#dean finally gets a vacation

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

The Ranger (Part 1)

Summary: The reader is trying to enjoy her vacation in the rainy forest in her cozy cabin when an unexpected heat comes on. But things turn dangerous fast and she needs the help of a local forest ranger to get out of it. But she wasn't expecting his help to include claiming her and being her true mate. Because something isn't right and her Alpha is keeping something from her...

Masterlist

Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Omega!reader

Word Count: 5,300ish

Warnings: language, life threatening medical situation, angst

A/N: Please enjoy this first part!

_______

This was not an ideal situation. You’d finally done it and taken that solo vacation in the mountains. A cozy cabin in a retreat from the world. The trees had turned already and were bare but the damp, cloudy rainy day would have been perfect to curl up by the wood fireplace and get through that stack of books you’d been meaning to.

Except your heat, your heat that’d always been on schedule since you’d started having them, was three fucking weeks early. You didn’t have any medicine besides a few pain killers meant for headaches, not dangerous cramps, and the cabin only had basics meant for allergies or a cold. You needed heat suppressants soon if you didn’t want to go into a full heat. 

Which again, wasn’t an ideal situation since you didn’t have a flippin’ mate.

You could have tried to trek back to civilization through the winding dirt road but it’d taken two hours on the way in. Two hours of intense cramps? No way were you making that drive.

“Shit,” you said, walking slowly to the service room on the lower floor of the cabin where a radio at a table sat. Because of course you wanted to vacation somewhere without people, that meant no cell service either.

A rumble of cramps passed through you, warmth flaring your insides. You gritted your teeth and grabbed the radio, turning the frequency to the ranger station listed on the sheet on the table for emergencies.

“Hello, uh, forest service? I need help,” you said, closing your eyes as pain radiated up your spine. You frowned for a moment, the radio crackling. “Hello? I-”

“This is station 327, Ranger Winchester. What’s the emergency?” asked a strong, serious voice. You bit your bottom lip as you imagined he was an Alpha, your core quivering at the idea of getting a knot. “Mam? Please respond.”

“M-My heat’s early. It’s real bad and I have no medication. I-I’m in the Vrbo cabin off route 37, Mount Dusk I think it was called. I-”

“This line is for true emergencies. Your heat being a few days early and you being an unprepared Omega is not-”

“Listen asshole,” you snarled, gasping when your stomach threatened to curl in on itself. “It’s three fucking weeks early which everyone knows isn’t normal. I need a fucking heat kit, a strong one, or a fucking knot now and since I’m out here alone, all I got is your ass. So get me my shit and-FUCK!”

You dropped the radio as you bent over, falling to your knees. Something was wrong. Heat’s didn’t come on this fast, not even when you scented your true mate.

You could hear noise through the radio but your head was thrumming, your body grateful for the cold wood floor below you. It wasn’t possible to die from a heat, was it? If you let the fever go you supposed but it took days and days for that to happen and you’d only felt crappy for an hour. Yeah, you’d be just fine. This guy would bring you medicine and you’d be fine.

Right?

You blinked open your eyes when you heard glass break. Crap, you’d passed out for who knew how long. The overwhelming scent of Alpha hit you and despite the pain, you shot upright, staring at the man in the wet raincoat as he reached his hand through the broken pane and undid the lock. He froze when he saw you, his own scent shifting subtly. A hint of fear under the surface.

“Jesus,” he mumbled, raking his eyes over your sweat drenched body. He took off his backpack, pulling out a white box and a bottle of water, cautiously setting them on the ground and sliding them over to you.

“I look that bad, huh?” you said, ripping open the box and finding the medicine you needed, knocking it back with a swig of water. 

“You’re in heat and I don’t want to be accused of doing shit I didn’t,” he said. You narrowed your eyes, hand fisting in your own shirt over your stomach. That shouldn’t have been happening still. Heat medication worked instantly. “What’s-”

You fell over again, clutching your abdomen, head spinning, body going haywire at his scent.

“Please,” you whispered, finding his hard eyes. “I’ll give you whatever you want. I-I need you to-”

“I can’t.” A wracked sob slipped past your lips as something in your broke, pain flooding every single cell. You just needed a knot and it would be bearable. He muttered to himself and quickly you were in strong arms, your own wrapping around him shakily. “I’m taking you to the hospital.”

“I’ll pay you,” you whispered, hating how that sounded but he simply carried you out in the pouring rain, the cold air helping your skin not feel so hot.

“I’m on Novi-Alpha. If I knotted you,, you’d fucking die so I’m sorry but I can’t help you like that even if I wanted to.”

“I’m gonna die from this fucking fever anyways!” you shouted as he opened the backdoor of a rugged looking jeep. 

“One’s a chance, one’s a guarantee,” he said, setting you down, your arms still clinging to him. He eyed you, forcibly grabbing your wrists and pulling them away. “You will not die, understand me? Now let me get you to a hospital.”

You reached for him but he moved away too quickly, closing the door. He ducked into the cabin to retrieve his bag before he was behind the wheel.

“Honey Dusk Hospital is aware you’re in a dangerous heat,” he said, turning the jeep around and driving down the dirt road, way faster than you had.

“Don’t kill me in a fucking car accident on the way,” you groaned, squeezing your eyes shut.

“This vehicle is meant for these roads, unlike your car. We’ll be on route 37 in thirty minutes, at the hospital in forty five.” You threw your head back, his musky scent filling the small space. 

“Distract me,” you breathed out. “Fuck you smell so good. If you weren’t on Novi-Alpha, I’d climb you like a fucking tree.”

“Whoa lady. Calm down-”

“Don’t lady me. We’re like the same fucking age.”

“You say fucking a lot, you realize.”

“You have your insides tearing apart and tell me you wouldn’t be cursing-” You shouted, bracing yourself against the door panel, feeling him step on the gas harder. “What the fuck is happening to me?”

“...I have an idea,” he said quietly. You flashed open your eyes, looking at his incredible scruff covered jawline, his gaze focused on the bumpy, wet road ahead. 

“What? Are you a doctor? Are-”

“No. I only know my basic medical training.” He frowned, rounding a tight corner. “It’s probably not a heat and you’re just sick.”

“I know what a heat feels like thank you very much.” You shivered violently, the ranger sighing. “What’s your name?”

“Dean Winchester. Try to rest. We’ll be there soon.”

The ranger’s suggestion to rest had, shockingly, not worked. By the time you were speeding down this small town’s streets, you were shaking so hard you literally couldn’t stop. Dean had reached back more than once as he drove with a handheld thermometer, muttering a few f-bombs to himself.

At least he wasn’t the one with a hundred and five temperature. A hundred and five and a half to be exact. You were pretty sure your heat was about to boil the fuck out of you and kill you within the next hour.

Dean said something but you didn’t hear him over your screaming. The next thing you knew he was ripping open the door and running inside a hospital with you in his arms, nearly tripping into a stretcher where a team was waiting.

“She’s fucking dying,” he said as he set you down, the team of doctors and nurses rushing you into a side room.

“You said this heat came on suddenly?” he asked Dean, someone sticking a thermometer in your ear.

“106. She’s too hot,” called out the nurse, the doctor near Dean rushing over, the team suddenly pushing you out of the room and down the hall. You were shoved through a pair of double doors into a bathroom, a silver high walled tub in the corner. 

“I got her,” said Dean, lifting you up and plunging you into an icy cold bath. You screamed as it burned your fiery skin, his hands on your shoulders forcing you to stay inside. “Look at me. Look at me.”

You couldn’t get the words out, taking in his green emerald eyes for the first time. His scent was still all around you, pine trees and vanilla beans, a cozy campfire and aged whiskey, fresh tobacco and soft linen. Your brain went fuzzy, blood pumping in your ears, thrumming in time with your heart. Was it getting slower? Your eyes were getting heavier, that was for sure. 

But he smelled so pretty, so…homey. Rugged. Yours.

“We’re losing her!” someone shouted, just as one last image of his concerned face crossed your mind.

You felt strangely…blissed out when you woke. Satisfied, like you were after being on the receiving end of a knot but also relaxed and floaty, like when you finished a heat. It wasn’t exactly a problem your heat had passed but you remembered a whole lot of pain and a high fever which wasn’t normal. 

So what the fuck had happened?

You stretched in bed and sat up, a doctor in a white coat stepping into the room with a smile.

“Y/N! Glad to see you awake. It’s been a few hours. How are you feeling?” he asked, gently taking your wrist and checking your pulse. 

“Uh, pretty good actually. I take it my heat’s gone?” He hummed, raising your arm up, feeling under your armpit.

“Yes. There’s not many cases a year but some Omegas do unfortunately have a negative reaction.” The doctor put two fingers to your bonding gland on your neck, your eyes narrowing. Why would he be feeling that? 

“What are you doing?” you asked as he pulled them back, glancing at a monitor. 

“Just checking your bond is healing.” You stared at him, the doctor glancing down with a sigh. “You don’t remember, do you? What happened before you passed out in the tub?”

“I remember being dumped in ice cold water and a whole lot of people shouting but that’s it.” 

“You didn’t pass out immediately. We determined while you were on the way here that your heat was triggered by the fact you came into contact with your true mate. Ordinarily, you would have picked up on this yourselves but your Alpha is on medication that has strong side effects. Namely, he was only vaguely aware of who you were through scent but there was no desire to mate as would be the norm. For you, unfortunately there is no recognition on a level that you’re aware of. You understandably would not know you went into heat early because of your true mate.”

You reached a hand up to your bonding gland, wide eyed when you felt…something. You flew out of bed, the doctor trying to stop you but you were quickly in the small bathroom, staring in the mirror.

“What the fuck is that!” you shouted. On your neck was a fresh, pink, bite mark. Someone had fucking claimed you. You angrily spun around, the doctor holding up his hands. “What kind of hospital is this! I’m suing the fuck out of you and this whole place!”

You caught a whiff of something…delectable, an Alpha’s scent somewhere close by. It calmed you, ever so briefly, the doctor sighing. 

“The man that brought you in-”

“The ranger guy.”

“Yes he…well he…there’s no easy way to say this. He is your true mate. Ordinarily we would have used medication to mimic your true mate’s scent but seeing as he was there…when he was told he would be able to claim…” he said as you stalked out, eye twitching. “We were losing you and receiving a claim bite from your true mate was the fastest way to bring your fever down. In emergency situations, true mates are allowed to make medical choice for you if you’re unable-”

“He wasn’t my mate then,” you growled.

“Physically, no but on a metaphysical level, yes. Frankly, the health of my patient, you, is all I care about. We’d like to observe you a few more hours before discharging.” You crossed your arms, narrowing your eyes.

“So my heat is magically gone and some random dude hanging out in the hall is now my Alpha?” 

“That’s the more blunt way of putting it. We’ll send home medication to suppress your urges to mate physically. Your Alpha will be unable to knot you until he has completed his Novi-Alpha prescription.” 

“And when will that be?” you asked, tilting your head. The doctor frowned. “When?”

“...You don’t know what Novi-Alpha is prescribed for, do you. That is a discussion for you and your Alpha.” You wanted to argue but he lifted his chin. “Please let me finish my examination and determine if your heat had any consequences.”

Three hours later they finally let you leave, a white baggie in hand that held a bottle of pills you were to take once a week for the foreseeable future. There were well over a hundred inside which made you more than queasy.

What the fuck was Novi-Alpha and why did a guy that looked more than healthy need to be on it?

You frowned when you stepped outside under the covered front entrance, the ranger standing from where he sat on a bench. 

“Hey,” he said quietly. “How are you feeling?” 

“I didn’t give you permission to claim me.” His scent shifted, an edge to it you didn’t like. He narrowed his eyes, a frown growing on his otherwise handsome face. “Oh, don’t you start on that we’re true mates shit. You didn’t ask for my consent.”

“Excuse me but you were the one begging for it,” he quipped back. He took a few steps away like he was heading for the sidewalk, suddenly turning on a dime and getting in your face. He breathed heavily, clenching his jaw. “You don’t feel…this and I get that it’s my fault. I barely feel it myself. And I frankly don’t care about your consent. My mate was five minutes away from death.”

“Oh, I did not sign up for some toxic asshole,” you said, shaking your head. You took a step, Dean grabbing your wrist. He looked ready to snarl, lip curling up. 

“True mates are never, ever bad mates. Stop hating me for saving you.”

“I don’t even fucking know you. This whole situation is your damn fault in the first place.” He twitched his eye, yanking on your arm so you stepped forward. “Get off, ass-”

“I am your Alpha and I’m taking you home,” he said, tugging you along after him, your feet cold on the wet ground, socks already soaked through. 

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” you growled. Dean whipped around and in a second, you were tossed over his shoulder. “Dean! Put me down!”

“You’ll wear yourself out if you don’t calm down.” You growled, punching his back twice. You raised your fist again but felt dizzy, your hands instead gripping him tightly. “Did you listen to the doctors at all? You need to take it easy.”

“Just take me to my cabin,” you grumbled. He didn’t speak again, only grunted once when he opened the passenger door of his truck to slide you inside. You were too tired to deal with this crap. You’d go back to the cabin, sleep for a solid twelve hours and figure out this mate crap tomorrow. 

The roads were unfamiliar as Dean drove in silence, winding and twisting as he drove away from town and off a small road. It was a gravel road unlike the one to your cabin but you perked up when you saw a cabin in a small clearing after only a few minutes. 

“Uh, that’s not my cabin,” you said. Dean put the truck in park, turning it off. “I was out on Mount-”

“This is my house…our house,” he mumbled the last part. You shook your head at him, Dean rolling his eyes. “You need rest, not to sit in a car for hours. I’ll get your shit from that rental and bring it here. We’ll figure out the rest of your crap from wherever you’re from later.”

“Excuse me? We’re mates, as much as that appalls me. We make decisions like where to live together. I have a job, a life-”

“We live here. End of discussion,” he growled. His scent was raw, twitchy. There was no room for arguing. You were ready to fight back but you forced yourself to calm down. He was your true mate and as much as you hated to admit it, he had a point. True mates were never bad to one another. He wouldn’t harm you but good god was this guy protective. 

You frowned when he held up a finger to you and got out. He threw up his hood, rain coming down harder. In a flash he was at your door, picking you up bridal style and rushing you over to a covered porch. He set you down to unlock the door, flipping a light switch before he stepped back. You walked past him, surprised to find the cabin quite spacious and modern.

He disappeared behind you, returning with your white paper bag, now wet. His boots were removed and you peeled off your soaked through socks, following him slowly as he went to the open kitchen area on the right. The bag was set down, Dean moving to his fridge and taking a few things out.

It was open concept, kitchen on the right, living room on the left, a dining table in the front by the windows. There was a hallway in the back and one off the kitchen, probably leading to bedrooms and a garage. A large fireplace was nestled in the corner of the living room and you saw Dean cross into your vision, going to it to toss in a few logs. 

Honestly, it was nicer than your rental had been.

Once he had a fire going, he turned back to where you stood on the front rug, water dripping off of you. His lips pressed into a thin line, looking you up and down not like an Alpha would his Omega. No, he was being very clear. 

You were the stray that’d followed him home he hadn’t wanted. 

“I don’t have to be here,” you said when he approached, staring up at his dark eyes. “This isn’t normal. We’re supposed to be all over each other and clearly we’re not. We-”

“There’s a stew going on the stove. It’ll be ready in an hour. Just leave it alone.” He put a hand on the small of your back, walking you down to the back hall, motioning you to the last door on the left. He flipped on a light, cascading you into a cozy bedroom with soft white bedding and a dark green flannel blanket on top. 

He cleared his throat and went to a closet, pulling out a few pieces including a t shirt, hoodie, sweatpants and pair of boxer briefs. 

“You should warm up in the shower. Bathroom is right there. The laundry room is on the other side of the house, near the kitchen and garage. It’s coming down harder so it’ll take me a few hours to get to the rental and back here. You should-”

“Take it easy. Yeah, I got that.” He nodded, pausing at the bedroom door with his back to you. 

“If it’s any consolation, I’m sorry this happened to you. You don’t deserve it.” You quirked your eyebrow up.

“You’re my Alpha. We’re soulmates. I guess this is supposed to happen.” He was still, the air thick. “I…listen I know I was…I wish I’d been aware of what I’d been saying but…”

He smelled tense, his hand in a tight fist by his side. What the fuck was up with this guy?

“Whether we like it or not, we’re mates,” you said gently. “When you get off that medicine, it’ll feel different-”

“I can never get off it and I can never knot you. You’ll never feel a damn thing for me.” Then he was gone, tearing down the hall and out the front door before you could even move. 

An unpleasant shiver ran down your spine that he was right. 

Your feet moved on autopilot to the bathroom, stripping out of the wet clothes and standing in front of the nicely tiled shower. In seconds you were under hot water, cascading down your back, through your hair. Fingers reached up to your neck, rubbing over your bond.

There were no sparks or flurry in your veins. You were supposed to be able to feel Dean, feel your connection, feel his soul.

But there was nothing. All you felt was empty.

You couldn’t feel the other part of your soul and he blamed himself.

“Fuck that,” you said, quickly finishing and getting dressed in the clothes aside from the sweatpants that were too long.

You found his computer in one of the spare bedrooms, stealing it along with a notepad and pen. Out in the kitchen, you settled into a seat at the island and drew a line down the middle of the pad. One side for information about Dean, the other Novi-Alpha.

With a quick stretch, you cracked open the laptop and got to work.

Three Hours Later

It was dark by the time headlights flashed through the front windows. The computer said it was just after six thirty and you knew you were about thirty seconds away from an argument. Ah, what a wonderful way to spend your first night with your Alpha.

Out of view you heard the door leading from the garage to the house crack open, wet boots against the tile in the mudroom. 

“I’m back!” he called from around the corner. “We’ll unpack your stuff tomorrow. How was…”

Your eyes darted over to the hallway he exited from, his socked feet padding his footfalls on the woode floors that covered the rest of the house. He stared at where you had his laptop, a charger plugged into the side of the island, a stack of papers next to you, your notepad, pen, three different highlighters and a cup of coffee.

“Are…are you working?” He asked, face souring. “You should be resting. I thought you were here on vacation anyways.”

“I am and this isn’t work related.” He narrowed his eyes, not saying anything as he went to the sink on the other side of the island to wash up. 

“Did you eat yet?” You shook your head, typing some more. A heavy sigh left him. He went to a cabinet, pulling out two large bowls. “You really should have eaten something. You nearly died this morning. Your school project can wait.”

“I’m not in college,” you said, jotting down a few more notes before you saved what you’d been working on and signed out of your account. You closed the screen, watching water trail down from his wet hair and soaking his shirt collar. “Why are you wet?”

“Because there’s a thunderstorm outside. It rains here most days,” he said dryly, giving you a side glare as he walked the two bowls of stew over to the kitchen table. You cocked your head at him as you got up, Dean quickly retrieving utensils. “What?”

“You parked in the garage just now and my cabin was far enough away that you’d be dry. Where’d you stop on the way back?” He slammed the drawer shut, eye twitching. “Strike a nerve?”

“I asked you to do one thing. One thing. Rest. And y-you’re writing a research paper or some crap? Sit down and eat your damn dinner.” You would have told him off but truth be told, you were starving a bit. You took your bowl and moved it to the seat across from his, Dean angrily setting down a spoon. A few moments later, a large glass of water was in front of you and he had a bottle of beer on his placemat. Dean sat with a loud thud, shoveling a large spoonful of food into his mouth.

“Why are you wet?” you asked again, crossing your arms. 

“Why does it matter? Fucking eat.” You leaned back, Dean dropping his spoon in the bowl. “Really? This is how it’s gonna be? I’ve been nothing but nice-”

“If this is you nice then I’d hate to see you mean.” You raised your chin, picking up the spoon. “I’ve always heard alpha’s protective instincts are unmatched. You can barely feel whatever this bond is and you’re so worked up-”

“I almost watched you die today.” You closed your eyes and sighed. A small noise made you open your eyes, Dean sliding a small white box over to you. You frowned, lips parting when you saw the newest iPhone inside. “I got you a phone on the account your other one was in your pocket when you took your artic dip. I rushed to the store before they closed. That is why I’m wet. I’d never want you to feel like you’re trapped here, especially when you can’t feel our ‘whatever bond.’”

“Thank you,” you said quietly. You ate in silence, the only sounds coming from the rain on the roof, the clanking of spoons and the quiet thrum of a soft rock station in the living room.

He seemed…stressed. Maybe you should wait for the morning to bring up what you’d found.

But you didn’t get the chance when he picked up and glanced at your notepad. Green eyes scanned over the pages before he gathered up everything you’d been working on.

And tossed it straight into the fireplace.

“Hey!” you shouted, rushing over as he stopped you in your tracks. He leered down, eyes dark. “That was-”

“You will delete everything you saved on that computer. Now.”

“You can’t-” He gripped your arm tight, so hard he was shaking it.

“Do it or I will make your life hell.” He released you, spinning you around towards the computer. You didn’t believe he’d hurt you. True mates were incapable of it. But you didn’t want to tempt him anymore than you already had.

Ten minutes later, your backup was gone and after a through examination by Dean, he took the computer and tossed it into the fireplace as well.

“I know you have questions,” he said quietly, back to you as the flames danced around the melting device. “I never should have gone hiking this morning. You caught my scent in the wind and-”

“Why would you go hiking in the pouring rain? It was raining this morning too. I had my coffee under the covered porch but it was coming down like bullets. No one would be out there willingly.” He turned and faced you, eyes roaming over your body, stuck on how his boxer briefs molded to your legs.

“In another life, we could have been happy. I would have given you everything you asked for. But not this one. I will keep you safe but that is all we are. We don’t get our happy ever after until we’re both dead.”

You swallowed, stepping into the living room, stopping a few feet away. “You hurt my arm just now.”

“I know,” he said, closing his eyes. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again as long as you don’t do stupid things.”

You were getting angry again, Dean holding up his hands. “Stupid shit like try to know my new Alpha who just left me all alone? Sorry for trying to look up your damn social media. Asshole.”

Dean dropped his hands and went back to the fireplace, poking the computer with a poker, shaking his head.

“The more in the dark you are-”

“I’m a corporate forensic analyst, Dean,” you said, Dean’s shoulders stiffening. “Those notes on the computer? In that pad? Those articles? You can burn them all but it’s in my head. I don’t need the internet anymore to figure out what’s going on.”

“And what does your analysis tell you?” he grit out.

“Novi-Alpha is a cancer medication specifically for Alphas. But you don’t have it and never have. So why would an otherwise healthy Alpha take it? Well, it apparently has other uses that the public doesn’t know about…if you’re willing to live with the side effects. Side effects like knotting becoming a deadly activity to the person on the receiving end. The inability to feel your mate. Scent changes. And my personal favorite, if taken without the binding agent that’s given for cancer treatment, it changes your DNA coding without changing your DNA. Apparently law enforcement doesn’t want that news to get out there because it’s a bitch to catch people if they find out they can change their DNA on tests.”

You grabbed his arm and made him face you, a loud crack of thunder echoing in the room. Dean breathed calmly, eyes finding yours.

“Why are you taking medicine to change your DNA?”

“Because I did something bad, Y/N.” He got closer, pressing his chest to yours, forcing you to tilt your head. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

Fingers brushed over your cheek, thumb swiping over the curve of it slowly. “Because your true mate is a monster. And once you know the truth, you’ll want to run away…and I don’t think I’m strong enough to let you go.”

The air was thick with his scent, dark yet pleasant. Painful even. You leaned into his touch, Dean’s green eyes widening ever so slightly.

“Novi-Alpha prevents Omegas from feeling their true mate. But I know you feel me.” You closed your eyes, breathing him in. “You have to tell me the truth eventually.”

“No I don’t,” he whispered. 

“You’ll tell me,” you said, opening your eyes, Dean’s hand sliding down to your mark. “Because I’m in danger if you don’t.”

He shook his head, pulling away from you. “Don’t pull that crap, Y/N. You’re safer not knowing.”

“Right. That’s why you burned everything just now.” He looked up, like someone else would magically tell him what to do. “You need to protect me. It’s your job. So you have to tell me the truth, Alpha. You have to.”

He laughed quietly, running a hand through his damp hair. “Using my title to get what you want. Manipulative. Maybe you were meant for me.”

“Dean-”

“The Ranger.” You raised your eyebrows at him, Dean wandering to the dark window.

“Uh, what? This is because you’re a forest ranger?” He laughed again, crossing his arms.

“No. I do that because…it’s a pretty isolated job. Small town work.” He looked to his right, a sad smile on his face. “The Ranger. That was my name when I had a different job.”

“That’s not a name…” you said, Dean shrugging. “What’d you do when you were The Ranger?”

He smirked, meeting your curious gaze. “Have you ever killed anyone?” 

He slowly stalked back to you, tilting his head. He leaned in close, glancing at your lips. “N-No, can’t say I have.”

“Ever kill an animal?”

“I hit a squirrel with my car once. I cried all night for that.” Dean rested his forehead against yours, his scent rolling off of him in powerful waves. “D-Do you hunt animals?”

“No.” He brushed his lips to the shell of your ear, his pulse strangely calm. “Now people, that’s a different story.”

_______

A/N: Read Part 2 here!

[wraithlafitte]

bitchin'

pairing: dean winchester x reader

CONTENT: violence (hunting), SMUT, only one bed~ enemies to lovers (kinda), unprotected p in v (encase before you embrace), hate sex, Dean calls reader "princess" mockingly, manhandling, slapping, spanking, big dick!Dean has all the audacity, dirty talk, degradation, choking, cum eating, brat taming, edging, overstimulation, squirting

word count: 4.7k

To say you were unhappy to be working with Dean Winchester would be putting it lightly. A massive understatement, in fact. But, as luck would have it, you needed backup on a vamp case; and when you called Bobby Singer for help, it turned out that Dean was the only hunter nearby.

Your jaw set uncomfortably as you dialed his number and held the phone to your ear. Asking for help from anyone was hard, but from this man? Practically your mortal enemy? A feeling of shame, or maybe embarrassment, crept into your stomach as you listened to the phone ring.

He's probably just watching it ring, you thought cynically. Who's to say he would pick up at all? Maybe he won't, you hoped.

There was a laundry list of reasons why Dean was the last person you'd want to work with on a case. He was reckless, had no respect for plans, and tended to go in guns blazing without regard for his own life, which meant that you would constantly be saving his ass. And boy, was he a pain in yours.

The cherry on top of the Dean Winchester disaster cake was that he hated your guts. You never really figured out why, but you assumed it was his misogynistic tendency to be completely contrary to any woman he met who didn't fall all over him. God forbid a woman doesn't care about his rugged good looks or roguish bravery!

When he finally picked up, you could practically hear the smirk in his voice, dripping with self-righteousness. "Well, well. What do you want?"

You decided it would be best to cut to the chase and just get it over with. "I'm working a case in Nevada," you said calmly. He would not get you riled up. "Vegas. There's a vamp nest, been snatching homeless people. Tunnel dwellers," you added. "Not that it matters. People are people, vamps are vamps."

"What are you tellin' me for?" Dean asked gruffly. He was gonna make you say it. Of fucking course he was, because he just had to hold it over your head.

"Need backup," you said curtly. "There's at least five of them."

"So what you're sayin' is...." The smugness in his voice was unmistakeable.

"I need your help, you dick."

"Oh do you now."

You huffed, already fed up with him. "Bobby says you're the only hunter he knows nearby. Said you're in Flagstaff."

"Maybe I am," he said vaguely. "Bobby should know not to tell you anything about where I am or recommend me as reinforcements for you."

"He didn't want to, but I made him. Are you coming or not?" you said sharply.

I'll be there by nightfall. Don't wait up," he said teasingly and hung up, leaving you to listen to the tone, steaming.

Why does he have to make everything so difficult?

Rough pounding on the door of your motel room startled you up from your chair at midnight. Dean wasn't even in the room yet, and he was already tormenting you. You went to the door and jerked it open, pinching the bridge of your nose. You could feel the headache coming on.

"Honey, I'm home," Dean said wickedly. He pushed past you into the room, dropping his duffel bags in the middle of the floor. He dropped into the chair you had just vacated and looked up at you with a shit-eating grin.

"Don't make this any harder than it has to be," you warned him, eyes narrowing.

"Hey, I'm just excited to kill some vamps," he said, jabbing a finger towards you.

"Give it up. We both know you would rather be anywhere else."

"True," he conceded. "But let me just bask in the moment real quick."

You roll your eyes and return to your task, packing up your stuff. "Don't get too comfortable. We can't stay here. I was followed earlier."

"Perfect," Dean said sarcastically. "Of course you were."

You turn on him. "It can happen to anyone."

"Sure," he mocked. "So what's the plan, genius?"

Your face hardened. "We take the fight to them."

"Say no more."

The vampire's nest was in an abandoned warehouse (real original) that was a few streets away from one of the tunnels that the homeless had set up camp in. Chain link fence, corrugated metal, broken windows, the whole deal. And of course Dean wouldn't wait to make a game plan, sliding open a side door like nothing bad was waiting to jump him. In a vampire nest. At night.

All you could do was follow him, machete at the ready, and hope that the scuffing of his boots on the concrete floor wouldn't alert any vampires to your presence.

Dean ducked down, holding a fist in the air. You hurried behind him and crouched behind a shelf just in time to miss a patrolling vampire rounding the corner. Without missing a beat, Dean jumped out behind it and chopped it at the neck soundlessly. The body fell to the floor. As much as you hated to admit it, he was good.

You crept in the direction the fang had come from, Dean hot on your heels. He was so close you could hear his leather jacket creaking, smell his cologne, feel him practically breathing down your neck. You shot him a glare over your shoulder, then suddenly you hear voices. You stopped abruptly in your tracks, causing Dean to bump into you. You elbowed him and gave him a look.

Peeking around the doorframe, you saw what appeared to be the vamps' main hangout room. And there were a lot more than five of them, lounging around the walls, circling victims that were hung by their wrists from a beam.

"We can take them," Dean whispered in your ear.

You looked at him in disbelief. "Are you kidding me?" you hissed back. You tried to count the dark shapes in the next room. "There's at least ten in there. There's only two of us."

"We can do it." Without waiting for a reply, Dean busted down the door and started swinging. You had no choice but to follow as the vampires started coming out of their startled stupor and attacking.

Dean cut down two of them easily, their heads rolling on the floor before they knew what hit them. The rest, however, had time to react.

One of the vampires rushed you, just managing to avoid your blade as you swung it. She snarled and leapt towards you. You slashed her across the chest and she howled, clutching her shirt. You took the opportunity and decapitated her.

Someone grabbed you from behind, claw-like nails scratching your neck as it was forced to the side, baring your skin. You stabbed behind you, blade finding purchase, and used the distraction to cut off the fang's head.

Another vamp rushed you from the front. You swung your blade out in defense, but he just grabbed it and ripped it from your hand. Then, as if they could smell your defenselessness, you were suddenly swarmed, vampires clawing at your skin, your clothes, pulling your hair. Several hard punches landed to your gut and your face and the wind was knocked out of you as you fell to the floor, smacking the side of your head into the concrete. You yelped in pain and shock.

A boot pressed into the side of your neck and your vision was suddenly obscured by a heavy-set vampire bearing down on you, grinning. "Not so tough now without your little sword," he sneered, fangs descending. His mouth was smeared with blood and you could smell the tang of iron on his breath. You struggled to breathe as the pressure on your neck increased, your vision getting spotty.

Great, this is how I die....

As if in the distance, you heard Dean shout. The looming face of the vamp was promptly detached from its body, hitting the floor by your head. His body fell on top of yours, his gross bloody neck stump right in your view. The boot left your neck and charged in the direction of Dean's voice.

You struggled to free yourself from beneath the former vamp, ears ringing from your near-suffocation. You could hear the ensuing scuffle, all grunts and wet slices and heavy footfalls, but you had no idea who was winning.

Then, it was silent.

You held your breath instinctively, listening to a lone pair of footsteps approaching you. You found yourself realizing for the first time that you hoped Dean was coming. Better than the alternative.

Sure enough, Dean's hunt-beaten face appeared above you, screwed up with effort as he pushed the large vamp's body off of you. You sat up quickly, surveying the carnage, slapping away the extended helping hand. The shock of your near death experience wore off quickly, but the adrenaline from the fight did not, so your energy turned towards Dean.

"What the fuck, Dean?" you yelled, rising to your feet, wincing from the pain in your sides.

"What do you mean what the fuck?" he returned angrily. "I just saved your goddamn life!"

