.

I could tell he was lying. It was pretty obvious there was something going on between the two of them. The way I caught them looking at each other in the room. I'd woken up in the middle of the night for a moment or two and caught Dean's arm around her. They'd been spooning. Dean never spooned...

But if they weren't going to admit it, then I wasn't going to press for anything else. I'd just wait. The truth would come out eventually.

Reaching Susan's door, I knocked on it. "Hello? Susan?" there was no answer. "Clear?"

Dean looked around and hummed a yes. Getting down to my knees, I picked the lock of the door before we headed into the room. We made our way up some stair and down a hall to a room where an elderly woman sat on a wheelchair, looking out the window as it rained.

"Mrs Thompson?" I asked as we moved closer to her. "Mrs Thompson?" I repeated when she didn't say anything. "Rose?" we came to stand in front of her then. "Hi, Mrs Thompson, we're not here to hurt you, it's okay. We-" I cut myself short as I noticed something. "Rose?"

She didn't move or speak...

Grabbing Dean's arm, I lead him to the side to speak to him so she couldn't hear. "This woman's had a stroke."

"Yeah, but Hoodoo's hands-on." he noted. "You gotta mix herbs and chant, build an altar."

"So it can't be Rose. Heck, maybe it's not even Hoodoo."

"You know, she could be faking."

"Yeah, what do you wanna do, poke her with stick?" I asked, and he shrugged as if the idea wasn't a bad one. "Dude, you're not gonna poke her with a stick."

"What the hell?" we both turned to see Susan walk into the room. "What are you doing in here?"

"The door was-"

"We just wanted to ask Rose-"

She cut us both off. "She's scared out of her wits. I want you out of my hotel in two minutes or I'm calling the cops."

We didn't need to be told twice. Turning on our heels, we left.

EPOV

"I cannot believe you and Sam got us kicked out of the hotel." I shook my head.

Sam had suggested me split up to watch the hotel. Seeing as the front of the hotel was open, one person would watch there while the other two covered the back. I was just about to take the front spot, so I could be by myself, but before I could, Dean had offered to take me around back while Sam went off on his own.

Now here we were, hiding in some bushes, watching the building, in yelling distance to Sam. Dean was leaned up against a tree while I stood a few steps in front, my back to him.

"We didn't mean to. Probably wouldn't have if you'd come and kept an eye out."

"You're blaming me?" I laughed coldly. "Of course you are."

"I'm not blaming you." he responded. I could hear the sound of his footsteps approaching as he continued to talk. "I just mean... Things go better when we work as a team." he noted, coming to stand next to me.

"You hardly know me, Dean. Are you sure you can trust me?"

"I know you." he argued. "You're our friend. I trust you more than I trust most people."

Sighing, I turned to him. "I've only been around for a couple of months. I'm just a shiny new toy. Soon enough, you and Sam won't want me around anymore. Your story is about two brothers on the road. My story is about hunting on my own. I won't let there be any more."

Frowning, he shook his head, opening his mouth to speak. But before he could say anything, Sam's voice caught our attention as he called out for us, panicked. We ran as fast as we can, just catching sight of her car driving into a tree by the playground at the front of the hotel. The swings were swinging, the air cold.

Dean hurried over to where Sam and Susan were on the ground unharmed. "Come on, come on, let's get inside." he helped Susan up as I offered Sam a hand. "Let's go. Come on."

As we headed for the hotel, I looked over my shoulder at the car and playground. I wasn't too sure about the Hoodoo curse theory anymore.

SPOV

"Whiskey." was all Susan said as we entered the bar and restaurant part of the hotel.

"Sure." I nodded, setting her down at one of the tables. "I know the feeling." I muttered, moving to grab a bottle and glass from the bar.

"What the hell happened out there?"

"You want the truth?" Dean asked.

"Of course." she answered as if that was obvious.

"Well, first we thought it was some sort of Hoodoo curse." he started to explain as I handed her a drink. "But that out there? That was definitely a spirit."

Susan looked up at Dean, shaking her head. "You're insane."

"Let's skip that part shall we, and get straight to the saving you ass part." Lizzie sat across from Susan, not giving the woman a chance to take it all in. "There is something here that doesn't want you to sell this place. To keep you from doing that, it will kill you."

"Your car didn't exactly try to run you over on its own..." Dean shrugged. He paused, a slight frown on his face as he corrected himself. "I mean, I guess it did, technically, but the spirit can-"

I cut him off, needing to get back on track. "Susan, when did your mother have her stroke?"

"What's that have to-"

"Just answer him." Lizzie told her, patience gone.

"About a month ago."

"Right before the killings began. See?" I nudged Dean. "What if Rose was working Hoodoo, but not to hurt anyone, to protect them?"

He nodded. "She was using the five spot urns to ward off the spirit."

"Then she had a stroke and couldn't finish." Lizzie added.

"I don't believe this." Susan shook her head.

"Believe what you want, all right." I sat next to Lizzie, looking to Susan. "But the fact is, you and your family are in danger. You need to clear everybody out. Your employees, your mother, your daughters, everyone."

Susan's mouth opened to respond before she looked to me confused. "I only have one daughter."

"One?" that didn't make sense.

"I thought Tyler had a sister named Maggie." Dean noted.

Susan looked to each of us. "Maggie's imaginary."

Lizzie stood up in an instant. "Susan, where's your daughter?"

DPOV

"Tyler?" Susan was panicked as she ran up the stairs and towards the part of the hotel that served as the home for her and her family. "Tyler?!" she threw the door open.

Sam, Liz and I stepped inside right after her. We came to a stop at the scene laid before our eyes. Doll were strewn across the room, broken and damaged. There porcelain faces caved in and shattered. Others still sat on the shelves, but no longer set the way they looked when we'd first seen them.

"Oh, my God." Susan eyes fell on the dolls, her panic growing. "Tyler." turning, she ran for the stairs that lead to the next floor of her home. "Tyler?"

Sam, Liz and I didn't need a word spoken. We understood the urgency of the situation, and so we moved the moment she was gone. Each of us checked a closet each. We looked under tables and behind doors.

"She's not here." Susan came back into the room, visibly shaking.

Liz stepped up to her, resting a calming hand on the woman's shoulder. "You gotta tell us what you know about Maggie."

"Not much, uh... Tyler's been talking about her since mum got sick."

"Okay. Did you ever know anyone by that name?" Sam asked as we stepped up to the two women.

"No." Susan shook her head.

"Think." I pushed. "It could be someone that lived here. Might have passed away."

In a moment, it was as if Susan remembered something. "My God, my mum had a sister named Margaret. She barely spoke about her."

Sam nodded. "Did Margaret happen to die here when she was a kid?"

Susan's eyes were wide with fear and confusion. Yet she still managed to give a straight answer. "She drowned in the pool."

With no time to waste, I gestured to the door. "Come on." the four of us hurried out, hoping that by some chance, we'd get there in time to keep Tyler safe.

EPOV

My heart was pounding in my chest as my feet hit the hard ground. We ran as fast as we could, heading for the pool house. There was a desperate urge pushing me a little more than usual. This was a family, a child. We couldn't lose this one. We couldn't lose them.

Reaching the door, Susan pushed against one of the windows to look in. Her body tensed before she called out, "Tyler!"

Dean and Sam were trying to break down the door, but it wouldn't budge. The glass wouldn't even break.

I stepped up next to Susan and peered in. Tyler was on the wrong side of the railing, looking down at the pool which was on the level below her. Her body language told me she didn't want to jump. But the way she looked to her left told me Margaret was right there to make sure she did.

