#and that if dean didn’t love say guns or knives

[lifblogs]

I know it seems super odd and unhealthy that Dean seems to love violence, and yeah, it is. But that’s his entire life, that’s his job. If he can’t get himself to love part of it he’d just freeze up and wouldn’t be able to do anything and wouldn’t be able to function.

[gococogo]

Hello would it be ok to have a destiel fanfic with prompts "Just like we promised" and "I've missed your touch" i love ur work <3

Prompt 1 | Destiel

Synopsis: Dean has been out on a hunt for over a month and hasn't called Cas at all. He's still getting use to this whole fucking an angel thing.

Word Count: 2.9K

Pairing: Dean Winchester / Castiel

Warnings: Angst. Sappy. Smutty.

Notes: It's more than okay to want this. This was a pleasure to write and I hope you enjoy what i created! Enjoy!

The pacing became a constant thing on the fourth week. On the fifth, the nail biting had started. A bad habit he’s picked up from Sam out of all people, a nasty human habit. But the satisfaction behind it to relieve stress almost calms Cas’s nerves. He had paced from the main foyer to the kitchen to Dean’s room. Dean’s room is one of the main places that Castiel had resided.

When the sixth week came around, Cas’s nails were all chewed off and he had began picking at the skin around them. Dean was meant to call an entire week ago. No SMS either. No even a single prayer. Complete radio silence.

Sam had given Castiel Charlie’s number in case he got bored. Dean had made a comment about Charlie’s Angels. Something Cas didn’t understand until he had looked it up on his own phone later that day. But Sam had insisted yet Castiel declined saying he would be perfectly fine, for angel’s cannot feel human depths of boredom, just passing time.

One thousand and eight hours and six minutes to be exact. So, the angel isn’t bored per say, just very, deathly worried about Dean. And Sam.

The fourth day of the sixth week, the chunk and click of the bunker door snaps Castiel out of his trance in the main foyer. He stands up from where he sits at the table as laughter and voices burst into the bunker. By God is it good to hear their voices but at the same time it brings out so many bad emotions that vibrate his being and make him grind his teeth.

Sam is first to walk down the stairs, a duffle bag slung over his shoulder and a grin upon his face. When he spots the angel, his smile faulters. He tries his best to play it off but Cas sees the uncertainty.

“Oh, Castiel!” Sam says more surprised than anything, “I didn’t expect you to still be here!” He speaks as if the conversation they had over a month ago never happened. Which only -what’s that word Dean uses- pisses him off even more.

“I’ve been here this entire time,” Cas grumbles.

Which is below an angel of the lord like himself but the frustration flickering around inside of him is something that he hasn’t felt in a good while. Probably since apocalypse days.

“Cas!”

All eyes go to the older brother making his way down the stairs. Unlike Sam, Dean isn’t unscathed. His lip is busted, and his entire right eye is blackened. His eyebrow is split, and three gauze strips hold it together.

As soon as Dean comes down the last set of stairs, Cas is already across the room pushing past Sam to press two fingers to his forehead. The hunter straightens up at the sudden wellness that comes over him. His bruising disappears and fades into yellow and the cuts and scrapes heal without a scar. He goes to thank the angel but all he sees is a very frustrated one in front of him.

“You were suppose to contact me,” Castiel speaks firmly. Like angel of the lord firm. “But I received none of the sort.”

Sam goes deathly quiet behind them. He places his duffle bag of guns and knives on the table which make a louder noise than he originally intended. As if the sound is cutting through the thick tension in the room.  

Dean sucks in air through teeth as he tries to avoid eye contact with the angel. But it doesn’t matter where he looks because Cas is only a few inches from him. So those deep blue eyes is all he sees.

“The hunt got very busy, Cas you know how it gets,” Dean argues poorly as he shrugs his shoulders. “We didn’t have time.”

“We had plenty of time,” Sam comments from the table.

Castiel slowly turns his attention towards Sam with a frown. All while Dean looks to his brother with a look of betrayal mixed with disgust. Sam swallows thickly and picks up his duffle bag.

“I’ll go put these away in the stash,” Sam grins sheepishly as he scoots himself across the room.

Blue returns back to green who looks more like a hurt child than anything. And all that anger and frustration is slow to wash away as Cas brings a hand to Dean’s cheek. The hunter flinches away slightly at first but stays in the warm touch of the angel.

“I still don’t know what I’m doing, Cas,” Dean murmurs.

The angel lets out a deep sigh that has his shoulders drooping. Oh Dean.

“I’m…” The hunter clears his throat, readjusting his tone to something more manlier. “I’m still very new to this. To us.”

Cas holds Dean’s face in both his hands, almost engulfing his face but the hunter stays so still. Why still keep up this façade that doesn’t work on the angel? He’s seen him break and cry and become soft so many times. Why still keep up daddy’s good lil soldier in front of him?

A soft kiss is planted on Dean’s forehead over his once black eye. Then, like all the other times Cas has kissed Dean, he kisses the hunter gently and warmly. The heat that the angel radiates is like a furnace yet so inviting.

Dean grabs onto Castiel’s trench coat as he leans forward, deepening the kiss a little. In this moment, Cas can put his own irritation aside for this. He holds Dean, taste the hint of jerky on his mouth from the trip here. It isn’t the most pleasant of tastes, but Dean has kissed him with worst. Much worse.

Calloused hands make their way under Cas’s coat to his waist. This, this is something the angel has missed. Even if it has been a month and two weeks. Too long for his own good.

Unlike Cas, Dean pulls away to inhale a breath of air. The hunter smiles something wicked and Cas’s eyes slightly widen. Dean’s fingers loop into Cas’s belt and flips the buckle open a little too swiftly and a little too eagerly. A soft grip latches onto his wrist, stopping him in his movements. Dean raises a brow at the angel.

“I don’t think Sam will be too impressed if he catches us out here,” Castiel points out sternly, “Like last time.”

Dean barks out a fit of laughter, the memory coming to mind of Sam’s horrified face at the sight of the two. Dean splayed out on the table with the angel over him, his blue eyes as wide as saucepans. Both stark ass naked with the angel’s white butt out on full display.

“Why not?” Dean chuckles out.

Cas can’t help but roll his eyes. With his grip still on Dean’s wrist he begins backing up slowly across the foyer, dragging Dean along.

“You worry too much,” Dean grins.

“I don’t think I worry enough,” Cas bites back playfully.

Dean stops the angel and draws him into for another deep kiss. One that has him gripping the back of Cas’s hair and looping his fingers back into his belt. Dean pulls away but only mere millimetres, not wanting to stay away for too long.

Those green eyes lock onto the angel and Cas won’t lie, he’s missed those emeralds. He runs a thumb over Dean’s freckled cheek and smiles softly when he sees that everything is the same. No more bruises or cuts. Dean follows the notion with a side eye, almost wanting to pull away but staying still and stiffens under the touch.

It takes both of them a good while to get back to Dean’s room. Having to push the hunter there rather than drag him along since he kept stopping Cas. He isn’t vocal about it but he can tell that the hunter can’t keep his hands off of Cas.

Clothes come off a little too easily and Cas can’t help but frown when he spots more cuts and bruises on Dean’s frame. With soft touches, Cas heals them without a second thought. Dean shivers under the touch, his eyes tracking every movement. With a warm glow, Cas heals a deep purple bruise on Dean’s chest that has the hunter breathing a little easier. But with that he pushes Dean back onto the bed. The springs creak under his weight and he disrupts the perfectly made blankets. Cas’s work.

Dean tries to sit up on the bed but is pushed down again when Cas straddles his lap. He runs his hands over Dean’s body once more, making sure that he hasn’t missed any nicks and cuts. He could heal Dean in one go, but where’s the fun in that?

“I’ve…” Dean hesitates, adverting his gaze downwards to the angel’s hands. “I’ve missed your touch.”

“Hmm,” Cas hums at that with a smile.

“I wish I had called,” Dean continues. “Or sent a text. But I’m scared alright. As stupid as that sounds.”

The angel’s smile falls at that. To respond to that, he clasps the hunter’s face in his hands and kisses him softly unlike before. He moves his hips down on Dean as well, making the hunter squirm under his weight. Maybe he can forgive Dean after all.

In between the kisses, the angel mumbles out, “It’s not stupid at all.”

The result of watching Dean’s face go beet red is a reward in it’s own. Cas kisses him again, humming into his mouth with satisfaction. Such a human thing to do. How much he’s changed since being around Dean. He’s changed him so much. Does Dean realize just how much he’s done for the angel? Or is he blind to that fact? Maybe he might have to ask him one day. But not now.

Not when he feels Dean’s grip tighten on his hips, wanting him to grind down harder into him. The friction is something that the hunter craves at this moment. He grows hard and his dick rubs in between the angel’s cheeks. Precum leaks from Dean’s dick, making the glide easier.

Cas sits up slowly and as if out of nowhere, he holds Dean’s bottle of lube in hand. Dean’s stares at it bug eyed for a moment but doesn’t question it because he knows he left that in the bottom draw of his dresser. Where it normally stays. Either Cas miraculously brought the bottle to his hand or it was always on the bed and he just didn’t see it. Either either, both make sense for the angel.

“Let me,” Dean says as he takes the bottle from him.

Lathering his fingers up generously, Dean a little too eagerly brings his hand around Cas’s ass and inserts two fingers. The angel grunts at the sudden penetration, his eyes fluttering shut. With Dean’s other hand as he sets a quick pace to open up Cas, he kneads his thumb into the angel’s hips. Holding on as if he’s going to fly away with those wings of his.

Cas towers over Dean, scrunching up the blankets into his fists next to the hunter’s head. More lube is added and then a third finger is fitted right to the next others. Cas’s breathing becomes heavy, every nerve in his body buzzing and every inch of his grace humming. He can feel everything a little too well for his own good. The stretch of the three fingers, the way his hard cock rubs up against Dean’s, the way that he’s been wanting to feel Dean’s touch once more. Too much.

Deeming the angel ready, Dean brings his lubed fingers to slick his own dick up. He exhales shakily, holding himself together by a thread. The entire hunt, the Angel of Thursday was on his mind yet he was too coward to send a simple prayer. Next time. Next time we won’t be so stupid.

Cas exhales shakily, opening his eyes to meet a lustful green graze. The angel looks into those eyes fondly with a smile coming upon his reddened lips. He kisses Dean again, this time deepening it and grinding down on the hunter again. Dean grunts under him and digs that thumb into his hip a little more.

Dean guides the head of his dick to Cas’s ass, rubbing himself between his cheeks a few times. He pushes the tip of his dick in, humming in the kiss at the warmth he feels. He pushes in a little deeper and breaks the kiss, his face scrunching up into something needy. Cas continues lining Dean’s exposed neck though with small kisses, sucking and biting lightly. Dean groans as he grabs onto the angel’s hips with both hands to help guide him down.

Cas winces but moans something whiny into the hunter’s skin. He still smells like the hunt. Gun powder, cheap pharmacy cologne and musk. Dean grunts with every push. He fucks into Cas eagerly, but the angel isn’t going to stop him. He’s enjoying this too much. He’s missed Dean too much to let this pass. His body buzzes and constricts with pleasure that he can’t help the noises that comes his mouth. He can feel himself shaking in the hunter’s hold, his grace vibrating within.

Dean pushes Cas down onto him until he’s flush against his hips. The angel groans and breathes heavily as Dean only gives him a few seconds of adjustment before he begins a quick pace again. Each time he thrusts into Cas, he brings the angel down just as hard that gets a satisfying grunt from him.

The hunter sits up suddenly, still holding onto Cas so that they’re flush against each other. With each movement, Cas’s dick rubs up against their stomachs. The angel holds onto him as he lets the hunter fucks out everything from the hunt. Dean groans deep within his throat as he keeps moving at a constant pace, thrusting into Cas on his lap. It’s more of an awkward bob at this point, both being too desperate to do much more. But both are satisfied right now.

But Dean wants more.  Suddenly, he flips and throws Cas onto the bed with little effort. He grabs onto the back of the angel’s knees and pushes his legs up so that he’s almost folded in half. He lines himself up again, this time slipping in easier than the last.  

The new angle has Cas shivering and grunting with each thrust into him. He digs his fingernails into Dean’s shoulder, unable to gain control of the delicious noises coming from his throat.

Through shaky pants, Dean is able to grumble out a deep, “I’ve missed you.”

Another shiver runs down Cas’s back, earning a whimper like sound from him. The hunter’s cock passes by that sweet bundle of nerves inside of Cas that has him grunting with each movement. Cas wraps his legs around Dean, holding him close as the hunter’s thrust become short and shallow. Dean comes down for a sloppy kiss, mostly broken by breaths of shaky inhales.

“I’ve-“ Dean pecks Cas on the mouth, cutting him off. “missed you-“ another kiss, “…too.”

Dean brings a hand down to wrap about the angel’s leaking cock, flicking a thumb over his tip with every stroke. Cas arches his back the best he can in the position he’s in and startles out a cry. By God, he can feel himself getting close. His body buzzes and feels like tv static with just a simple touch. He doesn’t want this to be over already, but with Dean abusing that sweet part inside of him he can’t hold on at all.

Cas chokes out a strangled cry as his whole body and grace feels like it’s going to explode. He releases hot strips into Dean’s hand as he digs his bitten nails deeper into the hunter’s shoulders. He heals the bruising before it even comes about, even in his stare of high. Dean keeps fucking through his orgasm, making it ten times more intense.

“Dean,” Cas grits out.

With a few couple of more hard thrusts, Dean drives his cock deeper into Cas as he reaches his own orgasm. Dean stiffens up, unmoving as he cums hot and deep within the angel. Who would have thought. Fucking an angel of the lord.

Cas shivers at the new sensation of the warmth inside of him. He grits his teeth, holding Dean in place. He doesn’t think he can handle the hunter moving at this given moment. Both stay still for a good few minutes, a panting and sweaty mess. Cas can’t help but shake faintly, his breathing ragged and uneven. He can feel his grace is all over the place and he tries his best to collect himself.

But it’s very hard when Dean lands on top of the angel with an audible, “Oof,” slipping out of the angel in the process. Cas places a hand on his back and gives him a light pat on the shoulder. But Dean doesn’t move and inch, his face flat against the nape of his neck.

“I’m coming with you next time,” Cas grumbles out.

Whatever Dean says next, it’s lost into a mumble and jumble of words in the angel’s neck. This earns a short chuff from the angel, knowing full well that the hunter can’t stop him in doing so. What he says goes. But right now, he’s fully content in laying in for a few minutes. He’s fine in letting time pass by when it’s with Dean Winchester.

-

Have an amazing day/night ;)

[raised-u-fr0m-perdition]

we could be more | dean winchester | 5

Summary: Ivonne Rainer was practically a trained killing machine. Stripped to the bone then built back up by her father in order to become one of the best, like he was. She was forced into hunting when she was nineteen, having developed powers that couldn’t be explained. That is, until she was paid a visit by Azazel’s lackey. Her powers were gone, she needed help, and that’s when she found her father’s journal. Pointing to Sam and Dean Winchester.

SERIES MASTERLIST

A/N - My first OG episode, so enjoy!

DEAD MEN CAN’T SCREAM

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : CAN’T CATCH ME NOW - OLIVIA RODRIGO

“XAVIER NICHOLAS JACKSON!” I yelled. Xavier shrieked, jumping six feet into the air. 

“Here we go.” Sam muttered. 

“She used his middle name.” Dean smirked.

I picked up a pointer stick, slapping it on the sign. “SHOES OFF!” 

“Damn, fine!” Xavier hurriedly took off his shoes. I walked up to him, then smiled sweetly. 

“Thanks, love.” I gave him a kiss, leaving him dumbfounded.

”Welcome to our world, soldier.” Dean chuckled.

”Tough world.” Sam snorted. 

“So, Sammy, got any new cases?” 

“There’s one, and I think Ivy will be interested.” He placed the paper down. “String of murders here, all done by different people with no connection. However, once the murderers were caught, they turned out to be sleeping.” 

“Manner of death?” I asked, rushing over and taking the paper. 

“A knife.” Sam frowned. “In the jugular.” 

“Map it out.” I ordered, gritting my teeth. It was like a switch flipped in my brain. “I don’t care how we do it, we’re finding this dreamwalker.” Sam mapped out the killings, and I took a quick look. 

“Looks like nothing to me.” Dean shrugged. 

“This is Morse code.” I got out a sheet of paper, writing it out. “You… can… run… Ivy. It’s coming back. For me.” 

“T-To finish you off?” Sam stammered, leaning forward. 

“Seems like it.” I exhaled. “It’s taunting me. Telling me to run. I’m guessing that the next killings will spell out ‘but you can’t hide’.” 

“So we find out where. Find out how to kill this thing.” Dean resolved, placing his hand on the map. 

“How many sleeping people will we rifle through before we find this thing?” Sam scoffed. “We can’t barge into every home on a street and find out who’s sleeping, we’re going to have to try and track a person down, but even that’s impossible.” 

“That also means we can’t sleep.” I sighed. 

“What?” Xavier folded his arms. 

“That dreamwalker is coming for me. It could possess any one of us and the only thing it needs is for us to take a nap. After that, knives galore.” 

“Why knives?” 

“A murderer’s principle of extravagance. Or, a more plausible one, the ability to get the holder caught cause the dreamwalker isn’t gonna put on gloves before going psycho.” 

“And the, uh, neck bit?” Dean asked, pointing to his jugular. 

“There’s an ancient saying in dreamwalker lore everywhere.” I clicked my tongue. “‘Dead men can’t scream.’. The whole point to stab someone’s neck is to silence them. Their screams, their words, thoughts, everything. Cause if you take out part of the airway, you take them out.” 

“How are we gonna find out where it strikes next? Cause so far, the only thing we have is what it is and who it’s after.” 

“I don’t think so.” I drew an arrow from the first killing to the last. “Point A to B. We’re here,” I circled a place on the map, “and all the killings are making its way to us. It’s like it’s been tracking me.” 

“This is a change.” Sam chuckled. “We’re the ones being hunted this time.” 

“It’s not gonna be pretty, Sam.” I sighed. “Wherever we’re going, a trail of dead bodies are gonna follow.”

”That’s not particularly ideal.”

”Didn’t seem like it.” I loaded my gun, exhaling. “Well, we know what has to happen. You guys need to get far away from here, and I’ll deal with the ‘walker.” 

“No. No way.” Dean refused almost immediately. 

“We’re not leaving you.” Xavier agreed.

“It’s not like I’m giving you a choice.” I retorted. “Get in your cars. Go.” 

“You almost got skinned last time you came into contact with that thing.” Sam frowned. “How do you expect to survive this time?”

“I have books, lore on how to deal with something like this. If someone summoned it, I send it back to hell. If not, a destroying ritual will do the trick.” 

Dean scoffed. “You need backup-“ 

“I need space, Dean.” I started sharpening my knives harshly. “You stay close and you might end up with a knife in you.” 

“And if we turn our backs, you could be on the receiving end.” Xavier argued. 

“I know, but if I die, it stops the cycle.”

”You don’t know that.” Sam frowned. 

“Fine.” I gave up, folding the map. “We can all set off at sunrise. Just draw a protective rune with holy water on you before you sleep.”

However, I had other plans. I waited until the boys were asleep before gathering Sam’s research, stuffing it into my satchel before I grabbed my copy of the house keys, unlocking the door and leaving. I’d decided that the first place to go was the house where it all started, so I could figure out where it went. I ended up in Madison, New Jersey.

“Can I help you, miss?” A local asked. He was old, and I recognised him.

“Arthur Paisley?” I grinned. 

“Who’s askin’?” He retorted gruffly. 

“It’s Ivonne. Rainer?”

”Ivy, dear girl!” He broke out into a toothy smile. “Welcome back. Let me take you for a drink.” We ambled towards the bar, talking. “So, where have you been all these years?”

”On a road trip. I found some family friends and went with ‘em.” 

“The Winchesters, right?” He nodded. “Such a shame what happened to ya family. Little Carter…” 

I breathed out shakily, managing a smile. “Yeah. He didn’t deserve that.” 

“You did what you had to, girlie.” 

“I could’ve done something else.” We entered the bar, which was eerily empty. 

“But you did the first thing that came to your mind.” He vouched. “Lucky that gun was still on your father’s bedside table.” 