"After you endangered it!" you shoved him, scowling furiously. "Ten to two are not good odds! We could have fucking died! I almost did!"

"Hazards of the job, sweetheart!"

"There's hazards, and then there's suicide," you replied, fuming.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Don't have to thank me."

"I won't." You shoved him out of your way and made for the door. "Don't you ever fucking do that again."

"Not so fast, princess," Dean called after you. "Hunt's not over."

You froze in your tracks. "What."

"I didn't get all of 'em." You whirled around to face Dean, who was looking uncharacteristically sheepish.

Your voice was dangerously quiet. "What do you mean you didn't get all of them?"

He made an attempt at a self-confident grin. "They saw me ganking their buddies like nobody's business, turned tail and ran. I was more concerned about saving your life than to chase."

You smirked tauntingly. "Oh, you cared about my life?"

Dean just shrugged. "Couldn't just leave you there."

"Whatever." You started walking to the entrance again. "Since you let some get away, I say we get a night's sleep. They'll probably be expecting us to come after them, so they won't hunt again tonight. We can pick up the trail in the morning."

"What do you mean you only have one room left?" Dean asked angrily, slamming his hands down on the motel counter.

The clerk looked at him blankly. "Just what I said."

You were at the cheapest motel you could find in the city that was built on tourism. You and Dean were both short on cash, so it seemed like the best option. It was this or take shelter with the junkies in the tunnels.

"I'm not spending the night in the same room as her!"

You hit his shoulder. "Hey!"

"Like you don't feel the same," Dean said exasperatedly, digging out his wallet. "Next cheapest is still too expensive. I'm basically broke," he whined, rifling through his meager collection of bills.

"What happened to all your credit cards, Mr. Fraud?" you sneered.

Dean glared at you. You glared back. After a few moments, the clerk cleared his throat.

"So, do you want the room or not?"

You dropped your bags just inside the door of the room. "You're fucking kidding me."

Dean pushed past you. "What- oh. Oh my goddd." He ran his hand down his face tiredly.

Staring you in the face was the decidedly lumpy surface of a double bed. One. That fucking clerk could've warned you.

You and Dean slowly looked at each other, then you made a mad dash to claim the bed, shoving each other out of the way, kicking, tackling, until you both lay tangled on the floor, still not in the bed. You had his arm pinned behind his back, but he was pinning you to the floor with his weight.

You jerked on his arm, panting, and he grunted painfully, digging his knee into your side.

"Say.. uncle," you gritted out.

"You first!" Dean rasped.

"No!"

You laid there for a few more seconds, then, almost as if it was painful, Dean asked, "Should we- call it a draw?"

You rolled your eyes and released him. He rolled off of you, getting to his feet. He didn't help you up, of course.

"I'm not sleeping on the floor," he said spitefully.

"Well, neither am I." Your eyes narrowed.

You laid on the bed stiffly, positioned all the way at the edge of the mattress, as far away from Dean as possible. He was doing the same, and the blanket was pulled taut between you as you wordlessly battled over it.

You were steaming. You should have known that everything would go to shit if you called on him. He completely ruined what should have been a one-hour job, endangering your life and letting a few vamps go. He did, technically, save your life though. You were grateful, but you wouldn't tell him that in a million years.

Adrenaline from the hunt and your constant fighting with Dean coursed through your veins, keeping every sense on high alert. Every tug of the sheets from Dean lit a fire under your skin. His weight behind you on the bed filled you with a painful awareness of how touch-starved you truly were. As much as you tried to suppress it, tension began building in your core.

You shifted uncomfortably, squeezing your thighs together. "Ugh," you let out before you could stop yourself.

"Shut up," Dean grumbled through the darkness.

The sound of his voice, rough with tiredness, intensified how extremely horny you felt. You felt your underwear getting damp in spite of your hate for the man.

"God dammit," you said frustratedly, sitting up and swinging your legs over the side of the bed.

"What?" Dean said, throwing the covers back and sitting up too. "Why can't you just let me fucking sleep?"

"Nothing," you snapped, taking a swig from your water bottle. Hydrating would calm you down, surely.

"Yeah, right," he snapped back. "What the fuck is wrong?"

"I'm really fucking horny, Christ!" you blurt, whirling on him.

"If I fuck you, will you stop bitchin'?" Dean demanded, fire and a deadly seriousness in his eyes.

You opened and closed your mouth, stunned.

He just smirked at you. "Is that what it takes to shut you up?"

You stared at him. "Are you serious?"

"You want me so bad, huh." He moved across the bed and settled right behind you, his face in your neck, inches away from your own.

"Shut up," you say, flustered, still trying to keep some semblance of control. But you couldn't deny the arousal pooling in your gut.

"Say the word," Dean said smoothly, breath fanning over your exposed shoulder.

"Fuck," you whispered, cursing what you're about to do. You turned your head and smashed your lips to his.

Dean responded immediately, pulling you backwards and into his lap. He bit at your lips, forcing his tongue inside your mouth. You made an indignant sound, battling him for dominance, teeth clashing in a messy display of pure desire.

Your lips only parted to rip off each other's shirts. You dug your fingernails into Dean's bare shoulders as hard as you could, trying to elicit some kind of reaction from him, which came in the form of a deep groan into your mouth. He broke away, panting, and flung you onto your back on the mattress.

Leering down at you, he placed himself between your legs. "That's how you wanna play, huh princess?"

He yanked your leg up by the knee and slapped the back of your thigh. An involuntary moan escaped your mouth, and Dean chuckled darkly. "Oh, this is gonna be fun."

"Just shut up and fuck me," you whined, hitting his side with your foot.

"Ah-ah," he tutted. "Bad girls don't get what they want."

You sat up and came nose to nose with him. "If you think for one second that I am going to sit here and play submissive for you-"

Dean laced his fingers through the back of your hair and sharply tugged your head back. You moaned in response. A smile slowly grew over his face and he let go abruptly and shoved you back down. Your back barely hit the mattress before he was yanking off your sleep shorts and underwear in one go, tossing them to the far reaches of the room. You gasped as the cool air from the room hit your core, driving home the fact that you were now completely exposed to him.

"Aw, already so wet for me," Dean jeered, running a finger up your slit roughly. You flinched away from the sudden contact, heat spreading to your face.

"Don't flatter yourself," you gasped as he shoved a finger inside you, curling it vigorously, relishing the wet sounds your pussy produced.

Dean palmed himself through his pajama pants, groaning. He closed his eyes briefly, and when he opened them again, he added a second finger inside you, scissoring you open. At least he has the decency to prepare me, you thought.

He yanked his fingers out of you, giving your pussy a quick slap, and you whined at the sudden empty feeling.

"Don't whine," Dean said roughly, getting off the bed and kicking off his pants and boxers. You looked down, unable to help yourself.

You saw where he got all his confidence from. He was big. You practically quivered with anticipation. You loved a good stretch, and you liked it rough, and this was about to be both.

"Like what you see?" Dean mocked, shaking his cock.

"Looks like maybe your confidence isn't completely unwarranted," you admitted dryly. You could feel your combative spirit giving way to lust, but you weren't giving up that easily.

He winked, grabbed your ankles and jerked you to the edge of the bed, your thighs around his waist, your hair fanned out on the blanket behind your head. Dean took hold of your calves and pressed your knees up by your face, leaning over you and pinning you down with his weight again. Only this time, it was way hotter.

"Gonna be good for me?" he asked, voice dripping with mock sweetness.

"In your fucking dreams," you spat.

In one fluid motion, he backed off of you, grabbed you by the waist, and spun you onto your stomach. You squeaked as a heavy hand landed on your ass, much harder than he hit before.

You used your feet, barely touching the floor, to push yourself back towards him, hoping he would get the point and just fuck you already without you having to ask him again.

"So fucking needy," he murmured in your ear. "Use your words, princess."

"Fuck you," you moaned, feeling his cock jerk against your leg.

"Mmm, that's not right," Dean warned, fingers digging into your hips.

You grit your teeth. "Fuck me."

Dean splayed his fingers over your ass cheeks, spreading you open for him, and thrust into you roughly, filling you in one go.

You gasped, feeling his cock throb inside you as your pussy complained against the intrusion and desperately tried to adjust to his size. He groaned as you clenched around him, pulling out slowly and slamming back in.

"Dean," you gasped out. "Don't be such a fucking tease."

"I'll do whatever the fuck I want, princess," Dean growled, his thrusts becoming faster. "You asked for this."

"Technically- you offered," you corrected, eyes screwing shut at the pleasure building inside you with each thrust.

"God, shut- up," Dean griped, punctuating his words with a deep thrust that hit just right, eliciting an embarrassingly loud moan from you.

He just grunted, hips colliding against you, now just chasing his own high. You pressed your face into the bed, clutching the blanket with both fists, fortifying yourself against Dean's relentless pace. His fingers pressed deeply into your hips, carving out a place for him, letting you know you wouldn't be coming away from this encounter unbruised.

"God, you're so fucking tight," Dean rasped, slapping your ass. You moaned in response, unable to think of a witty retort. "Bet it's been a long time since you were fucked, huh?"

When you didn't reply, he slapped your ass again, on the other side, sending fireworks through your core.

"Bet that's why you're so desperate for me," he groaned. "Haven't gotten laid in a while. Bet that's why you're such a bitch, too," he added snarkily.

"Oh, fuck off," you mumbled into the mattress.

Dean pulled out, much to your chagrin, turning you onto your back again. "If you want," he said, eyes glimmering with mischief.

You pouted and whined, hooking your feet around his waist and trying to pull him back. You were rewarded with a sharp slap to your pussy. You cried out from the stimulation.

"Don't whine," he growled, pushing into you again on the last word.

"Sorry," you whispered in spite of yourself, gripping onto his arms as he cages you in with his body.

"What was that?" Dean said, grinning wickedly and thrusting into you sharply.

"Fuck-" you moaned instead, refusing to cooperate.

He wraps his hand around your throat loosely, putting slight pressure just under your jaw. Your eyes widened as he slowly increased the pressure, jeering down at you, still slamming into you at an incredible pace. Your body started to become overwhelmed with all the sensory input and your core tightened.

You knew Dean felt it, because he grimaced. "Gonna come, you little slut?" he taunted, reaching down with his free hand to rub harshly at your clit. A low whine released from the back of your throat.

His grip tightened around your neck to see your reaction. You gasped, straining to get a full breath in, your pussy clenching hard around his cock.

"Such a fucking slut that you're gonna come from being choked out," Dean said through gritted teeth, his thrusts becoming sloppy.

"Fuck- Dean," you choked out, both hands wrapped around his wrist. He eased up on the pressure some (he didn't want to kill you) and your hands moved desperately up his arm, gripping him tightly.

Dean was getting close, you could tell, but the question remained: would he come before you? And if he did, would he still take care of you? Somehow you doubted it. The self-absorbed jackass was probably going to cum inside you and fall asleep, like almost every other man you'd slept with.

Suddenly Dean lurched forward, shoving his face into the space between your neck and shoulder, breathing heavily in your ear. You clenched in surprise (and also because a man getting desperate was one of the hottest things on the planet).

Dean groaned deeply in response and bit down on your shoulder, hard. You cried out, half from pain and half from the surprising pleasure it sent roaring through you, causing your cunt to squeeze down on him tightly. He practically whimpered, detaching from your skin and pulling out, pumping himself a few times before spilling onto your stomach with a moan.

He looked down at the mess he'd made of you, dragging his fingers through his cum. Then he brought those fingers up to your mouth and pressed them against your lips. "Open."

You scowled at him, once again determined to be contrary.

Dean glared back. "Open, or you don't get to come," he said harshly, forcing his fingers between your lips and teeth.

So he was planning to take care of you. Your neediness returned in full force, and you opened your mouth to allow him to shove his fingers deep into your mouth. You gagged as his fingertips hit the back of your throat, the taste of his cum filling your mouth. He pressed down on your tongue and you dutifully sucked on his fingers as he smirked down at the sight.

"Good little slut," Dean said nastily, obviously feeling proud of himself. He started to pull his fingers out and you closed your teeth, scraping his skin as he did. He slapped your cheek lazily once his hand was free. "Swallow it."

You glared, but did as you were told, sticking out your tongue to prove it.

Dean grinned. "Ready for your reward, princess?"

You moaned needily, throwing your head back and bucking your hips up towards him.

"Such a fucking whore," he chastised, bringing his hand to your clit and stroking around it lazily. A pang of arousal shot through you as you quickly approached the edge again. All thoughts of defiance went out the window as you grinded against his hand.

"Please," you whimpered, squirming under his touch.

"Since you asked so nicely," Dean mocked. He stuffed your pussy with three fingers at once, thrusting and curling them inside you. "Fuckin' dripping, princess."

He brought his other hand to your clit, thumbing it in figure eights in time with his fingers. You gasped as your core tightened. His fingers were bringing you so close to the brink and just keeping you there, never increasing the pressure just enough to push you over.

"Fuuuck," you moaned, panting. "Please, Dean! I need- I need-"

"You need what?" he teased. He twisted his fingers up to your g-spot, simultaneously ceasing his movements on your clit to press down on it hard.

"Oh, God!" you cried out, almost hyperventilating. The feeling of your orgasm building up was almost too much to bear. A dry sob wracked your body.

Dean nipped at your chest, gazing up at your contorted face with eyes so innocent looking you could've sworn, for a moment, that this was not a man you hated with your entire being, who was not currently doing the most sinful things to you with his hands.

You whimpered pathetically. "Please," you said in a small voice. "I need to come so bad." Your face flushed with shame as you finally admit what he's done to you, both with your words and body.

"All you had to do was ask," Dean said, sickly sweet. His hands sparked into motion again, redoubling their efforts. You let out a strangled scream as you were brought right back to the precipice, only this time, surely, he's going to let you?

It was like a pot boiling over, overwhelming heat spreading from your core out through your stomach, making your legs shake and your abs tighten. You made another strangled, desperate noise as you grinded down on his hand.

"That's it, princess, fuck yourself on my fingers," Dean goaded.

You struggled to catch your breath, eyes wide. Your face was hot and wet, and you realized numbly that tears were streaming down your face, running into your hair. He started to take his hands away, but your hands chased them, seizing them and bringing them back to your core.

Dean seemed surprised, but more than willing to fuck you past the point of no return. "Fuck, you just can't get enough, huh," he said, sounding mildly impressed. Your body shook as he all but stilled his fingers inside you, just rubbing your clit slowly until it became too much to bear and you pushed him off.

You laid there panting quietly, your body shivering from the aftershocks of one of the most intense orgasms you'd had in a while. For once, it seemed like Dean didn't know what to say.

You closed your eyes for a moment, then suddenly felt his hand on your clit again, rubbing vigorously. Your eyes flew open and you looked down to see Dean's face set in determination. You clutched at his wrist, trying weakly to get him away, knees trying to close around him, but it didn't take long for you to cum again with a shriek, heels digging into the mattress to push yourself away. Your cunt pulsed around nothing, and you felt a gush of arousal leave you. Dean looked delighted.

"I fucking knew it," he said triumphantly, holding up his hand to survey the mess.

"What?" you asked feebly as another shiver ran through your body.

"Knew you'd be so touch-starved I could get you to squirt," Dean explained smugly. He licked some of your arousal off his hand.

You threw your head back onto the bed exasperatedly. "God, I hate you."

"Could've fooled me," he returned, displaying his hand to you and smirking.

dividers once again by @cafekitsune and @saradika-graphics

[zepskies]

Smoke Eater - Epilogue

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader 

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real. 

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.

🔥 Series Masterlist

AN: We made it, friends. 🥹

Word Count: 2,800 Tags/Warnings: Fluff and feels, that is all.

Epilogue: “Easy as Pie”

The week after the incident at Stull Storage, John, Sam, Dean, and Eileen sat down to a family dinner that you cooked in the brothers’ apartment. Aside from Eileen, all of you had injuries in one form or another (but even Sam’s shiner was healing up nicely). 

For dessert, you were a bit nervous as you brought out a freshly baked apple pie. Dean caught you mentally bracing yourself before you set it down on the table. He shot you a reassuring smile.

“Looks great,” he said.

Your returning smile was tentative as you divvied out the first piece. Dean was just a bit disappointed when you handed it to John. His eyes followed the plate.

You smiled more genuinely, and made sure the next generous piece you cut was for your boyfriend.

After everyone was served, you sat down with your own plate and encouraged them all to dig in. Forks hit the crumbly top and cinnamon apple filling, and there were collective hums of pleasure throughout the room.

You brightened and glanced over at the rest of the table. John looked contemplative. His fork rested on the plate for a moment.

He gave a rare smile. “That’s some damn good pie.” 

Sam nodded. “For sure.”

Dean looked over at you after he’d already demolished half of his serving. A smile spread across his face.

“Best slice of pie since I can remember,” he said, giving you a wink.

Both of you knew the weight of that review. It humbled you, making you blush.

You smiled and leaned over to press a kiss to his cheek, rough with stubble.

“I guess this recipe’s a keeper then,” you said.

He hummed in agreement. When he went in for a real kiss, it was sweet indeed.

From then on, you all spent the evening talking, eating, laughing, with you and Sam drinking wine and everyone else their beer. You updated them on Andréa and Benny, who were planning their trip to Greece in a few months.

"We should take a vacation," Dean pointed out, gesturing around the table. "All of us."

Sam raised his brows at his brother. "Oh yeah? Where would you wanna go?"

Dean thought about it for a moment. He glanced at you, and found you smiling.

"The beach," he said. "Somewhere warm and chill, with those fancy little umbrellas in your drink."

"Hmm...I like that," you said, as your smile grew. Tropical, relaxing, a warm sun on your face, and your boyfriend in some board shorts. You could definitely go for some of that.

"Sounds nice," Eileen agreed.

"I'll look into some destinations," Sam nodded. Dean nudged his brother's shoulder.

"One word, dude. Maui."

Sam snorted. "We can't afford Maui."

"Hey, you never know, man! Time to check out some Groupons."

"You can't get a Groupon to go to Hawaii," Sam said. His face was scrunched in what Dean liked to call, his "Know It All" face.

"Are you kidding me?" Dean shot back. "There's a friggin' Groupon for everything nowadays!"

Of course, that devolved into a familiar sibling argument that was only disrupted when John broke into the conversation. He admitted something shocking—that he was taking some time off work, for the first time since he took his sons camping when they were kids. Sam and Dean teased the workaholic for finally "slowing down" in his old age, but it was all in good fun.

You and Eileen shared a knowing look. It all felt as close to family as you’d had in a long time.

And for Dean, it felt like he could breathe again. He’d gotten a text shortly after dessert—from Cas.

Jo made it into the Police Academy. She starts training in a few weeks.

Dean’s lips quirked with a smile.

How do you know?

I’ll be instructing a couple of her classes. Firearm Safety and Weapons Training.

Dean nearly laughed.

Good luck, buddy. Try not to get your ass shot.

To which Cas replied:

My ass will be nowhere within range, I assure you.

Dean did chuckle at that. When you turned to him and asked what was so funny, he just shook his head and grabbed onto your hand on the table.

“Nothin’. I’m good,” he said. He pressed your knuckles to his lips. “I’m real good.”

You smiled at that.

Later that night, Dean walked his father to the door while you and Sam were locked in a trivia game, and Eileen tried to play mediator between two very competitive nerds.  

“Dad,” Dean said.

John stopped with a hand on the door, turning back to his eldest.

Dean paused to gather his thoughts, but he eventually grasped his father’s arm and met his gaze.

“Just wanted to say thank you, for what you did for her,” he said, discreetly nodding at you. He kept his voice quiet. “You protected her when I couldn’t.”

John paused, seeming surprised. His brows furrowed as he shook his head.

“You don’t need to thank me for that, son,” he said.

“Yeah, I do,” Dean insisted. He’d heard every bit of that conversation between John and Daniel in that warehouse. His father had been willing to lay down and die for you, not a moment’s hesitation.

Cas was right, Dean had realized. His father did have a line.

John let out a breath. “What matters is we made it here.”

Dean nodded, though he dimmed.

“Yeah, came with one hell of a price tag.”

It still weighed heavily on him, what he’d had to do to end Daniel Savage. In the end, John had lied on his statement of the events. He’d taken responsibility for grabbing Daniel’s gun and shooting him between the eyes.

“It’s the only thing I can do to keep you out of this,” John had told his son. “Should’ve been my hand anyway.”

Dean appreciated what his dad had done to protect him from the law, and his career, but it still made him feel dirty. A strike to his integrity as a first responder, and as a man. That was something he’d just have to deal with, along with everything else.

John distracted him, however, by gripping his shoulder this time.

“You saved my life, Dean,” he said. And with a hint of a smile, “It’s what you’re good at.”

Dean met his dad’s gaze. He wasn’t quite able to smile back, but there was new warmth in his chest.

“Oh,” said John, raising a finger. “Before I forget…”

He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a silver engagement ring with a small stone. To Dean, it looked familiar…

When it finally struck him what this was, he looked up at John in surprise. Dean glanced back to make sure you weren’t looking before he tentatively took the ring.

“Is this…Mom’s?” he asked.

John nodded. “The stone’s nothing special. You might wanna get it reset. Sam already figured out his uh…situation on his own. Maybe you want to find your own too.”

Dean knew what he meant. Sam had bought a ring last year, but he'd proposed to Eileen just a few days ago. They were already planning to get married a year from now, along with buying their first house together.

Dean examined the ring he held with a softer smile.

“Nah, it’s perfect,” he said.

He didn’t know yet if you two were ready for that step. A lot had happened in such a short amount of time…but he knew he wasn’t going anywhere.

He had time to do things right with you.

A few months later, Dean’s medical leave ended. He was physician-approved for duty, psych evaluation and all. He showed up for his shift bright and early.

He entered the doors of Firehouse 25 to a host of his friends and makeshift family cheering, complete with cheesy streamers and an even cheesier cake that Meg held. On the top was scrawled: Good Job Cracking Your Head.

“A smoke eater returns to the house!” Benny remarked with a grin. “Good to see ya, brother.”

He clapped Dean heavily enough on the back that it earned a grunt and a laugh out of him.

“You too, man,” Dean replied.

Meg set down the cake on the table and was the next one to playfully punch him in the shoulder.

“You have a nice little vacation?” she teased.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Yeah, complete with bottomless margaritas and little umbrellas.”

She smirked, but she was still earnest when she touched his arm.

“Welcome back.”

Dean chuckled. “Ooh, now I know you missed me.”

It was her turn to roll her eyes as she waved a dismissive hand at him. Chuck and Jack gave more sincere well wishes, with the latter actually hugging Dean. He’d tolerated it with a smile.

Gordon clapped him on the shoulder once Jack was finally done, and Dean sent the Candidate off with a bright smile on his face.

Gordon smiled. “Welcome back, Lieutenant.”

Dean nodded and shook the other man’s hand. “Thanks for holdin’ down the fort, man.”

“No problem,” Gordon said. “Any time you wanna go on sabbatical, you just let me know. Acting Lieutenant’s almost better than the real deal. It’s not as much paperwork.”

Dean chuckled, but before he could sling back a retort, the alarm went off. There was a working house fire downtown, according to the dispatcher in the overhead speaker.

Bobby appeared in the hall and clapped his hands once.

“All right, gear up. We’re startin’ off the day right,” he said. He gave Dean a look that was somehow both pleased to see him and stern at the same time. Bobby addressed him with a point of his finger.

“See me in my office before the end of shift,” he said. “We’ve got somethin’ to talk about.”

A few days later, Dean had the rare pleasure of welcoming you home from work on his day off. You trudged into the apartment with several bags and rolling a cooler behind you. He got up from the couch and grabbed some of the bags for you on your way to the kitchen.

“How did it go?” he asked, reaching out a hand to rub some flour off your cheek. You smiled brightly.

“Well, there was a little snafu with the mini quiche, but they loved the menu I proposed. They want me to cater the whole wedding!” you said.

“Whoa, that’s a lotta food,” Dean remarked. Once you’d dumped the rest of your stuff on the kitchen table, he slid an arm around your waist and brought you flush against him, earning a squeal from you.

You clung to his shoulders. “You still on for being my official taste tester?”

He stared at you with mock offense.

“Uh, obviously. Mini quiche are my weakness,” he teased. “Just another form of pie, far as I’m concerned.”

You giggled into his lips as he claimed you for a kiss. It was both sweet, and a bit naughty as his hands moved to squeeze your ass. His words were no less heartfelt.

“I’m proud of you, sweetheart,” Dean said. “I really am.”

 You smiled and stroked his cheek in answer.

The Monday morning after that family dinner a few months ago, you’d quit your job at Savage & Co. After a month of wracking your brain and your savings, you decided to start your own catering business.

It was your way of starting small, to try and get people in this town to know you for your food and baked goods. And maybe, if you were successful enough, you’d be able to open up your own bakery in a couple of years.

For once, you were going after what you truly wanted…but now, your career was only part of it.

You hadn’t forgotten your conversation with Dean about what he wanted for his future: of getting married someday, and having a family. Something he could build for himself. 

Not only did you want that for him, but you’d begun to crave that for yourself as well: a family of your own.

Realistically, you knew that part was years away for you and Dean. However, you had that in the back of your mind. Having your own business had always been your dream, but sometimes your dream could adjust. 

Or, it could become something new.

You’d also sold your grandparents’ house. You had contemplated going back, but you didn’t want to be reminded of how the police and the Arson Department had torn it apart after Daniel Savage threatened your life. You didn’t want to be reminded of where both of your grandparents died.

You loved that house, but you also knew it was time to let it go…

Because you finally understood what your grandfather had tried to tell you months ago.

A house did not make a home. And now, you’d managed to make a new one.

For his part, Dean had been happy to have you stay in his apartment. Sam was getting ready to move out in a few months anyway, as he and Eileen were deep into house hunting and planning their wedding.

“So…I’ve gotta tell you something,” said Dean, after he parted from your lips for a moment, and allowed you to breathe. His tone made you tilt your head in suspicion.

“It’s nothing bad,” he said, though he looked a bit nervous.

Your brows furrowed. You led him to the couch, where he held your hands in his. It took him a moment to get started. He seemed stuck on what he wanted to say, or maybe just how he wanted to say it.

“Whatever it is, I’m sure I can handle it,” you teased.

Dean gave you a smile. His shoulders relaxed a little.

“They want to promote me to Captain,” he said.

Your mouth fell open and your eyes went wide.

“They? Who’s they?” you asked.

Dean blew out a breath and scratched at the small scar on the side of his head.

“Apparently it came from the Battalion Chief.”

He explained that the Fire Department had gotten the full debrief from both Sam and John about Dean’s involvement in ending the serial arsons and murders committed by Nick and Daniel Savage. Without you and Dean, they wouldn’t have figured out Azazel’s identity, let alone stopped his criminal enterprise.

You smiled wide with excitement as you held Dean’s face in your hands.

“That’s amazing!” you said. You pulled him in for a hug. Though he held you back, you soon realized that you were happier than he seemed to be. You pulled back and carded your fingers through his hair, earning his gaze.

“What’s wrong, baby? This is great news!”

Dean’s lips pursed. “I don’t know. I broke ranks and defied a direct order at the Savage & Co. fire. And at the warehouse, I was even more reckless. I don’t want to be promoted for disobeying orders.”

You frowned at that, even as you continued to stroke through his hair.

“What did Bobby tell you?” you asked.

Once again, Dean sighed. He’d been called into Bobby’s office a few days ago, after his first shift back at 25.

He’d surprised the hell out of Dean.

“Did you break ranks that day, and put not just yourself, but Benny and the rest of your men in danger?” Bobby said. “You bet your ass.”

Dean averted his gaze. He stood with his hands drawn behind his back, willing to take whatever punishment the Chief saw fit.

“But,” Bobby continued. His fingers tapped on his desk, where he sat on the edge across from Dean. “It wasn’t fair of me to stop you from lookin’ for your girlfriend.”

Dean’s attention sharpened at that, and he frowned in confusion. Bobby didn’t apologize. Ever.

“Sir?” Dean asked uncertainly.

Bobby softened the slightest bit. He heaved a sigh.

The man was a widower, but he still wore his wedding ring. He toyed with it now on his finger.

“We could’ve radioed in with the other teams already at work. I could’ve paired half of your team with the top floor units. But in the heat of the moment, I made a judgment call,” Bobby said, leveling Dean with a look. “As a leader, you’ll continue makin’ mistakes. You’ll make the wrong call. It’s how you learn to keep leading that matters. And there ain’t a person in this house that wouldn’t have gone up to pull your fool head outta that fire.”

Dean stayed quiet in his discomfort. He still wasn’t entirely sure why Bobby was telling him all of this.

“That being said, this is coming from the top,” Bobby said. His gruffness was back. He took a folder off his desk and handed it to Dean. “Here’s the next step, if you choose to accept it.”

You were crying by the end of his story. Dean cupped your cheek and caught your tears with his thumb. You grabbed that hand and gently squeezed.

“He believes in you, Dean,” you said. “So do I. And it’s my turn to be so damn proud of you.”

Dean graced you with a smile for that one. Yours brightened. You moved off the couch and slid into his lap, twining your arms around his neck. Dean welcomed you with an arm around your waist and a hand sliding up your jean-clad thigh.

“Guess I’m gonna have to get used to calling you Captain,” you said with a smirk.

Captain Winchester, Dean considered, rolling the weight of it around in his mind.

He chuckled. “Okay, maybe I'm liking the sound of that.”

“Mhmm, that’s what I thought,” you said, shortly before you pressed your lips to his. He squeezed your hip while your deft fingers once again slipped into his hair. With each new kiss, Dean felt more of his uncertainty melt away.

A new thought occurred to him then. It made him start to grin against your lips, and you parted from him.

“What?” you asked in amusement.

Dean slipped a hand into his pocket, where he felt the outline of his mother’s newly resized ring.

“Hey,” he said. Your brows drew together in suspicion at the gleam in his eye. 

“Hey, yourself,” you quipped. 

Dean breathed in deep, steeling himself. He looked into your eyes, and he smiled. 

“I’ve got a question for you.”

AN: ...And I think we all know what her answer was. ❤️‍🔥

I can't believe it! I started posting this story on September 15, the beginning of Hispanic Heritage Month. Almost four months later, we finally made it to the end of Smoke Eater. 🥹

Thank you to all of you who've been following along at any point of the journey. Your comments and feedback have truly touched me, and have helped keep me going! 💕

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[fics-and-quotes-andthelike]

We Still Have Time

Title: We Have Time (Part 2) - We Still Have Time

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader

Word Count: ~3,676

In which Dean has found the courage to be with the reader, but one mistake means risking everything.

Part 1

A/N: Part 2 of We Have Time! Thank you @procrastination20 for the idea, I really hope you guys enjoy it!

You’d always heard that long distance relationships were hard. 

It’s not that you didn’t believe your friends when they’d told you, it was more that it never really occurred to you just how hard it would be. That’s probably why you had agreed to it in the first place. 

Almost a year ago, after you and Dean had finished fixing up Baby, he and Sam had stayed in town for two more weeks, allowing you and Dean to get to know each other even better and decide that the two of you definitely wanted to try being in a relationship. You had a feeling that Sam had a lot to do with that decision from Dean’s end, but you weren’t complaining.

On the Winchester’s last day in town, Dean had finally fulfilled his promise and taken you on a ride. It had lasted through the night, and at one point you’d had Eye of the Tiger playing from the speaker, both of you half singing along as you tried to contain your laughter.

At the end of the day, Dean had left you back at your apartment with a gentle kiss on the lips, a tight hug, and a promise to come back.

After the brothers had left, Dean made a point to call you almost every day and tell you about the places that he and Sam were visiting. You found it odd that they made a point to never visit the same place twice, even if the town sounded amazing, but always reminded yourself that wanderers rarely tended to stay in one place.

Even better than phone calls were the rare times when Sam and Dean would swing by for a visit. Those were your favorite times, since Dean would always take you out on a date of sorts and stay for a couple of days before hitting the road again. Those visits would usually end just as quickly as they began, with Dean getting a call from another traveler, or Sam stopping by to let Dean know that it was time to go.

But if you were being honest, you wanted a bit more than that. You wanted to be able to wake up everyday knowing that Dean was nearby. You wanted to be together enough that you felt comfortable holding hands in public. You wanted to skip that two minute awkwardness that always took place when Dean apologized for not coming back sooner. You wanted him to stop avoiding questions about his personal life. You wanted Dean to be honest with you about why he kept a knife in his jacket and a hand on his phone whenever he was with you. 