"Tyler, don't!" I yelled out, hoping to get the girls attention.

She turned then, her eyes landing on Susan. "Mummy."

What happened next had my heart sink.

One moment Tyler was standing there, her eyes filled with fear, her voice trembling. Then she was falling... I wasn't sure how it happened, but my money would be on Margaret. From outside, we could hear her scream.

I turned to Susan. "Is there another way in?"

"Around back."

"Let's go." Dean grabbed her arm and nodded to me before the three of us headed off, leaving Sam to keep trying this door.

We ran around as fast as we could. My heart was pounding in my chest, pulse thrumming in my ears. Adrenaline pumped through my veins like rocket fuel, keeping my mind focused. Any pain or exhaustion I should be feeling, would have to come later.

As we reached the back door, Susan tried to open it, but found this one was locked as well.

Dean didn't stop as he spoke to her. "Stand back." she did as he said, stepping away before he lifted his foot and kicked at the door. "Son of a bitch." the door wouldn't budge.

"Screw this." I grabbed a nearby pot, pulling the dying plant out of it. " Dean, move!" was all I said before I stepped up to the door and pounded the heavy pot against the door handle.

Eventually the handle broke off. With that, we hurried in, rushing for the pool. But as we came around the corner, we could see Sam laying Tyler down on the tile floors. She wasn't moving.

"No!"

I fell to my knees by the little girl, scraping my hand on a broken tile as I did. But I didn't care. I hardly noticed. Instead, I leaned forward and pressed my mouth to Tyler's as I began to give her mouth to mouth.

When she coughed, I pulled back, letting Sam help her sit up.

Susan knelt down by her daughter, tears streaming down her face. "Tyler! Oh, my God. Thank you." she nodded to me, holding her daughter to her chest. "Thank you so much."

"Mummy." Tyler leaned against her mother.

Susan pressed a kiss to her head. "Yeah, baby, I'm here."

"Tyler, do you see Maggie anywhere?" Sam asked her.

She looked up and shook her head. "No, she's gone."

So, where the hell is she?

I stood in the doll room with Dean and Sam as Susan took Tyler upstairs to get Rose. There was something playing on my nerves. Something didn't feel right about how it all ended. Why did Maggie leave? Why did she stop? Where did she go?

Dean seemed to be thinking the same thing as me. "I don't get it. Did Maggie just stop?"

Sam shrugged. "Seems like it."

"Well, where the hell did she go?" Dean asked just before we heard Susan scream.

The three of us ran for the stairs, taking two or three at a time as we hurried for Rose's room. Sam was first to enter, throwing the door open, only to come to a complete stop. Dean and I did the same as we looked to Rose. She was sitting in her wheelchair... dead.

"The paramedics said it was another stroke." Susan explained as the coroner wheeled Rose's body into their van. "You think... Margaret could have had something to do with it?"

Dean shrugged. "We don't know."

"But it's possible." Sam nodded. There was no need to keep the truth from her. Not anymore. Not after all that had happened to her.

Seeing the sad look in her eyes, I quickly spoke up. "Susan, we're sorry."

She quickly shook her head. "My God, no, you have nothing to apologise for. You've all given me everything." the sound of footsteps had her turn as Tyler walked out of the hotel. "Ready to go, kiddo?"

"Yeah." Tyler stepped up to her mum.

"Tyler, you're sure Maggie's not around anymore?" Dean asked, needing to make sure.

"I'm sure. I'd see her." she answered simply.

Susan pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Come on."

Dean, Sam and I followed the mother and daughter as they headed for the taxi waiting for them.

While staying a few steps back, Dean spoke lowly so they wouldn't hear. "Well, I guess whatever's going on must be over."

I nodded. "Hope so."

Reaching the taxi, Sam opened the door for Susan as she helped her daughter in. "You two take care of yourselves, all right?" he offered a kind smile.

She didn't say anything to him. Simply turned and wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug. As she stepped back, her eyes fell on me. "Thank you. All of you."

"Any time." I gave her a small smile as well, watching as she stepped into the taxi.

Once the car drove off, Dean gave Sam's shoulder a hard pat. "Well, you saved the mum, you saved the girl. Not a bad day." he nodded to his brother. "Of course, I could have saved them myself but I didn't want you to feel useless."

I rolled my eyes, pushing at him playfully. "Get over yourself, Winchester."

Sam gestured to me. "Technically it was Lizzie who saved Tyler."

"Well, one out of two is still a good day." Dean shrugged. "Feels good getting back in the saddle, doesn't it?"

Reaching the Impala, Sam nodded. "Yeah. Yeah it does. But it doesn't change what we talked about last night, Dean."

"We talked about a lot of thing last night." Dean tried to play it cool, but I suddenly found myself frozen.

Sam sighed. "You know what I mean."

Dean's grin wavered. "You were wasted."

"But you weren't." Sam noted. "And you promised." Sam noted before getting in the car.

Dean and I didn't move at first. He stood there, looking at where Sam had been standing, while I kept my eyes glued to the ground. I felt too awkward to say or do anything... Not wanting to upset either of them. Hoping that if I stayed where I was until Dean moved, I wouldn't be noticed.

But that seemed to be useless as Dean suddenly turned to me. "Let me see your hand."

Caught by surprise, I still didn't move. "Huh?"

Shaking his head, he reached for my hand, lifting it to take a look at the cut I'd gotten from the tile floors in the pool room. "It's still bleeding... does it hurt?" his finger brushed the cut.

I hissed a little, but other than a little pain it was fine. "I'm okay, Dean."

He didn't say anything, didn't look me in the eyes. Letting my hand go, he grabbed his flannel over-shirt that he wore under his leather jacket. I went to protest, but before I could, he tore a strip of the material. My hand now back in his, he wrapped it up with the strip of cloth.

"Dean..."

"I know you don't want to talk about it. But I've been thinking..." his eyes met mine then. "I wouldn't have regretted it."

Letting go of my hand again, he then opened his door and slid into the car, leaving me standing there, my jaw hanging in shock as his words ran through my mind over and over...

Bamby

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[fangirlofeverythingme]

“This is (not) the way to girl’s heart” - Bad Pick-up Lines Challenge

Author: fangirlofeverythingme

Reader gender: Female

Paring: Sam x Reader

Words count: 1770

Warnings: fluff, bad pick-up line but that was the whole point, awkwardness, a lot of smiling, grinning etc.,  Sam’s offending good looks (cause that’s definitely a warning)

A/N: It’s been a long, long while since i postet a fic... This one is written for @andtheraincamefalling  Bad Pick-up Line Challenge. My prompt was: “Hey, I lost my number, can I have yours?” Even though it’s Dean who uses cheesy pick-up lines, this one had to be Sam x Reader, I couldn’t help myself .

Apparently, I cannot write drabbles, no matter how hard I try, they always get out of control. So here it is, a full story. Sorry for the mistakes, as always.

@iwantthedean @growleytria @d-s-winchester @ashleymalfoy @salvachester @ilostmyshoe-79 @but-deans-back-tho

He had swept you off your feet the second he’d walked through your door, with his long limbs, broad shoulders and confident, charming smile. You owned the herbs and magical equipment shop in Lebanon, Kansas and this stranger was your frequent costumer. You never even learnt what his name was, so you used to call him Mr. Perfect (and synonyms) in your mind, but you sure as hell wanted to know him better.