I stopped, turning around slowly as my hand slowly went to my gun. “Hold on. How did you know that it was a gun? Carter’s manner of death was kept private by the police. And nobody knew that I was with Sam and Dean.” 

“You’re famous around town, here, girl-“ 

“Cut it.” I snapped, taking my gun out. “And let Mr Paisley go.” 

“Ok.” He smirked. “But I’ll find you again. I need to finish my job off with you.” 

“Good luck.” I scoffed, flicking down the safety pin. Then the darkness disappeared from Paisley’s eyes, and I caught him before he fell, setting him down on a comfy chair before running off. The moment I was sure I wasn’t being followed, I got into my car, dialling Ellen and driving off.

‘Hey, sweetie. Are Sam and Dean with you?’ Ellen greeted. 

“Hey, El. And, uh, no. Just wanted to run a few names by you. There’s more, but I’ll give you a few.”

’Shoot.”

”Edward Sarkis, Pete Barnes, Vincent Wylie, Harry Terman, Lloyd Cole, Mark James…?”

‘I know the names. All seasoned hunters, with a wife and kids. None would stop comparing baby photos.’

”They’re dead, Ellen. I gulped. “Killed like Dad. Then their family was found with a knife in their throat the day after. The one who was blamed was the oldest kid of the family, and they’re all now in a mental asylum.”

‘You don’t think that it’s the same thing that killed your parents, do you?’

”I know it is. The killings spell out ‘you can run, Ivy’ in Morse. I need Ash to help and find a way to kill it.”

’I’ll get him on it. What am I supposed to tell the boys?’

”Nothing.” I frowned.  “If they come knocking or calling, you can’t tell them where I am.”

’Ivy, you know I can’t do that.’

”Ellen.” I begged. “Just do this for me, please.”

 Pause.

’Fine. But you better live.’

“I’ll try.” I shifted gears. “Can you find out a hunter who lives close to the last murder site?”

“Yeah. His name’s Xavier Jackson.” My heart dropped out of my chest as I turned the car around, flooring it. 

“XAVIER!” I screamed, bursting into my house, but the boys were gone. “Oh my god-“ I got a phone call, and I picked up seeing Xavier’s calling ID. “Zay, where are you?” 

‘A warehouse south from your house.’ I heard on the other end of the line. ‘I told you that you could run, Ivy, but I’d find you. Xavier seems like such a good guy. Why waste this opportunity to save your boyfriend?’ 

“Let him-“ 

‘I know why.’ He chuckled. ‘Because I’ve got your precious boys here with me.’ 

‘Don’t come here, Ivy!’ Dean ordered. ‘I swear, if you do-‘ 

“Dean-“ 

‘Ivy, please.” Sam begged. ‘Whatever you do, don’t come-’

‘See, Ivy, I don’t think you can listen to them.’ Xavier took back the phone. ‘Because you are going to come here. You’re going to come alone, and you’re gonna give yourself up. And I don’t think you can raise your gun again because to kill me you have to shoot your boyfriend. Just like you did Carter.’ 

“I’m gonna kill you.” I growled. “I swear to god, I will do it.” 

‘I’d like to see you try. You’ll find me, but get here by sundown. If not for me, do it for Carter.’ 

“Carter.” I whispered, getting back in my car. I fought off tears, putting the pedal to the metal as I sped off, but carefully not exceeding the speeding limit. I hit the wheel, my teeth gritted. “DAMN IT!” I knew which warehouse Xavier was talking about. There was an abandoned one south of my house here. Nobody cared about it. Nobody thought there was anyone in there, but right now, there were three captive men and one monster. I pulled up at the warehouse, taking a gun out of a compartment under my seat, loading it and getting out, kicking down the door to the warehouse and holding my gun up. 

“Don’t move.” Xavier had a knife held aloft, holding Sam’s head back by his hair. Dean was bound, his head hanging down with his eyes half open. “Put the gun down, Rainer. Come on, do a favour for your boyfriend.” 

“Zay, I know you’re in there-“ 

“Put the gun down.” He pulled Sam’s head back further, so I put my gun down, holding my hands out. 

“You got what you wanted, now let him go.” 

“I don’t think so.” 

“Fine, then take me.” 

“Ivy, no…“ Sam muttered, his eyes barely open. 

“What have you done to them?” I gasped, my fist clenching. 

“Relax, it’s just a sedative.” Xavier smirked. “It’s not hurt them, just kept them incapacitated.” 

“You’re sick.” 

“None of this would have happened if you had just given yourself up. The cycle would stop. I’d leave and never bother anyone again. I was always after you, Ivy, little Carter didn’t need to die.” 

“Wh-What do you mean?” 

“Your anger was powerful to latch on to, but that night you just wouldn’t sleep. But Carter was asleep in the room opposite. I felt his pain, his animosity towards his older sister and, well, I just had to take the opportunity. But, as you can see, my revenge isn’t complete.” 

I was breathing heavily, my body feeling like it was on fire as red hot rage boiled up in me faster than a bullet could travel from point A to B. “I’M GONNA KILL YOU!” We rushed at each other, and I knocked the knife out of Xavier’s hand, ending up a metre from Sam. I elbowed Xavier in the face, punching him so hard that he fell on the floor. I climbed on top of him, punching him over and over, watching blood run down his cheek as heavy breaths escaped my mouth. I pulled out my gun, holding it to his head. I had prepared a replica, which was the one I’d surrendered before.

“Is this what this was about the whole time?!” I shouted, my hand shaking while my finger tightened on the trigger. “You wanted me to take the blame? Why didn’t you do it? My brother was fifteen, fifteen, but you marked him for death.” 

“It’s no one’s fault but yours, Ivonne.” He smirked. “Had you taken care of your family, he’d still be here. Now your two friends are next.” I was pushed off, and Xavier scurried to the knife, picking it up and holding it to Sam’s throat. “Dead men can’t scream-“

BANG. 

BANG. 

A cloud of black smoke escaped Xavier just as the bullets pierced his body, his eyes turning from dark blue to their usual light blue. He swayed, looking down at the two holes in his chest before he collapsed. Sam regained his strength and managed to cut himself and Dean, who was still half-asleep, loose while I rushed to Xavier’s side, holding his face in my hands. What had I done? What had I…

“Zay, please, no.” I sobbed. “We’ll get you an ambulance, anything, just don’t leave me.” I kissed his forehead, smoothing his hair back. “I’m so sorry.” It felt like my heart was breaking all over again, like I was out of control again. I hated it, but I couldn’t escape it. But the dreamwalker escaped… and I wasn’t quick enough.

“It’s ok.” He smiled weakly, reaching up to tuck my hair behind my ear. “It wasn’t your fault.” 

“It was.” I sobbed, shaking my head. “You could have broken free-“

”It was too strong.” He whispered. “I love you so much, Ivy. But I wish we had more time.” 

“Don’t say that, don’t say…” He gently brought me down to kiss him, but halfway through, his hold on me loosened and I felt his arm fall onto the floor, going cold. I sat back up, the bitter truth hitting me. 

Xavier was dead, and it was my fault. 

I screamed, the sound falling deaf on my ears as Sam wrapped his arms around my midsection, trying to pull me away. 

“Ivy!” Sam yelled, but it sounded muffled. Like I’d shut everything out. “Ivy, we can’t help him! We need to go!” I went limp against him, crying my eyes out as the image of the dead body flickered between Carter’s and Xavier’s, lifeless and cold, with the same expression of terror. Please, not again. Not again.

“Yeah, you can’t help him.” Dean smirked, walking casually towards the body. “Another body, Ivy, what a shame. People just seem to be… dropping like flies around you.” The dreamwalker had possessed him, and both Sam and I took out our guns. My hands shook as I pointed my barrel at his forehead; please don’t make me shoot Dean. Not him. “Relax, this is only gonna be for a bit. You’ve only gotten away this time, Rainer. I’m going to complete my revenge someday.” 

“What revenge?” 

“I used to be a vampire.” Dean snarled. “But then my heart was carved out by none other than a gang of hunters, one of them happening to be Michael Rainer. I couldn’t resist it. I went after his family, and I found you, the strongest of the lot that was left. He trained you as well, so why can’t I put that to good use? However, you just couldn’t let me possess you. So Carter was a perfectly acceptable second choice.” 

“Get out of my brother.” Sam snarled. 

“As you wish.” The darkness left Dean’s eyes, and he immediately gasped, recovered and hugged me tightly, Sam joining in. I shook violently, tears still silently streaming down my face as my eyes landed on Xavier’s body in the middle of the empty space.

”Xavier had gone insane.” I lied, later on, shaking as I sat down in the interrogation room in a police precinct. “I went to visit my old family house in New Jersey when I got the call that Xavier had kidnapped my friends and he needed me to come and save them. We fought, and he had a gun on him, which I stole. I shot when he was about to murder Sam, and then I untied them.” 

“Story matches up.” The policeman nodded. “And injuries suggest the same. I don’t think we can press charges. You shot in self defence, and you stopped a kidnapping. Why you didn’t call us, I don’t know, but you did a good job.” 

“Can I leave, officer?’ I asked. 

“Yeah, I don’t see a reason to keep you.” I left the office, meeting Sam and Dean outside. Dean took me into a hug, kissing my hair. 

“We can take a break from hunting, if it makes you feel better.” Sam whispered, hugging me once Dean released me. 

“No.” I shook my head. “I need a distraction.” 

I decided to go on a drive alone, ignoring the fact that Xavier had just died. It was how I dealt with Carter and my family, so it didn’t seem much different. Just numb, like I’d forgone emotions entirely. So, yeah, repetitive.

Apart from how people seemed to die around me. 

I got a phone call, seeing that Sam was the caller ID. I picked it up. “Hey, Sammy. What’s up?”

’Look to your right.’ I looked to my right, which had a long abandoned runway on it. There, at the top, was a figure that looked like Dean, tied to a chair yet again. ‘I’ve got him. And I’m gonna ram a car into him, unless you come over here.’

“Are you ever going to leave me alone?” 

‘No, I don’t think I will.’ Just as I was about to floor it, a bullet grazed my head, lodging into my seat. I immediately floored it, wincing at the blood running down my head as I turned the car sharply.

“Did you send that bullet?” 

‘No, I’m in a car.’ 

“This is the worst way to die.” Dean groaned, struggling against his bonds. "Beanie, if you save me, I will personally get you your favourite coffee every day.” 

“Any last words?!” Sam yelled from the car, and Dean thought. 

“You’re a twat!” He yelled back. “That’s right, I used British insults!” 

The car started, headlights on as it revved, driving up towards where Dean was. He looked away, a feeble attempt to brace for impact. Sam determinedly pressed the pedal harder, ready to ram right into Dean-

I drove my car straight into the side of the one Sam was in, glass cracking and flying across my face as dust dirtied my face, the impact knocking the wind out of me and my head against the wheel. The world spun around me as I gasped to get some air, but my head felt heavy. I rested my head on my arms, passing out almost immediately.

Sam stumbled out of the car, the darkness gone from his eyes. He stared at Dean, and then himself, realising that he was barely injured. 

“What happened?” Sam panted, checking himself. 

“You almost killed me!” Dean yelled. “Get me my pocketknife from my jeans and then go get Beanie out of the car. She almost killed herself trying to stop you.” Sam gave him his pocketknife then sprinted over to the Corvette, yanking open the door and picking me up bridal style, turning to Dean. 

“She’s not awake!” He called, and Dean ran over, grabbing a water bottle from my car and taking some water in his hand, flicking it over my face. 

“C’mon, Ivy.” Dean whispered, checking for my heartbeat and breathing. “She’s alive, so that’s good.” 

“We need to get her to the hospital.”

”She’s not got any major injuries.” The doctor explained to Sam and Dean, who were outside the ward. “Just a few cuts and grazes, and her hand took a bit of a sprain. We’ve cleaned and bandages those, and she’s awake now and almost out of shock. You two can see her.” 

They speed-walked into my ward just as I was sitting up, my hand  kept aloft and bandaged. As soon as I saw the boys, I grinned as they sat down and started showering my head with kisses. 

“Thank god you’re ok.” Sam whispered, burying his face into my shoulder. Dean cupped my cheek, rubbing circles with his thumb. 

“I…” Dean paused, “I am never letting you out of my sight again. You almost died. Again.” 

“I told you, I’m only dying by a knife to the jugular.” I joked, sipping some water. “How long have I been out?” 

“A day.” Sam smiled. 

“So, ready for another hunt?” 

“How does she not remember but we do?” 

“I don’t know, Sammy.” Dean smirked. 

“Am I missing something here?” I asked.

They both pulled out a cake, grinning. “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”

But I'm in the trees, I'm in the breeze My footsteps on the ground You'll see my face in every place But you can't catch me now Through wading grass, the months will pass You'll feel it all around I'm here, I'm there, I'm everywhere But you can't catch me now No, you can't catch me now

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[goshen-applecrumbledore]

Fic: Pine sweat opening chapter preview 🏕✨️

It's wincest wednesday and I'm tired of not posting fic! working on long projects is exhausting!

Here's the opening scene of a wincest time travel fic I'm working on.

The full fic is a big mysterious case fic about... hunting, camping and hating yourself, pining, sharing a tent and falling in love with your brother. It will be out in a few months I think. This preview is 1.8k words, takes place in season 5. enjoy! tell me what you think!

Chapter 1 - HEAT

Winter, 2009. The radiator in their motel room was broken, but it was worth putting up with for the twenty-dollar discount on the room. Dean took a decadently long shower to warm up, and Sam slept with towels draped over his comforter.

They would only get a few hours’ rest, but it was better than they'd had lately, both of them hounded as they were by angels, and Sam by guilt and regret. The cold was bad enough that Sam looked over at the lumpy shape of Dean in the other bed and considered saying something about sharing body heat, but Dean would never let him live it down. Dean wasn't even in the mood to share a meal with him lately, so he figured sharing a bed would be a stretch. He fell asleep thinking about Michael and Lucifer and how he hadn't heard Dean sing in the car for weeks. 

He woke up sweating.

It was disorienting, bright and screaming of wrongness. The bed wasn't a bed anymore. He was somewhere else, hard ground under him and bright, outside-bright, brighter than South Dakota got on any winter morning. 

He blinked awake with blurry eyes, pushing up, and looked for the gun under his pillow that was gone because the pillow was gone, the bed was gone, the whole damn room was gone, and it was dirt and rocks under his palm, not sheets.

He was about to shout for Dean when he saw Dean laying on the ground next to him.

"Dean." He shook Dean’s shoulder and looked around, frantic. They were at the edge of a forest: deciduous trees, near midday by the position of the sun. The air was clean but burning hot, and muggy.

He got up on his haunches and watched the bushes for movement. No bindings on Dean's wrists or his own, and no marks that said any had been there. No phones either, no knives or guns, and he didn’t remember waking up. There was nothing between his bed in the frigid motel room and here.

"Dean."

"Radiator kicked in, goddamn," Dean mumbled. "Turn it off."

Sam hissed, "You are on—the—ground."

Dean snuffled into his folded arms and made a confused noise, lifted his head and turned over. Sam's hand pulled him over faster.

Dean woke up all at once. "Shit."

"Thank you."

Sam watched impatiently as Dean went through the same frantic checklist he had, including patting an invisible pillow for his gun.

"Where the hell are we?" Dean said, sitting up.

It was a forest, as lush as it could be for being so dry, and Jesus, the heat. Sweat rolled down Sam's temple just sitting there.

"Here." Sam picked up Dean's hand and examined his wrist, his forearm. "Lemme check for needles."

Dean watched him turn his arm over. "Didn't wake up, not for a second. You?"

"I don't think so. You feel groggy?"

"Nah."

Sam didn't either. He checked Dean's veins, the inside of his arm and the side of his neck, pulse thumping hard under his fingers. No needle marks.

"It could be worse?" he offered. He got to his feet and gave Dean a hand up. "Maybe they left us the car."

Sam wiped the sweat from his face, looked at the sun's position again, and tried and failed to see any kind of landmark through the trees. He picked a direction and went.

Dean asked, “Who’s they, you think?”

Sam thought about being held down by those guys in the bar when he tried to make his clean break from Dean, spitting blood. 

“Rogue hunters pissed about the apocalypse, if I had to guess.”

That was only a few weeks ago, and it wasn’t impossible that those guys or other guys like them had escalated it, knocked him and Dean out and abandoned them in the wilderness to starve as some kind of street justice. He hadn’t told Dean about any of it. It felt too pathetic.

Dean just nodded at that. Sam tucked his hair behind his ear and glanced over at Dean walking next to him: sullen, black T-shirt sweating through, hair stuck up on one side from sleep.

Things hadn’t been great between them. Sam didn't know how to fix it besides acting like a kicked dog and trying to pretend he wasn’t. They were better together, sure, but only because they didn't know how to do anything else. Dean still didn't totally trust him and Sam didn't trust himself, they were just too fucked up to even consider going it alone, not with the angels circling the way they were. It was getting better, they were trying, but they were never fully in step. Maybe getting kidnapped would give them something to focus on together.

A child's shout rang out through the trees. Sam twitched, but it wasn't a scream of horror. It was joyous. Dean nodded towards the sound. 

"Look alive. Civilization."

Sam followed behind. There was a neat diamond of sweat between Dean's shoulder blades; Sam always sweated worse than him, and he was drenched by comparison. It had been a long time since he’d felt this kind of heat, physical around them and thick in his lungs.

Dean parted wispy trees with his forearm and let them spring back, stepping through the spiky underbrush, silent. There was a clearing up ahead and Sam could make out a squat bungalow through the trees, its siding bleached by the sun. A kid yelped again and there were thumps, feet on grass, scuffling. Sam didn't know if it was better or worse that they weren't deeper in the woods—survival would have been a project, a trust exercise.

As they crept up to the edge of the clearing, he could make out the shapes of two kids in a dusty overgrown lot behind an equally overgrown cabin. At first, Sam thought they were fighting, but it quickly became clear that they weren't.

They were boys in their early teens, one appallingly skinny and one normal skinny, one taller than the other, both white, about the same dusty brown hair colour. The short one shoved the tall one and tried to hook his ankle behind his leg to trip him. They grappled to the ground, pulling at shirts, pulling hair, vicious and violent, but with no ill intent, like they were wrestling.

Sam and Dean crouched in the bushes and watched them, vaguely embarrassed. It was a big clearing and the kids hadn't noticed them. Dean leaned in, putting his head right near Sam's.

“They won’t be alone. Wait.”

The kids looked kind of ragged, their sneakers scuffed and old, and it didn’t seem like much of a stretch that whatever family lived in the dilapidated bungalow could have been responsible for this whole thing. Either they were some backwater freaks with a stake in the apocalypse and they were right to hide from them, or these people were perfectly normal, and they could go up and ask for directions. There was no visible street past the house ringed with trees. Sam could see the edge of a car around the front, plus a decrepit old truck and the rusted frame of a station wagon. They waited.

A cackle from one of the boys, then:

"Ow. Ow! Fine, jeez, you win."

They both flopped onto their backs in the grassy dirt and panted up at the sky. The taller one was grinning, the other looked sour.

"Two to one," the grinning one said.

Sam listened for an accent to place them and couldn't hear one—maybe some faint southern twang, but these trees didn't match the region. It was arid. The heat seemed about right for the South, but where did it get so hot in November? How long were they out for to be taken somewhere so much hotter than the blizzard they'd fallen asleep in?

The bigger kid hinged at the waist and sat up. He was wearing a Zeppelin shirt. Dean used to have one like it, it had tour dates on the back, Sam spent his whole childhood looking at it. The kid's face was covered in freckles, enough to be seen from a distance. His hair wasn't blond and also wasn't not blond, and it was cut short, almost military.

Sam's hand shot out and twisted in Dean's sleeve. Suddenly the heat was more than oppressive, it was choking him.

Dean's sweaty hand covered his and tried to pry him off. "Ow, Sam, what—"

"He looks like you," Sam said all in a rush, feeling stupid, feeling fucking insane. "Like, a lot like you. Can you see him?"

Dean's hand was still on Sam's, but it wasn't moving. They both stared.

"I wasn't that small," Dean said eventually, "but—"

"You had that shirt, though, right?"

"Sammy—"

"It says '1971 WORLD TOUR,' I can see it from here. That's the same one. You—"

"Look at the other kid."

The shorter one had sat up. He was younger, all bones, a soft little-kid face. His hair hung in his eyes and his ears stuck out.