You never complained though. You had agreed to a long distance relationship in the first place, and you didn’t want to give up Dean completely just because you couldn’t handle a few measly months away from each other.

Plus, you couldn’t blame Dean for the bits of secrecy, right? The two of you barely had any time together as it was, and he probably just didn’t want to spend the only time that you two had together focused on blurting out every single detail about himself when you could be spending time eating burgers and watching Untouchables together.

But still, every time you went out with your friends and their significant others, you couldn’t help but feel a little pang in your chest when you thought about the fact that you would probably never experience the same ease and comfort that came with spending time with someone who you knew would be around every day.

But you always shook off those negative thoughts. You knew that being with Dean was worth that feeling. What the two of you had was enough.

Wasn’t it?

~~~

Sam looked up in surprise, trying to catch Dean’s eye. “We were just there two months ago, we can’t go back now.”

Dean shrugged, avoiding Sam’s gaze as he cleaned out the barrel of his gun. “I’m not saying we’re going there for a vacation, I’m just saying it wouldn’t hurt to stop by for a few days.”

Sam scoffed and set his gun down on the table standing between the two brothers in their motel room. “What happened to being discreet? To never being in the same town twice?”

Dean looked up with a smile. “Well, we’ve broken every other rule in the books. What’s one more?”

“Dean, I know you like this girl, but we just can’t keep doing this.” “Hey, you’re the one who pushed me towards her in the first place.” “I know, I know. It’s just-” Same took a deep breath. The last thing he wanted to do was somehow get it into Dean’s head that he had to break up with you. He had to choose his words carefully. “I’m just saying that we need to be careful. We always have a flock of demons and angels tracking our every move, and the last thing we want is for her to get hurt, right?”

Dean froze.

Sam cursed under his breath. “I’m not saying we need to stop visiting her altogether, alright? I’m just saying-”

Dean shook his head. “No, you’re right. We’ve been getting careless. I’ll call y/n, let her know that I won’t be around for a while.” He walked out of the room without waiting for a response.

Sam sighed and ran a hand through his hair. There had to be a way for Dean to keep visiting you while still keeping you safe, right? You shouldn’t have to break off your relationship just because of angry angels and nosy demons.

He grabbed his gun and continued to brainstorm as he worked.

If they could ward your house…but that would only attract attention. They could leave weapons with you, but that would mean giving you an explanation. An explanation that they would probably have to give you sooner or later anyway.

Sam’s eyes widened in realization. The only way that your relationship with Dean could ever work is if you knew. But Dean would never do that, not since there was a chance that things would get more dangerous for you.

Sam looked towards the door that Dean had walked out of, unable to make out words but hearing soft murmuring from Dean that sounded like a stream of apologies.

Sam sighed, dejected. What was worse? Never really being together because you knew that Dean was harboring secrets, or letting you in on the job so that the brothers could protect you while you and Dean were finally able to fully connect?

Sam took a deep breath and buried his face in his hands. Dean was going to have to make a decision soon, and Sam had a feeling that either way, none of you were going to enjoy it.

~~~

You were a good worker. You knew you were, your boss knew you were, and everyone else in town knew that you were.

In fact, every time someone from town had car trouble and had to bring their car to the garage, they asked for you specifically.

You might have been bad at long distance, but you were damn good with cars, and it was something that you would take pride in until the day that you retired.

You really were a good worker. But you were also a good multitasker. 

You’d found that out when you were young, when you had learned to do your homework while keeping an eye on the auto races that your parents would watch in the living room.

You had managed to keep the skill throughout your life, and were basically doing the same thing today, with half of your brain focused on getting cars repaired, and the other half of your brain screaming out in pain as you watched Formula Drift.

“He must be blind,” you muttered to yourself as you listened to the judges on television. You were working on autopilot, your hands working with the engine of a client’s car. “Blind or stupid.”

“I agree.”

You jerked upright, startled by the voice that had appeared from behind you. You whipped around, coming face to face with someone that you hadn’t seen in nearly a year.

“Dean!”

The older Winchester grinned, holding his arms out as you ran to him. He engulfed you in a hug, resting his chin on top of your head as you wound your arms around him.

You held on to him tightly, worried that he would fade away once again if you let go of him now. “I thought you were still on the road.”

You could feel Dean’s chest vibrate softly as he spoke. “I wanted to surprise my girl. Is that okay?”

You laughed lightly, pulling back to look up into his eyes. “Of course that’s okay, why wouldn’t it be?”

Dean’s eyes drifted over to the television. “You seem busy.”

You shook your head. “Not busy at all. Well, a little busy. Slightly busy with this car, but I should be done soon. Do you want to wait for me here? We can go out after, if you don’t already have plans with Sam.”

Dean smiled softly, keeping his hands gently planted on your waist. “Sammy’ll be fine on his own for a few hours. Today is all about you, sweetheart.”

You smiled and leaned forward, resting your head against his chest again. “I like the sound of that.”

~~~

You leaned against the bathroom door in bliss. You and Dean had gone out for dinner, and he’d taken you out for a ride afterwards.

You had offered your apartment up as a place for the two of you to watch a movie, but since your roommate was most likely there, Dean had insisted that you use his motel room since Sam would probably be out of the motel for a few more hours, giving you plenty of alone time.

When you’d gotten there, the two of you had gone straight to the bed to make yourselves comfortable while he put on Die Hard, per your request.

The two of you had barely even watched the movie, opting to spend time talking and catching up on what the two of you hadn’t said during your calls.

You learned a bit about his friend Castiel, which you thought was an interesting name, and he learned more about your roommate and a few new friends that you’d made.

By the time the credits were rolling, you’d somehow ended up sitting up against Dean’s side, his fingers combing through your hair as his other hand held one of yours.

He placed a quick kiss to the top of your head. “Should I take you back to your place? You got work tomorrow, wouldn’t want your boss firing you.”

You laughed lightly. “You’re probably right. Not about firing me, she’d never be able to replace me, but I should really get going. I’m going to run to the restroom real quick, I’ll be right back.”

Dean hummed in acknowledgment and released you, standing up to stretch as you made your way to the bathroom.

You closed the door behind you and smiled to yourself, leaning back against the door. You wished that you could always have this. That you could come home from work and spend time with your boyfriend, or at least know that he would be nearby. 

Your smile faded. You knew that you were only going to hurt yourself by holding onto those fantasies. Dean and his brother like to wander, and you didn’t want to be the one who held him back.

You closed your eyes and leaned your head back against the door. Maybe you could ask Dean if you could tag along. If you could be a wanderer with him and Sam. You would have to leave your job, but at least you and Dean would finally be together. It would be worth it. 

He was worth it.

A smile crossed your features once again. Maybe that was the solution. Maybe it could work.

You whirled around, a hand on the doorknob, ready to make the proposal to Dean. But you suddenly froze when you heard the motel door slam open and Sam’s frantic voice fill the air.

“Garth called. Possible vampire nest in the next town over.”

“Sammy-”

“If you want to stay head with y/n, I can scope out the area and let you know if I need backup-”

“Sammy!”

You heard a pause. Complete silence fell over the motel room. You could hear your heart pounding in your chest.

Vampire nest? Was that code for something? It had to be, there was no such thing as vampires. Right?

But deep down, you knew that something was wrong. The silence hadn’t lifted. If it had been some sort of code, someone would have spoken by now. 

You could hear Sam’s voice fill the silence, but couldn’t make out any words. Your heart sped up. The only thing worse than silence was not knowing what the brothers were saying.

And there was only one way to find out.

You opened the bathroom door slowly, and were met with the pale faces of Sam and Dean Winchester.

You swallowed heavily. “Hey, Sam.”

Sam forced a smile. “Hey. Sorry about that, we were just-”

“I get it,” you said, pasting a false smile on your face. “Brother code and all that. I think I’m going to head back. I’ll call my roommate.”

You saw Dean shut his eyes tightly, shaking his head slowly. “Y/n…”

“It’s fine,” you said, somewhat desperately. “Honestly, I’ll just call you tomorrow.”

“Please…”

“I’ll see you later, okay?” You moved to walk around them and right out the front door when Dean held out a hand to stop you.

“Wait, wait, wait. Could you…could you hear me out? Please?” Dean’s eyes were pleading.

You almost said no. You wanted to say no. Anyone who truly believed in vampires was not someone that you wanted to be in a relationship with.

But as you looked at him, you stopped yourself. You had just convinced yourself to leave behind everything for this man. You truly and genuinely loved him with all of your heart. Shouldn’t you at least give him a chance to explain himself? 

You took a deep breath. You’d had a sense that he was hiding something since the day you first met, but you’d decided to put your trust in him anyway. Maybe it was time for him to really earn that trust.

You nodded slowly and walked over to the bed, settling down and facing Dean. “Okay.”

Dean practically buckled in relief. “Okay?”

You nodded again. “Okay. Let’s hear it. I want the truth, though, Dean. The whole truth. Don’t deflect the way you always do when I ask about your family or your life. I deserve more than that.”

Dean nodded, pain in his eyes. “I know, sweetheart. I’m sorry about all that.”

You looked over at Sam, whose face was still ashen and afraid. “Alright then,” you said, steeling yourself.

“Let’s hear it.”

~~~

When you were younger, you used to go to sleepovers where your friends would tell you scary stories about werewolves and vampires that crept in the night, waiting until you were sleeping to jump out and pounce. Now that you were older and knew better, your boyfriend was telling you a scary story about how demons had killed his mom, and how that had set off a sequence of events that resulted in him and his brother becoming hunters of the supernatural.

Your thoughts were going off the rails when Dean finally finished his story. Could he be telling the truth? He certainly believed what he was saying, that was for sure. But how could there possibly have been a monster in your own town? How had nobody noticed? How had you not noticed?

Sam’s phone rang, snapping you out of your thoughts. He glanced down at it and looked up at you apologetically. “Dean, we’ve gotta go.”

Dean remained staring at you, his eyes pleading with you to believe him, to stay with him. To not let this change what the two of you had been building for years.

And you wanted to. Every fiber of your being told you to stay with Dean, that it was the only way for the two of you to make things work. And of course you wanted it to work. Dean had a special place in your heart now, one that you never wanted him to leave from.

But you couldn’t. How could you possibly live a life where your boyfriend and his brother believed in the scary stories that kids were told in the dark? Or worse, if it was all true, how could you leave everything and everyone behind, living a life on the run and trying to avoid being killed by monsters that basically crawled out of your nightmares?

You looked up at Dean and shook your head slowly. The disappointment in Dean’s eyes made your own eyes well up with tears. Then his mask went up, shutting you out as you felt shame boil up in your stomach.

You looked away. “I’m sorry, Dean. Truly, I am, but I just… I can’t.”

Dean nodded once, standing abruptly and sending a short look to Sam, who gave you a sad glance before walking out the door.

Dean looked back at you. “I know it’s a lot. I get it. But I’m gonna keep being honest with you, alright? Sam and I are only going to the next town over. I’ll text you the name of the motel we’re staying at.”

“Dean-”

“You don’t have to show up. If you don’t, no hard feelings, alright? If you do…”

The two of you stared at each other for a moment. 

Dean cleared his throat and stood. “I guess I’ll see you around. Or not.”

You watched as he made his way to the door. He paused for a moment, his hand on the doorknob.