He was tall and huge and handsome. So handsome. Your heart skipped a bit when he leant against the counter, tucking a loose strand of long brown hair behind his ear and flashing you that perfect smile. You wanted to run your fingers through those hair, they looked so smooth and silky. And you wanted to wipe that smile off with the kiss, his lips seemed so soft and tasty.

If it was only his looks. But the bastard had to funny and intelligent as well. His every visit took longer than needed, because he always found time to joke around, flirt with you even. The two of you chatted about all sorts of stuff, from weather and local coffee shop to books and ancient symbolism.

He surely knew his way around herbs too. It made you wander where he was taking that knowledge from. You rejected the thought that he could be some kind of Satanist, partially cause you didn’t want him to be one, mostly because he didn’t look the type. Black magic and Devil worship didn’t suit his kind eyes and there was something honest, almost noble, in his appearance.

He didn’t seem like a Wiccan either, he didn’t care that much for a spiritual aspect of magic and even though he tried to hide it behind his brilliant smile, his bad boy attitude always came up to the surface, convincing you that he preferred a more practical use of witchcraft.

So maybe he was a witch, powerful and ancient, crossing the Earth and choosing Lebanon as his home for this century, before moving on to another place. That thought really thrilled you, raising goosebumps on your skin and tingling in all the right places. The things you could learn from him, the things you could experience with him… A girl can dream.

There was also a completely opposite possibility that he might have been a hunter. And considering his well-build body and the strength that was practically radiating from his muscled arms, that one option seemed the most probable. The man was really strong. He'd once came to your store right at the time of delivery. Since the guy who'd brought the purchase order hadn't been very helpful, you asked your favourite to customer to move one of the heaviest boxes to the back of the shop. He'd lifted it like it weighted nothing, his muscles rippling underneath the thin t-shirt he'd been wearing. Your eyes had traveled to the curve of his ass on their own as he'd bent over to grab another box. The sight of it had accompanied you till the late night hours.

Needless to say, every time he walked out of your store, he occupied your thoughts for the rest of the day. And today would probably be no exception.

A bell at the door rang and you raised your head to see him in a doorway. The smirk he gave you made your stomach flip in funny way, as always, and you almost forgot that you had a costumer to service. You looked down at the brass weighing machine in front of you to realize that you were still pouring cinnamon dust on it, which was way more than the guy ordered.

You scolded yourself for getting so easily distracted. Correcting your mistake, you quickly counted up guy’s purchases and waited impatiently for him to pay and get on his merry way. But he was taking his sweet time fishing out the cash, obviously something more on his mind.

“Anything else I can get you?” you asked politely but anxious to move to another person waiting in line.

“Um…actually, yes. I lost my number, can I have yours?” the man, no, the boy, fired out of the blue, shooting you a smug smile.

Your brain froze for a second, trying to wrap around the sentence you’d just heard. It must had been the cheapest pick-up line you’d ever been treated with. And to make matters worse, the boy couldn’t be more the eighteen.

With the corner of your eye you saw Handsome’s brow going up so high it almost disappeared under his hair and he coughed very suggestively. He practically freakin’ laughed into guys face as he glared at him before turning back to.

And how you managed to keep straight face was beyond comprehension. Somehow you forced your brain to move on and come up with anything in response. And that was not easy, cause what can one say for a line that’s a complete knock-out?

You cleared your throat and put on your face what you hoped at least resembled a polite smile.

“No. Not really.” you said calmly, praying to all gods for strength not to crack up. “But I’m sure if you ask your mom, she’ll buy you a new one.”

The teenager’s eyes grew wide, then his face turned dark red and he grabbed his paper bag, almost running out of the store.

The door shut behind him and your eyes finally met Mr. Perfect. Simultaneously, the two of you burst into uncontrollable laughter.

“Wow” he breathed out, composing himself at last. “I think you just lost a customer.”

“I got a feeling he only came here to ask me out.” you giggled.

“Can really blame the poor guy for trying.” Here he was again, charming and flirty as always. You held his gaze for a few seconds, blushing the slightest bit. A grin never left you face, even though you changed the subject. “So, what can I do for you today?”

“I was wandering, maybe you could help me with a few things.” he said with a little sheepish smile, his long fingers sliding a piece of paper over the counter toward you.

You took a look at the ingredients written down on it and your grin faded away. What you read there was so much different from the things he usually bought. This time it was some really dark stuff.  Taking it all together, the spell seemed familiar, and you didn’t like what you discovered even more.  Was it possible that you got mistaken that much? What a shame, black magic didn’t suit this gorgeous man.

“This is not a Diagon Alley.” you joked nervously to try and hide the change in your mood. “I don’t have things like this here. Don’t even know what it is.”

“Look, let’s cut the act, ok?” he said, his voice dropping an octave, sounding a little quieter and impossibly hotter. The smirk was still in place when he leant against the glass surface between you, brushing his hair away and licking his lips. So unfair. “I think you know who I am. I really need this stuff and I’m sure you’ve got it in the back. I saw a sign on your door.”

Automatically, you glanced at the shop entrance where an Aqarian Star was painted. A wave of relief washed over you. If he was a hunter, because only them seemed to recognize this symbol, it wasn’t the worst option.

You looked back at him, not the happiest but ready to help and you saw it. A puppy. He turned into giant, pleading puppy, with his eyes wide and his lower lip caught between white teeth, and you would sell him a fairy dust or dragon’s heart or unicorn’s blood, even if you’d have to collect it yourself. You just simply couldn’t refuse him.

“I only hope you’re not equally smooth liar.” you sighed heavily for the sign of your surrender before disappearing at the back of your shop. He might have been deceiving you, as far as you knew. But if he was telling the truth, than lives were at stake here. You were ready to take the risk.

Ten minutes later you packed him a bag full of seriously illegal stuff and earned a lot of money. You only trusted it was for the good. You just finished explaining the hunter how to use some of those ingredients and you expected him to thank you and leave, but he didn’t.

“Is there anything else I can help you with?” you asked carefully but he just chuckled and shook his head, like he tried to get some stupid idea out of his mind.

“I thought… I would also take that number if you willing to give.” he said with a disarming smile and just like that, the two of you were giggling again. “Still too cheesy, right?”

“Yeah. Pretty much.” you managed, catching your breath. You thought for a second, watching the anticipation on his handsome face. You then grabbed his receipt, quickly scratching your number on it, smiling coquettishly. “I tell you what, thou. I’m closing up in about 30 minutes and we can get a drink after that.”

His face dropped a little, his shoulders tensing as he looked down at the piece of paper on the counter. His tongue darted out to like on his lips absentmindedly and your heart sank. There we go. You crossed the line and what you took for flirtation was just him being polite. Awesome.

You were ready to back out and crawl into the hole of embarrassment but at that moment the guy straighten up again, snatching the number from the table with a determined move. He looked a lot like he’d just made up him mind.

“I’m sorry, but this is kind of urgent.” he said, pointing at his purchases and giving you and apologetic smile. “But I promise I will call. As soon as am done.”

Well, that was leaving you some hope, at least. And you knew how the hunters was. Saving people, hunting things – it always came first. So you nod your agreement and his face brighten up again. He took his things, rushing to the door, before turning around once more.

“My name is Sam, by the way. I’ll call, I promise.”

“I’m Y/N. And you better do, cause I have a whole bunch of stuff to get back at you if you stand me up.” you grinned and then he was gone.

Yeah. Bad pick-up lines work but only if they said by a proper man.

I hope you enjoyed this little Sam X reader fluff. If you wanna find out if Sam called or not, let me know. There is a possibility od part two!