"So?"

Dean's fingers slowly closed around his own, still clenched in his sleeve, until it hurt.

"That's you," Dean said.

Sam's heart went nuts.

"I didn't look like that."

"You fucking did. He looks just like you."

"Not even close! But he"—Sam jabbed a finger at the kid in the Zeppelin shirt—"is one-hundred percent you."

"That doesn't look anything like me! The shirt's messing you up, but that is totally you. Look at his nose! He's—"

"Boys!"

A voice barked from the house. Both Sam and Dean, and the kids on the lawn, twitched with reflexive panic.

The screen door creaked open in the shadow of the cabin's porch and a figure came out.

He hit the sun. It was John Winchester, shielding his eyes and squinting into the yard.

Dean's fingers crushed Sam's so hard he swore he felt something crack. He couldn't bring himself to pull them away.

"C'mon," John called to the kids. "You're on your own for dinner, so bring a twenty. I'll pick you up tonight."

Even the gist of him was immediately recognizable across the distance; Sam could have recognized him by the back of one elbow. John was a concept more than a man, and God, he looked young. He was so broad. He was wearing a long-sleeved shirt despite the heat. Sam's thousand emotions all crammed into his chest together: grief, relief, joy, love, rage.

The boys scrambled to their feet and brushed dirt off their knees; one from his jeans, the other from skin. They said, nearly in unison: "Yessir."

John went back inside and they jogged across the yard and followed him in. The shorter one tripped the other going up the stairs and got swatted for it. The shorter one. The— Sam stared at the back of his head.

Dean's hand fell away from his once the boys were inside.

They stayed crouching in the bushes for a while longer, staring at the closed screen door and listening to the indistinct voices from within, loud in all the quiet.

Sam craned his neck to look at the car in the front yard again, like he really needed to check. As if he could have ever mistaken that tail light.

(that's it! thank you for reading! I was tired of not sharing anything. stay tuned for the full fic in the next few months I hope)

[dragonmasterkaylz]

Cute & Nerdy- Dean Winchester x Nerd! Reader

Warning: I’ve never done an ‘x Reader’ fanfic before so don’t judge. Don’t like, don’t read.

It was no surprise that Dean Winchester had a crush on Y/N. She was cute, a great hunter and she had no problem being herself. They first met her in a Vampire Nest and, to their surprise, she wasn’t scared. She was smart and she obviously had a plan. By the time the brothers got there, the Nest was cleared out.

“Holy shit…! Are you a Hunter?!”, Dean asked. Y/N nodded and said, “And these Vamps were pretty stupid. They didn’t search me for any knives, or even my gun”. Sam smiled and said, “Well, good job”. She smiled back and then put her weapons away before saying, “I hope I see you both again~!” Dean hummed and said, “She’s cute…”. “Aww… someone’s gotta a crush”, Sam teased. “Shut up!”

And Sam turned out to be right, especially when she started living with them. He quickly found out that she was a nerd and that made her even more attractive. Usually, he wouldn’t have a problem asking a girl out… but this was different. “Dude. You’re in love with her”. Dean gave his brother a look and said, “No, I’m not!”

The door to the Bunker opened and Y/N ran down the stairs, humming to herself. “Woah! You look different!” “Yup~! I decided to dye my hair F/C. What do you think?”, she asked. Sam smiled and said, “I think it looks great. Fits your whole aesthetic. Dean?” The older Winchester just nodded and said, “Looks great…”. But inside, he was screaming. ‘She’s too goddamn cute!’

“Also, I have a side job at the nearest Comic Book Store”. Dean choked on his drink and said, “You do?” Y/N nodded and said, “We need to get money in somehow. I know it’s not much… but it’s something”. “That’s very responsible of you Y/N. Thank you. We really appreciate it”, Sam said. She giggled and said, “The owner even gives me some of his product to be put around my room. Isn’t that awesome?”

“No! No, it’s not!”, Dean shouted as he stood up. “It’s obvious that this man wants to get in your pants!” She blinked in confusion. “Why would he do that? I mean, I’m not exactly—!” He stood up and grabbed her arm before walking out into the hall. “Smooth Dean, real smooth”, Sam mumbled to himself as he tried to find a case for them.

The two walked into the ‘Dean Cave’ and Y/N asked, “What’s going on with you?!” “Okay, you listen to me. It’s obvious that this man finds you attractive and is trying to get into pants by bribing you with things you might like. And that’s dangerous!” She frowned and looked down, then he lifted her head up. “Look, I’m not saying you should quit. But— dammit!”

He walked away from Y/N and rubbed the back of his neck. “Dean, what’s going on with you? You’ve been acting strange lately”. “Because I like you Y/N!!! That’s why!!! And… the fact that other men look at you with lust in their eyes, just pisses me off. But, you don’t seem to notice!” She walked up to him and said, “Maybe because I don’t care about them…”. “What are you talking about?”

She giggled and her cheeks turned pink as she grabbed his flannel and pulled him in for a kiss. Dean’s eyes widened in shock, but then he slowly kissed her back, pulling her close. Once they broke apart she said, “And you call me blind”. He stroked her cheek and chuckled. “I suppose I am. I love you Y/N, I really do”. She smiled and said, “I love you too, Dean”. Then they hugged each other.

“Okay… when’s your next shift?”

“Tomorrow. Why?”

The next day, Dean walked into the Comic Book Store and Y/N waved at him as she sorted out the comic books. He looked at the Funko Pops, when the Owner asked, “Can I help you?” “Yeah, you can…”, Dean said before walking up to him. “You’re gonna leave my girlfriend alone. Or else”. Then Y/N hugged his arm. “Damn… your girlfriend sure has a—!!!”

Dean punched him and shouted, “Look at her like that again and I’ll put holes in your knees! Understand me?! Do I make myself clear?!” The owner nodded as he felt blood run out of his nose. “Asshole”. Dean then walked out of the store and said, “You be careful, okay? I think he gets the message. Call me if anything else happens”. She nodded and kissed him, before saying, “Thank you, sweetie”.

END

[spn-fanfic-reblog-writes]

Blood in Heaven and Hell - Chapter 10

Summary: The gang prepares for battle and goes to find Castiel at Alex’s childhood home.

Word Count: ~2.9K

Pairing: None

Canon: Supernatural (AU; Season 10-ish; Bobby and Charlie lived. Angels can fly)

Warning: Show-level violence. *Trigger Warning*: Horror. Self-harm. Patricide. Implied cannibalism. Fire/explosion. Strict/Controlling parent.

Beta’d by the always kind, @myloversgone

Author’s Notes: Dark fic chapter. Please heed trigger warnings. If I forgot any, please let me know so I can add them. Next chapter is an interesting one.

Feedback is gold!

Alex sat at the table, finished making hex bag bombs and set them in a satchel. She glared at the bags and overthought everything.

I should have realized that Heaven would be stupid and just go. Just go, go, go, she thought to herself. Now, my best friend, Dean’s best friend, is captured and I have the two people I know I love and technically my Mom’s sworn enemy willing to get our Angel back.

She squinted her eyes, staring at the table with almost a sneer on her face.

Maybe Rowena just wants to see what we’re dealing with when it comes to Aggie and Aloy? Maybe she can figure out what the fuck is wrong with them, because they aren’t themselves and haven’t been for a decade. She sighed heavily and brought a fingernail to her mouth, chewing on it.

Rowena’s heels clicked as she entered the room, “How’s it coming?”

Alex sat up, not realizing she had scooted down in her seat so much, “I’m done.”

“I thought you wanted to be defensive. Do you think you are going to need this much?” Rowena asked, concerned.

“I want to make sure everyone has defenses. I know Sam and Dean can fight. Guns and knives are great but not when you have people that can control your body and your weapons turning them against you, in addition to magic. Everyone needs to be on the defensive,” she spoke almost like a General going into war. She looked down and whispered, “I don’t want to lose anyone.”

Rowena looked down at her sympathetically and motioned for her to follow, “Come on.”

Alex got up to follow her.

“Can you engrave?” asked Rowena.

“Engrave, how?”

“You can make fire with your hands. Can you use that to engrave in metal? Etching is not easy in such a short time, so I thought I’d ask.” asked Rowena.

Alex thought as she continued to walk.

Rowena slowed down slightly to have Alex beside her, taking her to the armory.

“It depends on the metal. I haven’t tested how hot I can get it in a while but I have engraved sigils in steel, gold, and I think silver before. Why?”

“That’ll do. I want to enchant their weapons to prevent them from being used against the boys,” Rowena explained.

Alex’s brow rose in surprise. Why didn’t I think of that? She smiled at Rowena, “That’s a great idea. Of course. Let me see what I can do. Not sure how much Sam and Dean will like it but it can work. I wish we had more time. There is so much I could do. I’m just worried about Casi. I don’t know how long he can last or what they could be doing to him.”

An hour later, knives and their guns were either spelled and/or enchanted with the sigils that they had time to do.

“I don’t understand why we need all of this if we are just going in and rescuing Cas,” said Dean.

Alex looked at him, “You’ve seen me fight. You’ve seen me do magic. You’ve seen me heal. You haven’t seen my demon side which is just as bad as any powerful demon, more so than Crowley, the King of Hell. You’re going up against two of me that are older, not as strong hand-to-hand or weapon fighters, demonic focused, and more reliant on magic and their powers than I am.”

Dean pursed his lips as he began to understand and nodded.

“One more thing for you two, in case we get separated,” Alex picked up two large Ziploc bags with an assortment of ingredients written on paper. “These go in your satchel and are used in emergencies. All you do is pour the ingredients on the floor, light them, and say the words. Latin for you, Sam. Phonetics for you, Dean.”

Dean grinned, “You get me.”

Alex chuckled and shook her head, “These will create a portal that will remain open for 30 seconds. Think of where you want to go before stepping through. Preferably think of where you wanna go as you cast it and continue thinking about that as you walk through. You will be tired once you get through. You will need to drink the entire bottle of water and eat the entire chocolate bar when you come through, which is why they’re in there too. You will pass out if you don’t start on it within like 2 mins of exiting on the other side. Clear?”

The brothers nodded and spoke in unison, “Clear.”

“Rowena will be staying here in case anything or anyone gets through that shouldn’t and to help you two, should you need to use the portal. The goal is to find Castiel, and get in and out as quickly as we can, under an hour is preferred. With how late it is, they should be asleep. We are going to arrive at the house on the second floor. I will turn off the wards for our departure. Being on the second floor means a bottleneck situation can occur on the stairs. If it does, I will handle it. I will give you two cover to go and finish searching for Casi, if we don’t find him on the second floor. The first floor has the usual setup: a kitchen, living room, den, and office. There is also a storage room, pantry, and laundry room. Upstairs are just bedrooms and bathrooms. Remember what you have with you; they are powerful witches with weak fighting skills. They will run if engaged in hand-to-hand or weapons combat. Remember to shoot and ask questions later. Everyone needs to come out of this alive. Ok?” Alex paused, looking at Sam and Dean, “Ok. Let’s go.” She walked over to them and took out some gum, sticking a piece in her mouth. Taking a deep breath, she put her hands on their shoulders.

Rowena was alone and cleaning up what mess Alex left while making the hex bombs. “Godspeed,” she mumbled to herself as she too began to prepare precautionary measures.

Arriving on the second floor in her mother’s old workshop room, she had realized she forgot to do one thing; hence the need for a room.

“Why are we in here?” asked Dean, quietly.

“I forgot to do something,” replied Alex in her normal voice. “We don’t have to be quiet. Each room has a silence spell cast on it, so the sound doesn't leave the room without sticking your head out of the door,” she advised. She took out a sharpie and on the inside left wrist, she drew a sigil. She then showed it to the brothers, “This sigil will allow you to open any room or location here. I forgot about it until right before we left. I need both of your left wrists.”

“It has to be left?” inquired Sam.

“Yes, it’s the devil’s hand or the bad hand. It’s some stupid superstition my Mom had.” Alex explained and shook her head as she drew the sigil in sharpie on both of their wrists. “Ok, we should be good now.” Putting the sharpie away in her pocket, she motioned to the door and opened it, “You have to put your left wrist in first or you’ll get stuck until you do.” She showed them by placing her right wrist in the doorway then pulled and pushed to reveal she was stuck.

Both brothers raised their eyebrows, surprised.

She stuck her left wrist in and it deactivated with a quick flicker of sparkling blue. She moved both arms to show that she was no longer stuck. Looking out of the room into the hallway, she took a deep breath and motioned for the men to follow her as she remained in front.

They proceeded to check each room, confirming all were clear.

Alex remained in front, acting as the first responder should her siblings show and attack. Once at the stairs, she takes her sharpie out again and draws the same sigil on the first step of the stairs. Putting it away, she cautiously stepped down and looked around the small stairwell to the first floor. Everything was clear. They didn’t change any of the defenses, more than likely thinking I wouldn’t want to come back, she thought to herself. Ha, serves them right. They quietly and quickly move down the steps. Alex remained watchful of the room they were entering but found it empty. She motioned for Dean to go left and Sam to go right, checking the other rooms downstairs as she stood guard.

The place was dim with only the kitchen light on. Unexpectedly, a person enters from the garage door into the kitchen. Sarah, but it is actually a demon possessing Sarah’s body.

Alex grinned wickedly then pulled out her hunting knife from her boot and throws it at her between Demon-Sarah’s shoulder blades.

Demon-Sarah yelped and tried to remove the blade but was unable to reach it.

Alex ran towards her and clotheslined her, making her fall flat on her face. She quickly boxed in her hips with her feet, pulled the knife out, and rolled her over, staring into black orbs. “Hey, Monster,” she spoke with gritted teeth and straddled her. Laying in punch after punch to her face, glaring with brilliant yellow eyes. When blood began to come out of her mouth, Alex stopped and put the hunting knife back in her boot. “Where are they?” She demanded of the Demon.

Demon-Sarah remained silent and spit in Alex’s face, which only angered Alex more.

Alex grabbed her by her throat and slowly got up, making sure her grip remained secure.

Demon-Sarah grasped her wrists, attempting to pry her hand off but Alex is too strong. “Look at me,” Alex commanded.

Dean returned empty-handed to the stairs and Sam returned with an injured but able to walk Castiel. All three watched Alex with Sarah; Castiel was able to see the Demon’s true form as well.

The Demon did as they were told, their black orbs looking into bright yellow ones.

The wicked grin returned to Alex’s lips.

“Alex,” called Castiel with a warning tone underneath.

She turned to look at them all, “One minute.” They all saw her eyes, brilliant, bright, demonic.

“Fine, let’s do this the hard way,” Alex pulled the demon’s form from Sarah’s body, letting it fall to the floor, cold and grey. She was choking black smoke in humanoid form. “Now. Where. Are. They?”

The demon pointed to the backyard.

“Good job,” Alex threw it to the floor, kept her hand out, eyes focused, and watched the demon return to Hell.

Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and took off her belt. Gingerly, she placed the belt around Sarah’s lifeless corpse into a sort of handle. Picking her up by the handle, she placed Sarah’s corpse on her back and walked towards Castiel, noticing the manacles still on him. Gently, she put the body down and examined the manacle and chain.

“Alex, are you ok?” asked Castiel, concerned.

“Yes, I’m fine,” she automatically replied, keeping her eyes on the manacles. She took out her hunting knife again and held her hand over the manacles. “Hold still,” she said as quietly as she could. Her voice was almost like raspy. With the knife in her palm, she placed several cuts into her open hand, blood pouring over them.

Once the manacles were coated with her blood, they quickly unlocked. Castiel quickly grabbed her injured hand and healed it. He smiled at her and spoke quietly, "Thank you."

She smiled back and nodded. Alex placed the entire blade in her mouth, sucking the blood off and putting it back in her boot sheath. Licking her lips, she picked Sarah back up and explained, “My siblings are in the backyard.”

“Alex, your eyes,” demanded Castiel.

“I’m aware, Casi. I can’t deal with it here but this,” she pointed to the overall house, “is helping,” she advised.

A sudden deep scream is heard from the backyard that made Alex’s body instantly tense.

“Dad?” said a confused Alex. She looked over her shoulder at the corpse she needed to keep safe.

“I’ll take her,” said Castiel, taking Sarah’s corpse from her. “Go!”

Alex ran to the back of the house with the brothers at her heels and Castiel returning to the bunker. She pushed open the screen door in time to see her sister, Agnes, ripping out their father’s heart from his open rib cage still beating in her hand on a large cement slab table. Alex’s stomach dropped and time stood still for a moment.

Agnes turned to her to offer the heart, “Want some?” A devilish grin flashed white teeth across her cruel face.

Time restarted for Alex, and she noticed that Aloy, her brother, was nowhere in sight. She rushed towards her sister, throwing knives from her thigh holster that Agnes easily stopped with one hand.

Their father’s face was left in a scream, his throat cut where his grace would have been removed, and his chest cavity filled with blood that poured out as it began to pool on the grass below. She jumped over the slab, knocking the heart from Agnes’ hand and started landing blows, alternating toward Agnes' face and chest. While Agnes blocked some of the punches, the majority landed.

Meanwhile, Dean and Sam moved to the far side of the corpse on the slab table, waiting to see if or when backup may be needed. Turning back to back, they both remained watchful.

Aloy watched from the side of the house, invisible.

Their father’s ghost suddenly appeared next to him as a shadowy figure and took a few minutes to understand what happened to him. Once he grasped the situation, their father spoke to Aloy, “You’ll be safe with your little sister, Aloy.”

“I played that card already, Dad. She won’t believe me again,” he explained.

“She will if you put your soul back and she knows it,” he offered. “She already has it and doesn’t even know it.”

Aloy remained silent and nodded at the figured then went back to watching the situation unfold.

As Agnes attempted to fight back and distance herself to give enough space to cast a spell, Alex would quickly counter and move in to stop her from doing so; their father suddenly appeared between them, “Stop this!” he said, startling both of his children, still a shadowy figure.

Alex took the opportunity to hit her sister with all her strength, causing her to slide back approximately 50 feet away into the field. Her yellow eyes glowed angrily at her father. “Dad, what the hell?”

“She’s not worth it,” her Dad said.

“She just killed you and damned herself,” Alex stated.

“Alex, your eyes,” her father gasped and reached out to try to touch her but only passed through her, causing goosebumps to form.

“Everyone is freaking out about my eyes. Dad, go find your reaper. Say hi to Mom for me and tell her I hate her,” Alex stated through gritted teeth and turned to walk away from him towards his corpse. She found his heart not far from him and placed it back in his chest cavity. She pushed his ribs back together to close them up.

Sam yelled at her, “We gotta go.”

“Not without his body,” she yelled back.

Dean moved and stood guard near her as Sam prepared the portal as a just-in-case measure.

Alex laid her hand on her dad's broken chest and light flickered a few times, “Shit.” She turned to Dean, “I need your belt.”

He quickly complied and rearmed himself as Alex created a sort of handle on the now no-longer-bleeding corpse.

“Let’s go,” she informed Dean and walked to Sam as he was ready to cast the portal. She realized she was unable to fly them out of there and nodded to him. She waited for it to open. She scanned her childhood home once more. She adjusted her grip and grabbed a handful of the hex bombs to throw them at the house and backyard, smirking. They left her hand and she spoke the word “Incindio” as they walked through. The hex bombs landed and exploded, causing a huge fire to erupt.

Tag: @fluffiest-dreams @riley-phoenix

[sarah-dipitous]

Hellsite Nostalgia Tour 2023 Day 130

My Heart Will Go On

“My Heart Will Go On”

Plot Description: Castiel tells Sam and Dean that Fate is very upset with the two of them and the only way they can stay alive is to kill her

Would I Survive the First Five Minutes??: that’s not fair. Fate shouldn’t be able toy with people like that. Just kill the guy, don’t do like five fake outs first. No.

Excuse me??? Why’s Ellen there?? She better be a figment of Bobby’s imagination, but that doesn’t exactly put me at ease either

“Accidents don’t just happen accidentally” Dean…how’s it feel to be the funniest person alive? And unintentionally?

Dean….how have you been in this line of work this long and are still THIS BAD at questioning people

Girl. Run. Copiers can be replaced….Fate put her keys under the copier, she knocked a vase of flowers on it as she came up, it started sparking and then her scarf got caught in the paper intake part and choked her……you should have ran, girl.