“Bye, y/n.”

~~~

They hadn’t talked about it yet. 

After Dean had left you behind in the motel room, he’d silently climbed into the Impala and turned up the music full blast before peeling out of the parking lot and making his way to their next destination.

Sam, choosing to not start any kind of argument, had remained silent through the whole ride. So had Dean.

The hunt had gone smoothly, the Winchesters getting in and out in only two days. The whole time, the brothers only talked about the hunt and their leads, never once mentioning you or what might happen if you showed up. Or worse, if you didn’t.

When the hunt was over, Sam and Dean had wordlessly agreed that they would stay in the motel a little longer, just in case. But still, they didn’t talk about it.

Not on the first day, when the hunt started. Not on the second day, when the hunt ended. Not on the third day, when Dean spent all of his time at the motel, glancing at the door every now and then. And not today, the fourth day, when Garth had called and said that he needed the boys for another hunt.

Sam hung up the call, looking over at Dean. “I can head out if you want to catch up later.”

Dean shook his head, his mask planted firmly over his face as he gave a small smirk. “And let you have all the fun? I don’t think so.” He stood and grabbed his bag, making his way to the motel door, even as Sam tried a last appeal. 

“But, Dean-”

Dean turned, a hand on the doorknob. “C‘mon, Sammy, let’s get this son of a-”

Dean’s heart stopped as he opened the door. You stood on the other side, your face set and your arms crossed over your chest.

Your eyebrows were furrowed, your feet planted as if bracing yourself for an argument. You looked like you hadn’t slept in days, and you definitely looked like you weren’t leaving until you said what you wanted to say. As much as he hated to admit it, Dean thought that you looked a little like a hunter. 

“You’re here,” Dean finally managed to croak out.

You nodded, your face relaxing slightly. “I’m here. And I’m sorry for walking out.”

Dean nodded, his heart pounding and his brain still trying to register your words. “Does that mean-”

“It means I believe you. I’ve been doing some of my own research and some things started adding up. Anyway, look, I’m not going to pretend to understand what’s happening with you two, but I know that I want to learn. I want to be a part of your life, Dean, even if it’s scary and dark and I still can’t really wrap my head around it.”

And in less than a second, you were in his arms, his face buried in your neck as he held you like a lifeline. You wrapped your arms around his neck, holding him close.

Maybe this was crazy. Maybe you were getting sucked into something that you weren’t ready for. But he had been honest with you. And you were willing to try.

 And that was what was important.

After a moment, you released each other and took a step back. You looked around Dean and offered a small smile and a wave to Sam, who gave you a wave back, a look of ecstatic relief on his face.

You looked back as Dean gave you a tired smile, reaching out a hand to grab yours as he gently pulled you inside. “You sure you’re ready for this? It’s no picnic, and giving you the whole story is probably gonna take a while.”

You smiled back and shrugged, the last of the tension in your shoulders finally easing. “I should know what my boyfriend does for a living, shouldn’t I? And don’t you worry. 

You and me? We still have time.”

[thedragonqueensblog]

Edward Cullen///Jealousy is everywhere

Request by @misskitty1912-blog: Hi can I request Edward Cullen x Plus size female reader is sam and dean Winchester sister and is best friends with Castiel and Gabriel x Stefan Salvatore featuring jealous elane and bella but elane is with Damon and bella is with Jacob

Warnings: Bella Swan and Elena Gilbert bashing, mentioned of tying to shoot, death but reborn, mentioned of Dean being a demon and your other brother Sam being a soulless, parents death and more probably

A/N: Stefan and Caroline are going to be a couple in here if you guys don't like it then don't read, but rather than that I hope you love it if you don’t let me know and I’ll unwrite but if you do enjoy and thank you for requesting love!!

You looked at your family picture frame as tears were falling down your cheeks as you kissed the frame and you felt Edward wrapped his arms around you and he kissed your forehead “oh sweetheart don’t cry.”

You wipe off your tears and you lay the frame down on your shared bed. "It's hard not to."

He grabbed your hands with a sad smile, "I know sweetie but seeing you cry breaks me."

You leaned against his chest as he comforted you. “It's been years that I haven’t seen my best friends and my brothers.”

He pressed a kiss on your shoulder as he played with your hair. “We can go see them whenever you want, sweetheart.”

you smiled as you looked at him with love, "I don't know if Dean is still a demon or if Sam is still soulless if so it’s dangerous for us to be near.”

“What about your friends? They haven’t contacted you with updates of your brothers?” He asked

You shook your head. “no they’re probably l still mad or too busy trying to find a way to bring my brothers back.”

Edward was about to say something else when he heard your phone get a message from Stefan Salvatore, and saw you read the message

“Honey what did he say?” He asked trying to hide his jealousy since you told him that you were Stefan first crush

You rolled your eyes playful since you know that Edward is being jealous. “My love you know that I only love you and that I only have eyes for you whatever Stefan or I felt it’s in the past.”

He crossed his arms as he rolled his eyes, not trying to smile "so what does he want?"

“He’s inviting us to his wedding with Caroline Forbes.” You showed him the invitation that you got from Stefan on your phone

He looked over your shoulder then he looked at you. “isn’t she friends with that girl who's jealous of your friendship with Stefan?”

Before putting your phone down you saved the invitation and texted Stefan that you were going. “not anymore she stopped being friends with Elena when she made Caroline choose between me and her.”

He laughed as he shook his head. “That's Karma, that's what happens when you make someone choose she deserves that and even more.”

“Why are you letting Stefan and Caroline invite Y/n to their wedding?” Elena asked angrily after finding out that they send you the wedding invitation

Damon crossed his arms. “It's not my wedding Elena, they have the right to invite whoever they want, it’s their wedding, not mine, I don’t know why you don’t like her, she’s a great woman.”

She fumed as she rolled her eyes, “what’s so great about her? She’s nothing but a boring and stupid woman.”

“Listen here Y/n’s is Stefan's best friend and Caroline sees her as a sister, so if you don’t want to be uninvited to the wedding I suggest you to be quiet and to show her respect when she comes. ” He warns being done with Elena bullshit and jealousy

“Then I am not going.” She sat down on the couch, crossing her arms

“Then don’t come, that's fine with me I would rather not have you come if you’re going to be complaining the whole time.” He stormed off ignoring Elena calls out

Your family and you are at Isle Esme For a couple of days to get some fresh air and to get away from people and everything

“Finally a nice family vacation for the first time ever since that accident.” Emmett said as he looked around.

“I know right two weeks far from stupid people and it’s stupid problems:” Rosalie said agreeing with her husband Emmett

“Y/n?” Alice asked, pulling you aside from them “I need to tell you something that I saw.”

“What’s up?” You asked sounding confused on what she’s going to tell you since that look on her it looks like it’s something serious

She looks over at the family who was laughing and talking then at you, “I saw that your blood family is trying to find a way to get in contact with you.”

“What?” You asked as tears started to fall down from your cheeks “how if dean is a demon and Sam is soulless? And my best friends are probably still mad at me. You saw how they reacted when I told them that I married Edward and that he turned me into a vampire.”

She grabbed your shoulders before pulling you into a hug as she rubbed your back “not anymore honey I saw that your brothers and best friends are going to make a trip to Forks anytime soon.”

You wiped off your tears and pulled away from Alice gently. “I’m really happy to hear that, but I’m scared of my brothers reaction when I tell them that I married a vampire and that he turned me.”

“I know, but they'll understand why Edward had it to do it, you were basically dying but he saved you and you were reborn as a vampire.” She tried to reassure you

“I honestly don't know me and my brothers grew up as hunters and they'll be asking what I was doing that almost caused me to lose my life and why I married Edward.” You told her

“I was planning if you're not ready to tell them that you're a vampire we can get you contact lenses that match your human color eyes.” She smiles

“That’s a good idea and I love it but wearing them will make my eyes really irritated like the other time that I tried to use them and also they will find out the truth one way or the other and I really do want them to find out from me rather than for them to find out from someone else.”

“Yeah, that would suck if they were to be told by someone else rather than you. Maybe if they heard it from you they’ll understand and hopefully be happy for you guys” she said with hope

You laughed “Probably but in my mind I’m not trying to picture them not trying to shoot him because after all they’re hunters and really overprotective of me and dating someone mostly if he’s a vampire they will get really crazy.”

She laughs too "Do you think your brothers would do that? even if Edward's is their brother in law.”

You nodded your head "Yeah even if Edward is their brother in law they would still go crazy when it comes to vampires and me you don't know how overprotected they would get when I would go hunting with them and when I would bring the men over just don't tell Edward.”

Bella and Jacob arrived in Mystic falls days earlier before the wedding since Elena told her to since she made a plan to ruin your happiness and she wants her to be included in the plan

“So What’s the Plan?” Bella asked

Elena hands Bella a glass of water "Oh you're going to love it!!”

Bella takes a sip as she smiles “ tell me I want to know!!”

"So her brothers are not aware of her being married and her being a vampire.” Elena smirks

Bella raised an eyebrow, "Not following."

“Okay, so Y/n and her family are hunters, I mean just her friends and her brothers so think how would they react to know that their sister is dating a supernatural? Mostly if she's one as well.” Elena explains with a smirk on her face

"Say what? A hunter turned into a vampire? it seems like she betrayed her kind. Man we could tell her brothers that she is dating one of the supernatural and that she's one.” Bella smirks as well

“There you go, so I sent them an anonymous email to come to Mystic falls and They responded with an ok and that they will be here.”

“I can’t wait to see that look on Y/N’s face covered with sadness and tears. ”Bella laughs“ having no one but the Cullens comforting her since her brothers will hate her.”

“Yeah, I didn’t think about that and what is going to make me more angry that not only will she be comforted by Cullens but by my boyfriend and friends as well.” Elena fumed

Bella crossed her arms "tell me about it, Jacob will also be comforting her too, what's so special about her?”

"I agree but anyways, let's plan what we're going to wear for the wedding."

“Are you sure it’s safe for us to go to Mystic falls? What if it’s a trap?” Sam asked concerned for the safety of his brother and me

“I doubt it, and yeah I know that the Person that sent us that gmail was anonymous. I believe there’s no harm in going.” Dean said trying to erase his brother worries

“I hope you're right brother.”

“I'll go with you guys.” Castiel volunteers

“Count me in.” Gabriel smiles hoping that Dean and Sam would let him go with them

Dean and Sam looked at each other to see if one another were okay with Gabriel coming, and he smiled when both Dean and Sam gave him a approval nod

you smiled when you saw your friends waiting for you and your family with happy smiles on their faces except for Elena and Bella who were crossing their arms

you thanked your husband for opening the door for you as Caroline run up to you, hugging you really fast, almost making you fall down

"I'm so happy that you're here you don't know how much I have missed you.” Caroline smiles as she lets out tears “I Feel like it’s been forever since I saw you.”

"Since my wedding where I got told that my parents were dead, and that my brothers were out there.” You smiled sadly “but today is not the time to be sad, tomorrow is your wedding.”

“The wedding is today, but I can't wait any longer.” Elena tells Bella

"Then what are we waiting for? let's go tell them.” Bella smiles as she and Elena went outside to talk to the four men that got here

You smiled as you were doing Caroline's hair "I'm so happy for you, you deserve this and more.”

she smiles back at you through the mirror "thank you!! and I want to thank you again for everything that you have done for Stefan and me.”

“So wait not only are you telling us that Y/n our sister is married to a vampire but she's one of them too.” Dean was hurt not because you're married and didn’t tell Him and Sam because he felt that he didn’t protect you enough

"Please tell us that this is a joke.” Sam sniffed “that she’s not a vampire.”

"I wish I was joking But it's true.” Elena fakes to be sad as Bella does too

"Where is she? We have to talk to her." Castiel asked upset both Gabriel and he knew about your wedding but he didn’t know that you are a vampire

"Follow us and I'll take you guys to go see her."

“Thank you.” Gabriel said walking with them as your brothers and Castiel follow behind

[alexsoenomel]

Dreamy Skirts (Sam Winchester x Reader Smut)

Summary: Sam likes you in your skirt so a night out turns into something cheeky.

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Warnings: oral sex

Word count: 1504

Note: This was a dream I had when I was 18. Enjoy! Like/reblog or both if you like it! :)

“I think I’m going to like it here.” Sam said excited while putting his bag and backpack on the bedroom floor.

It was summer and after he and his brother almost got killed on a hunt you decided enough was enough. You needed a break from everything. Nothing bad was happening in your area so you decided to take a trip to Miami. You planed the whole thing just the three of you. Hotel by the beach with great food and even found Dean a separate room which made him very happy. You and Sam tend to be….loud, sometimes.

“I think so too.” You smiled.

“Perfect time to catch up on my reading.”

“Just how many books have you brought with you Sam?” You asked knowing his book worm tendencies.

“Maybe, possibly 3?” He said looking down shyly.

You smiled remembering how you liked watching him read, the way he would get lost in the book made you happy more than the words can explain. You got closer to him wrapping your hands around his body pulling him into a tight hug. His hands rested on your back drawing small cycles on it.

“I love you. Thank you for convicting me to go on this vacation with you. I need it.”

“I love you too. And I know you do. I was worried about you. Sometimes I really hate being a hunter. ”

He smiled. “I know.”

Day one you slept in. Neither swimming nor going out, you were dead tired from the drive, so you spent in bed talking about life and eating junk food. Dean on the other hand had other things to do….like get laid.

Day two on the other hand was different. Unforgettable. After spending the whole day on the beach you wanted to go out and have a drink. Sam on the other hand wanted to go to bed at 9pm.

“But I’m tired.” He said. “And don’t really want to drink.”

“Pretty please?” You made a sad puppy dog face hoping he would surrender.

“We spend all day swimming  where do you find the energy?” He asked and got under the covers on his side of the bed. He was wearing his black boxers and a white shirt aka his pajamas.  

“I always have the energy for alcohol.” You simply said. “Come on it will be fun…plus…” You got closer to him and kissed his cheek. “I will wear something nice for you.” You whispered into his ear sending shivers down his spine.

“You are making this very hard for me (Y/N).” 

“That’s the point genius.” You lowered your lips onto his neck feeling him breathe nervously. “Oh come on.”

“If I go now, tomorrow I want to just sit by the pool and read.” He finally said.

“Deal tomorrow will be our book club day.”

“Fine.” He got up, took his clothes from his bag and went towards the bathroom to get ready.

“Love you.” You said.

“I know you do.” You heard him say.

While he was in the bathroom you took the time to get ready. You decided a black high waisted skirt and a white crop top was the way to go. You didn’t wear skirts but when you did (some cases demanded a more classy wardrobe choices) you would always catch Sam staring and undressing you with his eyes while licking those god damn perfect lips of his. Teasing him to get what you want was your favorite pastime. The fact was you have always been a shy girl with so little confidence, but being with Sam gave you something you never knew you had, freedom. It was freeing to know you could do anything you wanted and make the first steps without getting judged or criticized. As you were about to do your makeup in front of the mirror that was near the bed you shared, Sam finished with the bathroom. He decided to wear pants and a flannel shirt. Classic Winchester.  When he entered the room he saw you getting lost in your makeup bag looking for god knows what. He stood there leaning on door frame looking at you and thinking how beautiful you looked and how no other human being had made him feel the way you did. He was lost in your beauty and fragileness in that very moment, but he also thought how sexy you looked in that skirt and how he suddenly had an urge to be underneath it making you moan his name over and over again.

Suddenly he wrapped his strong arms around your small frame and started kissing your neck which he knew it was your weakest link. You put your eyeliner on the table as soon as you felt his lips on your skin. You smirked looking at the mirror.

“So you are not tired after all?” You teased.

“I don’t think I am anymore.” He said between kisses.

“I need to put on some make up I want to look good for you.”

His hand traveled up in your skirt feeling your delicate skin of your inner thigh on his fingertips. A sigh escaped from your lips. Oh how you liked when he did that.

“You don’t need makeup.” His hand moved between your legs causing you to moan a little. “You are perfect without it.”  Sam’s confidence had always been a huge turn on for you. Suddenly you weren’t in the mood for drinks anymore.

“What has gotten into you Sammy?” You asked seductively biting your lip. “Is it the skirt?”

“Maybe…”He smirked. His hand was still underneath your skirt, slowly rubbing you through your panties. You got on your tiptoes and moaned even louder this time. “I really like it.”

“I’m glad you do.” You managed to say as you turned to face him. You place the tip of your index finger on his lips feeling its wetness and warmth. “So no drinks tonight then?”

“Seems like it.”

“Perfect.” You said and kissed him. He kissed back with no hesitation, with even more passion and fire making your body ache for him. You became needy and vulnerable under his touch. Breaking the kiss you took his hand and sat on the edge of the bed pulling him closer to him for another kiss. He bit your lower lip instantly knowing you would whimper as he pushed you down on the bed. He was right, you did whimper a little. You always do. You moved upwards onto the bed while Sam was on top of you balancing himself with his elbows. You took the shirt off with ease showing off your white bra as Sam watched you closely like you were an art form. When you tried to take of your skirt he stopped you.

“Don’t.”

“Sammy do you actually have a thing for my skirts? Because I have seen you stare multiple times.”

“I’m guilty. I can’t help it.”

“God I love you.” You said feeling like the luckiest person alive. And you indeed were.

“Likewise (Y/N)” Sam smiled and started to kiss your neck again. You tugged on his gorgeous locks of hair while his hand went underneath your skirt again. His kisses moved on your collar bones then between your breasts making you weak and needy while his hand worked the same magic again making you wet by the minute. When his mouth was close to the hem of your skirt he stopped to look at you. You were panting from just his kisses looking at the blank ceiling. He smirked and moved his head between your legs and you lost him. Suddenly he took off your panties. Dear Lord….

A few seconds passed and you could feel your body coming alive from all that pleasure he was giving you with his tongue.

“Sammy…” You moaned. “Fuck.”

The pleasure kept building up until you found yourself moaning uncontrollably. “I THINK I’M GONNA-“

And you did. Stood up on his knees between your legs with his chin shining. He took off your skirt and whipped himself clean before he kissed you again.

His clothes soon after went on the floor and your hands were all over his skin. You flipped him at one point so you were now on top of him kissing and biting him more than you should. You were such a tease sometimes. He was in his boxers so you took the chance to feel his hardness…

“What’s that?” You suddenly asked.

“What?”

“That song? Are you serious?” You laughed.

Someone played Never Gonna Give You Up by Rick Astley. You thought for a second it came from the outside but the truth was it was your alarm. Your little paradise disappeared and you woke up all hot and bothered. It was Monday and time for work. You were still single and Sam still wasn’t real.

“Are you fucking serious?!” You whispered angrily and turned the alarm off forcing yourself back to sleep. Fuck work. Fuck everything...for like 5 more minutes.

Mondays were truly great.

[gay-cosmic-consequences]

Hear me out...

Supernatural should have ended with Cas coming back and Dean wants a break and a vacation from all the stress. They finally get their beach vacation, but Dean won't go near the water. The guys finally ask what's up with him and find out he's just as scared of the ocean as he is of flying because, "You don't know what's in there, Sammy!"

Then there winds up being a sea creature attack and their vacation ends up being a hunt.

"See, I told you that you don't know what's in there!"

Even that would have been better than the actual finale.

[thestruidora]

Sweetheart

Supernatural Fanfiction

Rating: Explicit

WARNINGS: This story will contain but it’ll not be limited to explicit 18+ content including Yandere, Borderline Personality Disorder, Stalker, Possessive Behavior, Romance, Angst, Fluff and Smut, Rape/Non-con Elements, Hurt/Comfort, Therapy, Miscommunication, Plot With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Obsessive Behavior, Smut, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Oral Sex, Dirty Talk, Praise Kink, Degradation Kink

Category: F/M

Pairings: Dean Winchester/You, Dean Winchester/Reader

Summary: Dean has borderline personality disorder and the reader is his favorite person.

Chapter Updates: Masterlist

Author's notes: I don't even what to write in here at this point. All I can say is that I really hope you guys enjoy because it took me fucking forever to write.

Chapter Four

The Tower

“The Tower is about sudden, shocking change. Change that can knock you off your feet and alter your future as you thought you knew it.”

“Alright, everyone, good work today. See you ladies tomorrow!” George, the construction site’s foreman, yelled out to the workers the second the clock struck 5 p.m.

“Fucking finally.” Dean murmured to himself, putting down the sledgehammer he was holding and taking off his safety gloves, hands free at last to wipe the sweat off his forehead.

“That eager to come home to the wife, huh?” Sid asked him with a knowing smirk, and Dean smiled in return, amused at just how far off his colleague was.

“Oh, you don’t know how much.” He said it with ease, taking off his goggles and patting away the fine dust from his hair.

“I would be too if I had a great gal like Lisa to come home to.” Sid winked at Dean, hands busy with removing his own safety gear.

“Yeah, she’s… She’s great.” The Winchester nodded and looked to the side, the fake smile dying on his lips. “Anyways, I’mma head out. Talk to you tomorrow, Sid.” He bids his farewell, feet moving towards the parking lot, not wanting to prolong the conversation.

“See ya.” Sid waves him off, even though Dean's back was already to him.

Once he's inside his monstrosity of a car — the respectful family minivan —, he lets out a long, deep-rooted sigh.

Out of the windshield, he can see the beginning of sunset, the light blue sky seamlessly turning to a burning orange. If you ask him, the end of his shift couldn't have come fast enough. The days have been longer than usual, each one stretching itself out more than the one before. The hours drag by, and it sure doesn't help that he's been counting them.

But he can't help it, he hasn't seen you in a long time. Too long. Almost two weeks. Twelve excruciating days.

He'll have his session with you in a couple of days, and you'll finally be face-to-face with him again. ‘Cause it's not like he hasn't seen you from afar this whole time, that'd be crazy. He has to keep an eye on you, right? To protect you.

That's what he's been doing. Protecting you. Ever since the very first time he set foot in your office and you told him that the two of you could no longer be friends, he dedicated himself to reverting the situation, but to no avail since you could be so stubborn.

His line of communication with you became thinner and thinner and it felt like the more he tried to reach for you, the more he risked breaking it altogether.

He no longer saw you at the dog park, since your friend with terrible timing had decided to come back from her vacation and get Loki back from you.

You had never officially given your personal phone number to him, even though he has had it for a while now. It couldn't have been easier to obtain, he just saved the contact after seeing your open phone bill atop the table in your living room on one of the many occasions in which he had let himself into your apartment.

So he couldn't just call you out of nowhere, it would be weird and it would raise questions.

He couldn't do it.

It didn't matter that you had canceled his last appointment and that had set him off into a panic attack, which he had never had before.

It didn't matter that he couldn't stop thinking that you had grown tired of him and his stupid problems and his endless daddy issues.

That he literally could not breathe at the thought of how worthless and pathetic you must think he is.

Even though your receptionist had assured him that she made a mistake and overbooked you that week, he couldn't believe that.

You were sick of him, that's what it was.

It had to be.

And even as he sits in the driver's seat of his revolting minivan, knowing full well that he's only a couple of days away from being with you in person, he can't help but want to be near you right now. Just so he can fix it. Whatever it was about him that made you loathe him and despise him, he can change.

He has to see you at that very instant.

It's all he can think about as he turns on the vehicle's engine and drives exactly at the speed limit from the construction site all the way to your house, parking on the other side of the street as he always does.

The big glass windows of your apartment allow for ample observation of whatever occurs inside, giving Dean a privileged view of your form as you turn on the lights on your way from your living room to the kitchen. Your silhouette is bathed in the warm glow of the lamps that shine through its surroundings and light up the space now that the sun has set and night has fallen.

He can see your fingers moving nimbly as you wash whatever dishes you find in the sink, bringing your damp hand to your forehead and then moving to rub at your nape with a sigh when you’re finished.

He can tell you still have your work clothes on as you must have just come home. And it’s not difficult to imagine how tired you are from the frown creasing in the middle of your eyebrows. He can visualize it so clearly now, his own fingers moving delicately across your skin to smooth that frown away.

He has watched you from this exact vantage point for months and it still feels like the first time with the way his heart aches with the need to be closer. The way his hand closes in a fist as though to contain the desire to reach out and touch you in some way.

But alas, he can’t. Because you would turn him away. You would be scared of him. He knows you would, so he just leans back in the car seat, attempting to control the flurrying in his chest, and watches.

You untie your hair from the ponytail you had it in as you move back to the living room and it falls around your face, caressing your neck. Something catches your attention and you walk to your discarded purse on top of the coffee table, retrieving your phone from it. Whatever it is that flashes through the screen causes a smile to appear on your lips before you raise the device to your ear and start to talk.

Dean fidgets in his seat with the uncomfortable feeling of not knowing who is on the other end of the line, but he tries not to let his mind wander to dangerous places. Your sister, perhaps?

You use your shoulder to secure your phone to your ear as you bring your hands down to your shirt and begin to unbutton it. He sucks in a breath at the sight, unsure of what to do with himself as your fingers work their way down till the top is completely unbuttoned, your bare skin peeking through as well as the fabric of your bra.

He notices your mouth moving to form words he can't decipher while you pull your shirt completely off, throwing it on the spacious couch in the middle of your living room before your legs take you back to the kitchen, where you open the fridge to get a glass of water for yourself.

The refrigerator light illuminates the contours of your exposed stomach and collarbone, the supple flesh of your cleavage lightly bouncing up and down with the way your bust is confined tightly by your bra cups.

Dean thinks he might be on the verge of an aneurysm as he witnesses you drink from the once full glass till the water is entirely gone, a couple of drops escaping from your lips in your haste to quench your thirst, running down your jaw to your neck and disappearing in the space between your breasts.

Suddenly his own mouth is dry and he feels as if he's been lost in a desert for ages, those sinful droplets of water that are lucky enough to travel through the valleys of your body being the only source of hydration that can placate his craving.

Once you're satisfied, you leave the empty glass on the sink and go to the living room yet again, this time stopping by the wall adjacent to your flat-screen TV and bending down to freshen up the bowl of kibble for your cat, taking your time to shake the dish side to side till the shorthaired black Bombay saunters into the common area with a regal air about itself, tail swinging lazily and big golden eyes staring affectionately at you as it meows over and over.

You put down the food bowl on its original place on the floor and stretch your arms out to pet the head of the animal, a loving expression taking over your face, more words pouring out from you to meet the phone's receiver, whatever is being said by the other person causing you to laugh unreservedly, the content of the exchange still an unfortunate mystery to Dean.

The cat advances on its dinner and you observe it for a second, before getting up from your crouched down position and moving to stand directly in front of the perfectly transparent glass window from where he can see you.

Instead of making an attempt to hide, Dean props himself forward in your direction, the darkness of nightfall in your poorly lit neighborhood keeping him undetected by your eyes that scan the landscape through the window, seemingly not finding interest in anything in particular.

He gulps incredulously at what follows; you, phone once again glued to your ear with the help of your shoulder, taking your hands south to your pants, unzipping and unbuttoning it, tugging down the waist of the garment until the top of your panties is showing.

He's now a thousand percent sure that he's in absolute perfect health, because if that weren't the case, his heart would've given out by now. He can hear the organ rapidly beating in his ears, blood pumping fiercely, bringing heat to his face as a mixture of shame and excitement overtakes his mind.

He shouldn't be doing this. He shouldn't be there. A better man would've turned on his car and driven away, and an even greater man wouldn't have come here at all. But Dean proves to be neither of those while he sits there and observes you languidly remove your pants and sigh contently once you've stripped yourself down to your underwear.

You stretch your neck to the left and then to the right, your torso accompanying the movement. Whoever is on the other line appears to say something that you appreciate thoroughly, with the way a wishful smile dances in the corners of your lips, and uneasiness builds inside of Dean at the sight.

He has never been a particularly jealous guy, not with his material possessions — except for Baby —, nor with his romantic partners which, to be fair, had been few in between. Countless one-night stands, sure. But only one or two real ‘girlfriends’ were all the relationships he had to draw reference from. Very short-lived relationships, not to mention.

Of course, there was Lisa, but he never really dated Lisa. They skipped that part and went straight into living together and a marriage proposal, with a kid and a dog in tow. And through it all, he had never experienced the burning feeling of insecurity that he’s feeling right about now.

Who are you talking to at the end of your day? Are these regular calls or just a singular, uncustomary thing? Is the caller an important person to you? Do they play a crucial role in your life? Do they fill a space that Dean could not?

That’s an ominous notion that he’s not sure he can bear. An ugly and twisted, unexpected emotion that Dean hadn’t been previously introduced to takes hold of him as those thoughts ruminate in his mind.

You walk away from the window and make your way towards the couch. A deep exhale leaving you as you sink down onto the soft cushions, a sense of comfort and relaxation appearing to wash over you.

While engrossed in your conversation, the pads of your fingers patter down the expanse of your neck, where they land just below your collar, ending up playing with the strap of your bra.

You tug and readjust the thin piece of material, your eyes unfocused as they stare at the far wall in front of you, blinking slowly while your mouth takes its sweet time to form the words as they come out, the way your lips shape around the unintelligible sounds rendering Dean utterly hypnotized.

There’s something wicked about this.

The fact that he can see you so clearly from the outside of your home, the place where you feel safe, the space where you can allow yourself to be your utmost true, surrounded only by the privacy of your walls.

The reality that he has pierced that barrier and infiltrated a moment that would otherwise be shared with nobody but you.

The position that you are in, so exposed without even knowing, so much of your smooth skin, bare only for his eyes in the quiet of the night.

The way a pleasant tingle spreads between his legs, blood rushing south, filling his cock inside his pants.

There’s something sinister about it, but Dean can’t will himself to care. Quite the opposite, he almost likes it.

His pupils dilate when you switch the phone to your other ear so that your right hand is free and you stretch it behind your back, your arm contorted in a tugging and twisting gesture till finally something snaps open, literally.

The hook of your bra comes undone and you pull the right strap, the same one you were playing with only mere moments ago, off your shoulder and then repeat the process on the other side.

There’s a second of anticipation, a breath that Dean holds in while he leans forward in the car seat as much as humanly possible so that he won’t miss what’s unfolding before him, and then you remove the cups that laid atop your breasts, uncovering the pert nipples that grow into peaks when subjected to the chill air of the evening.

“Holy shit.” His tongue instinctively pokes out to wet his parched lips, since he seems to have forgotten how to breathe through his nose, taking big gulps of air, mouth agape.

You throw the item of clothing aside unceremoniously, not caring where it lands, a noise so full of content escaping you that it reaches him all the way across the street. You rub at the indents the underwire left where it had been held tightly, your hand massaging the skin around your tits, cupping them from the side, and then letting go, the mounds jiggling freely in the most enticing of motions.

He didn’t think he would get to see you like this one day. Maybe never. He wished for it, longed for it, but he couldn't honestlyenvision it happening. He didn’t think he deserved it. He has daydreamed about it, sure, but not once in this scenario, not with him so far away where he can’t touch you, where he can only look.

The light coming from the lamp in the ceiling shone down on you, highlighting the dips and curves of your physique as you sat on your sofa. Like something out of a fantasy book, you cross and uncross your legs, perched on the pliant pad like a mythical creature, dressed only in your underpants. Like a dream.

The person you were talking to must make some sort of funny remark then, due to the way you proceed to throw your head back in laughter and twirl a finger in your hair, Dean’s eyes following the action frame by frame, entranced in the show. To gaze upon you naked like this is arousing in a whole new way.

It’s uncharted territory.

It’s different from porn.

It’s intimate and real.

Because he knows you. He’s seen you in your casual, everyday clothes, and in your stuffy work attire as well. But to be able to spy on what’s underneath.

To get a glimpse of the lovely, overly polite girl from the dog park; the shrewd, excessively serious therapist that leans back in her armchair and analyzes his every move, his every word.

To see you stripped down to your plain cotton panties and nothing more. There’s a vulnerability to it.

He’s forced to palm his dick through the tough material of his jeans when it stiffens and twitches inside his boxers.

Your hand leaves your hair and falls to your mouth, both index and middle fingers kneading the plump flesh of your lips, countenance lost in thought even as you nod and hum to the individual who called you. The same hand travels to your chest, just above the mass of your breasts, where you draw featherlight circles with the tips of your nails.

You seem to really enjoy the sensation, eyelids dropping till they’re closed, slumping down on the furniture that supports you.

Even as you relax in your seat, your fingers don’t quit their journey downwards, anchoring themselves on a particular patch of skin on the side of your boob. A saucy smile breaks from you, teeth showing while your eyes remain shut and you say something Dean can’t make out.

He has never once seen that look on your face, an impish, mischievous air that he wouldn't have expected from you.

Your arm moves just slightly and you grab your nipple, caressing the tumid, puffy bud with gentle, barely-there touches that become bold and confident once you hear something from the other end that encourages you, that shameless smirk widening on your lips.

Dean feels his entire body tense up, from the ends of his hair to the toes of his feet. A sudden jolt of adrenaline causes his heart to race as he watches in disbelief and confusion. And it takes a while, a little too long, for him to begin processing what is happening.

You are fondling your breast, teasing the tip, letting out a small gasp when a wave of ecstasy clearly hits you and your eyes snap open. You can hardly contain your enthusiastic laugh at whatever your mystery caller tells you and then you move to pinch and tug at your neglected nipple, wiggling on the couch, biting on your bottom lip.

You’re… Giddy. Acting naughty and unabashed, toying with yourself while on the phone with someone.

‘Cause you’re definitely not talking to your sister.

But then who? Who’s the motherfucker you give your time to? Your attention? Your carefree attitude? Your sexed-up, wild side?

Because you’d barely even muster a fucking genuine smile to Dean the last few times you saw him, and for a while, he tried to convince himself that you were not disinterested in him, you simply weren’t interested in anybody.

Well, that’s obviously not the case.

You don’t want him, specifically.

But you do want some other guy. Some other idiot who could never understand you the way Dean does. Never comprehend what it feels like to lose your family, to lose a brother. They could never share that bond with you.

Whoever that asshole is to you, Dean can be more. He’s sure of it.

But they’re the one you’re sighing wantonly for. Breathing accelerating as you let go of your left tit and run your hand down your stomach, inching closer to the waistband of your underwear. Your legs part to give way to your obscene exploration and you rub at your center, fingers carefully contouring the outline of your pussy over the cloth of your panties.

A head-spinning mixture of anger and excitement hits Dean so strongly it gives him whiplash. He has to blink a couple of times to try and wear off his shock, vision shifting from blurry and then to clear again as he fights off this dazed feeling that attempts to consume him.

He just couldn't believe it.

You are pawing at your clit, patting the sensitive button, drawing tight circles through the material of your underwear till a wet spot darkened the shade of the fabric. A puff of hot air leaves your parted lips at the sensations you’re bringing out of yourself.The corners of your mouth rise as you whisper some dirty secret into the receiver.

You are so lewd and indecent, without any inhibitions. All for someone else.

And for how long? Did you know them for a considerable amount of time or were they a random hookup, the type you can flirt and have phone sex with but no emotional connection to?

Either way, you must like them. You must find them alluring and attractive. Probably way more than you found Dean to be since you never so much as gave him a once-over.

Were they good-looking?

Were they interesting or charming?

Were they worthy of you?

No. Of course not.