[spn-ficfanatic]

Appendix Problems

Overview: ONE-SHOT READER INSERT. The reader hunts with the Winchesters, and is one day struck down with appendicitis. How long will it take for the guys to figure it out, and by then will it be too late? No pairings, but a bit of friendly flirting I hope.

Words: 6091

Warnings: Some blood, some VERY light swearing… possibly some bad writing too but I’ll let you be the judge of that, lol

A/N: So I’ve never had appendicitis and all I had to go on was Google research. And you know what? Medical stuff is really confusing. And some sites conflicted with others and I feel like I re-wrote this a million times. So, it’s probably (definitely) not 100% accurate but I think still within the general symptoms of the condition and subsequent complication.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You should have anticipated that you’d be hitting the bar as soon as the hunt was over, though there was still a small part of you that hoped Dean would be too tired to bother. Not a chance in hell of that happening really…

“I’m surprised you’re not having a beer” Sam commented, taking a swig from his own bottle. He glanced over at Dean, who was currently trying to earn us some spending money with a few games of pool, whilst enjoying his own drink of rum and coke. You nursed your lemonade while trying to pretend you were enjoying the atmosphere of the cleaner-than-usual bar that was conveniently located across the road from your motel. You’d become so used to seedy bars you’d forgotten some places used coasters. You couldn’t help but pick at yours, it was turning into a good distraction.

“Hey, you ok?” Sam asked you, his brow furrowing in concern, reaching a hand out to lightly touch your own. “You’ve been pretty quiet today”.

You waved off his concern. “I’m fine, just tired I guess” you replied, absentmindedly bringing your right hand to your tender stomach. You really didn’t think he wanted to hear about your plumbing problems right at that moment… or ever.

“Actually I’m just gonna duck to the bathroom, back in a sec.”

You carefully removed yourself from the barstool while Sam nodded in acknowledgement, still keeping a wary eye on you. You hoped he wouldn’t notice the way you held your hand over your bellybutton, or the gentle steps you took to avoid jostling yourself too much. Once you were out of sight your steps became more urgent, ignoring the pain, and you all but threw yourself through the bathroom door and into the cubicle before bringing up the little lemonade you had managed to get down your throat. That didn’t last long before you found yourself needing to turn around and sit down. God I hope I’m not getting gastro or something, you thought with a sigh, wiping your forearm over your clammy brow. You’d barely had an appetite since you woke up the morning before, and while you thought it was the lack of food that was making you feel nauseous you couldn’t really explain the tummy troubles that had been plaguing you since earlier that day.

Once you felt well enough you finished up and shuffled slowly toward the sink to wash your hands, and groaned when you noticed the face looking back at you in the mirror was pale, clammy and, well, gross. After washing your face you were pleased to note that you looked less sickly, maybe even well enough for Sam not to notice. Dean however had that annoying big-brother-sixth-sense, not just attuned to actual siblings apparently, so you decided getting back to the motel before his game was over might be the best idea.

Sam was still sitting in the same place at the bar when you ambled back to your stool, careful to keep your arms by your side this time.

“You sure you’re alright?” he asked you gently.

You shrugged, deciding not to sit and instead use this opening to your advantage. “Feeling a bit off, maybe something I ate. Think I might head back to the room and get an early night”.

Sam scoffed at the suggestion. “What ate? All you’ve had today was half a slice of toast at breakfast and a few chips at lunch”.

Just the thought of those greasy chips made you want to gag, but you were thankful you managed to hold it down.

“I’m sure it’s nothing, just lack of sleep catching up with me I bet. I’ll catch you later,” you rushed, trying to get away before the next wave of nausea hit.

“Well hey wait up, I’ll head back with you,” he replied, throwing the rest of his beer down his throat and reaching for his coat in one fluid motion.

“No, really, you should stay and make sure Dean doesn’t get into trouble. You know what he’s like after a good hunt,” you held your hand up to stop him, hoping he didn’t hear the desperation in your voice.

He looked at you with a raised eyebrow and was about to say something before Dean ran over to interrupt. God bless that beautiful man, you thought, sidestepping slightly into the shadows so he couldn’t see you in high definition.

“Sorry Y/N, need to borrow Sammy,” he rushed with a grin, grabbing Sam’s arm and pulling. “They wanna play doubles man. And not only do they look loaded they are HOOOOT!”

You looked over surprised and were relieved to find the scruffy MALE bikers he’d been playing moments ago had been replaced with two girls that looked like they were on a naughty road trip without mummy and daddy’s permission, but no doubt with their credit cards and cash. Sam pulled back on Dean’s arm, glancing at you.

“I dunno man, Y/N isn’t feeling so hot. We were about to go back to the room.”

Dean stopped pulling Sam’s arm immediately and looked you over with concern. “Y/N? What’s up?” He reached out for your forehead but you pulled back, lifting your hand to push his away.

“I’m fine, just geared up for an early night. Sam please, go with Dean. I don’t want to hear him bragging all day tomorrow about how you missed out on losing your virginity for the second time,” you tried to joke. Dean was the only one to have had sex since you all became born-again virgins during that hunt in Hartford, and he would not. shut. UP about it! “And you know we could use the money,” you added.

Sam looked torn; he knew you guys were struggling for funds but at the same time you knew he’d want to stick with you if there was even a chance you were sick. You prayed the need for cash would win this one out.

“Yer, I guess you’re right. Only one game though Dean, I mean it,” he agreed reluctantly.

“Awesome dude,” he grinned. “Ok let’s go.” He turned to you with a pointed finger, firming stating, “and Y/N, you call if you feel shitty, you got it?”

You mentally pumped the air as you nodded in reply and watched as Dean headed back to the table, not before giving you one more once-over with his eyes with a scowl. Sam was less reluctant to walk over, and lingered for a moment where he stood.

“Dude, would you go already? I’m good,” you told him, rolling your eyes in feigned annoyance and patting his butt to move him along.

He nodded and held up his phone, indicating he had it on him if you needed him. Finally he walked away, and you were grateful for the impeccable timing as you quickly but gently made your way outside and promptly threw up on the ground by the nearby trashcans. Legs straight with left hand on your knee, and right on your stomach, you lent over and groaned, spitting out the remaining bile from your mouth.

“Fabulous,” you grunted.

After getting back your bearings you slowly stood and started gingerly walking across the road to your motel room. Dean was pretty happy to have a bar right across the road from the room, and now you realized so were you. As you walked you lightly pressed your hand on your stomach for support, which was steadily starting to hurt more and more as time progressed. You would be grateful to get into bed and sleep this off.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You could hear the doorknob turning from the bathroom and sighed in resignation. There was no way you were going to be able to talk yourself out of this one.

“Y/N?” urgently called two voices in unison. It was warranted; in your hast to reach the bathroom at some point you had accidently dropped your mobile on the floor by the bed. You had tried to get up after that wave of sickness had passed but had fallen back onto the tiled floor in agony, unable to stand for the pain in your right side. You’d heard the phone constantly beep with messages and ring with calls for the last 30 minutes and been helpless to answer it. You were about to call out when your stomach spasmed with another round of pain, and you squeezed your eyes shut in agony and opened your mouth in a silent scream.

“Dean her phone,” you heard Sam mutter, and thought you could even hear them pulling their guns out from their waist. Yer, a phone on the floor and a mysteriously silent friend definitely spelled trouble in their books.

The pain dulled quickly and you decided to just wait patiently for them to find you sprawled out on the bathroom floor, as you listened to their careful footsteps heading to the door.