IM SO CONFUSED. HOW’RE YOU ALIVE??? You and Jo exploded after luring hellhounds to where you were

How do none of you know about the Titanic??? WHAT IS GOING ON??? Wait…the Titanic DIDN’T HAPPEN IN THIS UNIVERSE??? How much got rewritten?

Omg BALTHAZAR’s fucking up history. I’d like to see him vs the Doctor

Rude, Balthazar. I LOVE that movie. You can’t just take away one of my favorite movies because you don’t like it. Don’t like don’t watch, my guy.

Oh. Cool. The butterfly effect is what saved Ellen and Jo…for now

Ok but Dean driving a Mustang instead of an Impala isn’t the WORST fate

That is a LOT of blood. Ok but it’s a LITTLE funny that the jerk lawyer got hit by a bus with his own ad on it that says “justice matters,” Sam. Even if six seconds is too early to make jokes about it

I love that the boys still unironically think of themselves as nobodies who’ve never done anything big in the grand scheme of things, as though they didn’t start and stop the apocalypse. Thanks, Cas, for giving them a little perspective

Y’all are the dumbest motherfuckers alive sometimes. You let your guard down for one second after dogs almost attacked you, you walked between jugglers with flaming knives and hatchets, AND the dude with a faulty nail gun

Godddddddd…I forgot how much Castiel really does fuck up in this season. HE told Balthazar to unsink the Titanic.

Look. I hate tiktok speak as much as the next guy, but I’m sitting here crying because Sam just asked Cas if he killed 50k people (the decedents of the Titanic passengers who wouldn’t have survived the disaster but, because they rewrote history, did) to save him and Dean. And I think that is the actual definition of unaliving someone.

Hey, um, not only was that a LIE, Castiel, it wasn’t even a convincing one. Sure, it somehow fooled Dean, but damn…

“Been On My Mind…”: Nope. 4, I think

[pointyearedelvishprincling]

Part 1 | Part 2 

Read all three chapters on ao3

For @emeraldcas ✨

After a restless night replaying the date through his head to the tune of his latest mixtape (big thanks to Zepp, Bon Jovi, and a Taylor Swift number about cowboys and chevvies), Dean had no idea what to expect on his second date with Cas.

His mind had gone over and over the day before; how he’d fallen asleep, his nose so stuffed up from hay fever (what kind of grown man can’t hack a bunch of flowers and crap? Seriously?) that even trying to make a move on Cas was totally off the cards.

There’d been a minute there, right after Cas had asked him out where he’d felt something. Certain that Cas, with that stubborn jaw and profound look in his staring eyes, was going to kiss him. He’d seen Cas in action before – the dude knew what he was doing. Dean had thought about the way Cas kissed Meg more often than he cared to admit. It was intrusive really, the image of Cas spinning her off her feet to pin her against that wall.

Cas was so strong. Ten years wasn’t enough to burn the image from Dean’s mind. That thing he had going on with Meg, whatever the hell that mess was… Dean wasn’t jealous. He wasn’t. But if Cas wanted to throw Dean around a little bit, pick him up and kiss him breathless and stupid against a wall… well, Dean just might start hanging around hard surfaces more often.

Trading sleep for Zeppelin's wisdom was always a good idea, no matter what anyone tries to tell you. This time, it'd helped Dean come up with a whole new game plan to finally say those three words to Cas that had been ringing in his head all these years.

But, of fucking course everything went to shit when his day kicked off with three whole other words:

“So, get this.”

Dean loved his brother. Of course, he did. But when Sammy sat his sasquatch ass down next to Cas at breakfast that morning and told them about the case Eileen had just found, there was a second there where Dean considered shaving the little jerk’s head. And when neither Dean nor Cas could come up with a valid excuse without giving up the ghost on their sneaking around, there was no getting out of it.

Dean cursed himself through the entire plan for being so desperate to get back on the road these past few weeks. If anything, he’d only wanted the distraction: to feel useful for a minute while he pined away like an idiot over Cas.

Which is how Dean awoke tied to a tree deep in the woods after dark with his own hunting knives embedded in each of his shoulders.

Dean stretched out his leg in front of him, feeling something gross and itchy crawling around his ankles beneath his jeans. He let out an involuntary hiss of pain attempting to move his bad foot. Listening out, there was no sign of the pack of creatures.

How long had they been gone?

They’d split up the Scooby gang; Cas had gone with Sam to talk to the families of the victims, leaving Dean and Eileen to do the heavy lifting. If you’d asked Dean hours ago, he’d have told you that hunting with Eileen was the most fun he’d had in ages. The lady knew her shit, called Dean on his – and apparently knew how to disappear completely when she felt like it.

Darkness had already fallen when he’d heard the first scream. Dean and Eileen had run side by side through the trees, following the sound with their guns cocked and flashlight cutting through the night. The screams changed direction, growing further away the closer they got, only to somehow end up behind them. Dean had halted Eileen with a hand on her shoulder, dimming his flashlight before pointing it to his own face, mouthing “hold up.”

A cry had sounded somewhere to the left of them and when Dean flinched, Eileen hauled Dean behind a tree. With only one pair of homemade thermal goggles between them, Dean didn’t get a chance to argue when Eileen clapped a hand over his lips and mouthed something about drawing the creatures out before she ran off into the night.

Turning in the opposite direction Eileen had disappeared to, Dean swore as he clicked off his flashlight. It took more time than he had to spare for his eyes to adjust to the near total darkness. High above the sky was peppered with stars, but the light of the waxing moon was swallowed whole by the towering treetops.

The woods had fallen silent. Each crunch of the earth beneath Dean’s boots sent a chill down his spine. He knew he was being watched. Every direction he’d turned, he’d felt eyes on the back of his head. The cold chill like breath on the back of his neck. Every hair on his body stood on end.

A shot split the night, sending the birds overhead cawing in their flee to safety. A second shot and then a third echoed far to Dean’s right, sending him running through the trees toward Eileen. The wet rattle of a creature’s growl was swiftly cut out by the distinct thunk and rolling sound along the forest floor. Dean had paused, heart trying to beat its way out of his chest. He’d almost fallen to his knees in relief when Eileen’s mumbled “gross” sounded somewhere ahead.

The sound of a branch cracking behind him had Dean clicking on the safety of his gun, pulling out his knives instead. He had to lure as many of these things as he could from Eileen, and going by what he’d heard, bullets weren't going to do these bastards much damage. He’d tore off in the opposite direction, switching on his flashlight so whatever the hell was still out there would go for Dean instead.

Zagging through a forest without a damn clue where you are is a dumbass idea on a good day. Doing it at night with fuck knows how many monsters on your tail – that was a whole other ball game. Even a year in purgatory hadn’t prepared him for these gnarled and blackened trees and thick branches of thorns everywhere he turned. Dean had crashed into a low hanging branch, causing him to flip right over the damn thing and land ass first on the muddy earth.

He’s sensed it then, like a shadow in the corner of your bedroom late at night that looked a little too monstrous to be the chair stacked with unfolded laundry. Dean forced his upper body backward, kicking both legs into the air. Instead of propelling himself back to a standing position, his boots had collided with something hard. He grappled for his fallen knife. Shone his flashlight right in the creature’s face, stunning it just long enough to get his bearings.

“You’re one fugly son of a bitch, you know that?” Hadn’t been his smartest move making the fucker angrier, but it wasn’t every day you came face to face with a giant radioactive muppet looking bastard. A high-pitched scream ripped from its throat and the thing launched itself at Dean, all claws and matted hair. Its head hit the ground before it ever got a chance to do damage.

Muddied ass aside, Dean had felt pretty damn proud he and Eileen were neck and neck with killing these fuzzies. Which was about the time an answering scream – same high-pitch and low rattling breath – was cut right through.

2-1 to Eileen. Dean had to step up his game.

Twice more he’d slipped, sensing the creatures crowding on him from every direction. It only took one hasty turn for Dean to slide his foot beneath the root of a tree for everything to go to hell.

He’d almost blacked out with the pain the moment he hit the ground and his ankle stayed standing. Leaves had rustled all around; the trees overhead seeming to part for the moonlight to hit Dean like a spotlight. Somewhere far off, another strangled yelp from one of the creatures told him Eileen was still fighting: 3-1 if they were keeping track. Which he wasn’t.

Dean had placed the handle of his flashlight between his teeth, biting down hard against a scream as he yanked his foot free of the root. He knew before standing that it was broken. That he’d have to stay put to fight.

It was the last thing he remembered before a crack like thunder hit him over the head.

Now, Dean’s phone buzzed in his back pocket for the second time since he’d woken. There was no reaching it. He pulled against the ropes, stomach clenching in knots as his shoulders throbbed with every movement. Blood was sticky on his forehead; the only sign he wasn’t bleeding out.

There was a moment there, right before consciousness had welcomed him back to the world where Dean thought this was it. He was on his way out. That old belief he’d drummed into his brain his whole life kicking in; a core instinct in the face of danger. I was always meant to go out like this.

Now the sense was slowly coming back to his banged-up head, he realised fuck no. He wasn’t about to die on some dumbass hunt now things were finally looking up. He’d sacrificed enough, died enough, and there was nothing tearing him from Cas again. There was no damn way.

For the first time in his whole life, Dean had hope. He had a chance. And he sure as shit wasn’t losing it to no teenage mutant ninja Gonzo gang.

The dark clouds parted above, moonlight shining silver on his fallen gun. Dean held his breath. Counted down from five and acted on two as he shifted his ass forward, reaching out with his good foot. Pain exploded in his shoulders, waking every deadened nerve down his arms that had long fallen asleep from the ropes. He gasped, fighting the wave of nausea before he could bear to look at where the gun was now.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean hissed. He’d managed to kick it further out of reach.

Where the hell was Eileen? Where was Sam and Cas?

Dean rested his head against the tree. His hands sticky with blood, scratching fruitlessly at the rope. It was so quiet.

Dean looked up to the sky, stars shining in his pleading green eyes as he did the only thing he could.

“Cas, if you can hear me. I need your help, man. I need you.”

                                     #

There’d once been a time when Cas had only tolerated Sam Winchester for the sake of his older brother. Sam, the vessel of Lucifer. The boy king fated to bring about the end of the world. Of course, Cas had long since gotten to know Sam. The man he’d once thought of as an abomination, he now considered a friend. He cared deeply for Sam, in very different ways than he did for Dean.

There were times, however, when Cas longed for the days of gently knocking humans unconscious when they grated on his nerves.

At first, Cas was okay with the change in plans. A romantic setting wasn’t necessary to spend the day with Dean. Cas had fallen in love with Dean on harsher days with a bloodied face. With a silly cartoon character’s ascot around his neck; with a stubborn curl of his lower lip. He’d fallen for Dean through the sad smiles of countless goodbyes, with tired eyes and a prayer on his lips. He’d fallen many times in countless ways. If there was one thing he could count on each day, through worlds of uncertainty, it was falling in love with Dean Winchester all over again, whoever he grew to be that day.

It’d been Sam’s idea to split the group the way they had, foiling all of Cas’ plans.

Dean had texted him soon after they’d split up. Just a simple: “Raincheck?” and it’d been enough to lift Cas’ spirits. They were trying. Their efforts weren’t going away. As an angel, Cas supposed he should feel more patient. As a person, he was hanging on by a thread. Wanting was an impatient ordeal, but for the first time, having was just in reach.

He and Sam spent the afternoon interviewing the families of four victims, finding no correlation between them and no obvious patterns for the attacks. Except, of course, for the mysterious screeching reported in the woods. When Dean and Eileen had nothing to report back, Sam drove Cas to the local hospital for further digging.

After tedious questioning with minimal answers, all the doctors would reveal was that there’d been a surge of animal attacks. Animosity had broken out between the director of local wildlife preservation and the police, who insisted the attacks could only have come from wolves. Ever since the police had showed up, they lost all chance of getting the information they were looking for. Which was how Cas and Sam found themselves dressed in stolen medical attire, sneaking into the morgue.

The bodies Cas inspected bore deep claw marks; too small for that of a bear and certainly not consistent with any species of wolf. If it hadn’t been for Eileen and Sam’s frequent texting, Cas may have given in to the uneasy feeling building in his body. Of course, he was worried for them both regardless.

Cas had developed a friendship with Eileen since his return; had found her presence in the Bunker a comfort he hadn’t then realised he was sorely lacking. Eileen knew what it was to return to life when death had marked you as its own. She’d eased Cas through the adjustment and he’d be eternally grateful for it. But it was their late night conversations – gossip, perhaps – about the Winchesters that he enjoyed the most.

It was rare that Cas felt understood by anyone, but already Eileen had become very dear to him.

They were several hours deep into research in the local archival library when the sun began to set. Piles of books littered the table to the weary librarian’s behest, and yet they’d come no closer to an explanation. Cas felt strange without his usual coat but when Sam had begrudgingly made a passing comment on how Dean would love Cas’ outfit, the angel supposed he could bear it a while longer.

Once the books had proven useless and Sam had begun scouring the internet for answers, Cas grew impatient. The library was mostly empty and after several stern warnings that it would be closing soon, he wandered off between the tall wooden shelves.

Usually, Cas found himself rolling his eyes when Dean’s voicemail sounded on the other end. But right now, something felt off. Cas tried again and again, each attempt met with “This is Dean Winchester. Leave your name, number, and nightmare after the tone.”

On his final try, Cas paused after the beep. Seconds ticked by while the angel stared up at the beams on the ceiling as though he could see right through to the stars beyond. He licked his lips, throat working before he finally gathered the strength to say: “Be safe, Dean. I hope you and Eileen are taking care of each other.”

Cas stared down at his phone long after he ended the call. The image Dean had set in the background was no more than a year old and yet it felt so long ago. Jack sat in the driver’s seat of the Impala, Cas next to him. Dean had somehow managed to squeeze himself in next to Cas, one arm draped around Cas’ shoulder, the other reaching to change the music. Cas remembered being so proud of Jack learning to drive. He also recalled how desperately his heart had raced when Dean had pushed in next to him, determined to be a part of this milestone for Jack. Dean had insisted he’d taught Sam how to drive, that it was only right he was there for Jack, too.

A wave of emotion Cas recognised as nostalgia crashed over him. Life had been so lonely then; no end in sight for the constant horrors. No guarantees that any of them would live to see another week. Cas’ deal with the Empty had lived in him like an anxious parasite, tainting any happy moment with the reminder that he could never know true happiness. But Cas looked at the photograph Sam had taken. At the small smile on his lips as he watched over his son; the way his shoulders leaned back into Dean. Jack’s face determined and momentarily free as any other child should feel. And Dean – the carefree grin on Dean’s face, the crow’s feet next to his eyes, and the old band t-shirt he wore only on days Cas noticed he was most himself. Dean was beautiful.

With a sigh, Cas pocketed the phone and returned to Sam.

“Dean’s not answering my calls. When did you last hear from Eileen?”

Sam shut his laptop, rubbing his tired eyes with the palms of his hands after hours of research. “They’re fine, Cas. Eileen texted around eight.”

Cas pulled out his phone, checking the screen. “That was two hours ago.”

Sam sat up sharply. He scrambled for his phone, cursing under his breath about losing track of time. He ran a hand through his hair as he opened their text chain. Cas rushed to his side, reading from the screen.

Eileen 💚☘️| 7.58pm Nothing yet. You guys are missing all the fun.

Eileen 💚☘️ | 9.03pm Might need your help.

Eileen 💚☘️ | 9.26pm Sam?

Eileen 💚☘️ | 9.43pm Meet me where you dropped us off. You got to see this.

Sam ran a hand through his hair, eyes squeezing shut.

“It’s only been thirteen minutes,” Cas said in what he hoped was a soothing tone. “If we leave now…”

Sam fired off a quick text letting Eileen know they were on the way. Gathering their things, Sam grimaced as he waved at the librarian. Cas suspected it was more of an apology than a goodbye.

Six minutes later, they pulled up on the side of the road, exactly where they’d dropped off Dean and Eileen. Cas was out of the car before Sam had switched off the engine.

“Dean?” Cas called. Sam passed him a moment later, running through the darkness with only the flashlight on his phone to light his way.

Cas made to follow when he spotted Sam almost crashing at full force into his girlfriend. She was covered in blood, though given the wide smile on her face, Cas assumed none of it was her own. They made their way back to the car before Cas noticed the large sloth-like creature laying prone beneath a tree.

Sam switched on the headlights of the car to get a better look while Eileen showed them the marking on the creature’s headless hide. Cas frowned. He’d never seen anything like it before. He squinted through the forest, seeing no sign of Dean but before he could ask where Dean was, Sam swore low under his breath.

“Holy shit. We’ve seen that symbol before,” Sam waved for Cas to come closer. Cas mirrored the angle of Sam’s head as he studied the creature.

“Is that..?”

“Yeah,” Sam breathed. “Same one we saw at the second victim’s house.”

Cas frowned, though his mind was elsewhere. When Eileen asked what they’d learned, he only shook his head distractedly, allowing Sam to explain.

Where was Dean?

Cas turned toward the road, staring up at the starry sky above. He listened past the chirping of birds awake long after their bedtime, past the distant sounds of the town, the rumble of car engines and the friction of their tyres on the asphalt. He squinted through the sound of innocent creatures and burrowing insects, the swaying of leaves on restless trees.

But it was Dean’s voice he heard clear as a bell when the prayer reached him from only miles away.

“Cas, if you can hear me. I need your help, man. I need you.”

Cas said nothing to the others before following the bond of Dean’s prayer into the midst of the forest. He snapped his wings close to his body once he’d arrived among the blackened trees. For a moment, there was no sign of Dean. Only a faint growling closing in from two different directions.

“Shit.”

Dean’s voice sounded from a nearby tree. Head tilted and brow furrowed, Cas crept on silent feet toward him.

A piercing scream rent the night, echoed instantly by another.

“Oh, you fucked up sons of bitches are dead when my b–“ Dean taunted. “Come on! Come and get it you ug–“.

Cas didn't have a chance to wonder how the witch had captured Dean. Two darkened shapes raced toward where Dean sat bound to the tree. White claws filthy with mud and gore shone beneath the moonlight; their spiralled noses concealing any sign of sharpened teeth. They slowed to a walk, eyes glowing a sickly green as they drew in rattling breaths.

“Dean, shut your eyes!”

Cas blasted the creatures backward with pure white light. Already they were crawling at surprising speed toward Dean when Cas blocked their path. Their thin mouths opened as they drew themselves to full height. Cas dove, knocking both creatures to the ground, his palms glowing bright as starlight against their faces.

Cas stood from his crouched position over the bodies, looking down at his hands. His grace hadn’t wavered for a second to smite the creatures. He turned to Dean, panicked eyes falling first to the blood on his face, then to the knives in his shoulders.

“Nice timing, buddy,” Dean smiled weakly. “Think you can help me out here?”

Cas crouched before Dean. He traced his thumb along Dean’s cheek, breath catching when Dean leaned into his touch.

“You’re okay,” Cas whispered, more to himself than anything. He cupped Dean’s face in the palm of his hand, seeing stars shine in his love’s eyes. Dean wet his lips with his tongue, holding Cas’ gaze as time passed heedlessly around them.

“’m okay, Cas,” Dean said eventually. “Thanks,” he paused, dropping his gaze to his lap, “for showing up when you did.”

Cas set about untying Dean as gently as he could manage. “I heard your prayers,” Cas said tentatively. “I always come when you call.”

Dean blew out a breath through his nose. “Yeah, I know you do.”

“Hold still.” Cas frowned, assessing the knives in Dean’s shoulders. It was a miracle they’d missed the bone entirely. “Would you prefer if I counted down from five?”

“Sure, Cas. Have at it,” Dean laughed, though his eyes widened with panic.

“Five, four, three, two – “ Cas yanked both blades free at once, instantly dropping them to the ground. Dean gasped in a breath and Cas shushed him, his grace flowing through his hands on Dean’s shoulders, healing him instantly.

Dean’s fingers closed around Cas’ wrist. He shut his eyes, rolling out his shoulders in blissful relief.

“Sit forward,” Cas murmured, pulling Dean toward him. Ignoring Dean’s sarcastic “yes, doctor”, Cas reached behind Dean’s head, running a soothing hand through his hair as he healed the head wound.

Dean shivered slightly beneath his touch. He held Cas’ hand against his chest, and Cas felt the thrum of Dean’s pulse against his own.