How could they possibly be worthy of you? How could they possibly deserve your impatient, feverish expression or the broken sob that erupts from your throat as you continue to stroke your pleasure point side to side?

How could they have earned the bucking of your hips when you can’t take the feeling of your damp panties clinging to your throbbing core any longer and your hand makes a move to the hem of your underwear, with the intention of touching under the fabric?

He can’t conceive of it. He can’t wrap his head around this being fair. You can’t choose them over him. You just can’t.

Dean reaches for the cell phone in his pocket with trembling fingers, mind fuzzy with too many emotions that he isn’t able to put in order. Jealousy and envy swirling into an interchangeable spiral. Lust and frustration biting each other’s tails. Disappointment and hope swaying to an eerie ballad as his thumb shakes while it presses your name and then the call button.

He takes note of the moment your device starts ringing, the way you react by pulling your arm away from between your legs, frowning at the unknown number flashing across your screen, and interrupting your ongoing connection.

You exhale deeply only to take a calming breath in, looking irritated, saying something of little importance to the bastard you were conversing with, and then suddenly the tone by Dean’s ear stops, there’s a soft click when you pick up, and the Winchester is overwhelmed by the sound of your voice as it envelops him after what felt like forever.

“Hello?” You greet, putting a hair strand behind your ear.

There’s a pause when all of Dean’s blood rushes to his brain, causing an intense dizziness, and he has to contain the need to gasp audibly for air.

He didn’t think this through.

He didn’t think at all.

He just acted.

The idea of losing you bringing a suffocating pang of despair, a feeling that proved itself to be entirely too great to withstand, and Dean just… Moved, without taking the time to consider the consequences of his actions.

But he had to do something. He couldn't just stand idly by while you were being taken from him. Not that you were ever his, to begin with, but he can still change that. You just need to give him a chance. Which seems unlikely to happen now that he has called your number, the one he isn’t supposed to have.

“Eh…” He doesn’t know what to say.

He wasn’t prepared for this. He didn’t have a game plan or a strategy on how to conduct himself. He hadn’t mapped out how this exchange would go in his head, as he typically does. He hadn’t devised a way to take control of the situation.

“Hey, Y/N.” Was all he could come up with.

You appear to be unsettled for a moment, blinking a few times while you search for a name amongst your friends and family that would match the deep, gruff timbre that addressed you and then you ask.

“Who’s this?” You don’t recognize his voice, and it stings to know that you think of him so little, when he thinks of you sooften.

“It’s, uh- Dean.” Should he disclose his last name, as well?

You knit your brows, and he has to convince himself that is not disapproval nor displeasure that he sees flickering across your face.

“Oh, hi, Dean. How are you?” You fix yourself in your seat, choosing to recline your head on the back of the sofa, elongating your neck, and bending your spine. Your chest sticks out as a result, the artificial light coming from above reflecting on the dewy skin of your exposed breasts, and Dean is rendered speechless for a split second.

“I’m alright. How are you?” He manages to respond.

“Fine.” Your eyes roam the space of your living room in confusion, as if him calling you was the strangest of developments. “Hmm, how can I help you?” That’s a great question. You can stop having phone sex with other people, for starters.

“Y-you know, it’s been a while since we had our last session and I just thought that it might be good to have a chat like, before, just to catch up on everything.” It’s his reply.

He can hear the way he sounds, voice faltering, words coming out rushed. It fills the inside of the car and bounces against the walls before entering his ears, the uncertainty so raw that he cringes at what you, a psychologist, might be able to read between the lines.

“Okay…” You stretch out the last syllable, absolutely not buying what he was selling. “But we only had to reschedule one of your appointments, right?” It sure felt like longer than that.

“Yeah, just the one.” He runs a rough hand down his cheek, rubbing at his mouth in a soothing gesture, his palm meeting the prickly stubble lining his jaw in the process. “I think it’s because it’s been a while since we talked without it being in that setting, and I thought we could have a more relaxed conversation, like the ones we had before.”

“I see.” Your features wilt, expression taking on an exasperated look and you turn your head towards the opposite side of the window, hindering Dean’s view of you, but he could swear he caught a slight row of your eyes. “Dean, I was under the impression that we had already discussed this, and why it’s simply not… Viable.”

“I know.” He said it way too loud, having to make an effort to bring the volume of his next sentences down. “And I get it, I’m a patient and that’s all that I can be, but I just wish that we-” You raise your fingers to eye level, checking your nails for imperfections, not particularly displaying much enthusiasm in your demeanor. He puffs out a breath through his nose, completely out of his element. “That we could go back to being friends.”

“I understand.” You let out an annoyed sigh. “But I need to be perfectly clear with you. Once I became your therapist, there was no ‘going back’. Even if we stopped having our sessions, we still couldn't regain the relationship we had before. You’ve shared deep, extremely personal information about yourself with me, and I have analyzed you as a psychologist. There’s no possibility of me ever not seeing you as a patient.”

Dean takes in everything you say, each statement feeling like a stab in the chest. The little world he had built inside his head, for you and him only, crumbles to the ground as if it was made of sand. Disillusion wraps around his throat and he grips the steering wheel till his knuckles turn white.

“Well, fuck.” You make a displeased sound at the curse word he blurts out, almost making it seem like you weren’t sitting on your couch only in your underpants, but he’s quick to rectify anyway. “I’m sorry. There’s probably no good reason for me to ask what you’re doing Saturday night, then?” He chuckles, making a poor attempt at a joke.

Why did he say that? He knew what your response would be. He isn’t some utterly delusional, socially oblivious, lovesick teenager. At least, he never was before. He used to be the complete opposite. A confident, self-assured lady-killer that wouldn’t be caught dead pining over a clearly uninterested woman.

And now look at him.

Why must he humiliate himself like this? When did he turn into that kind of guy? No wonder you find him pathetic.

“No.” You answered, curtly, and even though you’re unaware that he can see you, you shake your head side to side, only to reinforce the refusal. “I mean, you can ask, but I’m just going to give you a deflective answer.”

A toe-curling embarrassment hangs in the air around the two of you, resembling a strong, overly sweet perfume that refuses to dissipate, and all Dean can think to do is retreat, go home to lick his wounds from this lost battle.

Why did you need to be so difficult?

“Whelp, guess I finally got the message. Loud and clear.” A deafening silence extends itself and he clears his throat, the awkwardness building with it. “See you in a couple days in your office, Y/N.”

“Sure.” You agree, and he’s about to hang up before you stop him. “Wait, Dean-”

“Yes?” There’s so much in that one question. It’s just three small letters, but they mean a lot more.

‘Is something wrong?’

‘Did you change your mind?’

‘One word from you, and I’m yours.’

“How did you get this number?” Is what actually comes out of your mouth and Dean deflates, face scrunching up as he murmurs a quiet ‘shit’. Of fucking course that’s what you would say.

“You gave it to me.” He offers, clean and simple. In his opinion, it’s always best to deliver a short, detail-free lie that can be molded and shaped into whatever fits his narrative.

“I…” You think long and hard for a bit, bringing your right knee up, resting your arm on it. “I don’t remember doing that. Are you sure?”

“I’m pretty sure. How else would I have it?” He tightens his lips, praying to God that you’ll fall for that.

“Um…” You pause, considering what would be the alternative. If he managed to get a hold of your contact without it coming from you, that would mean that he’s some sort of creep, psycho stalker, and surely, you wouldn't make that low of a judgment about him. “Yeah, you’re right. I guess I did, then. It’s just that this is my personal number, so if you ever feel the need to reach me again, I would appreciate it if you did it through the business one.”

Ouch. You weren’t pulling any punches today, were you?

“Of course.” Dean agrees through gritted teeth, his ego more bruised than his face after a whole round with the Devil. “My mistake.”

“Don’t worry about it.” You crack your knuckles in the same way he often does and the corners of his mouth lift involuntarily. You were made for him. You just don’t know it yet, and he can’t be mad at you for that. “Have a good night, Dean.” You wish, at last.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” It’s the last thing he says before you hang up and the line disconnects.

He stays for a while longer, resting the back of his head in the driver’s seat, fingers anxiously tapping on the dashboard while he waits to see if you’ll call that son of a bitch again. But you only fidget with your phone for a minute or two before you put it down, coaxing a sigh of relief out of Dean’s lungs.

You get up from the couch and make a beeline for your bedroom then, taking time to lightly scratch at your scalp with the ends of your nails in circular motions, finding the sensation relaxing if your hum of delight was anything to go by.

You stop in front of your closet, opening it to fetch a towel from inside. Once you have it in your grasp, you leave your bedroom and walk the short path to your bathroom, closing the door behind you, the wooden barrier blocking Dean’s field of vision.

Dean can’t hear the shower running, but he can see the vapor escaping from under the entrance and decides it’s time to go. He turns the key and the engine sparks to life, the drive to his house in the picture-perfect suburbs filled solely with thoughts of you. He fixates on whether or not you’re accepting of hot showers only, since he can’t stand them. Maybe the two of you could find a happy medium whenever you choose to shower together.

With that image in mind, he can’t fight the smile that creeps on his lips as he parks and exits the minivan after reaching his destination, the first thing he hears upon crossing the entryway being Thor’s excited barks and the familiar sound of his paws on the foyer’s floor when he runs to welcome Dean back home.

“Hey, buddy.” The Winchester kneels down to pat the German Sheppard’s soft coat, allowing a few affectionate licks from the dog to land on the side of his face before getting up again.

“You’re here.” Lisa’s voice announces as she enters the space, eyeing Dean up and down, inspecting him for something that she doesn’t seem to find. “I didn’t know if you were coming home.” He scoffs at her choice of words.

“What is that supposed to mean?” It’s a challenge. He wants her to say what she’s really thinking. He wants her to yell at him, hit him if that’s what she wants to do.

“Ben was asking for you at dinner.” She averts her gaze, a looming melancholy painted on her pretty brown eyes and Dean’s vexation dwindles.

“Where is he?” He asks.

“Playing video games in his room.” She still doesn’t look at him, preferring to find a nondescript spot on the wall to the right of them to focus on.

“I’ll talk to him before it’s time to go to bed.” He tells her, earning a soft ‘hmm’ in response. He waits to make sure the conversation has come to an end, and she folds her arms, hugging her own waist and remaining quiet.

With nothing left to say, he leaves her where she stands, slow-moving feet taking him to the garage. He closes and locks the door behind him, staring for too long at the outline of the Impala that rests in the room, cloaked by a large tarp.

There are wall-mounted shelves littered with all types of tools and forgotten items, and hidden behind all the paraphernalia, he uncovers the box he came looking for.

He plucks it from its secret place and cradles it in his hands, as if it contained a precious treasure. He then sits in the old recliner they put out of service and moved into the garage a few months back, laying the box on his lap and getting comfortable against the upholstered leather.

He lifts the lid of the box, finding his prized collection in the same way he left it. The dainty necklace with a shiny pendant hanging from its chain. The body lotion that emanated a refreshing and pure smell. A pair of your panties, the off-white lacy one that made his head spin. Those were the souvenirs he took from your apartment and now keeps with him.

Prior to tonight, he had only stared at them in fear and wonder. He feared his actions, how far he was willing to go just to maintain even some small pieces of you close to him. But at the same time, he couldn't help but admire the objects with an awe-inspired twinkle in his eyes.

His right hand moved towards your underwear, fingers lightly brushing the delicate cloth, learning how it feels to the touch. The tactile sensation of rubbing the pads of his fingers against the crotch panel of the garment caused Dean’s skin to prickle with an unnerving heat.

You had been wearing plain cotton panties that night, and yet they looked so appealing as they clutched you by your hips and hugged your ass. Dean brought the piece of clothing he was holding closer, inspecting it carefully, raking over the tiny intricacies with his fingertips.

He imagined you in front of him, dressed only in this flimsy little thing. Would you wear lace for him the first time you let him fuck you? Would the material cling to your pussy lips when he got you wet like you were tonight?

No, he could get you wetter. He could ruin you.

He found himself taking the bottle of lotion and setting the box to the side of him, ragged breaths echoing in the quiet of the room. There’s a fire spreading through his lower abdomen, a burst of need he hasn’t felt this intensely in a long while.

His penis twitches in his pants, begging for attention and Dean gropes it with the hand that is still holding your underwear, just grazing it instead of giving it the friction it demands.

He shuts his eyes, and behind his closed eyelids, he envisions you so clearly. Knelt down between his legs, your smaller, soft hand being the one to scrape the surface of the bulge inside his jeans, teasing him mercilessly.

“Look at how dirty you are.” You’d say, an amused smile plastered on your lips. “Dick half-hard and growing while you finger my stolen panties.”

Dean wouldn't dare touch you, lest you disappear before him like a mirage, so he’d busy his hand by bringing the fine lacy fabric he had been caressing to his face, putting it against his nose and, inhaling deeply. Nothing other than a faint smell of laundry detergent fills his senses, but in his mind’s eye, it’s the sweet scent of your dripping cunt that permeates the space around him and makes his mouth water.

“Want you so bad.” He’d pant, whiny and desperate.

“I know.” Your tone would be so condescending, grinning a cruel grin whilst you’d line the span of his member with the edge of your nails and blow a puff of hot air on it, letting your pouty lips ghost over the swelling organ. “You’re such a pervert.”

You’d look up at him with a lascivious glint darkening the color of your irises, weightless fingers working to undo the zipper of his pants before your hand would delve inside his boxers and takes hold of his pulsating length.

Dean would bite into the cloth of your underwear in a laughable attempt to hold in the hopeless moan that you’d coax out of him as you’d pull out his manhood, now fully erect and needy.

“Your cock is so pretty.” You’d utter under your breath, more to yourself than to him. A fascinated look on your face as you’d stare at it from base to glans, eyes glazing over. “I love how flushed you’re at the tip.”

You’d use your thumb to press at the opening of the urethra as your other fingers wrapped around the mushroom head, and Dean would buck his hips and whimper when you’d smear the precum that had gathered there.

“Oh, sweetie, you’re weeping.” You’d coo and suckle at your thumb, eagerly lapping at the taste, releasing the digit with a pop once it was stripped clean of his essence.

Dean’s eyes would widen at how depraved you could be, how absolutely filthy and debauched you were just for him, and his heart would swell with pride and his brain would swim in endorphins.

“Do you want me to suck it? Put it in the back of my throat?” You’d ask without any intention of gaining a response from him, half of your words coming out muffled since you’d try to speak with your mouth full, alternating your attention between laving your tongue on the tender intersection where Dean’s foreskin would be if he hadn’t been circumcised, and stubbornly seeking to close your lips around the middle of his shaft, head leaned horizontally as you’d litter him with wet, open-mouthed kisses.

“I- I can’t.” He’d cry out, the sodden material of your lace underpants becoming saturated in his saliva, falling through his teeth, and landing on the floor when he couldn’t keep his shameful sobs in any longer. “I need you to come here.”

“I am here, silly.” You’d giggle with no real humor and, like the vixen you are, you’d place both your hands on each of his knees and prop yourself up just enough that the divine softness of your tits would rub up against his member, taut nipples grazing the sensitive flesh and causing Dean to grunt, on the verge of overstimulation.

You would've barely touched him, and he would have been reduced to a puddle in your grasp, every nerve ending in his body feeling raw and overexposed.

“No, come up here. Sit on my face.” He’d beg and you would laugh at the broken state of his voice, but still oblige him.

You’d stand up slowly, your bare tits shaking tantalizingly with the movement and catching his eyes, the way your cunny would still be hidden by the same pair of tight, plain panties driving Dean mad.

You’d move closer then, placing one of your knees on each of his thighs and climbing over him with the help of his arms as they moved to grab a handful of your ass cheeks, the soft mewl that you’d try to keep in stealing his breath away.

“This is what you wanted?” Your timbre would be pure venom once both your legs straddled his shoulders and you held on to the shelves on the wall for support, you’re clothed pussy hovering mere inches from his mouth. “This is what you dreamed of, you freak?”

“Yes.” He’d confess and try to force you to sit down properly by pulling at your flanks, but you’d swat his hands away with a condemning ‘tsk’ and he’d crane his neck up, tongue sticking out to get a taste of the cloth that concealed your lower lips but only being capable of brushing against it with the tip of the muscle. “Please.”

“Oh, my goodness, you’re such a brat.” You’d mock his restlessness, holding firmly onto the wooden shelves as a way to prevent him from making further contact with your center. “All whiny and needy for me.”

Dean would moan in ecstasy when you’d gradually lower your hips by a tiny fraction, allowing him to moisten the fabric of your underwear with kitten licks, giving out a lament as he failed to fully wrap his lips on the sweet spot between your legs.i

He would pinch at the skin of your inner thighs, using his big hands to knead the flesh around your vulva, wordlessly imploring you to give him what he craved.

“Drop your weight on my face.” His voice would come out all raspy with yearning, and yet he wouldn’t care. “Please, Y/N.”

As if you were a goddess tired of the constant prayers and supplications that he laid at your altar, you’d take pity on his poor soul and finally sink yourself down completely against him.

The heat of his mouth would immediately envelop your middle as a sob escaped from deep in his chest, and he would start to suck on your clit through the cotton of your panties like a man possessed.

“What a crybaby.” You’d snicker and his ears would heat up in embarrassment, but he would ignore it in favor of nipping at the fabric that would stick to your pussy due to the mixture of your wetness and his spit.

Dean would gorge himself on you like a starving animal, feasting on your addicting flavor as your slick juices overflowed from you. The sloppy suction noises would reverberate in the room, a continuous frantic slurping that went over the line of pornographic and bordered on offensive.

Even through your taunting, he would hear the soft sounds of pleasure that you would try to control. Your whimpering when his tongue would hit your bundle of nerves just right, and your wailing when he would rake the blunt ends of his teeth over the swollen bud.

“Always wanted to do this.” He’d mumble in between the persistent licks of his tongue on you and his dick would throb as a result of its neglect.

With one hand planted securely on the fat of your right thigh, Dean would let the other move to his deprived manhood, taking hold of it from the base and working his way to the leaking head.

At first contact, The Winchester would feel a shock pass through him, a literal electric pulse that would overtake him with a sensation so strong that he’d be forced to cease his ministrations, the skin of his shaft too sensitive with how hard he had been for so long.

“Can’t even jerk yourself off right, can you?” You’d jeer at him, pressing your gushing cunt to his face, grinding back and forth against his open mouth, and rubbing your stiff clit on his nose, cutting off his air. “Should I get over there so I can spit on that dick, make it really wet?” You wouldn't allow him to answer, using a hand to tug on the short hairs in the back of his head just to hear him moan, the vibrations landing directly on your soaked underwear. “Do you think that would even help or you’re just being an attention whore?”

Your cutting words would only serve to make his member grow even harder, pointing straight at the ceiling, length heavy with rushing blood and balls full of cum, spasming with pent-up readiness, standing perfectly vertical and sullying the shirt that covered the skin below his belly button.

He didn’t even know he could feel pleasure this deep, this piercing, so overwhelming that it blended into pain. And he certainly didn’t know that he would like it, that he would enjoy the overstimulation as much as he did the humiliation. Your scornful remarks causing a fire to spread under his collar, your insolence riling him up to a point where all he could think about was taking whatever you so generously gave him.

Yes, he was a dirty pervert and a freak for you, now would you please shut up and cream on his tongue so that he could form a single coherent thought?

Furthermore, the idea of losing the feeling of your sitting on his face — with the ripe smell of your arousal filling his nostrils at every labored inhale, and the heady taste of your wetness that runs down his jaw —, is so unappealing to Dean that his nails would clamp down on the flesh of your thigh where he held it, so that you couldn't move away.

“Please, let me-” He’d mutter and bob his head up and down on your pussy, the grip you had on his hair tightening and eliciting a groan from him at the sting.

He’d take the forgotten bottle of body lotion, using his thumbnail to pry the lid open. Without being able to see what he was doing, he’d blindly coat a considerable amount of the balmy substance on the leaking head of his dick, the cream mixing with his pre as he gently massaged it down the shaft.

With the moisturizer lubing him up, the rough friction of his calloused hand on the delicate tissue of his massive hard-on would be pleasantly reduced, and an animalistic whine would get caught in his throat from the relief that came with stroking his needy length properly, the rumble of it reaching your center and making more of your molten honey to ooze out of you.

“You’re fucking delicious.” He’d tell you, delirious from the unmatched satisfaction of savoring you ceaselessly, watching you undulate your hips when he sucked you just right while he milked the meat of his penis.

“Yeah? You like it that bad? Eating me out just like this?” You’d ask, all breathy and hoarse, eyes crossing and tongue lolling out to wet your dry lips. “You’re are so sick, fisting your cock while your therapist sits on your face.”

Your filthy mouth would spur him on, the flicks of his wrist getting faster and erratic, the obscene wet noises becoming louder as he drank from you, the clean scent of your lotion pervading the air.

“Uggh!” He’d grunt, suckling on your clit in a wild frenzy, hand flapping up and down the shaft of his quivering dick, the two of you tangled in a mess of limbs and fluids, and it still wouldn't seem to be enough.

He’d want more, he’d want all of you. He’d want to mark you in love bites and paint you with his seed. On your pretty face, on your soft tits, on your lovely cunny.

God, he wanted to cum inside you, stuff you so full of him that you’d forget your own name. He’s sure you’d be tight, but he’d stretch you out, mold you to the shape of him. Plant his sticky essence so deep into you that you could never rinse it off, never rid yourself of him.

He would hear you cry out when you reached your peak, euphoria weighing down your bones and turning your brain to mush. That elastic band of tension would finally snap, and Dean would groan as the first ropes of his release would spurt out of him, landing on his lower abdomen and soiling his clothes. He wouldn't stop pumping the span of his cock, nor would he stop lapping at the dripping fabric of your covered pussy, extending your orgasms till the muscles of your calves began to shake.

Once he was thoroughly spent, he opens his eyes to find no trace of your presence. Only the ticklish sensation of the lace adorning your off-white underpants that he’d been pressing to his face, and the light, enchanting notes of your body lotion that he had used as lube.

It had all felt so real that he takes a while to find his bearings, lungs burning as he gasps for air, never once having experienced this intensity of rapture.

He feels damp with sweat, mingled with the smell of sex, and his hands tremble as they rearrange everything back where it belongs. The leather recliner chair, the now wrinkled clothes he wore, and the priceless box of mementos he kept of you.

After all of it is put back in its proper place, he attempts to fix his disheveled hair before unlocking the door of the garage and tiptoeing around the house.

The wooden floors creak under his feet as he walks to the bathroom, passing through the ajar door of Ben’s bedroom and catching the boy fast asleep in his bed. He hears the clinking of glass coming from the living room and he can assume Lisa is downing her daily bottle of wine.

He goes to bed after taking a relaxing shower, the once tense muscles of his back appearing to be loose and reinvigorated. The soft mattress sinks below his weight, even though his body feels like a flowing feather, and by the time he drifts off to sleep, he dreams only of you.

The next morning, he wakes up early, silently getting ready so as not to disturb the sleep of the brunette who occupies her side of the bed. His breakfast is quick, serving as fuel for the busy day ahead, and the drive to work proves to be uneventful.

It’s tedious labor to go about his business on the construction site, with time seeming to stand still as his mind wanders to more exciting places. A vampire’s nest in Manning, Colorado. A zombie case in Greenville, Illinois. Under your sheets, in your warm embrace.

What a shame wishful thinking doesn’t get him anywhere, though. He will never hunt again, the thrill of the job forever lost, traded by the adrenaline rush of endless sawing and drilling. And as far as spending his time anywhere near the strong pull of your magnetic field goes, Dean refuses to give up. He won’t quit that calling.

“Hey, George, can I talk to you for a sec?” As soon as his watch marks 4 p.m., he marches up to his supervisor and asks the question.

“Sure, what’s up?” The balding man looks up at Dean from his clipboard, ceasing his scribbly writing to give him his full attention.

“I’m gonna need to leave a little early, if that’s okay.” In all honesty, Dean would probably go even if it wasn’t okay. He can always get another gig, but what he had to do today couldn't wait.

“Again? It’s the second time this week alone.” George informed him, putting his pen behind his ear with a furrowed brow.

“I know, but Lisa’s mom has been sick and she’s taking care of her, so sometimes I need to pick Ben up from school.” Dean’s face didn’t twitch by a single millimeter, his gaze never wavering as the lies poured easily from him. “You understand, right?”

George flattened his lips in thought, considering the Winchester’s words. 

“Okay, but you owe me.” He said eventually, waggling his index finger at his work colleague.

“You got it.” Dean agreed, smiling contently as he removed his safety gear, patting the foreman on the shoulder before making his exit.

He had the route of your apartment committed to memory, parking in that same spot across your street feeling like the most natural thing to do. Only this time, he had no intention of seeing you perform your daily, mundane tasks, having arrived earlier in the afternoon so that you’d still be in your office.

Your place would be free for him to explore, perhaps succeeding in his search for an object that might be linking the ghost to your home. Once he got that, it was a simple salt and burn and it would be done, you’d be safe. This would mean that, technically, you’d have no need for Dean’s protection, for his watchful eye, or his proximity. He could conclude his therapy sessions with you and go back to his life as if you had never crossed his path.

Everything would be the same as it was before, and Dean could busy himself with dog walks where he’d meet no beautiful women, Ben’s little league softball games, silently having dinner with Lisa, and so on and so forth, ad infinitum.

Yeah, no. Now that he thought of it, he wasn’t going to do that. He was not about to shield himself from your light or deprive himself of your incandescent glow. He was like a moth to a flame, and he had no intention of forsaking your heat. He wasn’t that much of a masochist.

With that issue settled in his mind, he turns off his car’s engine, ready to let himself into your space so that he could rid you from not only this danger, but any others that might present themselves in the future, ‘cause he wasn’t going anywhere. Except that before he can leave his vehicle, he catches a glimpse of a shadow moving inside your apartment.

He squints, trying to get a better look at the figure. As it approaches your living room window, the image of a man becomes clear to Dean’s eyes. He had an average build, not particularly tall. Wavy dark brown hair and clear pale skin, apparently also smoker’s breath from the lit cigarette he was holding.

“The fuck?” Dean curses, whispering to himself, utterly confused by who that man was and what he was doing in your place while you were not there. Did you have a stalker or something?

The guy moves around calmly, taking a puff of nicotine from time to time, checking out the portraits on your wall and the family pictures scattered here and there. He puts out his cigarette when he’s done, preferring to throw it out the window than in a bin, which Dean deduces to be because he doesn’t want you to know he smokes. He then pops a mint into his mouth, as if on cue.

He walks to your bedroom, seeing a lonely stuffed animal on top of your dresser and smiling at it, probably finding the fact that you have it as cute as the Winchester does. He opens your underwear drawer and Dean wants to kill him, gaze at the fear in his eyes before they go dark.

How dare he defile your privacy in this manner? Crudely going through your intimate possessions as if he was inspecting an exhibit in a museum. He shouldn't be allowed to set foot in the room where you lay your head at night, where you are at your most vulnerable. The more time passes with Dean evaluating the situation, the more he wants to go in there and permanently remove that piece of shit from your area.

The man lets out a low whistle when he plucks an especially tiny pair of your panties from the drawer, but before he could do anything more, his phone begins to ring.

“Hi, Y/N.” Dean can read his lips when he picks up, clear as day.

He lets go of the garment, putting it back where he found it and closing the drawer, a stupid smile on his lips as he starts to talk to you, but Dean doesn’t pay attention any longer, completely tuning out after that.

His world seemed to collapse around him. The revelation hit him like a tidal wave, engulfing his heart in a hurricane of seething emotions.

So he was the ‘them’ you were masturbating to last night.

Was he your boyfriend? Fiancé? Dean knew you weren’t married and nothing that remotely inferred that you were in a romantic relationship ever came up. Not during his extensive research on you or when he was the one scouring your apartment. Definitely not during the talks the two of you shared.

Or maybe you simply didn’t want to tell him. Didn’t feel the need to. After all, he was nothing but a patient to you. You certainly had no intention of disclosing personal details of your life, let alone invite him to be a part of it.

The guy talks to you for at least twenty minutes, settling at the edge of your bed. He’s all goofy grins and heart eyes, nervously running his hands through his hair every five seconds, as if he was chatting with his high school crush.

Seriously, this is your type? A wimpy little boy that can’t even handle holding a conversation with you? Has he ever even fucked you properly, or did he just whisper some lines he took off the internet in your ear, and had you take care of yourself?

The mere thought of you, the one he yearns for so deeply, involved with that mouth breather sends waves of uncontrollable rage surging through Dean’s body.

No, this can’t be right. You can’t be wasting your time with someone like this. You could do so much better. He will prove it to you.

Eventually, Fuckface says his goodbye and hangs up, pocketing his cell and getting up from your bed. He straightens the coverings and goes to the kitchen, opening your fridge and taking his sweet time examining the items within.

Dean’s eyes drift out of focus, vaguely aware of what was taking place inside your apartment through his peripheral vision, his brain getting caught in a ruminating spiral.

His head becomes a cauldron of uncontrollable dark thoughts, envisioning what he would have to do to set this right. A chilling torrent of murderous jealousy consumed him, coursing through his veins, demanding satisfaction with a dangerous force.

How could you do this to him? Surely you knew you’re the object of his affections by now, he had made that clear to a point where it was just ridiculous, so why let him burn in fury from the agony of betrayal?

Was this what you wanted, to push him perilously close to the edge?

Maybe it was.

Maybe that was exactly what you intended.

Maybe you were just playing a game of cat and mouse, filling his days with your wonderful, radiating aura and then tugging the rug from under him. Removing your sweet smiles, and your dazzling eyes, and your addictive perfume.

Was this your idea of foreplay?

Fuckface decides on sparkling water — of course he does —, retrieving it from the refrigerator and then moving to explore the contents of the cabinets, searching for a glass.

You need this parasite out of your life. Maybe Dean should exterminate it for you.

He’s so lost in that cyclical headspace that he doesn’t see what was happening at first, the sudden appearance of a flashing shape, the sound of glass shattering and a guttural scream snapping him back to reality.

“Help!” The man begs, voice crackling from sheer terror, a grey-skinned specter rushing at him.

Dean doesn’t even blink, instincts kicking in as he spurs into action, grabbing his salt-loaded shotgun and concealing it in his waistband the best way he can. He leaves his car, sprinting across the street and entering your building, running up the stairs to your floor, climbing two steps at a time.

He bursts through your front door, and he would've for sure broken it off its hinges if it hadn’t been unlocked. He walks forward into your living room, the open-concept layout of your kitchen permitting him to see the gruesome scene as it unfolds.

The ghost of Judith McCook, rotting corpse completely naked, long auburn hair caked to her face with endless dripping water, skin unnaturally grey. She hunches over the guy, snarling like a rabid dog and holding him by his neck with superhuman strength.

Water rushes out the kitchen sink faucet, overflowing it entirely, Judith’s death grip keeping his head submerged. He yells, gurgling under the water, thrashing and flailing helplessly. He pushes against the sides of the sink, arms straining as he attempts to get back up with all of his might.

Dean pulls out his shotgun, aiming at the spirit, salt-loaded cartridges at the ready. He has her in his sights, less than five feet of distance between them. One shot and she would dissipate harmlessly for a short time, enough for the man’s life to be spared.

But… He hesitates.

As he stands there, witnessing the life being drained from a man, a moment of bitter truth pierces through the air. The gravity of the situation was palpable, as fate had placed him at a crossroads. His whole existence had been defined by taking down monsters, saving people, but now conflicting emotions churned within him, tearing at his conscience.

The choice before him was agonizingly clear. Prevent the killing of the one who stood in the way of his own happiness, or let him perish and secure his own desires.

In that fleeting moment, he makes his decision.

The allure of you, of his need to have you all to himself, overwhelms any flicker of empathy or compassion that may have remained and Dean lowers his weapon. He doesn’t look away or closes his eyes, not even flinches, a cruel and calculated resolve settled upon him as he just watches.

The guy’s struggle continued for what felt like forever, desperation rooted deep in his bones while his limbs flapped about, moving erratically. With a cold detachment, Dean waited, till eventually it was over. The moment the man died, body standing still, the ghost vanished, flickering lights accompanying her exit.

The weight of Dean’s ruling, having acted as judge and jury, descends heavily on his soul, forever altering his perception of himself and the darkness he didn’t know resided within.

There are no long sighs or second guesses, he just puts his gun back in his waistband, face unreadable as he gets to work. He rolls up his sleeves, careful not to let the water get on his clothes when he moves to turn off the faucet, pushing the limp body to the floor with a thud.

Under the sink, he unscrews the shutoff valve, allowing a steady stream of water to flow from it. Hopefully, when you come home, which should be soon, you’ll conclude that the soaked floors were due to a plumbing problem. Your apartment already has so many issues, according to you, what’s one more?

The sole of his boots crunch some of the broken glass beneath him, and he goes on to methodically clean it all up, flushing it down the toilet once he’s done.

Back in the kitchen, Dean stares at the cadaver with a tut. He’s lying on his back, lifeless eyes perpetually open and mouth agape.

“Dammit.” The Winchester murmurs to himself, mildly annoyed. It has been a long time since he last had to conceal a body and he wasn’t looking forward to it. “Oh, well. I knew the minivan had to be good for something.”

In less than thirty minutes, he has the corpse in the back of his car and is driving away, thankful that you hadn’t arrived home yet. He crosses state lines, leaving Michigan in favor of disposing of the dead guy as far away from home as possible.

He imagines you’ll wonder about the man, maybe even miss him, but it’ll pass. Dean broke his phone and the SIM card, so soon you’ll come to believe that he simply ghosted you, which makes him chuckle at the irony.

Then, you’ll forget about his existence, free to occupy yourself with what really matters, which is building your relationship with Dean. Because that will happen, whether you like it or not.

It’s past seven at night when he comes home, digging graves not being as easy as he remembered. By the time he crosses the threshold of his house, Thor is at his feet, sniffing instead of barking happily, probably smelling death and dirt on him.

“Finally!” Lisa’s steps are hard and so is her voice when she greets him at the foyer, holding a mysterious bag in her hands, rage taking over her expression.

“I know, you’re pissed about something I did or didn’t do, but can you cut me some slack? I had to work late today. I’m gonna take a shower.” Dean rubs the bridge of his nose as he says it, trying to move around her in the hallway to get to the bathroom, but she blocks his passage.

“I sent Ben to sleep at a friend’s house, we need to talk.” Her gaze doesn’t cower under his like it did last night, her grip tightening on the bag she’s holding.

“For the love of God, now, really? You wanna talk right now?” If there were a contest for world’s worst timing he’s sure she’dwin. All he wants to do at this moment is get in the shower and then drag himself to bed, he has to be rested for his appointment with you tomorrow, after all.

“Yes, I want to talk about the fact that you say you had to work late, but I ran into George at the supermarket an hour ago and he told me that he hopes my mom is feeling better?” She answers without skipping a beat, and Dean curses George and his blabber mouth under his breath. “Yeah, he said that you told him you had to leave work early ‘cause she’s been ill, which surprised me, since that’s the first I heard of it.”

“Okay, that sounds suspicious but I-” He begins to try to explain, not exactly sure where he was going with it.

“Suspicious? It sounds like you’ve been lying to my face, Dean.” She interrupts him, her eyes filling with tears, and Dean can’t pinpoint if it’s from anger or hurt, perhaps both. “You know what? I thought that you were going through a rough patch, that you were missing your brother, I even thought that you started hunting again.”

“Lisa-” He tries once more, but she raises her hand for him to stop.