“Jesus Y/N, what the hell? Hey!” Sam called, and you heard hurried footsteps across the tile and then felt his gentle hands lift your chin so he could look at your face. “Hey, Y/N/N, what happened? Look at me!”

“She ok?” you heard Dean ask as you tried to open your eyes and look at Sam as instructed. You felt his hands brush the hair out of your face and feel your forehead and cheeks, and you absently nuzzled into the comfort they brought. He brought his fingers to your neck and applied pressure, and you realized he was checking your pulse.

“Pulse is a little quick but no fever,” he replied, being all adorably clinical and Dr. Sammy. You’d have swooned if you were standing. “Babe? Open your eyes.”

“Sm,” you mumbled, deciding open eyes were overrated and opting to keep them closed.

“Yer it’s me, what happened? Are you hurt?”

“St’mk” you managed, and lightly waved your hand over your right side to show him what you meant. You were completely spent; you hadn’t slept well for the last couple of nights and all the vomiting and dry retching had drained any reserves of energy you had. You felt Sam gently lifted your shirt to inspect for any visible signs of injury.

“You wanna bring her to the bed maybe?” you heard Dean ask. “The awake version of Y/N would be freaking out over the germs on the bathroom floor.” You mentally nodded your head in agreement, that thought had DEFINITELY crossed your mind more than once in the last hour or so.

“Yer, ok. Y/N? I’m gonna lift you up now ok, hold on,” he told you softly as you felt him gently reposition your body so he could get his right arm under your knees and left behind your back. You braced for the pain you knew was coming, and couldn’t help the loud cry when you were lifted from the tiled floor.

“I’m sorry, God I’m sorry, it’s ok you’re ok,” Sam muttered over and over as he reached his full height with you in his arms.

“What the hell Y/N? We told you to call us if you got worse. And why didn’t you answer your phone?” Dean snapped. You knew he was more worried than angry so let his tone slide, and mustered up what little energy you could as Sam walked you to the bed.

“Phone fell. *breathe* Ran to toilet *breathe*. Hurt to move.” God this hurt like a motherf…

“Hurts to breathe too from the sounds of it,” he replied worryingly, moving to position the pillows under your head as Sam laid you down as gently as he could. You couldn’t help but cry out again as you made contact with the mattress. You squeezed your eyes shut tighter and felt Sam lift your shirt to inspect your stomach again.

“OK Y/N, this is gonna suck but I have to check something ok?” said Sam, regret evident in his voice as he settled down on the bed facing you.

“What are you…” you started, finally opening your eyes to look at him before feeling his hands push down on your left side.

“Does that hurt?” he asked.

You shook your head lightly, enough for him to see.

“OK, what about this,” he asked again, moving his hands from your left to your right and pushing down. The pain was instant and fierce, like you’d been stabbed with a hot poker. If you’d been standing you’d have collapsed under the weight of the agony, but for now you had to settle for throwing your head back and screaming, arching your upper back slightly to try and dispel some of the pressure he was putting on your stomach. You felt Dean’s arm on your chest, gently trying to hold you down. He had knelt down next to you on the floor, his face just inches from yours and his free hand stroking your hair.

If you thought what Sam did sucked though, it surprisingly hurt even worse when he quickly took the pressure away. With the fast lift of his hands the pain doubled, and you cried again as you began to feel lightheaded. Black dots danced in front of your eyes and you closed them yet again to try and help ease the discomfort it brought.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he cooed, running his hand up and down your arm in an attempt to comfort you. “But it hurt worse when I pulled my hands away right?”

You had tears streaming down your face, and gave him a faint nod before drawing your knees up and rolling over to your left side toward Dean to try and relieve some of the pressure on your stomach. You felt Dean’s hand take yours comfortingly, kissing you lightly on the forehead.

“Shit,” was Sam’s simple reply, and you heard him get up and start moving around the room.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking B1?” asked Dean, the humor of the comment not reaching his voice.

“Uh, yer, probably B2,” came Sam’s reply, distracted by thought.

“S’not how it goes,” you mumbled with a smirk. They were such children. You loved it.

“Y/N, when did you start feeling sick?” Sam asked. You shrugged lightly and opened your eyes a bit to look at him. He was packing your bag.

“Nauseous yest’day morn’n. Tummy sad. Pain t’day, thought’t was cramps.”  

“So that’s, what, 36 hours? Ish?” Dean asked, quickly doing the math though you were sure Sam had already figured it out.

“39. OK, we need to move now, I think it’s close to rupturing if it hasn’t already,” was the fast and even reply as he continued to throw your clothes in. Damn he wasn’t even folding them, you thought. Men! Wait, hang on, did you miss something? What was going on?

“Guys, what’s happening?” You couldn’t keep the quiver of fear out of your voice.

You felt the mattress sink as Dean leaded over and again brushed his hand lightly over your hair. Damn, he was so close you could have licked his neck if you wanted. Not that you wanted to. Man, that was a weird train of thought, focus Y/N. “It’s your appendix babe. You’ll be fine, hang on.” He patted your arm and lifted himself off the floor, and you closed your eyes again while he walked over to his bed to start packing his own bag. You should probably have been worried, but hey people didn’t die from this right? They’d get you to the hospital, you’d have surgery (Yey! Super drugs!) and you’d be fine. You had to strain to hear Dean, and wondered if he was speaking so quietly in the hope that you were too tired and distracted to hear him.

“We’re gonna have to move quick, the nearest hospital from here is about 4hrs. I should be able to make it in 3 though.”

“Yer I know. I’ll sit in the back with her, monitor how she’s doing.”

“Go check her vitals, keep her awake for the moment, I’ll finish packing the car,” Dean ordered.

You felt Sam’s presence nearby, and smiled when he sat down next to you and rested his hand softly on your right hip. “Y/N, babe, can you open your eyes?” He lightly patted away the hair that had fallen across your face.

“Tired,” you reply weakly.

“I know sweety but we should keep you awake ok? Just until we get you to the car or else it’s gonna be too hard to move you.”

You groaned in annoyance and opened your eyes to slits. “Happy?” you asked, looking at him through your eyelashes. Sam smiled that amazingly gorgeous smile that you sometimes hated so much. Not this time though.

“Immensily,” he replied. “You still feel sick?”

You opened your eyes properly and sighed. “A bit, not gonna barf though. Tummy hurts bad.” You paused to reassess. “M’ cold too. And head hurts a bit.”

“Dude, whinge whinge whinge,” joked Dean. “You know, if you’d been this vocal about feeling sick a few hours ago we could have leisurely strolled into the hospital.” You looked over to see him grinning at you, so you knew he was just teasing. Though perhaps there was some truth there also.

“M’sorry. I thought gastro at the most” you said with a frown.

“S’all good Y/N/N, we’ll get you the good drugs soon enough,” he replied, tapping your foot with his hand as he walked past you and out the door with all your packed bags.

“Did you win?” you asked. Sam looked at you, brow furrowing in confusion. You rolled your eyes. “Hot chicks at the bar. Are we loaded now?”

Sam chuckled. “Nah, we were a few balls away from winning the second round when we realized you weren’t answering our texts.”

“Shit, sorry,” you said, mentally slapping yourself. You decided that when you were well enough you would super glue your phone to your hand.

“S’all good. I really didn’t want to be dragged into Dean’s idea of a ‘good time’ with one of them. They were just… so dumb, my God.”