“Can I ask why you’re dressed like Doctor Sexy?”

Cas rolled his eyes. “It’s a long story.” He hauled Dean to his feet, slinging an arm around his shoulder. Dean let out a sharp hiss and collapsed against the angel. Cas caught him, lifting Dean off his feet entirely before he could berate himself for it. Dean froze for a moment, his body entirely rigid. Even washed out by moonlight, Cas could see the blush blooming along his freckled cheeks.

“Think I broke my foot,” Dean mumbled, reluctantly wrapping an arm around the angel’s shoulder.

Cas wrapped his wings protectively around them both, sparing a glare to the strange creatures laying dead on the forest floor for what they’d done to Dean. “I’ll carry you to the car,” Cas said seriously, knowing he could easily heal the damage. Knowing Dean knew it, too.

“Okay,” Dean drew out the word. Cas felt his cheeks heat as Dean’s gaze roamed over his face. Dean tugged on the collar of Cas’ stolen doctor’s coat, smirking to himself. Dean had always had a strange fixation on doctors. And cowboys, for that matter.

Cas filled Dean in on what little they’d learned. How it’d been Eileen’s discovery of the symbol carved on the creatures’ hides that they’d connected the symbol to the family of one of the victims. Dean cursed. Putting the Queen of Hell aside, Dean hated witches. In this instance, Cas couldn’t help but agree. The family had clearly allowed some experiment to go awry, and took no responsibility for the harm it had done. Not even to one of their own.

Dean didn’t complain as Cas carried him on the two-mile journey back to the others. He was warm against Cas; the familiar scent of coffee, motor oil, and Dean soothing Cas like nothing else had all night. With each warm breath against his neck, Cas imagined how Dean’s lips would feel against the sensitive skin. How he’d taste if Cas were to press his lips against his own. How holy it would be to share breath with the man he’d died for.

“How come every time I try to date you, you wind up playin’ doctor for me, huh? What’s that about?”

Cas smiled at the exasperated tone. “Strike three,” he pondered aloud. “In sports terms I believe that means we go out now.”

Dean snorted. “That’s not – I think you mean…” Cas tilted his head to look at Dean, trying to riddle out where he was going with this. “Yeah, Cas. Strike three,” Dean smiled, his eyes soft and wide. Cas knew that look – knew Dean was placating him. He didn’t mind one bit.

A soft silence graced between them before Dean said, “wait, Cas, stop.”

Cas halted in his tracks, his wings lifting from around them both.

“Put me down a minute,” Dean said, already swinging his arm out from around Cas’ neck. When Cas opened his mouth to protest, Dean gruffly added, “I just… gimme a minute.” So, Cas gently placed Dean’s feet on the ground, still holding him beneath his elbows to support most of Dean’s weight.

Dean slid to the ground, kneeling before Cas. “Can’t believe I’m doin’ this in freakin’ Mirkwood. Damn it.”

“Dean?” Cas frowned, reaching out to Dean unconsciously while trying to give Dean the space he needed.

There was a pause where Dean licked his lips, his eyes fixed on something behind Cas before he reached out for Cas’ hand. Dean’s shoulders relaxed the moment Cas squeezed his hand in return. Cas said nothing, confusion taking over as he looked down at the man he’d worshipped from the moment he pulled Dean from hell.

“Cas, I–, “ Dean started, his throat bobbing as he harshly swallowed the unsaid words. He shook his head; a frown knit between his brows. His jaw set and his breath came in shallow pants as he gathered himself for something that had Cas' heart beating wildly.

Cas placed his other hand on Dean’s shoulder and remembered the first time he gripped Dean tight, saving him from the racks of hell. Remembered the crypt, when Dean broke through a barrier no angel nor man should have been capable of with his declaration of sincerity. Remembered what might have been their final moment in the dungeon, when his bloody palm left one last mark on the man who’d save the world for love.

It was Dean’s bloody hands that held Cas now. Dean’s eyes that filled with tears as he silently prayed the words that couldn’t leave his lips.

“Cas, I dunno why this is so hard for me. You’re my best… my best friend. I was dead without you, man. I can’t explain it. I’ve been fightin’ for the world my whole life, but it don’t mean shit without you. None of it. I get so damn scared, that I’m… that I’m gonna turn out to be – but you changed me, too, Cas. You got us off that holy road and you saved this damn place. You saved me. Don’t think I don’t know that takes one stubborn son of a bitch, but you did it.”

Tears spilled freely down Dean’s face as he pressed a kiss to the back of Cas’ hand. “I’ve wanted you the whole damn time, dumbass. ‘Course you could’a had me. I’ve been yours from the start and I’ll take you any way I can get ya, cursed or not. But I need you to live, Cas. ‘Cause, sweetheart, maybe I’m a selfish son of a bitch, but I’m done dyin’. I want a life. With you in it. So just please… stay with me. Be with me. I’m yours, Cas.”

Dean looked up to the angel, stars shining in his godless eyes. The next words came broken and raw from his lips. As holy as any prayer. “I love you.”

Cas wiped away Dean’s tears with a gentle thumb on his cheek before lifting him to his feet. He held Dean close, cupping his cheek as fresh tears spilled down his own face. Dean let out a shaky breath, his face bathed in starlight as he smiled brave and bold and beautiful as the night they met.

“I love you,” Dean repeated, his breath hot and wet against Cas’ lips. “I love you so god damn much.”

“I love you, too, Dean,” Cas smiled, wide and beautiful.

It was a night of burning stars and bloody palms that Castiel wondered, one last time, how it would feel to have this. They met in the middle; freedom becoming soft lips and warm breath on stubbled skin. Hesitant touches becoming desperate, and gasping breaths lost to the need to taste how being loved this vastly feels. Cas burned bright as a supernova, his fully healed wings wrapped tight around the two of them. He smiled into the kiss, feeling Dean smile against him, too. And then they were laughing, crying, clinging, and peppering kisses on flushed and tear-stained cheeks.

It was a first kiss that should have been a thousandth. But it was real. It was them.

Cas picked Dean up as footsteps approached, burrowing his face in the crook of Dean’s neck.

“Where the hell have you guys been?” Sam’s voice broke through the moment, foiling Cas’ plans once again. “What are you –“

Dean cursed under his breath, swiping roughly at the wetness on his face. Eileen crossed her arms, smirking as she leaned against Sam’s side.

“What’s your final count?” she said to Dean with a knowing glint in her eye.

Dean’s expression was sheepish as he petulantly replied, “You first.”

Eileen flipped her bloodied knife, the stained silver shining before Sam’s flashlight. “I’m sitting pretty on eight.”

Cas grinned.

“Eight?” Dean echoed incredulously. Cas tightened his grip around Dean when it seemed he was going to drop out of his arms entirely. “That’s bullshit. Wasn’t that many of ‘em.”

Eileen pointed with her blade to were Dean’s feet. “Enough to take you down.”

“Whatever. I got the last of ‘em while you and Sam were off – how the hell did you guys find us?”

Sam’s lips were pursed when he said, “You’re right by the road, jerk. What the hell happened to you anyway?”

Cas glanced sidelong at Dean; at his swollen lips and pinkened cheeks. He longed to reach out, to hold Dean closer still until the image of him bound and broken was a distant memory. He felt Dean’s fingers brush the back of his neck, curling in the short length of Cas’ hair.

“Long story,” Dean said bluntly. He swallowed harshly; eyes shut as though he were in pain. But then Dean faced his brother. Held Sam’s gaze as he said, “Listen. There’s somethin’ I gotta say. About me. And… and Cas.”

Cas squeezed Dean reassuringly, feeling a fierce protectiveness for the man he loved exposing his heart like an open wound for a second time that night.

Eileen beamed, her eyes glittered as she looked between Cas and Dean.

Sam shuffled on his feet. A small smile playing on the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, I figured.”

“You what?” Dean frowned. Cas could feel Dean’s racing heartbeat against his skin.

Sam only rolled his eyes, wrapping an arm around Eileen’s shoulder. “I mean, I saw the hickey,” Sam tapped his neck as he looked pointedly at Dean. “Doesn’t take a genius to figure it out.”

“It’s a bee sting, asshole,” Dean choked out, slapping a hand over the faint purple bruise on his neck. “Shut up.”

“Sure,” Sam said, in a tone that Cas recognised as sarcasm. “Well, I’m really happy for you guys. It makes sense, you know?”

Eileen winked at Cas in a way that told him they’d talk about it later, away from the prying ears of their boyfriends. He winked back, nodding secret and solemn.

Happiness, untainted by the threat of old bargains or the end of the world, was a warm feeling. It was bigger than first sunlight on stretched wings and mumbled conversations with bees. More powerful than anything the angel had ever faced. As they made their way back to the car, Cas was struck by the enormity of his joy.

He was home.

He was loved.

And he was happier than he'd ever believed was possible.

“So,” Dean whispered, draped over Cas in the back seat, the moonlight soft on his freckled cheeks. Sam and Eileen had gone to deal with the witch, leaving Dean and his fully healed foot alone with Cas while they waited to act as back up. The soft tones of Dean’s music playing on the radio, Cas’ discarded trench coat warming their tangled legs. “How ‘bout this next date, doctor?”

[fire-or-clear]

"Rings on or off, baby?"

───※ ·❆· ※─── ───※ ·❆· ※─── ───※ ·❆· ※───

summary ~ riding with the winchesters isn't exactly a walk in the park, but you wouldn't give it up for anything, especially now that you've got john wrapped around your finger.

pairing ~ John Winchester x reader

warnings ~ significant age gap, very slight daddy kink, a bit suggestive, talk of weaponry and hunting

rating ~ T

this isn't much, just me trying to get back into writing using a prompt i saw a long time ago. it's been an age, and even when i wrote a whole lot more, i've only ever posted like two things on tumblr, so i really have no idea what i'm doing lol. please let me know what you think, and if the rating or warnings need to be changed(:

You take John’s hand as he helps you climb down from his truck, and you absently note the feeling of cold metal against your fingers. You hide a small smile at the reminder of this morning.

You and John wake up like you usually do, wrapped around each other. The sheets are bunched up at the foot of the bed, like normal. He always gets hot in the middle of the night, whereas you’re always cold, but having John’s overly warm body pressed against yours, head to toe, usually does the trick to keep you warm.

John presses a sleepy kiss to your lips, and the two of you get distracted for a few minutes, before John forces himself to climb out of bed with a groan. You chuckle and watch as he ambles into the bathroom to shower, and then you roll over and get comfortable in the warm spot he left behind. Perks of taking night showers, you get to sleep in while John wakes himself up with his morning showers.

You doze off, and you don’t know how long it’s been before you feel fingertips drag lightly down your spine. You hum sleepily and turn your head to face John. He’s crouched down beside the bed in just jeans, with a small smile on his face.

“Time to get up, baby.” He informs you. You pout and bury your face in the pillow. john chuckles and you hear him moving around, and you look up in time to see him tug a t shirt over his head. You watch as he pulls his usual jacket on, and you finally climb out of bed as he sits down on the edge to put on his boots. You walk over to your bag and pull on a pair of panties, and then you hunt around the room for your bra, which always disappears when John is the one to take it off of you. You find it draped over a chair, and you pull it on as well, and then you return to your bag and grab a pair of jeans. You tug them on, and then you grab the shirt John was wearing yesterday and tug that on as well. John smirks and pulls you down into his lap as you pass by. You wrap an arm around his neck and press a kiss to his jaw. He tangles his fingers in the shirt.

“You don’t have a clean one to wear?” He asks, and you roll your eyes.

“Of course I do. But why would I do that when I could wear your shirt and smell like you all day?” You drawl. John presses a kiss to your throat, and you shiver as his stubble scrapes your skin.

“Now why would you want that?” He wonders.

“Cause I love the way you smell. Your cologne, your favorite whiskey, wood smoke, and something that’s just.. You. Makes me feel safe. It also makes me want the real thing.” You murmur, before tugging him into a kiss. He wraps his arms around your waist, and you slide a hand up to tangle your fingers in his hair as he nips at your lower lip. You two get distracted, again, but this time you’re the one to pull away.

“Hmm, we got work to do. You gonna let me up?” You ask, looking down into his eyes. He smirks at you.

“You gonna ask nicely?” He retorts. You give him a shy little smile and lean in so your lips are brushing the edge of his ear.

“Please, Daddy.” You murmur sweetly. John groans and loosens his grip on your waist, and you climb off his lap. He smacks your ass when you turn to walk away, and you give a surprised yelp.

“You’re gonna pay for that, you just wait, sweetheart.” He drawls. You give him a wink as you sit down on the coffee table to tug on socks and your boots.

“Whaddaya think, rings or no rings today?” He asks, and you look up and see him turning one of them between his fingers. You finish lacing up you boots, and then walk over to where he’s standing. You grab your three favorite rings and slide them onto the correct fingers, pressing a kiss to each one.

“Rings. They look good on you, and I like the way they sound against your gun.” You answer. John chuckles and cups your cheek, tracing your lower lip with his thumb.

“Is that right? What makes you think I’ll be using a gun today?” He asks. You give him a little smirk.

“We’re in Texas, darlin’. You’re in my world now, and I’m telling you, you’ll find a use for that gun today, one way or another.” You answer, pressing a kiss to his thumb. He smiles and shakes his head.

“I’ll take your word for it. You wanna load the truck, or wake the boys?” He asks.

“I’ll take the boys, far be it from me to stop you from lifting heavy things where I can see.” You answer with a grin. John rolls his eyes.

“I’ll take you to the gym next time I go, then you can look all you want.” He retorts. You scoff.

“I like the gym, darlin, you’re the one who can’t be assed to set foot in one.” You remind him as you pull away and tug your jacket on.

“Why would I, I get enough of a workout while I hunt.” John grumbles. You laugh and shake your head.

“Whatever you say. I’ll see you in a minute.” You tell him. He gives you a quick kiss, and then you head next door. You have a key, so you give the door a warning knock, and then you unlock it and step into the room Sam and Dean are sharing. You hear the shower running, and note that Sam must be awake. Dean, however, is still in bed, buried beneath a mountain of blankets. You head over and sit on the edge, pulling the blankets back a little and then pressing your ice cold fingertips to Dean’s bare back. He flinches and groans into his pillow.

“‘Go ‘way.” He mumbles. You laugh.

“Not gonna happen. Cmon, John is loading the truck and Sam is in the shower. We’re waiting on you, pretty boy.” You hum. Dean turns his head towards you with a sleepy glare.

“Not a pretty boy. Sam’s the pretty one.” He huffs. You press your lips together to keep from laughing.

“Sure darlin. Now get up, or I’m telling Sam that you said he can drive the impala today.” You reply. Dean’s glare intensifies, and then he sits up with a groan. The blankets pool at his waist, and he quickly grabs them and yanks them up to his neck.

“Why is it so cold in here?” He asks. You shrug.

“No idea. Did you mess with the thermostat last night?” You ask. Dean shakes his head.

“Sammy, did you turn down the temperature last night?” Dean says, and you turn and see Sam exit the bathroom. Thankfully he’s already dressed, otherwise he’d be blushing right now. You, Dean and John don’t give a shit how dressed or undressed you are around each other, Dean cause he’s just laidback that way, John because these are his sons and you're his lover, and yourself because you were in the army and it’s just skin. That’s not to say you'd like to be completely naked in front of your lovers sons, but if you're just wearing a towel, or if they catch you in a sports bra and spandex, you don’t really give a shit.

“No, I think it’s broken. I tried to adjust it before I showered, but it didn’t work.” Sam answers, rubbing through his hair with a towel. Dean starts cursing, and continues to curse as he jumps out of bed and stumbles over to his bag, yanking on clothes as quick as he can. You chuckle and turn to Sam.

“The impala already packed?” You ask. Sam nods.

“Yeah, I threw our bags in there before my shower. You and dad all set?” He asks, and you're silently thankful that it’s not weird for him to say that anymore. You get it though, you knew Sam and Dean before you knew John, and then there’s the fact that you and Sam are the same age and Dean is only 4 years older than you, and here you are, sleeping with their dad. So you get how it’s a little weird.

“Should be, he’s packing the truck now.” You answer. Sam nods and sits down to put on his shoes, and Dean does as well.

“Let us know when you’re ready to hit the road.” You tell them before you step outside the motel room. You pull your pack of cigarettes from your jacket pocket and slide one out, along with the lighter in your jeans pocket. You light up and take a long drag, and lean against the wall. You turn and watch as John checks his weapons cache in the truck. Then you walk over and open the passenger door, and climb up and reach behind the bench seat. You grab your holsters and start strapping them on. You shrug off your jacket so you can pull on your shoulder holster that holds four daggers, and then pull your jacket on over it. Next, you tug your pant leg up and tuck two knives each into the compartments on the insides of your boots. You strap a hunting knife to your hip, and then climb down and walk around the truck to stand beside John. You flick the ash off the end of your cigarette, and watch as John straps on his preferred assortment of weapons, including, you note with a grin, his gun, hidden beneath his shirt and jacket at the small of his back. He catches you grinning, and he scoffs. He reaches out and pulls you close.

“It’s just in case.” He says. You nod.

“I know. You’ll need it.” You tell him matter of factly. He rolls his eyes and plucks the cigarette from your lips. And proceeds to take a puff and then drops the cigarette and stubs it out with his boot. You pout up at him.

“That wasn’t very nice.” You complain. He chuckles.

“Those aren’t very good for you.” He retorts, exhaling the smoke. You scoff.

“Well I know they aren’t very good for me, but darlin’, I’m not very good for me.” You reply. He chuckles and leans in close.

“No, but you leave that to me. I ever been bad to you?” He drawls. You bite your lip and tilt your head.

“Only when I ask for it.” You murmur. He chuckles lowly.

“What can I say. Sometimes you deserve it.” He tells you, lips brushing against your temple. You flush and bury your face in his chest, and he wraps his arms tight around you.

“Look at you, going all shy on me. Gonna have to get a room away from the boys tonight. I’m gonna make you scream.” He informs you. You glance up at him and see how dark his eyes are, and lick your lips.

“You promise?” You ask innocently.

“Yeah baby. I promise.” He rumbles, sliding a hand beneath your shirt and running it up and down your spine. You shiver as the cold metal of his rings grazes your skin.

“You alright?” You hear, and you look up and see that Sam and Dean are standing with you and John next to the truck. John and Sam are looking over something on the hood of the truck, and Dean is right beside you. You smile and nod at him.

“I’m fine. Just a little scatterbrained is all.” You tell him. He nods.

"You ready to show us how to hunt, the Texas way?" He asks. You chuckle.

"Sure, D. But are you ready, is the real question." You retort. He scoffs.

"How hard could it be." He grumbles, and you laugh and get ready for another day with your boys.

[stardancerluv]

Saturday Night at the Black Mask Club

Part 4

Summary: Roman and reader come together. She learns more of about who he is. He also comes to realize things about himself.

Warning: Consensual sex between the two. Consensual Breath!play. Daddy!Dommy!Roman. Roman is himself…it can be harsh! Very smutty. You’ve been warned!

A gloved hand slid over your ass and squeezed. You jumped and squeaked. Turning you saw happiness in his expression. Relief filled you seeing Roman standing there. The swagger he always had soon brought the butterflies to your stomach as you practically threw yourself at him. “Romy!” You winced when you felt his gun holster. His strong hands shifted you to a more comfortable position against him.

A deep chuckle came from him. “Sorry. Didn’t have time to take that off, baby.” He nestled close.

“I don’t care.” Tears of relief stung your eyes, you blinked them away. “I’m just so glad you’re here.” Pulling back, you looked into his eyes. You felt as if you could fall into them and never return. To be honest, at this moment that would be wonderful. You wanted to be just held and taken care of.

“You’re my brave girl.” He pressed a kiss on your shoulder. “I saw how you handled yourself.”

“You did?” Pulling back, you beamed at him.

He nodded. “Yes.”

*****

As he pulled you close, he wanted to tell you how proud he was of you. But that wasn’t in him. The words got stuck in his mouth. Maybe he’d buy you something special. Yes, he’d spoil you. That is what he would do, and you deserved it, fuck you were braver than some of his men. But now he had other things in mind.

“Yes.” He finally replied, nodding. “Now be a good girl and give daddy a kiss.” Your body fit so well against his as he held you.

Your arms wrapped tightly around him as you went on your tiptoes to kiss him. He could still taste the sweet taste of your drink on your lips. He loved how you wilted against him as you kissed.