“And to be honest, I would've understood if it was any of those things.” Her voice cracks and fat tears begin to fall down her cheeks. “But then I find this.”  She pulls a box out of the bag she’d been holding, and Dean takes a step forward in her direction when he realizes it’s the box.

“What the fuck is this?” She shouts.

End notes: Yeah, Dean, what the fuck is this?? Also, I do not know who might be interested to know this, but the thing that inspired this story the most was a song by Sleeping At Last called Two, I visualized the plot unfolding after hearing it for the first time, which was years ago. Anyway, the chapters are getting way longer and heavier and that makes them a lot harder to revise, so I was wondering if any of you would be so kind to offer your services as a beta to this fic, it would a great help. Just putting it out there.

[deancasbigbang]

Title: Temple Heights

Author: Tierra469

Artist: ariasune

Rating: Explicit

Pairings: Dean/Cas, Sam/Eileen

Length: 30000

Warnings: undefined

Tags: Post-Canon Fix-It, Case Fic, Road Trip, Sexual Tension, Canon-Typical Violence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Gay Sex, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Mentions of Suicide (case-related)

Posting Date: October 10, 2023

Summary: Four years after Castiel is subsumed into the Empty, he returns to snatch Dean from death’s door. Dean had never expected to see his best friend again, and had made his peace with Castiel’s death. Or so he thought. Castiel’s return gives them both a second chance at love—if Dean can get past his complicated feelings and Cas can survive the transition he’s undergoing, and the case Dean, Cas and Sam take on together (for old time’s sake and a mini-vacation) at Temple Heights Spiritualist Camp in Maine—a case that holds eerie and tragic parallels to their own love story.

Excerpt: Dean cut the engine and got out of the car, suddenly enveloped in the stillness of the night, the smell of low tide and the sound of his boots, finally, on the wooden dock as he walked out to the end. When he reached Castiel, he sat down quietly beside him, but the angel didn’t look at him. His friend gazed out across the bay, fear and sadness in the shadows of his face. “Talk to me, buddy,” Dean said. Cas just stared, but his hands in his lap clenched tighter. “We promised to tell each other the truth,” Dean reminded him. “What’s been eating you all day?” Castiel’s face crumpled. “Dean… I fear I’ve made a mistake. Perhaps I should not have returned.” Dean felt his heart plummet—a cold stone settling in his stomach. “Why not?” “I’ve opened a door. I’ve opened a door once again that should have stayed closed. If there are other angels following in my footsteps—what now? What have I done?” Dean didn’t have an answer for that. He reached over and laid a hand on Cas’ thigh. The angel wouldn’t look at him. “What have I done to Jack? If his own… his own family is disobedient—who else will stand by him? What if there is general rebellion? And what will happen here if more angels decide to return? They could amass an army here. I need to know what’s happening. I need to talk to Jack.” “Is that what you’ve been doin’ for the past hour? Thinking up worst-case scenarios?” “Worst-case scenarios seem to follow me.” “Mmm. Well.” Dean gave his leg a little squeeze. “Luckily I eat worst-case scenarios for breakfast.” “This is serious, Dean—but it shouldn’t be your problem. You and Sam don’t need to help. I can find Christopher and I can talk to him. Perhaps I can gain some information, find out why he’s here and what’s happening in Heaven. Take care of the problem if I have to.” “Pretty sure I know why he’s here. And Sam and I aren’t going anywhere. We took this case together, remember?” “Why is he here?” Castiel asked. “Same reason you are. For love. Only his girl wasn’t here when he got here.” Dean told Cas the whole story that Cynthia had just related to them. Castiel closed his eyes, falling silent. “You really wishing you were back in Heaven?” Dean asked, not wanting to hear the answer. “I’m wishing I hadn’t abandoned Jack. And I’m wishing my actions hadn’t put anyone in danger again. But no—I’m not wishing that.” Dean took a deep breath, determined to comfort his friend. “Listen,” he said. He reached over to lay his hand atop Castiel’s clenched fists. “Jack is GOD now. He’s got things under control. You know he loves you and wants you to be happy. You know he understands. Hell, he wouldn’t have kept that escape hatch open if he didn’t expect you to use it.”

DCBB 2023 Posting Schedule

[deanwinchesterswitch]

March 2024 Monthly Fic Recs

I had a great time reading this month. This is a nice full list with lots of variety and some new-to-me authors.

If you like rain or thunderstorms, this is a good list to check out.

Enjoy!

Many of these blogs and fics are NSFW-18+. Please honor any requests from a blog regarding no minors. I am not responsible for the content you choose to consume; heed the warnings for each fic.

~Big Sky~

Don't Walk Away ~ @marvelfanfn2187a113. Author's Summary: you walk in on your dad crying, and try to comfort him (Beau Arlen & daughter!reader)

~Justified~

A Night in Miami ~ @wayward-and-worn. Author's Summary: Time together was short, but Raylan couldn’t let her go without saying what he wanted to say.  Just not necessarily with words.

~MCU~

Hello ~ @cockslutpadalecki. Author's Summary: You’ve given up on love. That is until a stranger walks up to you in a bar, and starts off a chain of events even you couldn’t dream up. (Steve x F!Reader)

Rain ~ @waiting4inspiration. Author's Summary: You love it when there’s rain and love standing out in open, but Steve doesn’t want you to end up sick so he gives you his jacket when he notices that you’re cold

Thunder Struck ~ @str-spangled-banner. Author's Summary: None (Bucky x Female Reader)

Thunderstorm Singing ~ @buckystories. Author's Summary: It turns out your ex-assassin boyfriend, Bucky Barnes, is afraid of thunderstorms. You help to comfort him with fluff, cuddling and singing.

~RPF~

Begging For It ~ @impala-dreamer. Author's Summary: None (Tell me about... the hair swipe; Jensen Ackles x Reader)

Family Style ~ @impala-dreamer. Author's Summary: None (Drabble; Jensen Ackles x Female Reader)

It'll Do ~ @impala-dreamer. Author's Summary: None (Drabble; Jensen Ackles x Female Reader)

Sunday Morning ~ @impala-dreamer. Author's Summary: None (Drabble; Jensen Ackles x Female Reader)

Worthwhile ~ @impala-dreamer. Author's Summary: None (Drabble; Jensen Ackles x Female Reader)

~Supernatural~

A Little Wild ~ @rizlowwritessortof. Author's Summary: A middle-of-the-night thunderstorm helps release those pent-up feelings - pretty much just an excuse for Dean smut…

But God, at what cost? ~ @my-proof-is-you. Author's Summary: Dean helping you get through your cardio workout

Concern ~ @thatonewriter15. Author's Summary: Maybe she can hide her feelings for Dean, but she can’t hide her (mild) injury from him.

Ebb & Flow ~ @cleighwrites. Author's Summary: While on vacation in an quintessential beach house, you take advantage of a little alone time. The brothers return when a storm hits its stride; everything gets wet.

His Doll ~ @impala-dreamer. Author's Summary: Dean comes back from a hunt in a mood and Y/N is the only thing that will help him relax.

Imagine…Getting trapped in a storm with Dean ~ @luci-in-trenchcoats. Author's Summary: None

Laissez Les Bons Temp Rouler ~ @thoughtslikeaminefield. Author's Summary: He’s got a dirty mouth when he’s drunk. (Dean Winchester x You (female))

No Title ~ @supernaturalfreewill. Author’s Summary: None (Ficlet; Dean Winchester x Reader)

Not Your Fault ~ @impala-dreamer. Author's Summary: Something is in the air and your boss takes notice… (Dean Smith x F!Reader)

November Rain ~ @covered-byroses. Author's Summary: Dean’s too late.

Say It, Again... ~ @impala-dreamer. Author's Summary: None (Drabble; Dean Winchester x Reader)

Ten and Two ~ @impala-dreamer. Author's Summary: None (Ficlet; Dean Winchester x Female Reader)

The Bad Days ~ @littlemissfix-itfic. Author's Summary: None (Ficlet; Dean Winchester x Reader)

Too Close To Gone Masterlist ~ @jawritter. Author's Summary: Dean’s been gone for a year. You have been gone from the Bunker for just about as long. When you finally get the guts to go back “home” after leaving, someone you never thought you’d see again stumbles into your life, and now you have to figure out how to move on with a constant reminder of what you’ve lost following you around in the flesh.

We're All Irish Tonight ~ @impala-dreamer. Author's Summary: Dean has been pining for Y/N for months now, and he thinks tonight might be the night things finally get going…

~Ten Inch Hero~

The Miracle Man ~ @zepskies. Author's Summary: The first time you met Priestly was both the worst and best night of your life. He gave you a Miracle.

~Triple Frontier~

Welcome to the Meal ~ @navybrat817. Author's Summary: Will's hungry, but not for food.

~You~

Who We're Pretending To Be ~ @impala-dreamer. Author's Summary: Joe finds himself getting too close to one of his grad students and he fights the urge to fall completely.

~On Patreon~

Rebekah Jordan (Impala-Dreamer)

Sweet Little Lies ~ Author’s Summary: It’s funny how one little white lie can spiral so out of control that the beginning seems eons ago and the end is nowhere in sight.

thinkinghardhardlythinking

Close to Home-Parts 8 and 9 ~ Author’s Summary: Y/N and Dean are neighbours, and friends. The thing is Dean is a ladies’ man and she has always known it, if he wasn’t, maybe he’d be the ideal guy…but his eye for the ladies, how well they work as friends, as well as the fact that he’d never even think of her that way, all means that they are meant to be just neighbours and friends. Doesn’t it?

[jessjad]

Warm Nights

Summary: Dean and Y/N are on vacation. A few nice days at the beach and sea. But Dean didn't expect it to get that hot.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: Smut. Because... why not? So: 18+ only!! And a grumpy Dean. At least at the beginning.

Word count: 1508

A/N: Hello! :) This is my last contribution to @smellingofpoetry ’s 400 Follower Celebration - Summer Edition. Summer is almost over and I'm really looking forward to autumn. But before that there's a little boozy story. Of course I couldn't exclude our Dean and that's why it's his turn now.

With this I think I covered almost everything. It was really fun writing these one shots and I hope others enjoyed reading them too. With that being said, have fun.

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

The only thing keeping Y/N from sleeping was Dean's grunts, which he let out at almost regular intervals. He himself had surprised her with this vacation, because he thought they finally deserved a real break. Y/N was very excited and couldn't wait. But as soon as they arrived, the heat hit them. So they only spent the days on the beach and cooled off in the sea, but the temperatures didn't drop much at night. It was practically impossible to sleep properly and that made Dean grumpy.

"Son of a bitch." he made himself felt at some point and Y/N let out an annoyed breath.

"You wanted to go to Cancun."

"Yeah, but I didn't know they were going to have such an unexpected heat wave here. Otherwise I would have taken us somewhere else."

Dean rolled over in bed for what felt like the hundredth time and let out another dissatisfied sigh. "I can smell my own sweat."

"Maybe you should have informed yourself better beforehand." Y/N teased her boyfriend and grinned.

"Eat me."

"Again?" Y/N asked teasingly. "And what about me? That wouldn't be fair, right?"

Dean stared at her and shook his head slightly before sitting up. "I need a drink."

She watched him go over to the minibar and pour himself a whiskey. Y/N had to smile. If someone had told her two years ago that Dean was actually interested in her and would ask her out on a date, she would have said they were crazy. But after Chuck was gone, he seemed more excited about his life. It was like a huge load had been lifted from his shoulder and she was happy for him. Still, she hadn't seen herself coming as part of his life.

"Good. You do that and I'll take a cold shower."

She already pulled her top over her head before she disappeared into the bathroom and felt Dean's eyes on her. The fact that Dean desired her, no matter what the situation, filled her heart with warmth. No one before had ever made her feel like this.

She washed her hair and was about to wash her body when a large hand took the soap from her. Dean had followed her and she looked around in surprise. He quietly began washing his own body before proceeding to wash Y/N.

"What are you doing here?" she asked with a smile.

"Makin' it fair." was all he said and before Y/N could respond his hands were already on her body.

He started at her arms and worked his way up to her shoulders. Dean distributed the foam extensively over her whole body, but remained quite good. He lingered on her breasts a bit longer, building Y/N's anticipation, but he unabashedly let his hands wander further down to her stomach. His hands slid lower and lower, but before he got to her mound, he got down on one knee and washed her feet and calves. Now Y/N was getting a little frustrated.

"So if that was your idea to make it fair then I have to say I didn't envision it that way."

As she spoke, Dean had already reached her thighs and grinned. "Why are you so impatient? Besides, I never said how I wanted to make up for it."

"I'm not..."

But she couldn't finish this sentence, because suddenly Dean's hand finally disappeared between her thighs and went to work there, too. He knew exactly what he was doing, because it wasn't long before Y/N let out a small moan.

Shortly thereafter, he grabbed the hand shower and washed the soap off their bodies again. "Everything clean again."

"I'm not sure about that." Y/N replied and snuggled up to Dean while she put her arms around his neck and ran his fingers through his wet hair.

Dean needed a moment until the hand shower was back in place and he ran his hands over her body. His mouth searched for hers and the kiss started out passionately. He rested his hands on her bottom and lightly massaged her cheeks before giving her a small slap. She gasped a little and Dean used that moment to deepen the kiss und search with his toung after hers.

Now Y/N also let her hands slide down his body and reached his already hard length, which happily pressed against her lower abdomen. But as soon as she started massaging him, he pulled back slightly from her grasp. Y/N looked at Dean a little confused, but he just smirked. Without another word, Dean dropped to his knees again and leaned Y/N against the wall behind her. It was immediately clear to her what he was up to and she had to moan again.

"Always so responsive. I didn't even do anything yet."

But Y/N couldn't answer that either, because he didn't give her any time. He parted her legs and rested his hands on her hips as he licked trough her folds with a flat tongue. The feeling sent goose bumps down Y/N's spine. She just loved how he made her feel. Dean feasted on her before lingering on her clit and massaging it. It didn't take long before he figured out how tight the pressure needed to be and what rhythm made Y/N practically sing. Dean kept working her up, but just before she climaxed, he released her clit and brought her tongue a little deeper, caressing her opening and penetrating a little. It wasn't quite as effective, but it still felt just as great.

He repeated this a few times. Y/N's legs began to tremble and she felt her strength drain. "Dean... please."

He laughed. "What, please? Say it, Y/N."

"Let me come. Please, I have to come."

"Anything my girl wants."

And then he got her over the edge so fast she almost thought she saw stars. Her moans were loud and obscene, but she didn't care.

"So beautiful." he fully admired Y/N and covered her face with small kisses.

His cock was so tense now that he knew he couldn't wait any longer. Y/N's head was spinning and she felt like her legs were going to give out. Dean noticed that too and lifted her up with a quick movement so that she could put her legs around his waist. Her arms found support around his neck again and he immediately let his cock slide through her wet folds. They kissed again and then in one smooth motion he sank deep into her heat.

"Oh god... always so full." she rasped and moaned in satisfaction.

"Don't worry. I got you." Dean said and began to move inside her.

It wasn't long before he picked up speed, making Y/N moan again. Dean bowed his head slightly and kept licking her nipples, which only turned her on more. The feelings intensified and Y/N felt like she was about to burst. She was so oversensitive by now, and yet it still wasn't enough. She felt her next climax approaching and was now chasing after it.

She tried to move with Dean as best as possible. He noticed this and shifted her position a bit to make it easier for her. But in doing so, he thrust even deeper into her, reaching that one painfully sweet spot.

"Yes, sweetheart. Just like that. Keep pushing against me." Dean growld and his movements became hard and fast.

"Oh god... I... I can't! It`s... to much!"

"Yes, you can, baby! Come on. Give me your all."

And Dean was right. All she could hear was their moans and how skin met skin. And then she exploded. Y/N came so hard that she didn't know where up and down was for a moment. A few pushs later, Dean came hard and deep inside her. Their breaths mingled and they had to hold each other for a few moments.

When both had arrived back in the here and now, Dean carefully lowered Y/N, but still held her until her legs carried her again. They kissed slowly and gently and then Dean turned the water back on to wash her off.

"Now that's what I call a success."

"Showoff!" laughed Y/N.

As soon as they were clean again, they dried themselves off and put on fresh clothes. But before they left the bathroom, Dean held Y/n back for a moment. She looked at him questioningly as he pulled her into his arms.

"I love you." he said with a small smile.

"I love you too." Y/N replied and beamed at Dean.

They kissed again and then left the bathroom. But as soon as they were outside, they heard the wind whistling through the room.

"What..." Dean rushed to the balcony and looked out.

Shortly thereafter, the first thunder rumbled and it began to rain. The temperature in the room had also changed and the cool, fresh wind brought a noticeable cooling effect.

"Now, that is almost as good as our shower session." Dean beamed at her and Y/N just had to smile. She has never been so happy.

[layce2015]

Supernatural (Dean Winchester x Female!Reader)

No Rest For The Wicked

Masterlist

"Dig up anything good?" I asked Dean as be closes the book and shakes his head a bit, not looking at me. "No." He said before he clears his throat. "Nothing good."

"Well, Bobby has. Finally." I said as I go to sit down next to him. "Yeah?" Dean asked. "Yeah. A way to find Lilith." I zaid. "Oh. With just uh –" he stops and looks at his watch. "...thirty hours to go." He said then he smiles. "Hey, why don't we just go on a vacation. You know, go to a casino, or the beach..." Dean said and I chuckle. "We'll do that, when we save you." I said to him. "Yeah..." He said as he looks down on the books.

"Hey, Dean." I said to him, softly, and he looks up at me. "Look, we're cutting it close, I know. But we're gonna get this done. I don't care what it takes, Dean. You're not gonna go to hell. I'm not gonna let you. And neither is Sam." I said as he looks away for a moment. "I swear. Everything's gonna be okay." I said and I place my hand over his, then stroked my thumb over his knuckles. He looks back at me then stares at me for while before he said. "Yeah, okay." He mutters.

Later, Bobby places an old tracking device over the map of America, the device has three wooden legs coming out from a glass or crystal ball at the top. The ball has a flat, metal piece going around it with symbols on it, further down the legs there's another metal piece, only bigger. From the ball hangs pendulum device that is sharp on the end so that it can pinpoint a specific place.

"So you need a name, that's the whole kit and caboodle. With the right name, right ritual, ain't nothing you can't suss out." Bobby explains. "Like the town Lilith's in?" Sam asked. "Kid, when I get done, we'll know the street." Bobby said and he begins the ritual and starts the swing for the pendulum and then chants in Latin.

As Dean, Sam and I watch, the pendulum begins to search over the map until it suddenly stops. "New Harmony, Indiana." Bobby said and Dean looks up at him from the map. "And we have a winner." Bobby said. "Alright." Sam said and he pushes the pendulum away and looks at Bobby. "Let's go." He said and Dean turns to him.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold on. Let's all shut up there, Tex." he said. "What's the problem?" Sam asked him. "What's the problem? Come on, where do I begin? I mean, first of all, we don't even know if Lilith holds my deal. We're going off of Bela's intel? Now when that bitch breathes, the air comes out crooked. Okay. Second, even if we could get to Lilith, we have no way to gank her. And third, isn't this the same Lilith that wants your giant head and (y/n)'s head on a pike? Should I continue?" Dean asked us.

"Ain't you just bringing down the room." Bobby said with sarcasm. "Yeah, well, it's a gift." Dean said. "I'm sorry, so then what are we supposed to do, Dean?" I asked him. "Just 'cause I gotta die doesn't mean you two have to, okay. Either we go in smart or we don't go in at all." Dean explains.

"Okay, fine. If that's the case I have the answer." Sam said. "You do?" Dean and I asked, confused. "Yeah. A sure-fire way to confirm it's Lilith and a way to get us a bona fide demon-killing ginsu." Sam said and I sighed at this. "Damn it, Sam, no." Dean said as he turns his back to Sam and walks a few steps.

"We're so past arguing. Dean, I am summoning Ruby." Sam said and Dean turns around, facing him. "The hell you are! We have enough problems as it is." he yells. "Exactly. And we've got no time and no choice either." Sam said as he walks up to Dean. "Come on man, she is the Miss Universe of lying skanks, okay. She told you that she could save me, huh – lie. She seems to know everything about Lilith but forgot to mention, oh right – Lilith owns my soul!" Dean yells.

"Okay, fine. She's a liar. She's still got that knife." Sam said and I go up to Dean. "Dean." I said, calmly, but he ignores me. "For all we know, she works for Lilith." He said to Sam. "Then give me another option, Dean. I mean, tell me what else." Sam argues. "Sam's right." Bobby said.

"NO! DAMN IT!" Dean yells and Bobby and I look at him, surprised. "Just no. We are not gonna make the same mistakes all over again." Dean said and we look at him, shocked. "You guys wanna save me, find something else." He said. Sam, Bobby and I look at him as he walks back to the table he was sitting at before, and sits down with a contemplative look.

As Sam looks at him, sighing, Bobby grabs his jacket. "Where are you going, Bobby?" I asked him. "I guess to...find something else." Bobby replied as he throws his arms out and Sam sighs again, looking into space, while I run my hands over my eyes.

"You sure about this, Sam?" I asked Sam as we were in the basement and Sam was on his knees and had drawn a triangle on the floor with symbols in every point and put candles outside every point. In the middle is a circle with a bowl of a green, dry substance in it.

"We don't have any other choice, (y/n)." Sam said and I sighed. "Okay...do what you gotta do. But if she is not help..." I warned and Sam nods then begins the ritual. "Ad construgendum ad ligandum eos pariter Et solvendum." he said but then we heard a noise

We turn around but there's no one there. We turn back and I look up at the roof, sighing, and Sam continues. "Et ad congregantum eos coram me." He said and he takes up a box of matches and strikes one. We watched the flame for a beat and then Sam throws the match into the bowl. The content ignites and fire flares up and then it calms down and burns out.

Sam gets up off the floor and we slowly turn to look behind us as the floor creaks. There's still nothing there. "You know, phones work too." A voice said and we turn back and see Ruby leaning against the doorway. She smiles at us.

"Hey, Sam. (y/n). How's tricks?" she asked but we glare at her. "How do you get around so fast?" I asked her. "I got the Super Bowl jet pack." She said and she begins to walk towards us. "So. You called?" She asked Sam.

"Did you know?" Sam asked. "Um – gonna need a tiny bit more." Ruby asked. "About Dean's deal. That Lilith holds the contract." I said, angrily. "Yes, I did." She said and I growled and turned away from her.

"And…what? You didn't think that was important?" Sam asked. "You weren't ready." She replied and I turned back to her. "For what?" I asked her. "If I told you either of you, you three yahoos would have just charged after her half-cocked and Lilith would have peeled the meat from your pretty, pretty faces." Ruby replied. "Well, we're ready now." I said, firmly.

"We want your knife." Sam said and she looks at him for a beat and then begins walking around us, slowly. "You're right about one thing. You are ready. And now's the time, too. Lilith's guard's down." Ruby said. "Is that so?" Sam and I asked. 'She's on shore-leave. A little R&R." She said.

"The hell's that mean?" I asked her. "Trust me, you don't wanna know. You didn't lose those hex bags I gave you?" She said. "We've got 'em." Sam said. "Good. Then she won't sense that you're coming." She said and we turn around and look at her as she's gotten behind our back while walking around us.

"So you'll give us the knife?" I asked her. "No." She said. "But you just said–" Sam started to say but she talks over him.. "You wanna charge in with one little pigsticker? It's a waste of a true-blue window. Like getting Hitler with that exploding briefcase. Forget it." She said. "Okay, then how?" I asked, angrily.

"I know how to save Dean." She said then I take a step forward towards her. "No, you don't! You told me and Dean you couldn't! You've been lying to Sam all along, so just give us your damn knife!" I yelled. "Sam's not the one I've been lying to." She said. "Oh, so you can save him?" Sam asked. "No. But you two can." She said as she gestures between us.

"What?" Sam and I said, shocked. "Guys, you've got some God-given talent. Well, not God-given but you get the gist." She said. "All that psychic crap? That's gone ever since Yellow-Eyes died." Sam replied but Ruby shakes her head. "Not gone, dormant. And not just visions either. Why do you think Lilith is so scared of you two?" She asked us. "Right...she's scared of us." I sneered.

"If you guys wanted, both of you could wipe her off the map without moving a muscle." She said. "I don't believe you." Sam said. "Neither do I." I said. "It's the truth." She said. "And you decided to tell ys this just now?" Sam asked, annoyed. "Um...demon. Manipulative's kinda in the job description. Fact is, is that you two would have never considered it. Not until you guys were –" she said and I finish her sentence. "Desperate enough?" I asked and we exchange a look, and she shrugs as Sam and I look away.

"You two don't like being different. You hate the way Dean looks at both of you sometimes. Like you're some kind of sideshow freak. But suck it up because we've got a lot of ground to cover, and we've gotta do it fast. But we can do it." She said and I clench my fist at this then close my eyes for a moment, too shocked to say anything.

"Look. Call me a bitch, hate me all you want, but I have never lied to you, Sam. Not ever. And I'm telling you and (y/n). You...can save your brother, and I can show you how." She said to us.

"So that's you, huh? Our slutty little Yoda." Dean's voice said and it made me open my eyes and look over to see he was behind her, not looking very happy. "Dean." She said as she turns around, looking at him and all her softness in her voice that she directed at me and Sam is gone.

"Charming as ever." she said, sarcastically, as Dean begins walking towards us. "Aw, I knew you'd show up. Because I knew Sam wouldn't listen." Dean said and Sam looks at him but looks away quickly. "But you're not gonna teach him or (y/n) anything, you understand me? Over my dead body." Dean threatens. "Oh. Well, you're right about that." Ruby sneered.

"What you are gonna do is give me that knife. And then you can just go crawl back into whatever slop you came from and never bother me or my brother or my girlfriend ever again. Are we clear?" he asked her, firmly. "Your brother and girlfriend are carrying a bomb inside of them and we'd be stupid not to use it." Ruby said and Sam looks over at Dean. 

"Dean, look, just hold on for one –" he said but Dean shouts over him. "Sam! Don't. Come on man, what, are you blind? And (y/n), I thought you were smarter than this? Can't you see that this is a trick?" he said. "That's not true." Ruby shouts but Dean continues. "She wants you two to give into this whole demonic psychic whatever, okay. I mean hell, she probably wants you two to become her little anti-christ Super Stars."

"I want Lilith dead. That's all." Ruby yells. "Why?" Dean asked her. "I've told you why!" She said. "Oh, right, yeah. Because you were human once and you liked kittens and long walks on the beach." Dean mocks. "You know, I am so sick of proving myself to you. You wanna save yourself, this is how. You dumb, spineless dick." Ruby growls.

Dean looks at her, and then turns around as if to leave but instead comes back swinging his right hook and punching her in the face, looking pissed. Sam and I back away a bit, surprised by the hit. Ruby takes a few steps back with the hit, looks up at him as she wipes blood from her lip and after a beat hits him once with her right fist and then her left.

"Ruby, hey!" Sam shouts andhshe goes around, hits Zam in the back causing him to double over. She then knees him in the face, sending him into a beam and sliding to the floor. "Bitch!" I growled and I go towards her and try to fight her.

But she was stronger and faster than me and punched me in the gut then in the face, making me fall down. My vision was a bit blurry and my head felt like it was in the cloud but once I blinked and shook my head, my vision started to come back.

I look over and see Dean and Ruby were fighting until she had him down but he slowly gets back up, a smile on his face. "The hell are you grinning at?" She asked him. "Missing something?" Dean asked and he pulls up her knife in front of his face. "I'll kill you, you son of a bitch." She said and she rushes towards him but midway there she is stopped by an invisible wall. She tries to walk past it once as Dean just looks at her as I stand up then go over to Sam and help him up.

Ruby looks at Dean and then looks up at the roof, I look up to and see that Dean has painted a Devil's Trap on the roof. Ruby looks at Dean again, pissed. He smiles a little, looking at the trap and then he looks at her, still holding up the knife. "Like I said..." he said as he puts down the knife. "I knew you'd come." He said and walks away from her, towards the staircase.

"Wait! You're just gonna leave me here?" she asked as Dean stops, waiting for me and Sam and ignoring Ruby. "Let's go, guys." He said and Sam and I come over as Dean takes a deep breathe, blinking hard and then he starts up the steps followed by me and Sam.

"Oh, oh you – so you're just too stupid to live, is that it? Then fine! You deserve hell! I wish I could be there, Dean. I wish I could smell the flesh sizzle off your bones! I WISH I COULD BE THERE TO HEAR YOU SCREAM!" Ruby yells. "And I wish you'd shut your pie hole, but we don't always get what we want." Dean snarks back at her.

The boys and I had our weapons spread out on a table and started to load up the weapons. "We're just gonna let Ruby rot down there?" Sam asked after a long silence between us. "That's the idea." Dean said. "Dean, what if, uh...What if Ruby's right? What if Sam and I can take out Lilith?" I said, a bit desperate, then Dean looks up at me with an angry, doubting look.

"Quit looking at us like that." Sam said as I look down. "What, are you guys gonna give her the Carrie-stare and Lilith goes poof?" Dean asked. "We don't know what Ruby meant. You know, maybe we should just go ask her." Sam said. "Sam, you wanted the knife – I got you the knife." Dean said as he walks over to another table.

"Dean, just listen to us for a second. Last time Lilith snapped her fingers and put thirty demons on our ass, and all we got's one little knife? I mean, like you said, we go in smart or we don't go in at all." I said. "Well, this ain't smart." Dean growls. "We got one shot at this, Dean. Just one. So if there's a sure-fire way then maybe we should just talk about it." Sam said and Dean walks up to him as he speaks.

"Guys. We are not gonna make the same mistake all over again." Dean said. 'You said that but what does it even mean?" I asked him. "Don't you see a pattern here? Dad's deal, my deal, now this? I mean every time one of us is – is – is up the creek the other is begging to sell their soul. That's all this is. Ruby's just jerking your chains down the road. You know what it's paved with and you know where it's going." He explains as he turns around, sits down against a table and picks up the weapons again.

Sam shakes his head a bit and we walk around to the other side of the table. "Dean." I said as I sit down next to Dean, looking at him as he continues to assemble the weapon. "What do you think is gonna happen? This is me, I can handle it." I said. "Same here." Sam said and Dean stops what he's doing, looking at the floor and shakes his head.

"And if it'll save you..." Sam said but Dean talks over him. "Why even risk it?" He asked as he looks up at us. Sam looks away for a beat and then back at him with the obvious answer. "Because you're my brother." Sam said. "And I love you, Dean. Because you did the same thing for me." I said and Dean scoffs.

"I know...and look how that turned out." Dean said and looks at us and we look away at this. "All I'm saying...guys, all I'm saying is that you two are my weak spots. Especially you, (y/n)." Dean said, choking back tears. Sam and I look over at him at this. "You guys are. And I'm yours." Dean said and I bite my lips as I felt tears forming in my eyes.

"You don't mean that. We're…we're family." Sam said. "I know. And those evil sons of bitches know it too. I mean, what we'll do for each other, you know, how far we'll go? They're using it against us." Dean said. "So what? We just stop looking out for each other?" Sam asked. "No, we stop being martyrs, man. We – we – we stop spreading it for these demons." Dean replied as he picks up Ruby's knife and holds it up.

"We take this knife, and we go after Lilith our way. The way our dads' taught us to. And if we go down, then, uh...then we go down swinging." Dean said as Sam and I just look at him.

"What do you think?" Dean asked and Sam looks down on the floor, thinking, while I look up at the ceiling before I look back at him. "I think you totally should have been jamming Eye of the Tiger right there." I teased and Dean stands up. "Oh, bite me. I totally rehearsed that speech, too." Dean grumbles and I chuckled while Sam smiles at that.

"So, Indiana, huh?" Sam asked. "Yeah, where Lilith's on shore-leave." Dean said. "Yeah, I guess." I said, shrugging. "Tell me something." Dean said and we look up at him. "The hell's a demon do for fun?" Dean asked us and Sam and I share a look before we shrugged. "There's no telling." I said.

We get into the Impala about to leave when Dean tries to start up the car but it won't start up. The three of us look at each other a bit worried when, suddenly, Bobby shows up outside Dean's door, scaring us with his sudden appearance.

"Where do you think you're going?" Bobby asked us as we look at him and the distributor cap he holds in his hand. After a moment, the boys and I get out of the Impala and walk up to Bobby, who's not looking happy. "We got the knife." Dean said. "And you intend to use it without me." Bobby said, annoyed. "Do I look like a ditchable prom-date to you?"

"No, Bobby. Of course not." I assured him. "This is about me...and Sam and (y/n). Ok? This isn't your fight." Dean said and Bobby walks up to Dean, furious by those words. "The hell it isn't!" He growls while Dean looks at him, taken aback by this. "Family don't end with blood, boy. Besides, you need me." Bobby growls. "Bobby." Dean mutters.

"You're playing wounded. Tell me, how many hallucinations have you had so far?" Bobby asked, making me and Sam look at him, a bit confused by this. We look over at Dean who turns to look athis, tilts his head one time and then turns back to Bobby.

"How'd you know?" Dean asked Bobby. "Because that's what happens when you've got hellhounds on your butt. And because I'm smart." Bobby said and I smirked a bit. Dean looks down on the ground, as Sam and I watch him, then Bobby hands Dean the distributor cap. "I'll follow." Bobby said and he walks away from us, over to his own car.

After a moment, Dean walks over to the hood of his car, ready to put back the part. "Don't be stopping to pee every ten minutes either." Bobby yells and Dean stops in his tracks, shakes his head a bit with raised brow. He turns around looking back at me and Sam before he sighs.

That night, we were driving down the road, on our way to Indiana, when Sam speaks up. "Hey, Dean?" He said. "Yeah?" Dean asked. "You know if this doesn't uh...this doesn't go the way we want, I want you to know –" Sam started to say but Dean shakes his head. "No. No, no, no, no." 

"No what?" Sam asked and Dean looks over at Sam. "No, you're not gonna bust out the misty good-bye speech, okay?" Dean said then he looks through the rear view at me. "Same goes for you." He said and I fake a pout. "Aww, and I had a speech ready for you too." I said, with a bit of sarcasm, and he rolls his eyes. "And if this is my last day on earth, I do not want it to be socially awkward." He said and Sam looks down and out the window and Dean turns back to the road.

"You know what I do want?" He asked and he reaches down to the radio and starts up Bon Jovi's Wanted Dead or Alive. "Bon Jovi?" I said, raising an eyebrow at him. "Bon Jovi rocks, on occasion." Dean said then he begins to sing to the song.

"And I walk these streets A loaded six-string on my back I play for keeps..." He sings then he turns to me and Sam. "Come on." He said before going back to singing. "'Cause I might not make it back I've been everywhere."

"Oh yeah." Sam sings then I started the next line. "And I'm standing tall." I sang and Sam laughs then we sing along. "I've seen a million faces And I rocked 'em all 'Cause I'm a cowboy On a steel horse I ride I'm wanted." The three of us sing. "WANTED!" Sam sings, loudly, and I smiled at them. "Dead or alive Dead or ALIVE" we sang together until the song ends.

We continued to drive down the road when we heard sirens and red and blue lights blinking. "We getting pulled over?" Sam asked as I look out the window and see a cop car behind us. "I've got a busted tail-light. It's not like we're in a hurry or nothing." Dean grumbles and he pulls over and the cop car stops behind us.

Dean rolls down his window as Sam hands over the licence and registration. The police officer walks up to his window, flashlight in hand. "Problem officer?" Dean asked. "Licence and registration, please." The officer said and Dean, not looking at him, hands out the needed papers. The Officer takes and looks at it as he's talking to Dean.

"Do you realise you have a tail-light out, Mr Hagard?" the Officer asked and Dean look up him. The Officer tilts his head and shines the light on him. "Yes…yes sir. Uh…you know I've been meaning to…take care of that." Dean said as he slowly turns his head back towards the road in front of him.

"As a matter of fact..." He  said and he suddenly opens his door fast, hitting the Officer in the stomach with it. Dean rushes out the car at him. "Dean!" Sam and I shout as we open our doors, surprised by Dean's action. Dean punches the Officer three times in the face as Sam and I try to run around the car to stop him.

Dean quickly reaches down and takes out the knife from his belt and thrusts it into the jaw of the Officer. Bobby pulls up behind the police car as the Officer begins to flash with light. Dean pulls out the knife and lets go of the Officer, who falls dead to the ground. Dean stands over him, arm behind him, panting after the fight.

Sam and I , shocked, move up behind him Whole Bobby quickly runs over to us and looks down at the dead Officer/demon. He looks back up at us, surprised and shocked. "What the hell happened?" He asked us. "Dean just killed a demon. How'd you know?" I said as I look over at Dean as he breathes heavily. Then he looks around on the ground and then turns to us.

"I just knew." He said and he turns back and looks down on the Officer. "I could see its face. Its real face under that one." Dean said and Bobby, who was looking down on the Officer, looks up at him by these words. Dean looks up at him and meets his gaze for a second.

The boys and I finished putting up branches over the police car, to hide it from plain sight, so that nobody can find it. "So what, now you're seeing demons?" Sam asked Dean once we finished. "I've seen all kinds of things lately but...nothing like this." Dean replied. "Actually it's not all that crazy." Bobby said and we look over at him.

"How's it not that crazy?" Dean asked him. "Well you've got, just over five hours to go? You're piercing the veil, Dean. You're glimpsing the B side." Bobby said. "A little less new age-y please." Dean snarks. "You're almost hell's bitch. So, you can see hell's other bitches." Bobby said and Dean looks first surprised and then his mock-face comes on. "Thank you." He said.

"Well, actually it could come in pretty handy." I said. "Oh, well, I'm glad my doomed soul is good for something." Dean said, sarcastically. "Damn right it is. Lilith's probably got demons stashed all over town. We can't let them sound the alarm. She knows we're here, we're dead before we're started." Bobby said. "Well, this is a terrific plan. I'm excited to be a part of it. Can we go, please?" Dean said and he begins to walk away with that and we follow. 

Later, we make it to the neighborhood and go up to this house to see a little girl with these two adults sitting at a table, with one old man slumped dead on the table. The woman serves the little blonde girl a slice of cake and walks away as the girl smiles and begins to dig into the cake.

"It's the little girl. Her face is awful." Dean said as we stand by a window. Sam had binoculars, looking through it while Bobby stands next to him then me and Dean. "Alright then, let's go. We're wasting time." Sam said and he walks past us and moves for the door. Dean grabs hold of him, stopping him from leaving.

"Wait!" Dean said. "For what? For it to kill the rest of them?" Sam asked. "Yeah, and us too if we're not careful. Look. See the real go-getter mailman on the clock at nine PM?" Dean said and Sam holds up the binoculars and sees the mailman sorting mail at the back of his car. "And Mr Rogers over there." Dean said as Sam lowers the binoculars.