You smiled as the jingle of the car keys signaled Dean’s return. “Let’s leg it,” he said, grabbing his jacket and shrugging it over his shoulders while walking toward the bed. “I’ve got the invalid, you get in the backseat to ease her in.”

“Shaddap,” you replied, hitting him in the arm weakly when he got close enough.

“Yer ok Rocky, whatever you say. You ready?” he asked, easing his arms under your knees and behind your back, preparing to lift.

You nodded, sucking in a breath to prepare for the pain. It was as bad as you expected; you bit back the scream from the searing hot invisible poker being rammed through your stomach, but were grateful it wasn’t as bad as before. Still, you nuzzled your face into Dean’s chest, pulling him closer.

“Don’t barf on me, ok?”

“It would, *breathe* be an improvement,” you spat out through the pain, muffled by his shirt.

“Ouch girly,” he grinned. He started to walk to the car, being careful not to move too quickly and cause you any further discomfort. You heard the room door slam behind you and realized Sam must have shut it before running ahead to get in the backseat.

“OK, this part will suck,” warned Dean, and he prepared to hand you over to Sam who was seated behind the driver’s seat.

“Do it quick,” you gasped. Dean maneuvered you to go through the door head first, and held onto your waist tightly while Sam took your upper back. Together they slid you into the car, and you were grateful that between the two of them they managed to do so without causing a great deal of pain. You found yourself laying on your left across the seat, head propped up on Sam’s lap, while Dean ran around the car to sit in behind the wheel and start the engine.

“You doing ok?” Sam asked, the roar of Baby’s engine in the background.

“That was fine. Dean’s obviously had practice sliding girls into his backseat,” you smiled, making Sam laugh.

“You know you’ve just been dying to try it,” Dean replied teasingly.

“Dude, poor choice of words,” you gasped in mock horror. “Sam, hit him for me?”

“With pleasure,” he replied, giving Dean a sharp punch in the arm with a frown. You laughed along with Dean, properly laughing for the first time in a couple of days you realized. You felt Sam stiffen behind your head.

“Y/N, didn’t that hurt?” he asked.

“Wha? Oh, hurts but I dunno, I think I’m getting used to it.”

You thought you sensed Dean and Sam share a silent conversation through the rear-view mirror, and were surprised to feel Sam’s hand travel up past your leg to your stomach and press lightly. You braced for the sudden pain but were surprised to find it wasn’t as bad as before.

“That’s weird. Am I better now?” you asked, confused by the sudden turn of events.

Sam didn’t answer, and his hand moved up to your forehead instead. You smiled at the gentle cool touch against your skin.

“Sammy?” Dean asked, and you saw him turn his head a bit to try and look at you.

“Watch the road jackass,” you scowled at him. You became worried though to see Sam’s expression had hardened.

“Sam?” you asked, frowning in confusion.

“Sorry, it’s fine. You’re fine. Hey, why don’t you get some sleep now?” he suggested, a little too quickly.

“Lie-y McLiar, what’s wrong?” you asked again, starting to prop yourself up on your elbows before resigning to the fact you were too weak to do so. Dean continued to watch you, from the rearview mirror this time. He sighed.

“She has a fever.” It was more a statement than a question you noticed.

“Starting to yer, and with the pain subsiding…”

“Yer, I know man.” You felt the car speed up, not realizing that were even possible at this point. It already seemed like Dean had his foot to the floor. You watched him run a hand through his hair while holding the wheel with his other, and his brow was furrowed in concern.

“Guys, I’m right here! Someone want to tell me what’s going on?”

Sam wiped his left hand over his face in worry, his right taking your hand and squeezing on comfort. “I think your appendix has ruptured.”

“Oh.” Damn. “What now?”

“Now you’re going to get some sleep,” Dean ordered gruffly. “We have a bit of a drive and when we get to the hospital they’re gonna cut you open and take Mr Appendix. You need your strength.”

“Mr Appendix?” you smiled faintly.

“Yer well, his friends know him as George.”

You giggled, and decided as your eyes grew heavy that sleep would be a good idea. Your eyes were starting to burn from the increasing fever and as Sam began to stroke your hair you couldn’t really help but drift off, feeling safe and warm in his arms.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You didn’t remember getting in the water. Are you wearing your bikini? God it would be embarrassing if you weren’t. You looked down and were relieved to see you were wearing your clown suit, the one you’d bought last Halloween to prank Sam. Weird, but ok. Better than naked you decided.

Man, there wasn’t a whole lot of room in here. Whose idea was it to turn the Impala into a pool anyway? Shit, did Dean know about this? He would have a fit when he found out. Like, you could see it being turned into a spa maybe. Seal her up and get some jets in there, take the roof off of course… yer, that’d be coooooool.

God it was so cold! You didn’t have cold baths, why the hell would you want to swim in this cold-water-filled-Impala? Wait, did that make sense? Whatever.

You looked around and like a tonne of bricks it suddenly hit you that this wasn’t some leisurely swim; the car was filling with ice cold water. What the hell? Did Dean drive into a lake or something? You looked around and for the first time noticed Sam and Dean in the front seat, belts buckled and staring through the windscreen.

“Guys?” you asked, your voice shaking from the cold, or maybe fear. You hadn’t decided which feeling was more dominant yet. You doggy paddled over to the front seat (was it always so far from the backseat?) and put your hands on their shoulders. Giving them a gentle shake, you were most alarmed when their heads lolled back unsupported by their necks. Blood began gushing from the slits across their throats, eyes staring into nothingness. You threw yourself back screaming.

What little space of air was remaining in the cabin was starting to fill with blood instead, faster than seemed possible. Were they supposed to have that much blood in their body? What’s THAT about?

You gasped as the air in the cabin became less and less, pushing yourself back so that you were standing awkwardly on the backseat and reaching for the back corner where the last of the air was gathering. You looked again at the boys’ lifeless faces and tears started streaming down your face while blood and water started entering your mouth. You spluttered and tried to get air but pretty soon you were completely submerged, arms thrashing about in desperation. You felt your fist connect with something soft and warm and turned your head around to see Sam was suddenly behind you, blood still gushing from his throat but awake and alert and yelling something at you. Your ears were filled with water, you couldn’t make it out. Dude stop trying to talk, you’re going to drown! Idiot.

Suddenly the palm of his hand connected with your face and you opened your eyes. Wait, weren’t your eyes already open. God why is everything so backwards?

Suddenly his words became clearer as the water began draining from the car. He must have wound down a window you concluded. Seems like that would have been a useful thing to do earlier but hey, who were you to judge?

“Y/N? Y/N! Wake up. Babe! Look at me, you’re ok,” Sam was yelling, holding your wrists against his chest.

“Should I stop?” Dean shouted from somewhere. He sounded scared you realized.

“No, keep going, we’re nearly there,” Sam sounded scared too. You guessed having your throat slashed will do that to a guy.

“S’cold. Impala pool ‘s bad idea guys,” you mumbled, settling your arms down after patting Sam’s knee gently. “Thanks S’m, no water ‘s b’ttr”.

“Anytime. You’re gonna be ok, we’re nearly at the hospital. Just 5 minutes ok, just hold on.”

Hospital. Right. “Stitch throats?”

“Um, yer, sure.”

You sighed in relief, allowing a small smile to spread on your lips. “G’d”.