“Baby,” He whispered in your ear. “Daddy is going to be busy tonight but he needs you badly.”

“Whatever you want, daddy.”

He could hear how the timber in your voice rose. It made him smile.

A knot of his desire grew as he watched you open your legs in anticipation for him. “Is this how you want me, daddy?”

He nodded. “That is exactly where I want to be, ever since you walked into the club.”

You were his strong girl, his desire and affection shifted tonight. He promised to do his best by you.

“Yes daddy, I want you between my legs.” There was a tremble with how you desired him, he loved having that effect; it came from your depths.

Bending a knee, he just barely knelt between your shapely legs. He opened you wider before freeing himself of his suit jacket. Reaching up, his fingers laid on his holster when you spoke again.

“Stop.”

He paused, “Hmm?” He made a soft questioning sound.

“Not yet.” You whispered. “You look so good with it on.”

He chuckled, shifting closer. “Since you’ve been such a good girl, I’ll keep it on a little longer.” Reaching out he grabbed your hips and pulled you against him.

He loved the gasp that came from you, when you felt exactly what you did to him. He braced himself on one hand. He drew close but didn’t kiss you just yet. “You look so good, baby.”

“I’m so glad you think so.” Your words came out breathy.

He kissed you then, your lips soft and giving. He deepened the kiss as he felt your fingers run through his goatee. Your touch felt incredibly good.

He broke the kiss, watching your eyes. “You really like that goatee, don’t you?”

You nodded.

He brought his hand up and let it drift over your face, gently cupping one of your cheeks. His thumb barely touching you, he remembered watching as you took the hits from Marino. Yet you did not flinch. You did not give him up. It pulled on him, especially when you leaned into his touch just now.

“Most of my life,” He began to admit, perhaps some of the words would come. “I have to look over my shoulder. Suspicion is a close and strong companion.” He let his thumb graze your cheek. “But tonight, I saw all that you endeared. I’m very pleased with you.”

“There isn’t anything that would pull me away from you.” You swallowed.

“That’s why you’re mine.”

He drew close once again, his lips barely touching yours as he stopped and paused with an idea that struck him. “Do you trust me?”

“I trust you.”

He drew his hand to your throat. It was all he needed. He squeezed. You gasped. Your eyes grew as you blinked. He loosened his hold but then he squeezed again, loving the feel of your breath as you gasped once again. Then he loosened his hold. He relished having this control over you.

This time he spoke against your lips as he squeezed again. “My breath for yours.” He kissed you and shared his breath with you. The kiss between the two of you deepened and he released his hold on your throat.

After some time, he smiled. “I want to see more of you.” He whispered. Your fingers went to the clasp. “Allow me.” You undid the clasp and your breasts soon bounded free.

He reached into his back pocket. He would use one of the knives he had chosen to bring downstairs with him. Pulling back, he would take delight in cutting off your undergarments that were in his way.

“Daddy?” You whimpered.

He opened the knife. “I could have stolen your breath forever and yet, you are stopping me from what?” He reached and tugged at your panties. “Cutting these from you.”

“But daddy, they’re new and so pretty.” You didn’t pout but a soft whimper came from you.

He chuckled. “Baby, when I want to do it so I’m going to.”

“Ok.”

He tilted his head. “If it makes you happy, I will take you shopping for some more pretty things.”

“Yes, I would like that.”

He heard your reluctance. Girls before were greedy, damn the dancers were as well. You were the only one who was never demanding, it made him pleased that he could spoil you and you wouldn’t demand more.

“I will take you personally, it will be just us.”

“I would like that, daddy.”

He smiled. “I know you like it better when I’m around.”

“Because I can model for you.”

“That is my favorite bit.”

One time, when he had take you out to spoil you, the modeling you did got both your hearts racing. After just enough money, the shop girls stepped away so the two of you could have a moment alone.

It had been incredibly naughty but when he wanted you, he didn’t want to wait. Nor should he have to but he also didn’t want prying eyes. So the investment to keep them away had been very worth it.

You flushed, he knew you were remembering that time.

“So baby, lay still. I don’t want to nick you.”

“Yes, daddy.”

******

Your legs were wrapped around his waist. It wasn’t the first time, he took you fully clothed while you were naked. There was something incredibly sexy about it. Your moans came from deep within you. He had rescued you tonight. You could still see how he stepped out of the darkness.

You arched against him. As your eyes met his fiery ones, you felt even closer to cumming. “I’m- I’m so close.” You managed to say.

“Cum for me baby, daddy wants to feel it as he rides you.”

“Yes.” You held him closer to you as he moved even deeper. A moan louder than the rest came from as you felt his tongue and lips on your throat.

Shuddering, you closed your eyes and you came hard against him.

“That’s my girl.” His voice was strained but the command was there. “Now look at me. I want to watch you feel me cum deep inside of you.

“Yes, yes.” You were barely able to say since he had made you breathless.

“Baby.” He murmured and your lips met. It was hungry, as his breaths were as ragged as yours when he came hard.

*****

He rested his forehead against your bare shoulder, his body shaking while he remained deep within you. A sigh poured from his lips as he felt your fingers run through his short strands.

Not wanting a mess on his slacks, he rolled off of you and in a few moves he was tucked back into his slacks. From the corner of his eye, he could see you react to the suddenness of him removing himself from you. Oddly, it pulled on him. He really was beginning to feel more and more for you. Especially after how brave you were tonight. He came back over to you.

He actually felt you shift ever so slightly away. It immediately annoyed him. You didn’t understand. Inhaling, he grabbed you and pulled you close.

He looked down at you as you didn’t exactly meet his gaze.

“Baby, daddy can’t have cum on his slacks when he goes back downstairs.” He simply told you.

You finally looked his way, your mouth opened and closed but no words came.

He rolled over and hovered over you. He tapped your mouth. “Listen, it’s not done down there. I have to go back down and make him pay for what he did to you.”

“Not Alfredo?” Your mouth was smart. Sometimes, it irked him. Especially when he was struggling with what it was like being with you. He wasn’t used to having a consistent person to actually fucking care for.

He grabbed your chin. Your eyes grew this time, not looking away from him. “Fuck him. I didn’t like seeing Marino smack you around, causing this.”

His thumb grazed the small bruise that formed from Marino’s hand. You winced. You needed to be reminded. Perhaps it was cruel for him to do, but you needed to be reminded. He was about to go down there and make that man suffer for what he did.

“And when he grabbed you. No one does that to you.”

As your eyes softened, he dragged his hand away and let it lay on your chest. Your heart was racing under it.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice cracked. “It was just… So cold.”

“I told you, I can be a cold-hearted bastard. But I need to be that way to keep us safe and,” He smirked. “Gain more control over this fucking city.”

You kissed him then. At first he didn’t kiss back but then he did.

“Now I have to go downstairs and handle my little situation.”

You nodded. “I’ll see you soon.”

@spn-obsessed-dean @vintagemichelle91 @xxxeatyourh3artoutxxx @ewanfuckingmcgregor @zodiyack @angel98624 @frenchgirlinlondon @emyliabernstein @thepeachreads @itsknife2meetu @nebulastarr @omghappilyuniquebouquetlove @poe-kadot26 @babydoll97-blog1 @hazel-nuss @vcat55 @feelthemadnessinside @johallzy @foreverhockeytrash @frostypenguinoz @chogisss @xxinvisiblexx @shantellorraine @xxvisionsxx @blondekel77 @saphic-stories @drarrylov3r @i-cant-hear-you16 @deadlymistress24 @yesqueenofthelight @generallj @thebeckyjolene @mrskenobi19 @bdffkierenwalker @aviolentdaydream

[deascheck]

Problem Solved

Prompt: "Whatever that thing is, it is not what we are looking for so, Dean put it down immediately! Cas stop fooling around like an idiot, and Sam, what the hell are you even doing?"

Summary: The reader’s hands are full when Dean, Sam, and Cas are all affected by an object cursed by the witch they’re hunting.

Word Count: 1553

Trigger warnings: Death, brief mention of blood

A/N: Would love to know what you think! Comments and reblogs are amazing!

Edited by @winchest09

--------

You glanced at Sam as he picked the lock with nimble, practiced fingers. A slight smile ghosted across your face as you checked the yard and surrounding properties for any witnesses. There wasn’t a lock that Sam couldn’t pick. 

Dean and Cas had split off and gone around back. The house was huge, with cameras everywhere. The property was thick with flowers and plants surrounding the house, making it easy for the two large men to hide as they worked their way over to the security box. 

The lock clicked, and you and Sam crept forward through the door. Guns drawn, you moved around each other with practiced ease. Thanks to Dean’s ungodly ability to flirt, the four of you had gotten blueprints of the house and had memorized them down to the last brick. You moved swiftly to the upstairs, followed by Sam. 

You knew the witch was home – you had seen her arrive. Stealth was key in this case. She’d killed eight people with hex bags already. They were gruesome, horrible deaths, and you wanted her dead like you’d never wanted anyone dead before. 

Once Dean and Cas had cleared the downstairs, they joined you and Sam upstairs. You peeled off towards the bedrooms with Dean, and Cas joined Sam. The hallways were dark, and there were nine doors to check behind. As Dean entered the master bedroom, you spared a glance over your shoulder towards the other two before you went with him. 

As you finished clearing it, trying not to bump into the bed, dresser, desk, or table, you heard a strange thump and then a yell. 

You and Dean barreled out of the room and down the hall. You skidded to a stop when you reached the open doorway and stared. Dean all but ran into you as his sprint was halted by your body blocking the door.

Cas had a stupidly silly smile spread across his face, and was dancing around in big circles with his hands waving in the air. Whereas, Sam had his mouth wide open and was measuring with his hands how big it was. 

Almost as soon as you’d taken in the ridiculous scene, Dean knocked you into the doorframe as he shoved forward, eager to figure out what was going on. He grabbed some sort of ancient looking scroll from Cas’s hand, and almost immediately started mirroring Sam’s actions.

“Dean!” you whispered angrily. “Dean, whatever that thing is, it’s not what we’re here for! Cas, stop fooling around like an idiot! And Sam, dude, what the hell are you even doing!?” You couldn’t believe you had this to deal with now. You had three men who were currently no better than children, and a dangerous witch you still hadn’t seen. 

Backing away, you shut the door quickly, hoping to contain the noise that Sam, Dean, and Cas were all making. With these circumstances, you’d do better against the witch on your own, which still didn’t mean things would go well.

As you turned around, you came face to face with a very smug looking woman. She had brown hair slightly past her shoulders, had a pretty, long face, and looked like she knew how to handle herself. It was the witch herself, Elizabeth.

“Shit,” you managed to get out before attempting to take a shot at her with your gun. She knocked it from your hands as you fired, spinning you into the wall. You retaliated by launching up and taking a swing at her with a mean right hook. She ducked, and you recovered quickly, doing your best to keep your back to the wall. The two of you fought your way down the hall. The blows and kicks were vicious, and you knew this wouldn’t end unless one of you was dead. If you could keep her busy enough to not say any incantations, you figured you might have a chance to extend your life by a few minutes, but without your gun, you weren’t sure how in the hell you were going to kill her.

The fight wore on, and it was becoming apparent that you were at a disadvantage. Primarily because Elizabeth knew the house best. Even having memorized the blueprints, there was a difference between studying the layout of a house and living in it. She knew when there was a corner to throw you against, a table to flip you over, curtains to tangle you in. You’d never admit it, but you were starting to wonder if she was in better shape than you. Being a hunter, you had your fair share of fights, but you’d always had Sam or Dean to come help take out whatever monstrosity you were fighting with.

With a loud smash, you went flying over the kitchen counter and hit the fridge with considerable force. As you lay on the ground, slightly stunned, you fisted your hands angrily, your fingers closing around something which caused you to glance down. It was a knife. 

You quickly scrambled to your feet with a maniacal grin across your face. Elizabeth advanced and you launched yourself at her, the knife coming into her view too late. You ran the blade right through her neck, forcing it through her windpipe and into the spinal vertebrae. Elizabeth’s eyes went wide, and her mouth moved like she was trying to speak. But instead of words leaving her mouth, it was blood. As crimson liquid dripped down from her mouth, you heard another commotion coming down the hall. Sam was weaving around in the hallway, smashing into the walls as hard as he could as he walked, chuckling stupidly. You sprinted over to him while the witch was in shock from your attack. You reached behind Sam’s waist to grab his gun, which was filled with witch-killing bullets. 

You heard her gurgle as you spun around and fired without hesitation. Elizabeth stared at you lifelessly before dropping to the floor. You smiled grimly at her and then kicked her hard with your booted foot. 

“That’s for the innocent people you killed, you bitch.”

You watched her for a minute, and then realized you weren’t hearing any stupid noises from Sam. You turned to look his way and saw him looking proudly at you. “Well done, Y/N. I can’t believe you killed her by yourself!” 

“Yeah, well, I can’t believe you let yourself get cursed when you knew we were in a witch’s house,” you teased.

As the beating you took stared to cause your body to ache something awful, you thought, Shit, this is gonna hurt tomorrow. 

Groaning to yourself, you walked back upstairs with Sam to find out what had befallen Dean and Cas. You opened the door, and immediately was knocked off your feet by two well built men falling out of the door.

All of you let out grunts and “oof”s as the three of you landed in a pile on the floor. Immediately on top of you was Dean. You looked at each other in surprise and relief. 

Both of you started talking at the same time. “What the fuck are you doing?” “How’re you still alive?” He laughed as you chuckled weakly. 

“Get off me you big lugs,” you moaned. They got up good-naturedly and looked at Sam, waiting to be told how the spell was broken.

Sam responded to their expectant looks by saying, “The only thing I can think of is that Elizabeth had cursed the scroll herself to cause whoever touched it to lose some sanity. But since it ended, I’m assuming that curse was tied to her life force.” He looked pensive and then shrugged. “I mean, kinda rare, but I’ll take it.”

Taking their pause as a cue, you spoke proudly, “I killed her.” Dean and Cas looked at you in shock. Continuing smugly, you said, “I mean, she was kicking my ass, let’s be real. But she made the mistake of throwing me over the kitchen counter.. By the knives.” You paused briefly to give them a knowing look and then kept going with your story. “So, I hit the fridge, and as I made a fist - cause man, am I pissed now! - my hand closes on a silver knife. How lucky was that!” You laughed. “I grab the knife, and launch myself at her before she can attack first. Got her right in the windpipe. Then Sam, who somehow got out of the room I shut y’all in, wandered right into my lap with his witch-killing bullets. Problem solved.” 

Sam gave you a hug and helped you up. “I’m sorry we weren’t able to help you, Y/N.” He looked at you proudly, but behind his eyes you could see guilt warring with pride.

“We’re proud of you, Y/N! Couldn’t have done it better ourselves,” Dean said, “C’mere!” He reached for you and grabbed you in a big bear hug. Squished against him, barely able to breath, you peeked over his shoulder, and saw Cas smiling softly at you. 

You extracted yourself from Dean’s hug, as much as you loved the rare moment, and gave Cas his turn. He let you go quickly, since he was still a bit of an awkward hugger. You chuckled, and said firmly, “Let’s go home, shall we?”

[fangirlingtodeath513]

siren | a writer’s choice bingo fill

writer’s choice bingo masterpost rating: mature warnings: none

For a hunter, Dean’s frequent visits to the monster bar are unusual, to say the least. His profession tends to not mingle with monsters, even though the ones that frequent this place are the ones that live amongst humans without any issue. Dean doesn’t care, though. He’s met good friends through here and even had a few flings with some of them. He feels more at home here than he does in a hunter crowd, and he’s not really sure if he should feel as comfortable as he does about that fact.

Doesn’t stop him from looking for someone to spend the night with, though. It’s been too long since he’s had someone underneath him—or been underneath someone, frankly—so he’s nursing a single beer as he looks for someone that piques his interest. 

It doesn’t take long. A dark-haired man walks through the door within fifteen minutes of Dean sitting down and he looks perfect. Dean doesn’t even hesitate to grab his beer and vacate his table, sidling up to the man at the bar. 

“Hey there, gorgeous. Let me buy you a drink?”

The man turns to look at him and Dean can’t help but feel a little self-conscious as the stranger’s eyes skim the length of his body. “You can’t buy me the kind of drink I want.”

Dean frowns. This is a monster bar, so if the guy’s looking for blood or something, that’s not exactly an odd request. “You sure about that?”

The stranger smirks, leaning against the counter and raising an eyebrow at Dean. “Unless you’re prepared to ingest my venom and allow me to feed off your adoration for the next several hours, yes, I’m positive.”

Dean’s brain short-circuits at that because honestly… he wouldn’t be opposed. It must show on his face because the man tilts his head as he watches Dean. “Siren, right?” The man nods, so Dean clears his throat and finishes what’s left of his beer. “Then let’s get out of here.”

Dean catches the bartender’s eye and closes out his tab, turning back to the man. “I’m Dean, by the way.”

“Castiel,” the man answers with a wry smile. “How do I know you don’t have a bronze knife on you somewhere?”

Dean can’t help but smirk. “You can pat me down when we get to where we’re going, hm? My motel isn’t far.”

Castiel hums, nodding once as he turns to leave. Dean grins and slips his jacket on, following him to the parking lot. After a short discussion about the logistics of getting to Dean’s motel, they both pile into the Impala and Dean pulls onto the road.

“Do I even want to know how many daggers you’ve got in here?”

Dean laughs. “Four, but they’re all in the trunk. Don’t encounter sirens very often, honestly. Besides, I’d need the blood of one of your victims, right? I doubt you just leave those lying around.”

Castiel quirks an eyebrow. “You do realize if you ingest my venom, you’ll be considered my victim?”

Dean blinks and glances over at Castiel. “Huh. Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

An uncomfortable silence settles between them, so Dean just stays quiet as he drives. He doesn’t really blame Castiel for being nervous. A lot of hunters don’t care about the monsters that live in the gray areas, most are content to kill every monster they come across no matter what. Of course, Castiel would be concerned.

The parking lot is empty when they get there, so Dean parks in front of his room and pops the trunk before climbing out. Castiel watches him curiously, so Dean offers him a small smile and tugs the false door up to reveal his arsenal. “4 bronze daggers there. I’ve got a gun hidden in my room, though that won’t do much to you. Couple of steel knives that I’ll leave out here.” Dean proves his point by grabbing the sheaths from his waist and ankle and tossing them in the trunk.

Castiel chuckles. “I believe you, but thank you. You wouldn’t have been allowed in that bar if you weren’t friendly. Benny takes security seriously and, no offense, I could smell the hunter on you five miles away.”

Dean smirks. “I taste better than I smell, promise.”

Castiel rolls his eyes and follows Dean into his room, depositing his trenchcoat on the chair near the door. “You’re positive you don’t mind? The effect will wear off by morning.”

Dean hums, already beginning to unbutton his flannel. “Not even a little. There a certain way you need to do it?”

Castiel smiles and crosses to Dean in a few long strides, cupping his cheek gently. “A kiss will work just fine.” 

Dean’s not sure what he’s supposed to feel when their lips meet, but he definitely doesn’t feel poisoned. Not that he’d know what it felt like anyway—he wasn’t lying when he told Castiel he’d only seen a few sirens in his career. Dean lets himself get lost in the kiss, barely even noticing when Castiel starts to push the flannel off of him. He’s way more on board once Cas starts to unbutton his jeans, his long fingers brushing over the erection already forming in his briefs. 

“You’re right, Dean, you do taste better than you smell,” Castiel mumbles, a small smile on his lips as he leans down to kiss Dean again.

~

Dean pulls up to the nondescript apartment building, sitting there for a moment before shutting the car off. He hasn’t seen Castiel for over four months—apparently, the length of time a siren can go without feeding—but Castiel had called out of the blue and asked him to come over. Dean had only been a state over on a hunt, so he’d wrapped up his business there and driven straight to Castiel’s.

He looks weak when he opens the door, and far more pale than the last time Dean had seen him.

“Cas? You okay?”

Castiel smiles weakly, stepping aside to let Dean into the apartment. “I’m alright. I went… longer than I should have without feeding. I wanted to, I just... “ He turns his gaze back to Dean and the unspoken words hang heavy between them. Dean thinks he knows what Castiel was about to say, but he doesn’t want to pry. 