"Demons?" I asked as Sam looks through the binoculars again. "Yes." Dean said. "Ok, fine. We – we – we – we, we ninja pass those guys, sneak in." Sam said. "Then what? Give a Columbian necktie to a ten year old girl, come on!" Dean exclaims. "Look, Dean, I know it's awful." Sam said. "You think?" I said but Sam ignores me. "This isn't just about saving you, Dean. This is about saving everybody." Sam said.

"She's gotta be stopped, son." Bobby said and Dean, who looks contemplative, turns around and looks at Bobby and then out the window. "Oh, damn it." he mutters.

As quietly as we could, we took out the demons that were around and about. Bobby was blessing the water and getting ready for the sprinklers when Sam and I met up and saw Ruby had Dean up against a fence. "I'd like my knife back, please. Or your neck snaps like a chicken bone." We hear her growl as we come up behind her and Sam holds up her knife to her throat.

"He doesn't have it." Sam said to her. "Take it easy." he said and she backs away from Dean, releasing him from the fence. Sam and I stand still next to Dean who turns around to face her. "How the hell did you get out?" he asked her. "What you don't know about me could fill a book." Ruby snarks then Dean suddenly reacts to her face, moving his head back just a bit with wider eyes.

"Whoa." he said. "What?" Ruby asked as Dean looks to the side, not wanting to look at her anymore. He glances at her once or twice but that's it. "Nothing. I just – I couldn't see you before, but you're one ugly broad." Dean said and she rolls her eyes.

"Sam, give me the knife before you hurt yourself." She said to Sam. "You'll get it when this is over." I tell her. "It's already over. I gave you a way to save Dean, you two shot me down. Now it's too late. He's dead. And I'm not gonna let you guys die too." She said to me and Sam.

"Try and stop us, and I'll kill you. Bitch." Sam sneered. "Hit me with your best shot, baby." Ruby challenged and Dean turns around to us. "Guys, guys! Hey. Have your little catfight later." He said and we see a two people, probably father and son, standing outside on their porch looking at us. 

We look towards the next house where a man with a briefcase is standing, staring at us. Then two other men were staring at us. "Crap." I muttered. "So much for the element of surprise." Dean said. "Go. Go. Run. Run!" Sam shouts and we open the gate and run, aiming for Lilith's house.

Sam reaches the house first and starts picking the lock on the door as Ruby, Dean ans I come up behind him, looking towards the lawn as more people run after us. "What the hell is taking Bobby?" I asked as Sam was having problems picking the lock. "I'm trying!" Sam said.

Suddenly when one demon reaches the lawn, the sprinklers turns on and she begins to flail, screaming, as the water burns her. Another demon is caught in the water and he screams and flails as well. I smile as a lot of possessed people standing outside the lawn, a few people in the water and our guys standing on the porch.

Finally, Sam gets the door opened and we run in while I hear Dean laughing at the demons before he comes in.

Once we entered, Sam, Ruby and I end up standing over a body, the three of us shocked. Dean closes the door and turns around to see the body. "You think Lilith knows we're here?" Dean asked us. "Probably." Ruby said and we look around a bit and then walk into the living room. Sam goes first, holding the knife out as if it was a gun. Ruby is behind him, closely followed by me and Dean.

Then I hear the creak of a door behind me and I quickly turn around, putting up one hand over a man's mouth. I turn him around to the others as I shush the man as he looks beyond terrified. "We're here to help. Ok?" I said and the man nods. "I'm gonna move my hand, and we're gonna talk nice and quiet, okay?" I said and the man nods his head yes and I slowly remove my hand.

"Sir, where is your daughter?" Sam asked him. "It's not...it's not her anymore." the man said, shakily. "Where is she?" I asked. "Upstairs. In her bedroom." The man said. "Okay, okay, okay. Listen to me. I want you to go downstairs to the basement. Put a line of salt at the door behind you. Do you understand me?" Dean whispers but the man shakes his head. "Not without my wife." He said. "Yes, without your wife." Dean said. "No." The man said then Dean punches his lights out.

He picks him up and puts him over his shoulder and gives us a look. He then starts walking.

Moments later, Sam, Ruby and I walk upstairs, backs against the wall and as stealthy as possible, Sam is in the lead with the knife in front of him. When we get up, look around a bit and then Ruby walks to the door to our right and Sam nods at her and then she goes in, closing the door behind her.

Sam starts slowly for the door to the left while I go straight forward towards and look into a different room, but no one was in there. I looked around the third room and the bathroom then I walked out until I hear a little girl scream. I run out and into the room to see Sam standing over a bed with the girl and her mother. But Dean was also there, holding Sam's arm.

"It's not her!" Dean tells him as the girl is breathing fast and heavily from what was just about to happen. Ruby comes up behind me then we go and stand behind Sam and Dean.

"It's not in the girl anymore." Dean tells Sam as thr girl begins to cry and curl up to her mother. "Mommy!" She cries as the woman hugs her. "Mommy's here. Mommy's here. It's okay." She assures the girl while the boys and I share a look.

"Alright, no matter what you hear. You, your husband and your daughter stay in the basement." Dean tells the woman as we come down the stairs. She goes through the basement door and Dean follows. Sam, Ruby and I walk past them. "Well, I hate to be a told you so." Ruby tells us.

"Alright Ruby, where is she?" I asked as we enter the living room. "I don't know." She replied. "Could she get past the sprinklers?" Sam asked her. "Her pay grade, she ain't sweating the holy water." She said. "Ok, you win. What do we have to do?" Sam asked and she looks at him, questioningly.

"What do you mean?" she asked. "To save Dean. What do you need me and (y/n) to do?" Sam asked but then I felt a hand on my shoulder then I spin around to see Dean had come up to us. 

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Dean asked and Sam pulls loose from him. "Just shut up for a second." Sam said to him, annoyed, then he turns to Ruby. "Ruby!"

"You had your chance. You can't just flip a switch. We needed time." Ruby said. "Well, there's gotta be something. There's gotta be some way, whatever it is, Sam and I'll do it." I said and Dean comes up and grabs me. "Don't, Dean! We're not gonna let you go to hell, Dean!" I yelled at him, tears in my eyes. "Yes, you are!" Dean shouts and we look at each other for a moment.

"Yes, you are." Dean said, calmer, while Sam and I just stare at him, breathing. "I'm sorry. I mean this is all my fault, I know that. But what you and Sam are doing, it's not gonna save me. It's only gonna kill you." Dean said and I look away for a second, tears building in my eyes.

"Then, what are we supposed to do?" Sam asked. "Keep fighting. Take care of my wheels. Sam, remember what Dad taught you...okay? And remember what I taught you." Dean said and I look back at him and I could see the heartbreak in his eyes. "(Y/n)..." he whispers and I could see tears welling up in his green eyes.

I go over to him and embrace him, burying my face in his chest. He wraps his arms around me and I feel him burying his face into my hair. I began to sob as I felt him kiss the top of my head. "I love you, (y/n)." He whispers in my ear, holding me tighter. "I love you too, Dean. So much." I cried then I pulled back to look up at him. He leans in and kissed me, slowly, like he was taking his time with this kiss.

A moment later, we hear the bell of the clock, which struck midnight. We break our kiss and tears runs down my face as he and I look at each other. Then he turns his head to look at Sam, who was also crying.

"I'm sorry, Dean. I wouldn't wish this upon my worst enemy." Ruby said, genuinely. Dean looks between them then me before his face falls and turns his head to the other side. I look at him and then look in the same direction, understanding that something's up.

"Hellhound." Dean said. "Where?" Sam asked him. "There." Dean said as he nods the he takes my hand and we bolt out of the room, followed by Sam and Ruby, and the hellhound quickly behind us. We run into another room and close the doors fast.

Dean takes out the bag with goofer dust as Sam, Ruby and I stand against the doors, holding them shut while the hellhound is pounding to get in. Dean runs over and throws himself down at the floor by the door and frantically starts pouring out the dust. The pounding suddenly stops and for a second we all stand sit still, then Dean bolts for the window and pours out the dust on the windowsill.

"Give me the knife, maybe I can fight it off." Ruby said to Sam, who looks at her, a bit confused. "What?" he asked. "Come on! That dust won't last forever." She said. After a few seconds, Sam takes out the knife and starts to hand it to Ruby.

"Wait!" Dean yells and we turn to him. "You wanna die?" Ruby asked him, angrily. "Sam, that's not Ruby. It's not Ruby!" Dean said, quickly, then Sam and I turn back to Ruby who, without touching us, flings me and Sam hard up against the wall, pinning us. Sam drops the knife and it falls to the floor.

She then hits Dean, without touching him, and flings him on top of the table, pinning him. Dean grunts as he holds up his head so he can look at Ruby. Sam and I look from Dean to Ruby. "How long you been in her?" Dean asked as Ruby's entire facial expression changes and becomes childlike, which made me realized that Lilith had taken over the body Ruby possessed.

"Not long." she said as she looks down on her body as she speaks. "But I like it. It's all grown up and pretty." She said and she looks up at Dean again, her eyes turning white. "And where's Ruby?" Sam asked and Lilith's eyes turns back to normal. "She was a very bad girl, so I sent her far, far away." She said and she tilts her head step by step and I hear her neck crunch with each tilting motion.

"You know, I should have seen it before...but you all look alike to me." Dean sneers. Lilith glances at him then turns to me and Sam and she starts walking slowly towards uz. "Hello, Sam and (y/n). I've wanted to meet you two for a very long time." She said and she walks up to me. Then she grabs my face and looks me over.

"So pretty." She mutters and I try to turn my head away from her. She let's go of my face then she goes over to Sam and grabs hold of his chin, forcing him to face her. Against his will, she gives him a kiss. "Your lips are soft." She whispers and Sam moves his head up and to the side, trying to get loose from her hand.

"Right, so you have us. Let my brother go." Sam said as he looks down on her. "Silly goose. You wanna bargain, you have to have something that I want. And neither of you don't." She said. "So, is this your big plan, huh? Drag me to hell. Kill Sam and (y/n). And then what? Become queen bitch?" Dean growls and Lilith turns to him. 

"I don't have to answer to puppy chow." She said as Dean tries to hold himself up against her restraint. Lilith suddenly moves from me and Sam, as she looks at Dean, and walks over to the door while Dean follows her with his eyes. She grabs hold of the doorhandle and, while looking at Dean, exclaims. "Sic 'em, boy."

Sam and I snap our heads to Dean at this and Dean looks over at us and then at the door. Lilith opens the door and the goofer dust blows away as the hellhound gets in, Lilith just laughs and smiles.

Dean was yanked off of the table by his legs and pulled down. He screamed as I could see him getting ripped apart by the invisible monster. And the worst part is that all Sam and I could do was stand against the wall, helpless, scared and panicked.

"No! Stop!" Sam and I shout as Lilith just looks over at us and then down at Dean who's struggling on the floor. The hound has already slashed his right leg and is now attacking his chest as he screams in pain. He turns over onto his stomach. "STOP IT!" I screamed at Lilith but she just watches with a little smile on her face. The hound slashes Dean on his back and his shoulder.

"No!" Sam and I shout as Dean flips over and it slashes him over his chest, blood gushing out; Sam and I just watch in horror. "No. Stop it." Sam shouts as Dean takes his last breaths now. "STOP IT!" I screamed in anger as the blood pours out of Dean's chest; he's not screaming anymore, but still not dead.

"NO!" Sam and I exclaimed while Lilith smiles at us. "Yes." She said, a bit of a pleasure tone in her voice, then She holds out her hand and suddenly white light erupts from it. As it builds up Sam and I turn our head, eyes closed ready for death....but nothing came.

The white light fades and I open my eyes to see that Sam and I were on the floor, huddled up together in a corner next to a cabinet, holding pur hands up in front of our faces. When we noticed nothing happened, and the light was gone, Sam and I slowly take down our hands, look up at Lilith and rise up to a standing position.

She looks at the floor, afraid, then she holds out her hand and looks at us. "Back." She said as I take a breath and start walking towards her, Sam by my side. "I said, back." She ordered, holding her hand out. Sam bends down and picks up Ruby's knife while Lilith looks very afraid of us now.

I grab her wrist then raised my other fist and said, with a growl. "I don't think so."

But before Sam and I could do anything, Lilith exits Ruby's body, the black smoke goes out of her body and into the ventilation in the roof. "COWARD!!" I screamed, angrily, as Ruby's body collapses.,

I take a few deep breathes then look over to see Dean's body laying on the floor. Dean wasn't moving, his eyes opened, no life behind those green eyes that I fell in love with. With tears building up quickly, Sam and I slowly walk over to Dean and I begin to cry as we bend down next to him.

Sam picks up Dean, holding his head close to him. "No...no...Dean..." Sam cries and I sob then lean my head against Dean's shoulder. "Dean...no..no...no...please, no..." I cried.

*3rd Person POV*

Chains were hanging everywhere, stretched from place to place, thunder roars and lightning flashes. And in the middle of it, screaming in pain, was Dean Winchester. Dean was in the middle of the chains, hooked up by his arms and legs.

One of the hooks was attached through his right shoulder, he's bloody and sweaty. There's blood in his mouth and he looks completely terrified. "HELP! NO! SOMEBODY HELP ME!" He screams as he looks around. "Sam! (y/n)!" He screams in terror but neither Sam or (y/n) are around to help him.

"SAAAAAAAM! (YYYY/NNNN)!"

@rach5ive @kitsun369 @itzabbyxx @cevans-winchester @ellie-andthemachine

[supernaturalfreewill]

Dean x Fem!Reader

The clank of the heavy iron door is what pulled you from some dazed, half-asleep state. You blinked in the dim light of the torches. You could make out a man rounding the door and stepping toward your cell. You straightened in your bonds as best you could, one wrist cruelly cuffed to the cold stone of the wall.

He stopped at the bars, his brow furrowed. You could see that his eyes were a vibrant green. You studied him as he seemed to be studying you. You mustered the best scowl you could and tried to look unafraid, but you were barely stopping yourself from trembling. “Are you the big bad wolf of this story?” you asked him. Your voice had a dry rasp to it from disuse and thirst.

He stared at you still for a long moment, seeming stunned, then suddenly came back to himself. “Huh? Me? No. No, no, no.” He produced a ring of heavy keys and held it up. “I’d say I’m the hero,” he said with a smirk that did produce some shift of something in your midsection, right between your lungs. He started going through the keys, fitting them to the lock one by one. “What the hell is a woman like you doing in a place like this?” he asked, trying an ornate rusty key that finally turned the lock with a weighty clank. 

“Vacation,” you said dryly. “Can’t you tell?” You watched him carefully as he approached, waiting for this to suddenly reveal itself as a trick, for him to produce some weapon or melt away into the thing that had thrown you in here.

“You’ve got a funny way of relaxing,” he said. “Here.” He handed you a silver flask and watched carefully while you drank from it deeply. You were so thirsty you didn’t even care if it was offered by some stranger. It could be poisoned for all you knew, but you were so thirsty...

You gasped when the water was gone, catching your breath. “Thanks,” you said.

He nodded and took the flask back and he seemed more relaxed. You felt like you’d just passed some kind of unknown test. You had. Unlocking the cuff on your wrist, he said in a deep voice with a gruff edge, “I’m Dean Winchester.” He helped you climb to your feet. You were weak and unsteady.

“Did you say Winchester?” 

Your eyes were wide. He looked confused at your amazement.

“Yeah... why?” Dean was worried about what was coming next. He never knew what to expect when people learned his name. 

“I—I think I’m supposed to meet you,” you said. “Sorry,” you added quickly. “That probably sounds insane. I don’t even fully know what that means. It’s just—sorry...” you trailed off.

He sighed heavily and shook his head. “No. It doesn’t sound insane actually,” he gave you a boyish half-smirk. Dean tipped his head toward the door. “Come on. Let’s get you out of here. We can figure out our potential destiny later.”

Prompt: “Are you the big bad wolf of this story?”

[uncouth-the-fifth]

playing house, p. 1 - Sam Winchester/Reader

read it on ao3. masterlist.

Pairing: Sam Winchester/Reader (vaguely kripke era).

Tags/Warnings: childhood friends-to-lovers, fluff, pining, undercover as a married couple, miiiight count as case fic, couples cruises, wingman!Dean, mermaids, sexual innuendos.

Word Count: 12,305

Notes: hiiii! this is my first ever commission, courtesy of the lovely @daiziesssart, my muse! she asked for: "a case. undercover fake dating. pining. unrequited love (that actually is very much so requited). dean wanting to die at how oblivious they are. the drama!!!" and i responded in turn with mermaids, wingmanning, and sam in sandals. enjoy 🥰

Ask to be added to my taglists for future posts!

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” you confessed, “but I love hunting.”

By millionaire standards, your cabin couldn’t exactly be called luxurious. Bobby had called in a favor to “win” your tickets on board, so it wasn’t like you were pouring money into an ultra-fancy suite or anything. But, still. The thousands of cruddy motel rooms you’d stayed in throughout your life suddenly seemed cruddier. All the furniture was rich, dark wood, bolted to the wall so it wouldn’t sway with the ship. Your cabin was heady with the smell of fresh laundry and chlorine. A set of glass sliding doors lead out to the deck, just a few steps away from a horizon filled end to end with the black, breathing, glittering sea. You didn’t even have to flip on the lights; the moon cast its full figure over the ocean, flushing your room with silver light. Being on a cruise ship all weekend was sweet enough on its own, but your room sealed the deal. This was the best hunt you’d ever been on. Period.

Sam peered in from over your shoulder, blinking fast in disbelief. You side-stepped so he could go in first, and Sam teetered in, weighed down by two armfuls of luggage and a strange emotion that neither of you could name. He stared round’ at your cabin for a long time, before finally thunking down his burden in the middle of the room. The ceiling was low enough to warrant him ducking his head a bit. You got the feeling Sam would duck his head anyway. Neither of you had ever slept in a room this nice before, on or off a hunt.

Hip-checking the door shut behind you, you flipped on the lights and gave him a moment to settle how he was feeling. Sam’s reflection in the mirror above the bed was quiet, pleased, and melancholy all at once, especially when he twisted back to smile at you.

“For once…” Sam said, “I think I might agree with you.”

With that, you fell into the familiar rhythm of unpacking your things, picking slowly through your room. It took four times longer than usual since Sam had never packed for a vacation before. It looked to you like he’d brought his entire life with him, and considering you’d done the same, you had two huge suitcases of bullshit and a duffle of gear that Bobby had smuggled in for you. Without Dean taking part in your new-motel-room ritual like he always did, things were… domestic. Sam put all of your toiletries next to his in your shared bathroom. You brushed your teeth together there, bumping shoulders and grazing each other when you used the faucet. Sam even gave you his pillow-mint (which was honestly something you thought hotels only did in the movies).

He was without question your best friend. You’d shared everything in your life with him since you were little, so none of the old motions should’ve felt different. But there was something new in all of it this time—sharing a bed, turning your back when the other changed in the same room—and you knew what it was, and Sam knew what it was.

For the weekend, at least, you’d have to get used to those feelings. This was a couple’s cruise, and the two of you had been cast as the couple.

Bobby and Rufus had pinned down this hunt a crazy long time ago. Two men, then three, then four, had all disappeared out to sea while on a couple’s cruise in the Hawaiian islands. The interesting part was that they’d apparently all gone willingly to their deaths—a number of witnesses had watched one victim go stumbling over the railing, and his wife claimed he’d heard singing in his final moments. All four men had been mending their relationships with wives they’d been unfaithful to. All four men had gone missing on the same massive boat, far too big for a two-person hunt. Bobby and Rufus needed people, and Dean had signed the three of you on the second he heard the phrase: “bloodthirsty mermaids luring men to their doom.”

You’d sat around Bobby’s kitchen in Dakota, strategizing and sipping beer. Mermaids had been hunted to near-extinction during the golden age of piracy (man, had Sam and Dean geeked out about that), but Rufus was confident that at least one of them was skulking around this cruise-line. Your primary weapon against them would be an amulet Bobby had collected, which would burn hot in the presence of a mermaid—and hopefully wouldn’t burn your collarbones too much when you wore it.

“The rest of us will be working on the crew, but… two of you are gonna pose as a couple,” Bobby had said.

Naturally, this was met with uproar. Dean smacked both hands down on your shoulders and shouted dibs, Sam whacked him across the back of the head for objectifying you, and you cackled, gloating over the sunbathing time you were sure to get regardless.

Bobby had to bark over the bickering. “Shut up, all of you! This isn’t some cutesy vacation—people are dying here. We aren’t getting a second shot at this. Now… Dean, Y/N?”

Dean had wiggled his fingers on your shoulders, brimming with excitement. Which, to your horror, slowly dawned into mischief. One of his hands had slid off you to clap Sam on the arm. You didn’t have to see Dean’s face to know he was grinning, all teeth, and in the moment you’d doomed yourself, certain that he wouldn’t give up a Hawaiian cruise for anything.

Except, apparently, to make you his sister-in-law.

“Actually, Bobby…” he hummed, making your stomach drop and your heart restart at the same time. “I think I’ll drop out to stick with you guys on the crew. M’ more cut out to gank mermaids, anyway, not futzing around in dad shorts. Sam can cover for me, can’t you, Sammy?”

He’d crossed his arms and sunk lower in his seat. “If Y/N’s comfortable with that.”

“I wo—” you started, but Dean’s booming laugh had rolled right over whatever you’d planned to say. “Oh, c’mon. You’d be way more comfortable strutting around as Sam’s girl, wouldn’t you?”

The roaring blush pushing against your skin was easier to suppress with your heel digging into Dean’s foot beneath the table. He pinched your shoulder hard, and there you played a silent, wincing game of chicken while Bobby and Rufus exchanged a very unsubtle glance.

“That’ll work,” Rufus had decided, stumbling over Bobby’s desperately-trying-to-be-neutral hums of approval.

“Perfect. Yep. That’ll be just perfect,” Bobby had nodded. They’d brushed their hands over their faces, trying to hide their knowing grins, and not for the first time, you wondered what it would take to convince Cas to wipe Sam’s memory of this moment. What, did everyone and their grandma know about your crush on him?

Now, rooted to the floor in thought, you found your gaze sliding to where Sam was shoving his shoes on at the end of his—your shared bed. You were both dressed in vacationers’ clothes. His hair was fluffy from the shower he’d indulged before you’d left, and after the eight-hour drive to port, sleep had softened his eyes and his brow. Sam scrubbed his eyes with his wrist, blinking slow. An anxious sinkhole opened in your chest. There wasn’t much you wouldn’t do to save some lives, but if you had to play a part, you didn’t want the price to be your friendship with him. It’d kept you alive for so long that you couldn’t picture what your life would be without it. Every inch of it was cliche and stupid, and of all people, Sam deserved to have that effort put in for him.

You rolled around everything you wanted to explain to him in your head, but none of it sounded right. Somehow, you landed on: “You think it’s gonna be weird, pretending to be married?”

Sam shrugged. “We did it all the time when we were kids, playin’ house.” He closed the zipper of his boot, flashing you an innocent smile. “Can’t be that different, right?”

“Yeah…” A slow smirk unsheathed on your face. “I guess we are a little experienced here. You can be the Dad and I can be the Mom—”

Sam finished your thought, “and Dean can be our family dog, just like old times.”

The laugh that pealed out of you was a little too real for your line of work, so Sam’s grin instantly grew at the sound of it, pushing into his dimples. He didn’t join you. Just sat there and beamed, choking your entire body with flustered heat on the weight of his eyes alone. Dean ribbed him all the time for being shy around girls, but Jesus, Sam had to be doing at least some of this on purpose. If he looked at you like that—all genuine and appreciative just cause’ you were laughing at what he said—any longer, you’d start twirling an imaginary phone cord and kicking your feet. Asshole.

You tried to work the sudden dryness out of your mouth, awkwardly bubbling, “I can’t believe your brother ever went along with that. Wasn’t he our car once, too?”

Sam finally tore his eyes away, focussing his smile on his other boot instead. “Yeah. Put us on his back and ran around with us like that, makin’ car sounds n’ everything.”

What Sam had failed to mention was just how involved your games of house were. You had loads of vague memories in Bobby’s yard, of itty-bitty Sam, of the old kitchen toy set that Bobby had bought at a garage sale. The ancient hunk of plastic was baked white by the sun, so the little clock and oven stickers had peeled right off, leaving plenty of room for spiders to live. It was probably still sitting in Bobby’s shed somewhere. But you’d loved it, dirt and all, because it was often the one game that you and bossy Sam could agree on. One of you would be the Worker, who carted around an empty toolbox as a briefcase and went to work. (Or, futzed around in the treeline for however long). The other would be the Wife—you or Sam, whoever won the right to play with the kitchen first—who’d make an appetizing dinner out of whatever the hell was in Bobby’s yard. If you ever repeated these stories out loud you’d probably get a couple patronizing awwws. But really, those memories were the purest in a brief and impure childhood.

It was kind of cute, looking at the Sam you knew today and weighing him against that little boy. The one who’d fake-kiss you at the door of your “house” after an arduous day at “work”, whisk you away to your dinner table (an overturned storage tub), and pretend to prepare dinner for you (a bucket of pebbles). Stepping back, it was a bigger facet of your relationship with Sam than you’d expect—the two of you, hinged on all those dying memories.

“You were a really cute kid,” you thought aloud, tucking your pistol into your waistband. “Real sweet. S’ a real shame you’re such a dork now.”

“Hilarious,” Sam drawled.

It was sickening, how many butterflies one word could summon.

He drew up to his full height, scooped your jacket off the bed, and tossed it your way. Bobby wanted full reconnaissance on the ship before most of the activities started tomorrow, so you and Sam geared up for an innocent and not-at-all-observational couple’s walk. Sam had even changed into a pair of flamingo beach shorts, which you definitely stopped yourself from grinning evilly over. It was bizarre, seeing him in civilian clothes. Like you really were playing house.

“You know, speaking as a veteran house player, I doubt you stand a chance against me,” you airly dared.

Sam’s nose scrunched. “How can you even be good at that?”

“Playing your part?” You guessed. “And I play a damn good wife. I can do all sorts of wife things, like… I make really good coffee… I give good backrubs,” Sam hums (this is true). “Why do you think Bobby made me the girl, Sam?”

“Cause Rufus didn’t want to wear a bikini?”

You swatted Sam on the arm, all too aware of how giggly he made you. Already, you were slipping. Maybe you should’ve pushed to do this with Dean instead. Some cons and hunts had needed you to play husband and wife before, and the whole time, things had been peaceful and buddy-buddy, if anything. You could suffer through Dean being annoying for a few days. That was better than the real, bloody-chested anguish that punctuated every joke Sam made, or the insane chain-reaction that occurred in your body when you thought about… You. Mrs. Winchester. Being Sam’s wife. Drawing him a bath when he was tired… comforting him as he laid his head in your lap, or laughing with him like you did any other day, with the priceless bonus of kissing him right after. With Dean, things would be fine—you’d goof off or make a big joke out of it. But with Sam…

You lingered by the door, ankles pressed together, and smoothed down the skirt of your sundress. The amulet you’d use to track the mermaid sort of clashed with your clothes, but it was nautical and beachy enough to become unassuming. That wasn’t the piece of jewelry you were most concerned about, though.

Sam joined you by the door. He gave you a bracing look as you hovered across from each other, then with an air of finality, dragged his necklace over his head. The two rings hung on the chord were simple, vintage, and a little unclean. He untied the necklace’s knot and let the jewelry pool into his palm, which he opened to you.

You plucked out Mary Winchester’s wedding ring and closed your fist around it, feeling the single tear-drop diamond in the middle of the band jut against your skin.

After a nervous breath, you turned it over and slid it onto your ring finger. Or, you tried to, but Mary’s hands were—had been—smaller than yours. You struggled for a minute, fighting with it around your knuckle, then gave up totally in case you happened to break one of the few living artifacts that Sam had of his mom. He scooped up your hand without question to help. Sam’s eyes were soft but intent, his touch even softer as he helped wiggle on the old ring.

“There,” he said, overlapping awkwardly with your, “I can—”

You halted, gazing at each other, your fingers still draped in Sam’s much bigger hand, and he answered your shared awkwardness by jutting out the other ring at you. The deep draw of his breath from his lungs seemed to fill the dead-silent room. You traded hands so Sam’s fingers, long and calloused, were folded in yours like yours had been in his. John Winchester’s wedding band was simple and gold. It took a little twisting to get it on Sam’s left hand, but it suited him in an understated, honest sort of way.

When he drew away, the touch of his fingertips tingled all over yours in a few invisible ink-prints, sinking immediately into your flesh. You hadn’t even realized it, but your heart was pounding viciously in your ears.

Swallowing, you tried to give Sam a winning smile. “I, um, I-I know I told you and Dean a hundred times already, but—”

Sam finished your thought with a trusting nod. “You won’t lose it,” he said, “I know you won’t.”

And that was that. Sam twisted away to give your salt-lines one last glance, and the millisecond you were in the clear your ring hand darted self-consciously to your stomach. It didn’t feel heavy or different. You thought it might. Bobby had wanted to thrift the rings, but Sam hadn’t wanted to waste resources when there were two good ones right around his brother’s neck. It wasn’t smart to keep the dead’s belongings around unburned and unsalted, but they were Dean’s heirloom, so nobody could really nag him for it. Mary had died with her engagement band on. Sam figured that she’d left her wedding one on the nightstand so she wouldn’t lose it, and forgot it the night she went to check on him.

The air must’ve been getting a little too emotional for him, because Sam cleared his throat. “For the record,” he said, “I’m going to kick your ass at house. I’m going to be the best husband you’ll ever have.”

Your heart was still racing a hundred miles ahead of you, so your voice might’ve shaken. “Oh yeah?”

“I am,” Sam boasted, cracking a careful grin. “I’m gonna… carry all your things… open doors for you, and I’ll even throw my jacket over puddles before you walk over them. Good husband stuff.”

Yeah. Maybe it was a little obvious that the only marriage you’d ever seen was on TV, but the warm, shivery feeling rippling through you now was nothing but real.

“Alright,” you decided, and notched up your chin. “Prove it.”

Sam significantly notched down his, leveling your faces, and taunted, “I will.”

True to his word, Sam slipped behind you, opened the door for you, and bowed with a flourish. He gestured outside for you, ring winking in the light. “Missus Patton,” Sam gleamed.

Even if it was an alias, it charged your body with the same energy that Mrs. Winchester would.

“Mister Patton,” you curtseyed, and resolved to leave him in your house-playing dust.

Your walk was uneventful, but fruitful, leaving you and Sam with a good idea of where everything was on the ship. It was a miracle you could even form a mental map of the place, since the cruise was unfortunately fantastic at its job—things were very romantic. A big butter moon poured over a misty sea. There was a thunderstorm trembling on the horizon, and all you could see of it were these mystifying flashes of light, illuminating Sam in handsome shades of dark blue and brief white. Few people were outside because of it, giving the two of you ample privacy. You were the perfect distance from the storm, leaving you dry but privy to mother nature’s display. A rain-damp wind fluttered Sam’s hair around his face. It made him look regal, powerful, like how you always figured angels looked, electric-eyed and unfettered. It was stupid, how much you liked him and his dumb majestic face.

Your circuit around the ship’s decks probably wasn’t the ultimate scouting mission Bobby and Rufus were imagining. The first thing you’d done was one-up Sam for the door holding, which you accomplished by smoothing your hand into his. This was not grade-school hand-holding with three feet between you. You were not about to lose to a Winchester, so you went all in, snaking your arm down Sam’s solid one and giving the warm center of his palm a delighted squeeze. And Sam was no chicken either, so he refused to let go even when it became inconvenient. He tethered you to him the whole time, drawing you into his side each time you were separated by stairs or slim doorways. At first it was playful. You’d give him mean little tugs when he was in your way and Sam would do it right back, sniping about how clammy your palm was. (He was the sweaty one, mind you). But eventually your focus shifted to your task instead, so Sam’s occasional squeeze or brushing thumb faded into strange immediate normalcy. It was chilly, too, and sometimes the roar of the thunder warranted worming closer to him. Sam was so warm.

After an hour’s worth of scouting, you returned to your room to report to Bobby, Rufus, and Dean. You prepared yourself by guessing any number of jokes they could make at your and Sam’s expense. He got the door open one-handed, drawing you in behind him. It was only once you were inside that he released you, jokingly scrubbing his sweatier hands on his shorts, and rang up Bobby as the two of you got ready for bed.

“So,” Dean shouts into the speakerphone the instant Sam’s done briefing Bobby. “What’re the sleeping arrangements like up there, huh, newlyweds? Back-to-back? Spooning? Sam’s a big ol’ cuddlebug, ____, so you should take full advantage.”

You and Sam jammed the end call button in unison.

Sam respectfully allowed you to decide your sleeping arrangements. You knew it’d be crueler than cruel to deprive Sam of an awesome vacation-suite bed, so you shared it, you on your favorite side and Sam on the other.

Before you turned out the lights, you plucked up the snuggly robe from your bathroom and presented it to Sam. It was a fancy navy color and probably a little small on him. When he questioned you with a dry look, you smirked, “Good wife things, Sammy,” and promptly tossed it over his face.

“It’s Sam,” he muffled. You could hear the smile in his voice.

You abused every luxury your room had that most motels didn’t, including the in-cabin A/C. Sam cranked it all the way up, making your heavy, toasty covers even cozier. It was a bed in a ship’s cabin, though, so it was a little short, leaving Sam’s legs to hang off the freezing edge. Sometime in the night he migrated diagonally to fit. You'd shared a bed with Sam enough times to anticipate his habits (he laid dead still on his stomach, almost unbreathing, like a gunshot victim), but… Of course, the suite changed things. Sam's body heat leached closer and closer to your side of the bed, flooding your nose and your mind with the woody smell of him. The covers were nice, but the way Sam weighed down the mattress seemed even better than heavy blankets. When he would turn over and face you in his sleep, every hair on your body stood on expectant end. He was just… huge, and encompassing, which made laying with a foot between you a punishment worthy of the underworld. Sisyphus pushed a boulder up a hill for all eternity, Tantalus couldn't reach drink or food, and you laid there, chilly and yearning, with Sam warm and cuddly just inches away. Get a grip, girl. It was pathetic, how badly you wanted to turn over and draw him in. Sam had always been a cuddler.

His socks and ankles mingled with yours until morning, the two of you wriggling comfortably into the nicest bed you’d ever slept in.

_

For day one, it was your job to find your monster-of-the-week and hunt down any potential vics. If that was even possible. The mermaids had all gone for unfaithful men, and on a couple’s cruise built specifically for mending patchy marriages, that meant a seriously massive victim pool. The brochure had even featured his-and-her matching counseling sessions. Your best hope was Bobby’s amulet, which Castiel had lent credence to as some kind of Atlantian artifact. Regardless, all you had to do to make it work was… walk around.

“Yeah,” you breathed in the warm tropical air, sighing, “this is officially the best hunt we’ve ever done.”

Sam tipped back his head, exposing his building tan to the clear sky. “No kidding.”

With the sun high and the thunderstorm behind you, it was blazing and beautiful out. A sweet-smelling sea wind fluttered each tablecloth and skirt on the dining floor, including yours, stirring today’s sundress around your legs. Everyone was out for breakfast and chattering about the ocean view, which was an endless sheet of glittering blue stretching for miles in every direction. You’d technically seen the ocean a fair share of times in your life—off the Long Island Sound hunting a wraith, the Gulf of Mexico chasing sirens in Houston—but there was something different about being off-land. It was all-encompassing. The sea was everywhere and you were just a speck bobbing on its surface. Considering the weird number of times in your life when God had singled out you and the boys, it was a humbling feeling. You liked it.

Beside you, Sam looked just as pleased. He’d let himself get more comfortable than usual for this job, so the top button of his shirt was undone—and the second, and the third, leaving a whole lot of collar room and very little of your sanity. The last of your spraying sunscreen had been used on him, so the bold curves of his arms and the soft lines of his throat all gleamed in the sunlight. His skin was tacky with it too, so when you bumped into each other your skin melted into his. He adjusted his sunglasses against the light, making his wedding ring glitter. Sam was unfortunately and unbelievably kissable. You were not the first person on board to notice this.

A few of the tables closest to you leaned out of their way to blink at him behind their smoothies, and even if the stares were innocent or surface-level, you felt suddenly protective of him. You shifted to grab for Sam’s hand only to find it already looking for yours, uncomfortable at the sudden attention from one side of the railing.

As you pulled each other aside to study the deck, Sam rested his knuckles against the exposed skin of your back and skirted closer to murmur in your ear. “Looks like I might be able to get something out of the people at the buffet… Why don’t I get us breakfast while you look around?”

“You’re the boss,” you joked, since Sam was smart enough to know that he was definitely not the boss.

Sam broke away to get breakfast, and without thinking about it, you both let your hands trail, the sun-warmed tips of his fingers gliding all the way to the ends of yours until he was gone. It was so intimate so fast that your face combusted on the spot, heat sizzling up to your ears and squirming in your cheeks and neck. You were rigged in place for the following minute. Sam teetered off toward his task, hands folded behind his back as casual as could be. If he started whistling or something, you were pretty sure you’d kill him. Kiss him. Something.