You let yourself relax back onto Sam’s lap, content in the knowledge they’d soon be looked after, when your hand started to twitch. And then your arm. It was a strange sensation you’d never felt before, and suddenly your head swum and you felt yourself being pulled into the darkness again. No more sleep, you thought, must be awake when we get to the hospital. But as you tried to fight it you could feel your entire body start to jerk, and the last thing you heard was Sam and Dean shouting your name.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The first thing you noticed was pressure on your hands. The next was a constant and annoying beep-beep-beeping hovering from somewhere overhead. Your brow furrowed as you tried to piece things together. Wasn’t there something about someone named George? And water? A small groan emitted from the back of your throat and you squeezed your eyes shut tighter against the pain in your stomach.

“Y/N? Hey, you awake?” you heard Dean ask gently but urgently. His voice was rough, like it hadn’t been used in a while. You felt two people, presumably Sam and Dean, next to you shuffle about as they moved to full attention. The pressure on your hands increased and you finally realized that they each had their own in yours. Their thumbs lightly brushing over the back of your hands and across your fingers; you could feel their rough calloused skin and found it to be oddly soothing.

“Open your eyes hun,” Sam added. Geez guys, not like you weren’t trying.

Light filtered in through your eyelashes as you slowly opened them, hoping not to be blinded by the light in the room and grateful to find it was darker than you expected.

“Hey, there she is,” Sam smiled.

“Dude, you need to buy yourself a lottery ticket. Seriously, we could use the cash,” Dean laughed quietly, grinning from ear to ear. You frowned, confused.

“What happened?”

“What do you remember?” Sam asked you, brow furrowed.

What DID you remember? The last clear thing was Sam telling you your appendix had burst, and then things got kind of… weird after that.

“Um, you told me my appendix had burst. And then I think I fell asleep,” you answered vaguely.

“You don’t remember waking up near the hospital?”

“I might. I feel kinda fuzzy, though I’m gonna guess that we didn’t drive into a lake right?”

Sam cocked his head to the side, while Dean smirked at the memory. “Yer, you said something about an Impala pool. You were a bit whacked out while your brain was being fried from the fever.”

“I have a fried brain?” you squeaked concerned, eyes going wide.

Sam slapped Dean in the arm. “No, you don’t. Your brain is fine.”

You smiled and closed your eyes again while you relished in the comfy pillow behind your head. “Happy brain,” you murmured with a smile.

You could hear the guys talking to each other in hushed voices but they didn’t leave your side; it seemed like they were happier and more relaxed now that you’d woken up. You lay there for a while, not really sleeping but drifting somewhere in the middle of awake and asleep, only to be disturbed a while later by clickitty-clack footsteps walking into the room.

“How are we feeling fellas?” asked a soft female voice you didn’t recognize. You opened one eye slowly while Sam answered. “Fine, she’s woken up actually.”

“Hehe, I see that,” replied the woman with a smile as you looked over to her through your one open eye and saw her watching you. She was quite attractive, tall with long blonde wavy hair and wearing a white coat. Doctor obviously, you decided. You opened both eyes then to give her your full attention. “Nice to meet you officially Y/N. I’m Dr Graham, but you can call me Tracey.”

You gave a small wave, releasing Sam’s hand to do so but finding him grab it back again as soon as you stopped. You gave a small smile at that.

“How are you feeling today?”

You wrinkled your nose in thought. “Pretty tired, I guess. Tummy hurts a bit.”

“Why didn’t you say something?” Sam asked you concerned.

You shrugged. “Not that bad, maybe a 3.”

“That means a 6 for you,” replied Dean with a scoff. You gave him a glare, annoyed that he knew you as well as he did.

Tracey smiled and brought your clipboard up to take a closer look. “Well, you’re due some more painkillers so once we’ve had a chat we’ll make sure to give you another dose. See if we can’t just get you sleeping through the worst of it. Sound good?”

You nodded non-committedly. Frankly you’d rather stay awake but there was no way Dean and Sam would let that happen if they knew you were hurting.

“So, your brothers tell me that you’d been made aware your appendix had ruptured, and then fell asleep shortly thereafter. I understand there was some trouble getting to the hospital which delayed treatment even further.”

You whipped you head around to look at Dean, who seemed agitated at the memory. “Roadworks,” he told you. “Should have taken us 3 hours but it worked out to over 4 in the end. There were repaving the whole damn highway during the night.”

You gave his hand a gentle squeeze in reassurance. “You got me here, that’s all that matters.”

“I will admit it was a close call,” continued Tracey, and you turned your head back to her while she studied your notes. “On arrival, you were suffering from a febrile seizure brought on by a 106 degree temperature. Your ruptured appendix resulted in Peritonitis, which quickly spread and caused Septicemia, or bacteria in the blood. Sepsis is extremely dangerous and can be fatal, however you were fortunate enough to arrive before it became so bad we could not reverse the damage. Your condition was very mild, resulting in your high temperature and hallucinations but fortunately nothing more severe.”

“Do we need to be worried about any long-term problems?” Sam asked.

Tracey smiled. “Not at all. She’ll be on medication for a couple of weeks to fight of any remaining bacteria and she’ll be a bit sore from the surgery of course, but nothing that won’t be fixed after plenty of bedrest and Netflix,” she winked at you and you smiled your thanks in return. “Now, how about we see about getting you something for this pain?”

“I’m fine really, I don’t think I need-” you started, however promptly stopped speaking when Sam and Dean responded in unison with “yes you do”.

Tracey chuckled lightly while you frowned in annoyance and took your hands back from the boys to reposition your pillows. When they moved to do that themselves you gave them a glare that could kill a lion and they slowly backed away with their hands up. Silence fell on the group while Tracey injected your IV with what you assumed was morphine, before leaving the room with a smile and a wave. Sam had remained seated next to you while Dean leaned against the wall. Both were sulking and all you wanted to do was squish their little pouty cheeks to get a laugh out of them.

“Guys, seriously, I’m not decrepit. I can reposition my own pillows for goodness sake,” you laughed, trying to lighten the mood. You relaxed your body against the bed, starting to feel the effects of the morphine already. No doubt you’d be asleep in moments.

“We know, but… just let us help ok?” Sam replied, looking at his hands and plucking at his fingernails so he could avoid looking at you. You took a moment to really properly look at them for the first time since you woke up. You saw the way they held themselves; the way Dean held his arms across his chest protectively and the way Sam leant over in his chair, looked defeated. You frowned at the dark shadows under their eyes and felt a pang of guilt surge through you.

“I’m sorry,” you replied quietly. “I guess I gave you both a bit of a scare.”

“Damn right you did,” Dean replied, looking directly at you while he spoke unlike Sam who still looked miserably at his hands. “From now on you so much as sneeze I want to know about it, got it? Cuz I don’t think I can handle seeing that again. Hallucinating is one thing but when that seizure hit…” he trailed off, running his hand over his hair.

You looked at Sam and took his hand and gave it a squeeze, and was pleased when he glanced up at you.

“I’m sorry. Both of you. I solemnly swear to tell you the next time my appendix is going to burst,” you told them with an award-winning grin… the one you knew they couldn’t be mad with. You knew you were right when they both chuckled.

“Well, yer, ok. See that you do,” Dean answered with a smirk.

Sam squeezed your hand in assurance that he was not mad with you, and you felt your eyelids get heavy. “Sleep Y/N,” he gently ordered you.

“Only if you do,” you mumbled, closing your eyes.

You began to feel yourself drift into sleep, and couldn’t help but smile as you heard the beginning of Sam and Dean’s conversation.

“Dude, Dr Hot-Tracey? You need to get on that. Lord knows I can’t be the only virgin in this group forever.”