“Alright, well let’s get you back to yourself then, hm?”

Castiel smiles gratefully, allowing Dean to draw him into a kiss.

~

It becomes a recurring thing between them. Every month or so, sometimes more often if Dean’s passing through Cas’s state, they’ll meet up and sleep together. Castiel gets his fix of adoration, as he likes to say, and Dean gets a warm, fluffy bed and a good fuck. He can’t complain, even if he does wake up a little bit tired the morning after. 

“So, Benny’s hiring,” Dean offers one morning over breakfast. It’s been almost a year since he went home with Castiel for the first time, something he still can’t believe. He’s never actually had a relationship this long, and they’re not even actively in a relationship. 

Castiel quirks an eyebrow. “Indeed. I saw the sign on the door.”

Dean hums. “I’d make a good bartender, I think.”

Castiel leans back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest. “I’m sure you’d be wonderful at it. You want to give up hunting?”

“I’ve been wanting a life outside of hunting recently,” Dean admits with a shrug. “Gets a little too dangerous after a while. Besides, it would be nice to sleep on a comfortable bed like yours every night instead of those shitty motel beds. Or worse, Baby’s back seat.”

Castiel studies his face for a moment before frowning. “I’m sorry, I must have given you too much venom last night. Perhaps you should stay another day.”

“What? No, Cas, I’m being serious. I like it here, I’ve got friends here, I’ve got you—well, not… you know, I… fuck. I didn’t mean it like that.” Dean sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I like you, alright? It’s not because of your venom, it’s because of you.”

Castiel smiles, though it looks sad. “We were up late last night, I’m sure my venom hasn’t worked its way out of your system yet.”

Dean scoffs. “Hey, I can think for myself, thank you very much. Your venom’s not even that potent, man, it’s never made me feel any different.”

Castiel squints at him. “Never?”

“Nope. Why?”

“Well it’s supposed to make you disoriented and passive, so you’ll follow my every order no matter what. It… doesn’t do that?”

Dean snorts. “Follow your every order? God no. If you’re so convinced I’m still poisoned, make me do something.” 

Castiel frowns. “I don’t like making people do things. It’s why I’m always so careful with what I say when we’re together.”

“I’m telling you, I’m immune to your venom or something. C’mon, try it.”

It takes a moment, but Castiel eventually acquiesces. “Refill my coffee.”

Dean waits a moment, half expecting to be compelled to refill Castiel’s mug, but nothing happens. Castiel frowns and sits up.

“Kiss me.”

Dean waits again, raising an eyebrow at Castiel. “See? Nothing.”

Castiel frowns. “Stay with me tonight? I want to see if you’re immune after you ingest my venom.”

Dean smirks. “Damn, Cas, if you wanted to fuck me again you coulda just asked.”

Castiel rolls his eyes, though the hint of a blush on his cheeks gives him away. “So you’ll stay?”

Dean hums his agreement, eyes widening as Castiel leans over the table to kiss him. Once again, they both wait, expecting God only knows what to happen, but nothing changes. 

“Go get my phone,” Castiel orders. The tone of his voice sends a shiver down Dean’s spine and though he wants to obey, he won’t. Castiel needs the proof. “You’re actually immune,” Castiel breathes, a look of wonder written on his face. “You want to move here to be closer to me of your own free will?”

Dean frowns. “Yeah, man. I like you, Cas. Not your venom.”

Castiel grins, leaning over to kiss him again. “Then just move in with me. I love you, I just didn’t want to force you to be with me.”

Dean blinks. “You love me?”

Castiel chuckles. “Why do you sound so surprised? You’re easy to fall for, Dean.” 

Dean grins, pulling Cas in for another kiss, their breakfast entirely forgotten between them. “I’ll go get my stuff out of my car and call Benny.”

Castiel hums. “Later. Right now, we need to celebrate.”

Dean laughs. “Oh? How so?”

Castiel smirks, quickly clearing off one side of the table before lifting Dean onto it and settling between his legs. “Oh, I can think of a few ways.”

[herstarburststories]

Merry... Birthday?

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Summary: You love christmas, but Dean doesn’t. Yet, he might make an exception for your birthday this year.

A/N: This one goes for @negans-lucille-tblr​ ‘s secret fic exchange. My secret Santa was @katymacsupernatural​. Hey, honey! I hope you enjoy this and happy birthday! You deserve double presents, so here’s mine. All mistakes are mine!

Divider by @talesmaniac89 !

You loved Christmas.

It was probably a nostalgic longing for your long gone urban life. Just in the same way you’d still catch yourself looking through the news for election results or feel your stomach twist if you didn’t eat homemade food at least twice a week. You were dead to the government and certainly spent more on the road than in a home. Besides, you had met up with God enough times to know him. All the encounters and screaming and unapologetic abandonment should make you want to throw any baby Jesus against a wall or even climb on a Christmas tree just to shout about all the hoaxes so perfectly molded in patterns through our brains like braids.

Yet, something about you loved christmas. 

The pretty lights always shining, it didn’t matter where you go. For once, all the city-- everything would be entirely made of light. Their incandescent glow always companishing each person, either it was in an once treacherous alley or only to make the kids' grin bigger as they watched them among the busy streets with wide eyed gazes. The confusion in the kitchen that often ended up with huffs bursting into chuckles between the smell of meals that were too much and would make a room for leftovers for the rest of the week. How everything seemed to be made only of happiness, and nothing could ever cut through those water; all the knives were suddenly swords for kids to play and no white gun. In Christmas, a house became a kingdom for every heart. Everything was good and felt through the skin to the bone, like a single glimpse, a hidden day of what would be paradise.

That was how you were raised, at least. The Winchesters didn’t share the same mindset, no. While you grew up with decorating the tree, they were hiding bodies in the dim light. Leftovers were all through their whole year, and Christmas was described as good or not with one single criteria: snow streets. They had to take one? Annoying date. They didn’t and there was eggnog? Bearable Jesus’s birthday.

Yet, you attempted to make the bunker the more festive possible: buying a bunch of christmas lights, cookies’ ingredients and even a small nativity scene. Your attempts to enjoy the date’s niciities ended up with Sam breaking his arm after crashing on the ground because you insisted on him putting the lights in a place higher than his age, not to mention the burned cookies that looked more like tiny monsters than gingerbread men.

Your parents used to make this look so much easier.

Although the youngest Winchester understood a little more about the concept of holidays, a believer in the good until the very end, his brother didn’t share the idea. You couldn’t say you were surprised. Dean just had two barely normal christmas in his life: one when he was dying and one with Lisa and Ben. Both situations made it to his heart only to shatter from the inside.

‘’Baby Jesus?’’ Dean snorted, shaking his head at the sight of you adjusting the weird little dolls in the nativity. He placed another ruined cook in his mouth, speaking with his mouth full next: ‘’We have the son of Lucifer, guess that counts.’’

‘’Don’t say that once Jack gets home.’’ You rolled your eyes, turning to face the oldest Winchester with your hands on your hips. How could he eat that? You couldn’t even make it a bite and Sam only had half of those. ‘’And stop eating those. They are burned.’’

‘’I’ve had worse.’’ He remarked, adding another cookie to his mouth. You grimaced, wondering for a brief moment how your boyfriend could be simultaneously the guy who saved the world and a man with the taste of a five years old.

‘’Yeah. But I’m the one who has to hear you whining about your bellyache later.’’

‘’I don’t whine--’’ You arched your eyebrows at his statement, making Dean huff in agreement. ‘’That was once and because of Sam’s weird ass vegan bacon.’’

‘’You acted like you were dying.’’

‘’My tongue was!’’

‘’So get this.’’ Sam’s voice interrupted your childish argument, catching the attention of both hunters like a shiny object did to a cat. ‘’Apparently we got an earlier christmas gift.’’

‘’What is it?’’ You asked, approaching the table.

‘’Three teenagers disappeared in the forest, all personal objects left behind.’’ Sam explained as Dean scratched out his neck to glance at his brother’s computer screen. Nothing like a case in Colorado. ‘’The authorities think it’s a serial killer. But one of the girls, Kayla Wodson, said she saw a weird, skinny giant take her friends.’’

‘’Ho ho ho and three bodies.’’ Dean clapped his hands together with a wry curve of lips. ‘’Alright. Let’s hit the road-- Wait, wait, wait. Where do you think you are going?’’

You were standing beside Dean while Sam raised to his feet, ready to pack his bags. Dean, nonetheless, was quicker than his brother, soon putting himself in front of Sammy; hands protectively standing in front of the youngest’s chest to keep him from moving any further.

He shook his head with a scoff. ‘’Dude, come on.’’

‘’Not happening, Sammy. You got a broken arm.’’ You mumbled a sorry along Dean’s big brother speech, to which Sam replied with a comprehensive smile. ‘’Y/N and I take care of it.’’

‘’He’s right. Must be the first time in his life, but he is.’’ Dean turned his head, furrowing his eyebrows at you ‘’Don’t worry. It’s just a wendigo anyway. ‘’

‘’Okay. Just…’’

‘’Don’t forget the fireblazer. As if your brother would miss an opportunity to use it.’’ You scrunched up your noise, causing a chortle out of Sam while Dean commented something about grabbing the specific instrument and walked away. ‘’Maybe you could call Eileen. Ask her to help you to back some christmas cookies.’’

Sammy shook his head at your wiggling brows. ‘’That doesn’t sound as sexy for me as it does for you.’’

Dean Winchester was good with numbers.

Not the urban numerical sense of the deal, of course. He almost didn’t make it in sixth grade with useless geometry and all that, and he still used his fingers to count when he had to deal with an equation. No, his good and quick way with numbers was easier, intrinsic to his head.

How many years since mom died? Seventeen. How many people did he have to save? All of them. How many years had he left? Less than he once owned.

Hunter math was simpler, and was all he really needed since he was four years old, running from the fire with his baby brother in his arms-- which brought him to the second section of his particular geometry: birthdays and death anniversaries. Dean never, ever forgot any special date. Those were his own holidays, the only worth celebrating and remembering. His wishes, grief, and cherishment were reserved for the people he loved, not some celestial assholes who saw his life like a book.

Therefore, his mind went on a golden rush for your day as soon as the Wendigo hunt took more than you both expected. You wouldn't be able to make it home before your birthday, which would be ending shortly, a matter of two or three hours. His inner engineers were useful tonight, in his vision, useful enough to make those sappy movies jealous. While you were washing some guts and leaves away, Dean went to the nearest convenience store. His long arms nesting a bunch of stuff he never dared to touch in years. The cashier with drowsy eyes and escarlet Santa hat seemed bored with his shopping, probably because she saw an uncountable amount of people buying the same things over and over. He couldn’t blame her for the suburban exhaustion. If anything, it was a small comfort for his war orbs to see and be a part of a scene so mundane.

He hustled back to the dive motel room, singing in relief to himself once he stepped in and heard you singing Christmas Tree Farm while the water rushed in. He grimaced at himself for recognizing that Taylor Swift song. How couldn’t he? That woman was 80% of all you heard everyday. Man, he was whipped.

Tilting his head back in reality, he started organizing in clumsy manners of putting everything in place for you. His bruised hands touching so carefully the fragile ornaments to make the motel room with grubby walls and weird black stan on the floor that only seemed to grow a little more like you.

You, the woman who put up with him, who laughed at his stupid jokes, and who watched Scooby Doo, all snuggled up to him every friday. You, the woman who switched from AC/DC to Taylor Swift and then Eric Clapton. You, the one who understood his job and helped him to wash off some of the blood on his hand and never got scared of how red the water could get. You, the girl who rolled her eyes at his first attempt of flirting and now stole his french fries and kissed his lips as if he was worth being delicate with. You, his breathing, his true holiday, his only act of faith besides Sammy.

Dean pressed his teeth against his bottom lip, looking up and down his little manual work. Part of him said it was ridiculous, he surely would make a lot of fun of Sam if he did that to a chick. Yet, mostly he was proud. He wanted you to like it. It wasn’t even near to what you deserved, but it was a piece of it. It was what the Winchester could give you, and that would be hopefully, enough.

While Dean was caught in the crossroad of judging and admiring his surprise, you left the shower with a towel wrapped around your head and lips mumbling Cocaine. Your feet glued to the ground once you witnessed what was in front of you: the room was decorated with christmas lights, a tiny plastic tree on the table, right beside a pie with candle on the top and two cup of what smelled like hot cocoa.

‘’Dean…’’ Your tender tone brought him back from his traineck thoughts as he turned around to glance at you. You chortled in astonishment as he raised his eyes and said surprise! ‘’What’s this?’’

‘’Well, it’s your birthday.’’ He shrugged, scooting closer to you with a smirk. Dean smoothly wrapped his arms around your waist, yours instantly resting around his neck. ‘’In my defense, they just had christmas stuff. Blame your parents for having you close to Jesus’ special day.’’

‘’Christmas stuff include pie and not cake?’’ Your brows knitted together, a heartwarming smile on your lips as you watched his expression marked by multicolored little lights. He smelled like something was a blaze, and you knew that was for standing too close to the candle and not for burning a body this time. Small changes.

He scoffed humorously. ‘’You like pie better anyway.’’ He nodded at the carnival-like situation around you two. Dean Winchester wasn’t the kind of man who got insecure, but you could catch a perk of brand nervous hesitation as his green eyes shot you an anxious glance. ‘’Did you like it?’’

‘’I loved it.’’ You pulled cheeks dimpled with joy that was kissed by Dean’s own smiling lips. The kiss was so gentle, it was his own palpable light hearted emotion. You being happy in his arms. It had been so long since he felt he could be enough, he could make someone happy. But you were right there. As you pulled away, another short kiss was given between playful words: ‘’That’s what I call a christmas miracle.’’

‘’Shush.’’ He leaned in and pecked your lips. As Dean pulled back, he couldn’t help but watch around with the pride of Hubris. His glance went back to you, a lopsided grin on his face. God, you loved that smile. You loved that man. ‘’So I added some whiskey to the hot cocoa. We could drink some, eat the pie, and see if those lights make a good improvise rope. What do you tell me?’’

All you could do was kiss him again.

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[impalas-r-important]

Love of my Life - (7) Stick around

Summary: A little bit more back story about Y/N as she shares her story with Dean.

Warnings: N/A. Mechanic Dean?

A/N: I just want to say thank you to everyone who has reached out to me with your love for this series! Ya'll are the best! If you haven't heard Love of my Life by Queen, then go listen to it. Such a beautiful song.

Series Masterlist

I was up before Sam which almost never happens, but I was determined to get coffee and muffins to take over to Y/N and ask her if she wanted to come with us to Montana. Walking up to her door, I kept reminding myself to take deep breaths and not act like an idiot. I knocked on the door and I heard a faint “Come in.” Slowly pushing the door open, I see Y/N folding her clothes to pack into her suitcase. She had her hair up in a ponytail, with jeans and a hoodie on and I couldn’t help but smile when she looked up at me.

“Hey Winchester.”

“Hey!” That sounded too eager, tone it down, Dean… I cleared my throat and continued. “Do you always leave your door open for people to just walk in? That’s not very safe.”

“I just forgot to lock it this morning after I got back from the ice machine. I figured it was you or Sam knocking, but I have this bad boy ready just in case.” She reached over the bed to her nightstand and held up a large knife.”

“That’s not going to do much good if someone were to barge in here with a gun.”

Y/N raised her eyebrow at me with a doubting look on her face which made my heart jump a little. “Most of the time, bringing a knife to a gun fight is a bad idea. But most people aren’t me.” She spun the knife in her hand and set it down on the bed next to her.

“Whatever you say, sweetheart.” I teased and held up a small brown bag with blueberry muffins inside. “I brought you some breakfast.” My gesture was interrupted by the bag being ripped from my hands and pinned to wall just behind me with a knife. It took a second to process what just happened. “Did… Did you just throw a knife at me?” Maybe I should be concerned, but more than anything I’m beyond impressed and a little turned on.

Y/N sent a devious smile my way as she walked over and pulled the knife from the wall, catching the bag before it fell to the ground. “You sounded like you were doubtful of my knife skills so I figured I’d prove it to you.” She stuck the knife in the back of her belt and opened the bag, pulling out a muffin. “Oh, blueberry! My favorite!” How this girl can go from terrifying one second to completely adorable in the next is beyond me, but I can’t get enough of it.

I sit on the bed and she joins me, pulling her feet up and sitting cross legged by my side. “So, you got any plans after this?” I ask as she pulls a muffin from the bag and hands it to me.

“No, I don’t think so. Find a case somewhere close by, I guess?”

“Well Sam and I found one in Montana if you want in. We can always use the backup.”

Y/N’s smile fades as she pops the last bite in her mouth.

“I would love to, but I don’t know if I can…”

My heart sinks. “How come?”

“My stupid piece of crap car can barely make it fifty miles without over-heating. The trip here really did a number on it and I don’t know that it would make it all the way to Montana.”

“Well, lucky for you, I know a great mechanic.” I wink at her and dust the crumbs off my lap. “I’m good with cars. I fix my baby up all the time and keep her running like new. Let me take a look at your piece of crap and see what I can do.”

“Wow, a personal compass and mechanic who brings me breakfast first thing in the morning. What am I supposed to do without you, Dean Winchester?” I knew Y/N was joking, but all I wanted was to tell her that she never had to be without me.

“I’ll tell Sam to get a head start and scope the case out. I’ll stay here with you and fix up your car and we can meet him there. Deal?”

“Dean, you don’t need to do that.”

“I want to.”

Y/N looked skeptically at me, so I reached over and grabbed her hand, squeezing it for reassurance.

“Thank you.” She said softly.

All I wanted to do was lean in and kiss her and it took everything in me to stop myself.

“I’m going to go update Sam. Be back in a sec.”

After giving Sam the low down, I met Y/N at her car. It was a simple jeep, nothing too complicated and I figured it would be an easy fix.

“You wanna pop the hood?” I instructed. She got in the car and pulled a lever. I pulled the hood up and began looking. It only took a few minutes to find a large crack in her water pump.

“Figured it out.” I said as I shut the hood. “Your water pump is busted. Let’s take her to that auto parts store a few blocks down and I’ll have her up and running in no time.”

“My knight in grungy plaid!” She joked as she walked to the passenger side door, which I opened for her before hopping in the driver’s side.

Y/N walked across the street to the gas station and bought some snacks and drinks while I quickly changed the pump, then we headed out on the road. Sam had only left a few hours before us and I sent him a quick text letting him know that we were on our way.

We were looking at a fifteen hour drive ahead of us, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t excited to get to know Y/N more.

“So, where’d you learn to throw knives like that?” I asked.

“Well, that’s kind of a long story.” She muttered as she shuffled through CDs, looking for one to pop in.

“We have time.” I was genuinely interested in knowing everything about her. I would sit in this stupid car for a whole week if it meant I got to be with Y/N.

I knew she could sense my sincerity and tried to repress a smile as she looked at the floor. “Well, you remember me telling you that my family died when I was little?” I nodded. “I kind of bounced around between hunters who raised me and taught me the ropes. I never really stayed with anyone for that long, though. Bobby kept me the most. I’m sure I was a burden on him, but he’s the only one who didn’t make me feel like I was, and I love him for that. But I always wanted to feel like I belonged with someone, you know? Like I just wanted to stick with one person and not have them dump me off with the next hunter who was free to look after me. I quickly learned that the more useful I was on hunts, the longer I’d stay with someone, so I decided that I’d learn how to throw knives. Bobby gave me this little guy,” she reached down and opened the glove compartment, pulling out a decent sized pocketknife, “and I practiced in every free minute I had. Eventually, I upgraded to bigger and better weapons, but this one holds a place in my heart.” She folded the knife back up and put it away. “Anyway, long story short, I got pretty good at throwing pointy things.” She chuckled.

“Did you ever get to stick with someone?”

She pursed her lips. “Not really, no. Once I was an asset on hunts, people would keep me around for longer, but never permanently. When I turned sixteen, Bobby set me up with one of his old cars and I went out on my own.”

I couldn’t fathom how anyone in their right mind wouldn’t want this amazing person around. “I’m sorry.” I shot her a sympathetic side smile.

“You don’t need to be.” I was surprised at her response. “People tell me all the time that I had a crappy childhood, but I didn’t know any different. I learned a long time ago that I can’t let myself feel deprived or angry about the past because that doesn’t help with anything. There’s enough bad that we deal with in our lives and I’m not going to make it worse by throwing a pity party for myself.” She cleared her throat and quickly shook her head, bringing a smile back on her face and changing her tone of voice instantly as she reached into the shopping bag full of treats. “Jerky or ding-dongs?” She asked.

“Jerky. I’ll leave the chocolate for you.” I remembered our conversation from the diner, how she told me she had a big sweet tooth.

“Good answer.” She beamed.

“So, your family,” I started between bites, “what were they like?”

“From what I remember, they were wonderful.” Y/N gave a sweet smile and reminisced as she gazed out the front window. “I was six when they died, so I don’t remember a lot, but I do remember my mom being patient and loving and my dad could make me laugh even on the worst days. I had 4 older brothers who were very protective. I looked up to them a lot. I’ve got some pictures at Bobby’s place. I’ll have to show you someday.”

“I’d love that.”

When Y/N showed me this side of her, it was hard to picture her as a hunter, even though I had seen firsthand how badass she could be. She seemed so vulnerable and kind, and I couldn’t understand how she could be so genuine after what she went through. I hated that she never had a true place of her own, and I wanted to tell her she had found one with me. It had only been a day and a half, but I couldn’t picture the future without this girl by my side. I wanted to tell her that, but how do I say something like that without coming off like an obsessed crazy man?

Y/N asked about my life, and I filled her in on everything. Our mom dying, our dad dying, me going to hell, and even things about myself that I wouldn’t tell Sam. I trusted her. Hours had passed and we had to stop for gas. It was getting late, and she volunteered to drive so I could shut my eyes. She had a blanket in the back seat that she gave to me and I wadded it up to use as a shield between me and the cold window.

Y/N played some music but turned it down low so she wouldn’t wake me. She must have thought I was already asleep and began to softly sing along to Love of My Life by Queen. I kept my eyes closed tight and listened to her, hanging onto every word.

You will remember

When this is blown over

And everything’s all by the way

When I grow older

I will be there at your side to remind you

How I still love you

As she sang those words, my head flooded with pictures of the two of us sitting on the porch of a small secluded house, watching our kids play in the front yard with a big old dog. I had never pictured a future like this for myself, but the minute I met Y/N, I felt a new door open for me. I had always thought that I would die young in a blaze of glory, but now all I wanted was to get out of the hunting life and live a simple one. Maybe not today or anytime soon, but someday. Was it crazy that I felt like this after knowing her for barely two days? Yes. Did I care? No.

My life had very few moments where I felt completely at peace and content, but this was one. One that I would remember every day, and the one that made me realize that I was one hundred percent head-over-heels in love with this girl.

Sam had already spoken with the police and the families of the victims by the time we got there. We quickly figured out who the wolf was and had him taken care of by the end of the day. We made a good team. I convinced Sam and Y/N that we should celebrate at the local bar, and the three of us were sitting at a table. Y/N volunteered to buy the next round and left her chair to go get it.

“So…” Sam started as I watched Y/N joking with the bartender. “You gonna tell her?”

“Tell her what?”

“That you like her, or whatever.”

“We’re not in high school, Sam.”

“Okay, fine. I just mean, I’ve never seen you like this before, and you need to make up your mind. We’re done with this case and she’s taking off in the morning if you don’t do something.”

I sighed and played with the label on my beer bottle. “I know…”

“I think we make a good team, the three of us.” Sam added. “Why don’t you, invite her to come hunt with us for a while?”

I looked at him skeptically. “You’d be okay with that?”

“Dean, she’s one of the best hunter’s I’ve ever seen, she actually helps with research, she’s fun, and you’re much more tolerable to be around when she’s with you.”

“Yeah, okay. I’ll ask her tonight.”

YOUR POV

You, Sam and Dean had been having the time of your lives at that bar. You couldn’t remember the last time you had ever felt like you fit in with anyone like this. Sam was so easy to get along with. You teased him, he teased you, and you both teamed up to tease Dean. He felt like a brother to you. Dean, on the other hand, was so caring and interested in you like no one had ever been before. You had been fighting back strong feelings for him since you had first met him just two days prior; feelings so strong that they scared you. You had heard stories about him from Bobby and other hunters about how he would reel women in, use them, and leave them, so you left your guard up a little. But you had a hard time believing he was that kind of a person. For some reason, you trusted him like you had known him your whole life and it was rare that you trusted anyone at all.

Sam was telling a story about the food Dean used to try and cook for them at motels when they were kids and couldn’t get through a sentence without splitting his side from laughter, which, in turn, made you and Dean belly laugh as well. The ringtone of your phone broke through the cackles and you pulled it from your pocket. You excused yourself and stood up from the table, walking outside where you could hear better.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Y/N, it’s Mitch”

“Wow, hey Mitch. It’s been a long time. Everything okay?” You had worked a few cases with Mitch in the past few years. He was a decent hunter. Young, like you, so you got along with him better than older hunters who looked down on you.

“I’ve got a case in Idaho that I can’t seem to figure out. You free?”

“You’re in luck. I just finished up something in Montana. Text me your address and I’ll be there tomorrow.”

“Thanks, I owe you one.”

You walk back in the bar, disappointed that you have to leave the fun. Dean smiles the second he sees you come back inside. You sat down next to him and he put his arm on the back of your chair.

“I thought you ran away, sweetheart.”

“I figured you could foot the bill.” You teased. “No, I actually got a call from a hunter in Idaho needing some help, so I think I’ve gotta call it a night and find a motel to crash at. I told him I’d be there tomorrow.”

Dean’s face dropped as you pulled out your wallet and set some money on the table. Sam gave Dean a knowing look which you caught. As you pulled on your jacket, Dean grabbed your arm softly.

“Wait, Y/N. Uhm, Sam and I were talking, and we’d love it if you’d let us stick with you for a while. If you’re okay with that, that is…”

You couldn’t fight the smile that crept up on your face. “You guys want to come with me?” Sam and Dean both nodded. “Well come on then. Let’s go get some sleep.”

The boys popped up, paid their part of the bill and Dean put his hand at the small of your back as you walked out, trailing Sam. Once you were outside, he moved his hand to grab yours, lacing his fingers between yours, which took you by surprise. “Is this okay?” He asked. Your heart was fluttering and your stomach doing flips. You nodded and smiled, squeezing his hand in response.

Chapter 8

Tags:

@panicking-outside-the-disco

@vicmc624

[weasleywinchester]

Save Yourself - Chapter 1

It Weighs Heavier On One's Heart

Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 | Ch. 8 | Ch. 9 | Ch. 10 | Ch. 11 | Ch. 12 | Ch. 13 | Ch. 14 | Ch. 15 | Ch. 16 | Ch. 17 | Ch. 18 | Ch. 19 | Ch. 20 |Ch. 21 |Ch. 22 |Ch. 23 |Ch. 24 | Ch. 25

Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Hello! The Dean Winchester series I hinted at forever ago is here! Well the first chapter anyways LOL. I decided to make this a Dean x reader, but do I put Plus Size? I’m “Plus Size” and when writing I picture myself so make that what you will. Took me a while to decide what I wanted to do with my first Dean series, because let’s be honest I day dream A LOT about Dean! But here it be, and I hope you enjoy! This chapter takes place somewhere in season 13(?).

Warnings: None as of now! Eventual Smut, angst (??) Idk I’m new, I don’t know how to do these tumblr writing things!

Series Summary:

"I promise.” Those two words would trap you in a life you never wanted. You are an artist, a hunter, a Winchester. And yet the pain in Dean’s eyes as demanded you live the life he wants you live, you couldn’t say no. You met the Winchesters by chance, found out they were real people. And you figured it was a once in a life time thing, but then Dean called you, and so did a new job. Both leading to the life you wanted, a family that didn’t begin or end in blood and a once in a life time love. And he said leave it and him behind, forget. But you can’t.

Chapter Summary:

You worked retail before, but that was Before the Winchesters. And now you’re back. And my Chuck is it THE WORST. So boring, so sexist and so not the life you love. Luckily Claire knows how to weasel around the specifics of promises and is very persuasive. She’ll drag you along for a few hunts as her chaperone but this time she’s got a plan up her sleeve.

“(Y/N) pleeeeease! Jodi said there’s no way I could go without supervision,” Claire air quotes the last word, “and both she and Donna are working all weekend.”

You rest your head on the shelf you’re stocking and clamp your eyes shut. No. Absolutely not. You made a promise to him. You couldn’t go behind his back. You knew he wouldn’t be keeping that close an eye on you. Cas on the other hand absolutely would, and they had to be in agreement about this promise right?

“(Y/N) I need to work this case! Hunting is-”

“The Family Business“ you whisper into the shelf. You’re technically there for supervision, not actual hunting. You tap your fingers against the shelf, Claire glaring at you.

“Come on! Cas already knows that I’m going to be on this, so the Winchester’s won’t be checkin in!” She whispers, her hand resting on one of your shoulders. You sigh, Claire is dying to be a hunter, and you sure as hell won’t stop her.

“I will supervise-“

Claire starts jumping up and down in celebration.

“BUT you have to drive, I get to pick the music and we get separate beds.”

“Deal!” She hugs you and sprints out the door.

————

You get back to your little apartment and slump onto the couch. Your feet are pulsing to a beat with no music and your eyelids are like bricks. Every day you have to fight men instead of monsters (which lets be honest, monsters are way easier). You figured working in a little outdoor supply store would be easy enough. But the men who shop and work there take one look at you and immediately write you off. Women can’t possibly know anything about guns, or knives, or fishing and no way they know more.

You of course don’t write off all men, there are a few customers who heed your advice or take your recommendation. But they are far and few in this little backwoods town and sometimes you wish you could run off on a hunt for the weekend...

You bolt upright, and a wide smile creeps onto your face. This weekend you do get to run off! You’re not going to “hunt” but it’ll be nice to throw a badge around and have just a little respect at your job (even if it is fake).

You launch yourself off the couch and you skip to your room. Your hunting bag on your bed and it’s packed. That’s weird. You pick up the paper sitting on top of it and recognize Claire’s handwriting:

Here’s your badge, and the ring. You’ll need both for the ass hats we’ll be dealing with.

You flip open the badge, it’s for a US Marshal named (Y/N) Evans. You tuck that into your duffel and turn to the small ring box. It feels like eons since the last time you wore it. You flip open the box and the diamond sparkles in the dim light of the evening. It’s a Celtic style set, where the bands interlock. It’s as perfect as the day you found it in a pawn shop with...

A knock at the door pulls you away from memory lane. You quickly slide on the ring and peep through the door. Claire snaps her gum as she stares directly through the peephole.

“What on earth are you doing here?” You swing the door open just enough to stick your face out.

“We’re going hunting… right?” She grits through her teeth.

“Ya but I thought we were leaving tomorrow...”

“Then why would I pack your bag? Let's move!” She spins on her heels and trots down to her car.

“How do I know you packed the stuff I feel like wearing?” You yell after her.

“Trust me I did! Grab your stuff and let's go!”

You grab your bag, phone and gun and run down the stairs after her.

___________________

“So where exactly is this case? And why the big deal?” Your questions are met with silence. Claire shifts in her seat and adjusts her grip on the steering wheel.

“It’s over in Kansas…” she finally answers, her eyes glued to the road. Your heartbeat quickens; you’ll be so close to home; the home you made with the Winchester’s. The bunker that has seen so many late nights, home made pies and romantic nights in...

“I checked with Cas, he said they were on a hunting trip. So relax.”

You tense even more. Kansas is so small, if you really wanted to you could easily run to the bunker, run home. Run back to the people you love the most. You love living with the Wayward sisters, they were much needed girl time. But the boys, your boys, that’s who you belonged with. You belonged researching all night with Sammy, watching bad late night TV with Cas and… in the arms of him.

“Earth to (Y/N)!” Claire’s waving her hand in front of your face.

“Hmm?”

“I said we’re at the motel, go check in. I gotta make a call.” She gestures over to the telephone booth at the other end of the parking lot. You gather your bag and get checked in. The lady at reception doesn’t seem very thrilled but she gives you the room at the end of the row.

You prop the door open for Claire and set your bag on the dusty bed. This is one of the few things you don’t miss. That old musty smell, outdated furnishings and run down carpet.

“Home sweet home.” Claire says as she walks past you into the room. You grunt in reply and flop onto the bed. Claire spreads out the little research she has and opens up her laptop.

A loud car zooms by and you bolt to the window and peek out. It must have been some other old car on the highway…

“Hey we have a crime scene, get dressed and let's go.” Claire throws your work suit at you and goes into the bathroom to change.

____________

The scene isn’t too far from the motel, only local police seem to be here so far.

“FBI Agent Rose, this is US Marshal Evans.” Claire flashes her badge and you do the same.

“Wow, two ladies from very different departments…” the cop says, his eyes freely roaming your body but you throw him a look when he tries to do the same to Claire.

“I happened to be in the area, higher ups asked me to check in with Agent Rose.” You answer, almost wishing this guy would try and fight with you.

“Well come on and I’ll show you the damage.” He sighs, lifting the yellow tape for you.

Claire thoroughly questions the two witnesses, which has left them more scared than before; and you chat with the local cops. Most don’t know much but a couple have been on the last two scenes and say the mess left behind is similar to this one.

You’re inside the house looking at some evidence that has gathered on a table when you hear one of the officers say, “yes, both are through that door by the table.”

You look at the doorway and “CAS!” You practically leap on him.

“(Y/N).” A small smile appears as he wraps his arms around you. You step back to look at him and then you remember. Cas frowns at the horror on your face as you realize Cas would tell...

“Good thing you’re keeping Claire out of trouble.” He rubs your arms, a silent gesture that he understands why you're here. He lets you go and walks over to the table where Claire is.

“Hey Cas, get this- (Y/N)?”

“Sammy!?” You spin to face him, a smile plastered on both your faces. He wraps you in a hug, giving Cas and Claire a thumbs up. You’re dying to know how he’s been when you hear two loud voices coming down the hall.

“Oh you must be Marshal Evan’s husband ya?”

“What?” Dean asks, doughnut in hand. He’s wearing the more fitted FBI suit that makes his ass look perfect. His hair has grown a little longer than normal, and his stubble is pushing into beard territory. And it’s all slow motion from there.

His eyes meet yours. Those candy apple green eyes, the eyes that shield everyone from the sadness and the anger; well everyone except you. You are - were- the exception. But a flicker of relief flashes across his eyes, despite you breaking the rules.

“Congrats on the new marriage, must be hard working jobs that take you to opposite ends of the earth most weeks!” One of the agents claps both of you on the shoulders before pushing past to talk to a witness. You and Dean share a look while the other three shuffle at the awkwardness.

“We should go… anywhere else. We’ll leave you two to talk.” Claire grabs Cas and Sam as they “yep” and shake their heads in agreement.

You and Dean stand in silence. You two… married… You’re going to murder Claire.

“I wondered why Sam and Cas pushed for the wedding ring. I thought maybe they didn’t want me going home with anyone.” He forces a chuckle out, fiddling with the wedding band he has on. It’s a band of Celtic knots that matches yours. You copy his movement and give a strained smile. The pressure building behind your eyes threatens to push tears over, but you hold them back. You’re working a case, he knows; so do your damn job. 

You shift your gaze to him. He looks tired, the bags under his eyes holding more than normal. You resist the urge to run your hand along his stubble, settling for burning every detail into your mind.

“You look like shit.” You crack a smile. 

“You look good.” He whispers, squaring his shoulders to face you.

“That’s what 10 layers of concealer will do for ya.” You pat his bicep and walk over to the agents who are supervising the evidence guys. Dean stares at the back of your head, wishing he could tell you all the things he misses. But he can’t, won’t. He can’t let what you two had get in the way of the life you have, the one that shouldn’t include the family business.

He joins you and the others, the five of you work the crime scene like any other hunt, promise be damned. Everyone comes up empty handed, so it’ll be a long night of research or even leaving it until tomorrow. You turn to ask the others what the verdict is when Sam, Cas and Claire freeze in their tracks.

“Hey guys, there’s been another attack a county over. Claire and Cas are going to check it out and I’m going to get started on some research. So we’ll, uh, meet you two back at the motel soon?” Sammy quickly gathers the other two and slams the door behind him.

“Hey!” You yell at the door. Dean huffs in frustration, throwing a look your way as he watches the last of the cops leave as well. The new found silence is almost deafening, your ears searching for any sound to focus on. You hear Sam say goodbye to the officers outside and get a mumble from the others.

“Hey Dean…” You look over at him, the grin on your face getting wider by the second. He lifts his eyebrows, silently asking you to continue.

“Wanna watch Sammy try to get into Claire’s car?” You share a smile and quickly walk to the window just in time to see both Sammy and Cas struggle to get into the blueberry sized car.

“Guess that means we should head out too?” Dean asks, straightening his tie and buttoning his jacket. He wants to grab your hand and walk you to the car, open the door for you and drive into the sunset. Maybe blast your favorite cassette, grab dinner and laugh at something stupid. 

“Ya.“ You can’t look at him. You want to kiss him on the cheek and dash to the car. For him to run after you, grab you by the waist and twirl you around so he can kiss you on the lips. You shake the thoughts from your mind; no use in day dreaming.

You walk out to the impala, Dean a few steps behind. You let your fingers glide over her freshly washed surface, the gleam of her chrome shines bright in the sunset like the diamond on your finger.

“I missed you girl.” You whisper.

Dean's heart almost rips in half, he knows it wasn’t fair to rip you away, but you have so much more to live for, he almost wishes that your paths never crossed just to spare you from the aftermath of everything.

“Want to grab dinner?” Dean whispers to you. You turn your face to him and nod. You both stand for a minute, letting all these feelings swirl inside. Do you talk about the promise? Or just let it go? The pressure behind your eyes is back and you shove everything into the corners of your mind. You both slide into the front seat, silence like a thick wall between the two of you. Baby roars to life and you roll the windows down, letting the wind carry everything away.

Next Chapter ->

[homosexual-declaration-of-love]

before it all went wrong

The writers of 15x19 and 15x20 were so single-mindedly focused on killing Dean that they disregarded and overturned anything that could have stood in the way of getting the conclusion they wanted, and here’s how you can tell:

FIRST the SPN writers depowered God--the BIG BAD--in the episode BEFORE the finale. they just took him out. super easy, barely an inconvenience. why?

Because they had to de-power God in order for Dean to die because we all know Chuck never would have let that happen (maybe to Sam but certainly not to Dean)

BUT they couldn’t just let God be defeated, because they set up all those Horrible Consequences(TM) of the world going out of balance and stuff

Of course Jack was the logical choice to replace Chuck as the new god at the end of 15x19

BUT Jack loves Sam & Dean AND Cas, he would never allow bad things to happen to his fathers, he literally woke Cas up from the Empty because Dean was sad, he brought Sam back from death, he would want the three of them to live their lives out in peace and happiness TOGETHER

Suddenly the writers have written themselves back to square one: with a god that won’t kill Dean

So what do they do?

The SPN writers had to figure out a way to remove Jack from the story in order for Dean to die so they came up with some contrived “I’m gonna be hands off” nonsense and let him poof away and just assumed that one line would be enough to explain his absence at Dean’s demise

Then they spent 25 MINUTES on a Dean’s Perfect Day (TM) experience -- monsters and vamp!mimes and pie -- like they were worried we wouldn’t feel enough when they killed him, like we were in some kind of K-Drama world.

And then they killed Dean.

That was their big master plan. That was the ONLY THING they accomplished in the last episode. And they didn’t even make it good.

He didn’t even die how he wanted, guns blazing, knives swinging, throat ripped out, a Hunter’s Death. He died because someone else made that barn. He had no freedom in life and none in his own death.

Dean’s death was especially pathetic because the writers never understood Dean. He talked a big talk about wanting to die on a hunt, because that was all he thought he DESERVED. That was the fate he ASSUMED was coming. That was CHUCK’S FATE FOR HIM. That was the fate he imagined for himself based on 40 years of Chuck pulling every single string in his life. Dean didn’t know he could want something else, and he was just finally getting around to figuring out how much more he deserved. And they killed him.

And that’s why they killed him.

Because Dean Winchester was on the verge of figuring out he deserved more than Supernatural. That there was more to him than what the gods of his show would allow. That he deserved happiness, and being, and saying, and LIFE.

And the writers couldn’t let that happen.

Because they needed Dean to die.

That was the only way they could win.