“Deeeeean…”

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I’ve only been on Tumblr a couple months, let me know if I’ve done something wrong or out-of-the-norm! Also, this my first Supernatural fanfic. I have published only two in my life and they were Doctor Who and somewhere around 2011, so this is a bit random for me to do but I just got a plot bunny that wouldn’t die and decided to run with it instead

[pearlparty]

Unspoken Love

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings:  None, minor swears, fluff

Words:  1390

A/N:  I’m so sorry I didn’t post this when I should have @senselesssamii!  I am the worstist human ever!  Thank you so much for letting me participate in you Gag Reel Challenge.  It’s been forever since I’ve written anything other than stupid essays for class (I graduated, btw yay!) so FEEDBACK IS DEEPLY APPRECIATED!!!  Anyway, hope this doesn’t suck too bad.  I’m trying to get back into the swing of things, so sorry if it sucks.

Tapping.  Incessant tapping.  That’s all Dean could hear when he woke up, and, frankly, it was beginning to annoy him, but that was overshadowed by the confusion fogging up his mind.  A twinge of pain in his left temple caused him to wince as he sat up and opened his eyes to the soft blue light from the moon seeping into the room from a tiny window at the top of the wall.  He glanced around the room he was in.  Concrete walls, bare floor, naked light bulb, broken dusty bookshelves on the wall, an old rusty bike sitting near him, a broken television amidst other junk.  Must be in a basement, he thought, but how did--

More tapping.

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered under his breath, turning towards a silhouette in the window.  That’s what must be tapping…  He managed to get to his feet without a problem (though his body ached and his head was throbbing) and went to the window.  The brass clasp on the bottom of it opened fairly easily, allowing the hunter to lift it open, revealing a familiar face.  “Y/N!”

“Dean!”  A grin creeped onto her face.  He always liked it when she did that.  “God, I’m so glad we found you! Are you ok?”  He could barely see her eyes clearly, but the worry lining her face was obvious.

“I think I’m all right. My head kinda hurts, but apart from that…” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Well, I’d be surprised if your head didn’t hurt.  You were probably hit pretty hard.  A hit to knock you out could have…” she trailed off.  “Well, you’re obviously fine, now.”

“Y/N, what’s going on? What happened?”  Dean asked, trying to search his memories for the answer, but it was too foggy.

“You don’t remember?” Dean shook his head, though he instantly regretted it as the twinge of pain returned.  “Sam and I went to the old shoe factory to follow up on a lead, and you decided to go to the cemetery to take care of the salt ‘n burn.  It wasn’t just a ghost, Dean!  There was a ghoul, too!  We tried calling you, but you didn’t answer.  When you didn’t turn back up to the hotel after an hour, we got worried, so we followed your cell phone signal here.”  She leaned down a bit more, getting closer to Dean’s face.  Had the wind not been blowing so much, he would have smelt her perfume.  Suddenly, she began laughing.

“What’s so funny?”

“It’s like you’re the damsel in distress and I’m Prince Charming!” she giggled again, making Dean roll his eyes despite the smile plastered to his face.  “Oh, how the tables have turned.”

“Doesn’t that mean I get to kiss you at the end of this?”  He quirked an eyebrow, licking his lips.  Y/N cocked her head to the side, a smirk playing on her lips.  She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, biting her lip, something she did subconsciously that drove Dean crazy.  

They had been flirting endlessly since the day they met, and that’s probably why Dean was so drawn to her. It was like they’d both fallen into an unspoken relationship that was never official.  They never went on dates, but they did almost everything else a couple would do.  It had been a year at least since the “relationship” started, so why hadn’t it gone any further than playful punches, long midnight chats, or never-ending flirting?  Because both saw it as a glorified friendship, and neither thought that their feelings would be reciprocated.  Both thought that, when the time comes, they could separate without any problems.  Until tonight.  

Y/N got worried when he didn’t pick up after the first 5 times, then she lost her mind when he wasn’t at the cemetery.  What if something bad happened?  What if he didn’t just go off to a bar and forget to turn his cell phone on?  What if someone took him?  What if he’s d—she wouldn’t let herself think that.  No way in hell would she be able to think clearly enough to find him if she let her mind wander to the worst-case scenario.  It wasn’t until Sam had brought up her panic in the car that she even realized how much she cared for him.  “I love him?” she muttered to herself.  Then it hit her.  “I love him, Sam.”  He nodded. He’d noticed a long time ago, and told her that she should let him know.

The fear twisted Y/N’s gut around, nervously waiting for her to confess something she’d only known herself for a short time.  “Look I have to tell you something—“ she started, but a crash on the front porch stopped the words from escaping her lips.  Without even thinking, she bolted to help Sam, leaving Dean anticipating what she was going to say.

“Wait, wait!” he called after her, “No, come back!  What were—“ Just as quickly as she had left, she was in front of him again.

“Wait, Dean, I love you,” she blurted, before turning to run again.

“I love you, too.” Dean didn’t even have to think about it. He didn’t think about it.  It just sorta… fell out of his mouth.

“Great,” she breathed out, smiling like an idiot.  “What?” Did he just say what I thought he said?

“Yeah…  I love you.  Have for a long time,” Dean confessed, now realizing how long he’d been harboring feelings.  

Y/N didn’t know what to say. She stood there on the grass, frozen, unsure of what to do or say.  So much was going on, she barely had time to wrap her mind around the whole situation. “K,” she quickly said before running back towards the house.

Dean froze in confusion. Did that actually just happen?  

A few minutes and dead ghouls later, Sam busted down the door to Dean, who was immediately enveloped in a bone crushing hug.  “Don’t ever burn bones by yourself again, ok?”  Sam muttered, making Dean laugh.

“It’s good to see you, too, Sammy,” He chuckled into his brother’s shoulder.  Y/N stood outside the door, her hands in her pockets.  Dean didn’t take his eyes off her.  When he let go of his brother, Dean walked straight towards her, pushed her up against the dirty wall, and kissed her. Fireworks, explosions, electricity. It felt like the world was on fire as their lips moved in synchronization, her hands went up into his hair, his pulled her closer.  

Sam cleared his throat, signaling the couple to cease their make-out session.  Y/N pulled away, breathless.  “So… that’s a thing.”  Sam rolled his eyes, going back up the dark stairs.  

“I’m going back to the car. Don’t take too long.  The cops might be headed here.”  Y/N could have sworn he muttered something along the lines of “ya’d think they could were rabbits or something,” but she didn’t really focus on that when Dean’s lips were on hers again.  

“Wow, I didn’t know a Princess could kiss like that.”  Dean rolled his eyes again at her statement.  “C’mon,”  she took his hand, “let’s get outa here. This place gives me the creeps.”  They went up the stairs relatively quietly until she spun around.  “Dean?”

“Y/N.”

“Did you mean what you said? Do you really love me?  Because I’ve loved you for a long time I just didn’t see it until now and if you don’t like me that way that’s fine I can leave I just want to know because I don’t think I could—“  Dean cut her ranting off with another kiss.  She deepened it, wrapping her arms around his neck.  He pulled away slowly, letting the action sink in.  She grinned sheepishly.  “That was a really nice way of telling me to shut up.”

“Y/N, I have loved you for a long time.  I don’t know why I didn’t realize it sooner.  You have made my life—this life bearable.  I never thought I would get the chance to be happy, but despite all this,” he gestured to the stairwell, “you fill my life with the kind of happiness I never knew.”  Tears were welling up in her eyes, and she pulled him into a hug.

“I love you, Dean Winchester.  I love you so damn much, it hurts sometimes.”