You pretended your stillness was purposeful, looking for a target to settle on. The dining pavilion was one huge part of the second deck, a swath of crisp white tables under a big canopy, all in some fancy glass structure you were too poor to name. (Sam would probably know the name). For breakfast, the place was one step below average capacity. The air tinkled with the wind-chime talk of veteran vacationers and first-timers alike. For a moment you were a little overwhelmed by your own place in this ecosystem, since you looked and acted nothing like the trophy wives and businessmen swimming all around you. You’re supposed to be playing house, you reminded yourself, so play.

An employee across the floor was laughing with a group of arriving older women, all apparently familiar with each other. Long-term stay-ins, maybe? If they knew the employees… They might a good source of information.

You pulled a five-dollar bill from your wallet and strolled toward them. When you were close enough to notice, you stooped toward the ground, then came up with the bill unfolded in your hand. “Excuse me, ma’am? I’m sorry, but did one of you drop this?”

They turned toward you as one, all of them one wave in an ocean of flowy dresses and trendy jumpsuits. You felt out-numbered, but not necessarily in a bad way. The one nearest to you, mousy and gray-haired with her purse in hand, perked up.

“Well, there I go again,” she laughed at herself. “Must’ve dropped it while I was futzing around with this boulder,” she waved her purse, taking an armful of rattling jewelry with it. “Thank you, Miss…?”

“Patton. ____ Patton.”

And that was your in. With a little joking and a little part-playing, you had them fascinated. You made conversation, sorting through small-talk for any useful information, assured that you’d found the right crowd. Most if not all of them were third or fourth-timers, and two of them had been aboard for the other deaths. Perfect. You were ushered over to their regular table, making a point to save a seat to your left.

“And who are you here with, dear?”

Alright. Time to put your acting skills to the test. Panic’s stronger, heartsick cousin caught in your chest at the question. You told yourself that the risk factor was feeding you some adrenaline, but you were a shit liar. Brimming with a bit too much enthusiasm, you sorted through the people lined up for the buffet and pointed out the tallest one. The cheek-aching smile you usually tamped down around Sam bloomed in full on your face.

“Him,” you smirked. “Tall, dark, and handsome over there.”

Your new friends laughed at your joke, then immediately stopped laughing, followed by a lot of flustered giggling, face-fanning with drink menus, and disbelieving glances. It was impossible to blame them. Sam had tilted his shades into his hair, and from this angle he was nothing but barely-hidden back muscle and mole-speckled neck.

On your right, another woman pressed an acrylic nail against her chin, biting her lip and taking a long, long look at Sam and Sam’s shoulders. “Please tell me he’s…” she hoped.

“My husband,” you dryly clarified, and failed to trap even your imaginary smugness behind your grin as they groaned. The heat on your face was so intense it could’ve turned water to steam, so you scooped up your glass and held the icy drink against your cheek, grateful for the hazy weather as cover.

Your answer earned a table’s worth of joking sighs of disappointment and teasing pouts, which was funny at first, until you remembered that the monster you were hunting ate unfaithfuls. Sometimes whole. Bobby had used the words gizzard, regurgitate, and pellet, so you’d tried not to think about it. Mermaids ate disloyal men, sure, but rules could always change. Maybe these women were only teasing, but you were starting to understand why the mermaid(s) had chosen this hunting ground in particular. Regardless, you were going to be the most loyal fake-wife of all time, just in case.

“And here he comes now,” you chimed.

Sam appeared, looking exactly how most dads on vacation thought they looked. He was even wearing sandals—Jesus, if his brother could see him now. He swooped behind you, flashing the table a dimply smile as he went, balancing your plates in both hands. His performance was… interesting. Sam stood at his full height like he never did at home. His bangs were astray around his eyes, and his walk was lazy, content. It settled on you hard that you recognized the sexy smile Sam was putting on, since he’d been practicing it on you ever since Bobby had found this hunt. Ever since he knew you’d be paired up like this. Knowing that Sam was doing all of it on purpose gave you some sympathy for these poor women; little did they know, an evil genius was hiding behind those precious, disarming puppy dog eyes. They couldn’t read him like you could, so each and every one of them missed the competition glowing off him on a ten-thousand-volt battery.

I’m fucked, you realized.

“Hey, beautiful,” Sam said, and the smugness was in his eyes too, tallying a mental point for himself. “I made sure to load it up with all your favorites.”

…Which was true. Sam set the plate of breakfast he’d cultivated down in front of you, and just as promised, it was filled with all the food you liked most. It took every inch of your willpower not to glare straight into his soul, since deep down you knew you’d inflicted this on yourself. Sam had sworn that he’d go all in, so he had. You’d dared him to. Now, you were suffering the consequences. Sam had earned his first Husband Point for breakfast—but so long as you lived, it was going to be his last.

“Hi, baby,” you beamed back, a challenge in itself.

As he slid away, he punctuated his leave with a sweet, warm, adoring kiss on your cheek, effectively taking a match to your composure and soaking it with kerosene. That was two points. Christ.

Sam straightened, dropping a loving hand on your shoulder and rolling right into his charming routine. “I hope I’m not interrupting?” Sam winced to the table, his voice handsome and polite.

The table of women tripped over themselves to invite Sam to sit, chorusing from every angle, never, sweetie, and stuttering, not at all! Sam made a big show of thanking them for their kindness as he claimed his spot next to you. You’re on idea number four of ways to get back at Sam when he reaches between you, grabs the closest rung below your seat, pins you down with eye-contact electric enough to blow a transformer, and physically drags your chair so it’s flush to his. So you’re flush to him. When there’s not even an inch between your seats, he brings an arm around your back and single-handedly robs you of your grip on reality. Three points. A million points.

Holy shit. He was not messing around. Not even a little bit. Where had this Sam come from?

Sam turns in to whisper against your ear. “If you get uncomfortable, just tap me a couple times, okay?”

Right. Of course. Almost forgot which brother you were dealing with here. You nod a little too much, the entire left side of your body warmed by Sam and Sam’s ridiculously good-smelling skin. Where was he getting the money for fancy body wash? Or shampoo?

Dimly, you thought you heard one of the other women at the table commenting on how cute the two of you were, but your ears were elsewhere. This reeks of Dean’s influence. Who else could’ve taught Sam this conniving, evil… comfy… romantic… bullshit?

“Colleen! Sophia!”

Speak of the devil.

At first, you thought you were hallucinating. Sam’s finger was drawing circles on your furthest shoulder, successfully sending tingles through your entire nervous system. That’s dream material. But Dean appearing in a waiter’s uniform sounds more like a weird fever dream, and mixing the two genres is a little weird, so you wake up from your Sam-touch-coma long enough to check. Dean is at your table. He’s got a pitcher of water in one hand and a polo with the cruise line's logo on the breast, chipper and annoying and grinning like a shark at the two of you. Sam jerks up in his seat.

“Ladies!” Dean chimes, flashing the dazzling smile that apparently runs in his family. “How’s it goin’? S’ good to see you, too. Refills? Alriiight. Chelsea, doll, is that you down there? How’d that shuffleboard round go with Jason, eh?”

This is not what you’d imagined when Bobby had said they’d be on the crew. Dean begins his route around the table, stopping for conversation, to whistle, and to fill cups as your hosts take sips off the top of their already filled glasses. Just to milk as much out of you and Sam as he possibly can. He wouldn’t dare blow your cover. But Dean’s clever, and more importantly, a villain, since he throws you suggestive looks whenever he can and gestures lewdly between you and Sam. You already know that you’re going to stomp on his foot as hard as you can when he gets around to you. In solidarity, Sam’s shoe slides over too.

“What about you, Mr. and Mrs. Patton?” Sofia probes with impeccable timing. “How long have the two of you been married?”

You made sure to answer before Sam could swoop in and steal the win out from under you. Between being embarrassed by Dean and outdone by Sam, you don’t like your odds, but you can’t let both of them win. You decide to go for the greater evil.

“Six years now this week,” you sighed, low dreamy eyes, clasped hands and all. Hopefully, you don’t sound too murderous. Or obvious. You turn in to admire Sam, faces just a few sparse inches apart with how you’re sitting, and cup his jaw in one hand to pet his stubble with your fingers. “But I’ve been stuck with this rascal for much longer.”

For the three seconds that you’re eye-to-eye, Sam almost breaks character. He presses it down with all he’s got, but whatever he’s feeling is apparently much stronger, because even Dean’s circling presence doesn’t stop the flash of shyness that jumps across his face. He’s hauling his gaze away from you right away, but you’d caught it.

Underneath his performance, Sam was unbelievably, recklessly flustered. Over just one little touch to his face. Maybe you did have a chance to beat him at this, then. The suave confidence that Sam had magicked into existence crumbled instantly, just because you’d stroked his cheek.

You had no clue you had that kind of effect on him. Damn.

“N-Not long enough,” Sam coughs.

The two of you start to scrounge up intel from your hosts. Well, you do, Sam does his best impression of someone honed in on the conversation, his arm around you dead still. The scene on the ship is pretty tame, according to the other women. You’re recommended fun couple’s activities; there’s an entire game deck, a spa, and a dozen pools, among several other possible mermaid locales.

“But… if I were you,” Chelsea warns, sounding grave, “don’t stay out at the bar too late. Kelly’s husband had his drink dosed last night, and they never found the culprit. Luckily, we got him before anything could happen, but…”

“That’s awful,” you frowned. “Sam and I will make sure to watch out. Did you, uh, happen to see it when they dosed him?”

“No,” Kelly shook her head, shrugging sadly. “He’d barely touched his drink, but he was… definitely under something, so we figured that’s what happened. He’s okay now, though. Just… be careful.”

You drummed your fingers on the table. “Hmm.”

That sounded like mermaid song to you. A drunken, out-of-his-mind male victim fit the bill. Man, this job was just getting better and better—you’d found these women right away. Maybe you’d find the mermaid(s) even faster, and end up with a day or two to spare. They must’ve spared Kelly’s husband because they didn’t want any more witnesses. With this many kills under their belt now, they needed to keep a seriously low profile. Thank god for evil businessmen keeping the cruiseline working despite the deaths, since it made your wild goose chase much shorter.

While you’re learning more from Chelsea, in your peripherals, Dean mimes something to Sam that the others at your table can’t see. Coaching him. Right on cue, you feel Sam’s arm give you a warm squeeze that flutters through your whole body and invites you closer to him. The second you glance at Dean both of his arms fly back down to his sides, and it all comes together.

Those cheaters. Dean was helping him!

You glare Sam’s brother off the dining floor, and make sure to linger on the door he scampers out of in case he dares to intervene again. Over your breakfast plate, you immediately get to overthinking. There was only one motive Dean would have for helping his brother romance you (see file: making you his sister-in-law), but Sam was… taking your challenge seriously? Going above and beyond for this hunt? It was unorthodox. Any guess you could come up with didn’t really suit the reasonable, emotionally-aware Sam that you knew. Except for one. Which you thought about. A lot.

Dean couldn’t have told him, right? He joked and he prodded, but you’d asked Dean personally to leave your feelings for his brother alone. There was so much going on in your lives at any given time—and adding unrequited love to the mix would royally fuck with the dynamic you’d treasured for years. You could keep it to yourself and Dean could make his jokes, but Sam could never know. Ever. At least, he’d never hear it from you.

It’d taken ages, but after a hundred nights sharing curbs across the country with him, Sam had opened up to you. Relationships… aren’t really a possibility for me anymore, he’d told you. Besides… you and Dean are my life. There’s not really room for anyone else, is there?

He’d made sure there wasn’t. Since he’d joined you and Dean, you’d never even seen him look anywhere else but the road in front of him and his brother. If he ever looked back, it was to your face in the rear-view mirror. It broke your heart for him, but you understood what he was saying. A relationship would never work on the road. You, yourself, hadn’t considered dating since high school, given that the boys were everything you needed anyway. You could be at the altar and if either one of them called you, there was no doubt in your mind that you’d throw off your veil and bounce.

Sam had never… You’d never labeled what he felt for you that way. Hunting was—strange, and hunting together even moreso, since it took simple relationships and knotted them together so fiercely that they were indistinguishable from love. Any kind of love. You’d held Dean’s stomach together after hellhounds had torn him apart, up to your elbows in his blood. And Sam—you’d taken the clothes off your back to keep him warm, dragged him half-dead to home on a broken leg and faith, murdered for him, died for him, and lived for him, simply because he was Sam and Sam was your everything. Without question. You’d laid dying beside him, bleeding out, abandoned and alone, his blood-slick hand growing weaker in yours. Each of the boys owned a piece of you and you owned a piece of them. Anyone could mistake that ride-or-die devotion for romantic love.

By god, you wanted to translate Sam that way. But that’s what hunting had turned all of you into, so you couldn’t be sure that Sam had those kinds of feelings for you. It hurt. Frankly, it sucked. It sucked even more because you swore you saw it in Sam all the time. But finding out the truth could mean detangling that devotion, and there was nothing you wouldn’t do to keep that insane, mangled ball of obsession and friendship the way it was.

Still. You couldn’t explain why Sam would ask his brother for help on this kind of thing, and your crush on him demanded that you question it. This was exactly what you’d been worried about, going undercover as Sam’s… wife. You knew that you’d start questioning everything he did, hoping, wishing, and picking at his every move, just in case you saw something you pretended you weren’t looking for.

You turned your ring around your finger, wondering.

Sam tilted closer to you, all sense of shyness or guile wiped clean. He looked worried, whispering, “You okay? You’re making your overthinking face.”

“S’ nothing, Sam,” you stared at him, “just got something on my mind…”

_

With the two of you having at least something of a lead on the mermaids’ hunting grounds, Sam called Bobby to report your findings. You’d wanted to stay as separate as possible, just in case somebody pinned the five of you as co-conspirators, so Bobby surprised you by requesting to meet in person. You agreed on an alcove by the maintenance rooms, not wanting to be overheard.

You and Sam beat Bobby there. Considering how leisurely your walk down had been, you were expecting to be a little late. After fighting through the growing crowds, you and Sam had lingered by the railings of the upper decks, mystified by the magnitude of the swaying, lively ocean. The sea breeze was no less beautiful, especially when it fluttered Sam’s shirt around his waist and tousled his hair so sweetly. A default part of your disguise had quickly become hand-holding, so each of your hands had already taken a turn being warmed in Sam’s. You were falling into your roles still.

Though you registered that you were on a couple’s cruise, seeing all the other couples around you made you itch. They lounged in twin beach chairs, kissed, shared sips of champagne out of one glass, kissed, wrapped their arms around each other, and also kissed. A lot. They would share a joke and complete it with a kiss. They would stare out at the sea, catch eyes, and seal the moment with a sweet peck. They would be lounging beside each other at breakfast, turn in and kiss. Everywhere you went, your eyes found the first lip-locked couple without fail. It put your brain on its most basic setting, so all it could supply was: They’re a couple. They’re kissing. Sam and I are a couple. We could kiss. Sam. Kissing. Wow.

Now, you were navigating your way around the maintenance floor, hand in hand with him. Everything echoed in the tight metal hallways. The unused ones remained dark, so you stuck to those as best you could. The hissing of machinery and the deep, chest-rumbling purr of the ship gave you a good amount of cover. You probably weren’t supposed to be down here, but slipping around some ship staff was child’s play for two capable hunters, and you’d only speak to Bobby for a moment anyway.

Sam was quietly rattling off his thoughts about the case when, boom, you stopped mid-step around a corner and reeled you both back. Footsteps ahead. The sound bounced off the walls in circles, making it hard to say where they were coming from. Shit. Come on.

You bunched up in the nearest corner you could find. As in, you bodily wheeled sideways and slapped Sam into the wall, then yourself into him, safely hidden in the blindspot of a doorway.

Sam stilled. You both held your breath.

The footsteps passed, and the idle whistling of the employee they belonged to disappeared down the other end of the hall. But the echo confused you and the employee was really taking his time, because you were pressed against Sam that way for ages, smushing you both out of sight. You’d put on a stern face and readied yourself for trouble, only to miserably fail at… focussing. Thinking. Or feeling anything, past the sensitive, tingling air between your face, throat, chest, and hands.

Both of your fists were in the front of Sam’s shirt, frozen where they’d maneuvered him out of sight. His heart was loud enough to hear beneath your knuckles. The rest of your body only sent out signals where it was linked to Sam’s, so everything but your stomach pressed against his and your knees knocking together was filtered away. It had to have only lasted a few breaths. But your mind ran rampant for so long that time passed in hours, keeping you there. Lifting your head even an inch would put your mouth right across from Sam’s, so you kept your chin ducked, almost into his chest. The open collar of his shirt. The smooth, sexy scooping lines of his collarbones. Hell. To your own embarrassment, your fucking mouth started to water, since your body had a mind of its own today. His warm breath fluttered across your cheek and hair, cloying with the honey-sweet smell of the fruit he’d had for breakfast. Jesus, Sam.

“Good instincts,” Sam blushed.

You blinked. You hadn’t even heard the footsteps fade. “Thank you,” you answered on autopilot.

You didn’t release his shirt. Sam didn’t ask you to. You managed to step back an inch, giving Sam room to breathe that he instead used to watch you curiously. Finally, your fingers unwound, raw from how hard they’d clenched around his shirt.

“Sorry,” you said, scrambling to explain yourself. “I’m lost in my head a bit, trying to finish this job… y’know. S’...”

“...a huge victim pool, with a small timeframe to match,” Sam finished your thought. He was blushing like a cartoon, his moles lost in planes of red. “It’s okay. I’m frazzled too. I didn’t even hear that guy coming, to be honest with you.”

“I guess we’re both a little off our game,” you smirked.

“You? Never.” Sam scoff-laughed, and you wanted so badly to fist your hands into his shirt, cram him up against that wall again and kiss him stupid, since that’s exactly how he made you feel. Stupid. Breathless. Kissed all over.

Standing across from you in the hall, Sam opened his left hand for you to take. Shooting him a playful smirk that probably came across as I’m-going-to-eat-you-alive-later, you clapped your hand to his, then sealed the deal, Sam’s fingers slotting naturally into yours.

“Hey,” Sam said, hesitating to take the first step away from this moment. “Um… I’ll watch your six if you watch mine, yeah? We can keep each other alert.”

Knowing it was fruitless, you knocked your shoulder against his and put your game face on. “Deal.”

Bobby met up with you at the rendezvous point a few minutes later, fighting to carry a couple of plastic bags while shoving a janitor’s cart along with him. Any annoyance about his workload was put on a backburner at the sight of you and Sam. You thought at first the clever look on his face was because you were failing to appear inconspicuous, crammed together in a dark corner of the ship’s underbelly, but by now you should’ve known better.

“Well,” he wuffed out. Bobby scratched his beard, smiling at your entwined hands. “You two are getting along swimmingly.”

You rolled your eyes. Yeah, death was sounding pretty good about now, especially if it meant an end to these jokes. You could almost hear Dean ribbing you for it in your final moments. So, lemme guess… Sam’s getting everything in your will, eh? Bein’ your husband n’ all.

Sam dropped your hand lightning-fast, a kid with his hand caught in the cookie jar, and you followed suit with no bad feelings about it. Okay, maybe a few. After holding hands with him all day and night, being denied that right felt unfair enough to cry over.

Together, you reported to Bobby what you’d found, including your potential victim, Kelly’s husband. Lore indicated that mermaids made nests—they needed somewhere to hurl up all those bones, after all—which was what Rufus, Dean, and Bobby were focused on finding. The easiest way out of this was with a good ol’ fashioned ambush. Preferably soon, so that all of you could enjoy a good vacation. Not just you and Sam. Though after the wringer he’d been putting himself through lately, you were glad Sam had taken the easy track for this job. He, of all people, deserved some rest and relaxation. Maybe a good backrub, too.

“Oh, uh,” Bobby forced on a neutral face. “The reason I needed the two of you down here is this,” he gestured with the bags he was leaden with, pronouncing, “Dean wanted me to pass along some gifts.”

A coil of dread grew in your stomach. Dear god. Bobby dropped the puffy bags down between the two of you, then immediately drew back with bomb-squadron level trepidation. You almost expected to see a kitchen timer hooked up to a blinking ball of wires amid the plastic. To be honest, you had to give Dean some credit: it was somehow worse than an active explosive.

Bobby clarified, “He gets a huge discount at the gift shop, working here. Didn’t want to,” he cleared his throat, shuffling in a way that pealed with silent laughter, “waste it.”

You pulled out the biggest item in the bag closest to you. It was a men’s shirt in Sam’s size, eclipsing you shoulder to shoulder, in a pink color so violent and so tropical you could only hope it wasn’t radioactive. Husband and Wife, it read, Cruising Partners for Life!

You glanced down. Of course, there was a matching women’s to go with it. Dean was never merciful. Your glaring went on long enough for you to realize that husband was in hard, masculine font, and wife was, obviously, curly and feminine, the text framed around a cruise ship and hearts. Sam was squinting at it over your shoulder, unimpressed.

“Dean Winchester,” you proclaimed, folding the shirt against your belly, “you are a cancer.”

Glinting with humor, Bobby said, “Congrats on six years, you two.”

He flicked up his cap at you, then hustled away, janitor’s cart rattling and the matching keys jingling on his belt. You and Sam stumbled over each other trying to coax him back, but anything above a whisper could get you caught. Bobby was around the corner and gone before you could get in any more protests, abandoning you and Sam with three huge bags brimming with bullshit. Psuedo-father-of-the-year.

The bags sat and looked at you. You and Sam shared a disgusted, yet mutually curious glance.

“Once this is all over—” Sam started.

“We kill your brother?” You finished.

“Yeah,” Sam scooped up another bag and started to dig through it, “We kill my brother.”

Along with the shirts, there were also sunglasses, condoms, tote bags, socks (with little ships on them, duh), a second variety of condoms, and hats. Most of this you mutually plotted to shove onto the first couple that would take it, but you paused on one of the twin his-and-her hats. It was… somehow… kind of cute. In a kitschy, self-aware, corporate-evil kind of way.

You took it by the bill and tugged it over Sam’s wind-swept bangs. It flared his hair out to the side all funny and shook loose the glossy, too-long curl that Sam had been wrestling back all day, which he self-consciously brushed back another time. The hat matched the color of his pants, accidentally coordinating with your outfit as well. Altogether, it would make your already paired clothes look intentional.

Notching your fists on your hips, you rocked back on your heels and examined him with a long hum. “Hm. Not bad.”

(He looked fucking adorable.)

Sam slouched. “What does it say?”

You bit your lip, giggling, and did your best romantic husband voice. “She’s the only fish in my sea.”

“Clever,” Sam snorted, “M’ not wearing this.”

“Not even if I wear the matching one?” You winced, hopefully.

In an attempt to convince him, you fished out the other baseball cap and popped it on, even flashing a modelesque pose to really sell it. You weren’t sure why you were throwing yourself under the bus for this bit, but the idea of Sam dorking around in a dumb hat all day sounded entertaining. He looked unfortunately good in it, too. Matching with him would only help your cover…

Sam read your hat, doubtful at first: “Really? He’s the only buoy for me? If Dean saw us in these…”

He didn’t sound too afraid. The appeal was starting to register with him, since you were blinking prettily up at him from below the bill and Sam was doing the exact same thing. He smoothed the edge of the cap with a hand, almost convinced. Sam’s eyes are hazel when they rake over you, flickering fast on a narrowed face.

“S’ funny,” you shrugged. “And… y’know. You look really cute.”

Sam’s head immediately ducked to his shoes, overwhelmed with flattery, and he did the same helpless, breathless chuckle he did when he was embarrassed. You watched him twist his ring around his finger, mentally beating yourself over the head with a shovel. There was a canyon-wide gap between pretending to be married for a case and flirting with Sam for real. You really could accomplish anything, since you’d managed to swan-dive straight over the cliffs and sail the mile across. Shit.

You knew he heard it a lot. He probably didn’t need to hear it from you. Yet, Sam still smiled down at his ring, shy and smug in the same beat. “You think so?”

“No. I just wanted to see if I could convince you to walk around in that all day.”

Panic. You’d panicked. Shit.

Sam’s laugh stuttered a bit. He swooped down to collect two of the bags, head low, and kept it cool as he hung them over one shoulder. But you still got the impression that he was disappointed.

You’re beyond handsome to me, you wanted to say. A thousand similar phrases piled on top of each other in your hurry to make up for what you’d said, so none of them landed, most too emotional or disconnected to make sense. You made a choked sort of noise trying to spit out something to say, which Sam gave you a funny look for.

“I do, though.” You blurted. “I was, I was kidding with you. I think—” you grabbed the last bag to have something to do, “...that.”

You’d be rambling if you could come up with more than three words at a time. It didn’t help that you decided to reclasp hands with Sam as you said this, so not only were you declaring out loud how stupid you were for him, but showing it in touch too. Sam swelled up with a deep breath, his eyes calculating between your face and your hand grabbing for his. You knew that anything else you could say would just be another nail in your coffin, so you helpfully shut the hell up.

“You’re pretty cute, too,” Sam says, all humor. He lifts his eyebrows. “When you’re flustered.”

You bat him in the side with the plastic bag in your unheld hand, which bounces, predictably, right off him. Sam laughs and you laugh, but it dawns on you with uncomfortable clarity just how much he could know.

“Kiss my ass, Mr. Patton.”

“Don’t worry. S’ kinda my job.”

_

Equipped with matching hats and plenty of tension, you and Sam decide to change into your swimsuits before tackling the rest of the day. The weird energy tingling between you and him feels like it’s hit a different, warmer frequency, but you tell yourself that you’re just imagining things and push through. Friends can call each other cute. Closer-than-close hunting partners can call each other cute. Sam, of all people, is allowed to tilt his face closer to yours when he talks and say ridiculous things like: You’re pretty cute too. And now you’re going to see him shirtless. What the fuck.

God. You almost trip over your own shoes by the door, you’re so delirious. Sam caught you by the hand he was still holding and steadied you, asking, “You good?”

“Yup.” Absolutely not. “Just a little dizzy from the heat.”

You find your swimsuit, a safe, monster-hunting one-piece that covers your monster-hunting scars well enough, in your suitcase. Just in case, you grab a pair of jean shorts to wear with it. Before you duck into the bathroom, Sam tosses you an ice-cold water bottle from your mini-fridge and gives you a pointed look. The second there’s a barrier between the two of you—you changing in the bathroom and Sam in your suite—you gulp down half the bottle and mentally prepare yourself for what will be on the other side of that door.

It’s just Sam, you remind yourself.

He knocks on the wood, giving the all-clear signal.

Just Sam, you mentally sigh, who has been bulking up for the past three years.

You assumed your facade, took the doorknob in hand, sucked in a breath, and breezed out of the bathroom without a care in the—

Boom. You almost smacked face-first into Sam. Almost, but you’d slammed your brakes just an inch before you would’ve collided with him. Teetering on those brakes, there’s a twelfth of a second where your vision is filled with nothing but his torso. Don’t objectify him, you order yourself. It becomes a mental chant. Don’t do it. Don’t even think about it. But Sam robs you both of your control and your ability to think, so you hang there, dumbfounded, swallowing butterflies by the fistfuls and staring at him.

Your eyes had already started on the floor, determined to avoid the sight of him, so you’re forced to drag them up when you meet his gaze. So. You literally look him up and down, like people do in the movies. In the sea of skin your brain is censoring, you think you see his naval and the pretty little freckles constellating over it. A touch of sun-kissed collarbone. More dark brown freckles.

You whip up your head before it’s obvious that you’re trying not to look, only to catch Sam. Who’s also looking? At you. In your swimsuit. Okay, that wasn’t your imagination.

With no other way to defend yourself, you resort to instinct and glare at him the first chance you get. There’s no heat in it, but Sam still takes a step back.

“...Sorry,” he winced, apologetic, and held up the sunscreen lotion he’d packed. “Do you think you could help me with my back?”

Okay. This couldn’t be your imagination.

“I got my legs and my arms already.”

This… Sam didn’t do this. He was too independent, for one thing, and he hated to bother anybody about even menial things. Sunscreen? Really?

“But, y’know… I can’t reach.”

I mean. You’d gladly do it. But before, Sam always insisted on doing this kind of thing himself. It seemed like all these little coincidences were lining up with him, but you were determined to not look at him through a romantic lens.

“And you can. So…”

You kept doing this. Every time Sam even sneezed in the direction of your feelings, your whole body ignited, connecting dots that weren’t there. But this was… suspicious. Officially suspicious. You blurted:

“Do you have a crush on me, Sam?”

Sam veered to a stop. The hands playing with the sunscreen dropped to his sides, where his toying grew even worse, clicking the cap with anxious fingers. A blazing, suffocating blush patched from his cheeks to his ears. He made a pained giggly sound. “...What?”

He clicked the cap a couple more times in the silence, stopping immediately when you moved into his bubble to extract it from him. “I’m just saying,” you grinned, brimming with dry humor at his expense, “You must have a big ol’ crush on me, asking me this. If you wanted a backrub, all you’d have to do is ask, Winchester.”

Sam scoffed. The nervous tension in his shoulders unwound. “You’re an ass.”

You wagged your finger in a circle. Sam obeyed the order, (grumbling), and turned around for you. The second his gaze was elsewhere, so much bubbly adrenaline burst out of you that you could’ve broken out into song. You quietly put your hand over your mouth and pushed the excited sigh out through your nose, wracked with disbelief. None of that had been your imagination. Not one lick of it. Oh my god.

Trying to focus, you squeezed some of the cold lotion out into your palm and scrutinized your work area—which was, of course, fucking gorgeous. Sam and Dean had probably pulled such an awful lot in life because every ounce of their luck had been poured, by the truckload, into their good looks. Sam’s back was only barely the labor of good luck, though. Everything else was nothing but hard work and due diligence. Don’t you dare objectify him, _____, you begged yourself. But it was… there were… He had all these freckles everywhere that you hadn’t known about… and just… the, the beautiful line of his spine down the middle… looked good. It all looked good. Regular people didn’t… have glamor muscle like this. You knew what fighting muscle looked like, where it was equal parts mass and strength. Sam had that and then some. But he was also a lot more defined everywhere than your career needed him to be, so… he wanted to be that way. He wanted to like his body, and wanted to take pride in how he looked. You knew that he hadn’t always liked himself that much, so the improvement was… it was sweet. Admirable. You were proud of him.

“____?” Sam glanced over his shoulder.

“Sorry,” you murmured. “Just thinking about when you were still short enough for me to roughhouse with you.”

Before Sam could answer, you pressed the mouth of the tube against the top of his spine and whipped a long, chilly line of lotion all the way to his back dimples. Sam yelped, “Ah! ____!”

You might have laughed at him a bit. Tossing the sunscreen aside, you fortified yourself enough to settle both hands on Sam’s warm, handsome back. You expected it to be brick-hard by the look of it alone, but Sam’s skin was yielding and soft instead. His muscles less-so. After getting an even coat of lotion everywhere Sam couldn’t reach, you pushed your palms into the meat of his shoulders and let out a long whistle.

“How can you even move your neck? This feels painful, Sam. Your shoulders alone are wound hard enough to turn coal to diamond.”

Sam hung his head, nodding. “Yeah. Feels like it.”

“Well, c’mere then,” you balmed, and gestured him to sit on the bed’s end.

Sam hesitated. He glanced between the blankets, which were still in disorder since you’d woken up that morning, and you, playful and wriggling your fingers at him. After so long, Sam could probably see underneath how much his stress ate at you. The temptation to indulge in an award-winning, world-renown ______ backrub was hard to pass up, too. Bobby and Ellen had told stories. Dean got teary-eyed when he talked about it. From past experience, Sam knew how mind-blowing they were.

Of course, only he could have the willpower to resist. Sam pressed his lips together. “We should really keep looking for the mermaid…”

“Five minutes,” you bargained, “Then we’ll hop back to it, I promise.”

Sam swayed on his heels with indecision, and you watched the twisting briars in his back weigh on him all over again as he remembered they were there. He and his brother both killed themselves doing this job, for the big stuff and the little stuff, so the least you could do was take care of him—in the small portions he allowed you.

You softened your voice. “C’mere, Sammy.”

Hook, line, and sinker. Sam shuffled toward you before he could convince himself otherwise. He plopped down to your left and angled stiff and straight-backed away from you, like always. You were sure you could do this for him a hundred times, and with each one he’d forget how to act around you the minute you started. It was a good thing that Sam was mostly unaware of his cuteness, since he tended to weaponize it when he was; you weren’t sure you’d survive Sam like this, the curves of his shoulders speckled with moles, his head bent, and the fluffy hair at the base of his skull flared out in tufts.

At first, like everything else with Sam, things were routine. You did this for your friends all the time. Hell, Dean used to come back from hunts and trade you stories for a good back massage. Hunters had a tendency to knot themselves up, so being one yourself, you had no problem helping Jo or Bobby or any of your other allies out. But… Sam. With his broad, heavy shoulders, and his beautiful, smooth-soft back tissue… Open and trusting you to touch him. There were only a handful of people in the world that Sam allowed to sit this close, and even less that were allowed to touch him if they did. Your shared duffle of weapons was within grabbing distance. If you wanted to, you could scoop up the butterfly knife you knew was folded in the side pocket and put it up to his throat. But Sam’s trust went so far that, not only would he sleep in this room with you, surrounded by weapons and the possibility of betrayal, you could hold him at knife-point and Sam wouldn’t even flinch. He trusted you that much. He trusted you with him.

It was an extremely intimate realization to have with your fake wedding band pressing into his skin.

You finished spreading the sunscreen across his back, first. Taking the heels of your hands, you smoothed them from the base of Sam’s spine and up around his shoulders until you were confident you’d covered every vulnerable stretch of skin. It looked glowy by the time you were finished, making all the weird feelings swirling around in your chest squeeze tighter. Touching him this way, you thought nothing but clean, pure, and innocent thoughts, especially when you started to work into his shoulders and Sam moaned in relief.

He leaned forward, giving you more access to his aching back. For him, you pulled out all the stops, kneading his shoulder blades with skilled rolls and presses, pinching the rough muscle between delicate fingers, then fanning out your palms and working into the tissue with your thumbs. You knew Sam bottled up a lot, but feeling the evidence of it in your hands made your chest ache.

“Nobody should be this tense on vacation,” you mumbled, mostly to yourself.

“Yeah,” Sam sighed, and his dry sense of humor was back in his voice again. “We’re not on vacation.”

You found a spot with the pads of your fingers that made Sam audibly wince, so you surged in, holding hard to it, draining the tension from it by force with deep circular motions. He could take pain like nobody else you knew, but he decided to be annoying and chanted ow over and over anyway. You knew he was just being a baby about it on purpose. It didn’t hurt too much for too long, because soon the shoulders flexing away from you melted into clay puddles under your hands, every harsh line in his muscles blending out into soft strokes.

Sam’s chanting sloped into a relaxed, shuddering groan. “...Ow, ow—oh.”

You probably should’ve kept your hands to yourself once you’d finished. Without thinking too much about it, your touch lingered there instead, the fingertips on one hand ghosting over his pressure-pinkened flesh. Sam melted into that, too.

You’d never been able to look at him too closely back here. It was hard not to lose yourself in it. Sam was broad everywhere, but his back was easily the biggest part of him, one massive wall of soft, trusting breathing and curling shyness. Every once in a while, when you hugged him or when he stood close behind you, it occurred to you that Sam must’ve been a truly terrifying hunter to everyone else. The towering body you were admiring now could absorb the recoil of a twelve gauge like nothing. You’d watched with your own eyes as Sam hacked off a vampire’s head in one swing—and sure, they were less durable than humans there, but that’s still loads of flesh and bone to go through. Here, you could see him as nothing but sweet and gentle.

Hidden in the line of Sam’s spine was a scar about the length of your thumb. It was surgical-neat and had healed magnificently, to the point where you could only notice it if you were close enough to touch. You drew your pointer finger alongside it.

“Think I should wear a shirt over this?” Sam asked.

“Maybe,” you frowned. “I don’t know how you’d explain all this to the Lindas and Cathleens out there ogling you.”

“Skiing accident?” Sam joked.

You forgot how to answer, since Sam had thrown a look at you over his shoulder and it was kind of a sight to behold. The way he was sitting, neck exposed to you and back sloped with relaxation, his eyes seemed to have this coy spark to them, like a cat swishing his tail as he eyed you from under a blanket. His shoulders were drawn in and his gaze was playful beneath his bangs, even more so with the grand expanse of his back to lead him. If you squinted, there may have been a hint of his flirtiness from earlier. You’d done the unthinkable: Sam was actually, genuinely relaxed.

The touch-allowance you’d been granted had made you greedy, so you stood, palm dragging up to his bare, mole-dotted shoulder as you did. You tapped the bullet scar there. “With bullets flying? Yeah, I’m sure they’ll be convinced.”

“It was a pretty crazy trip,” Sam shrugged, lazily, and it shouldn’t have endeared you so much that he followed along with your bits.

Somehow, you managed to pull your hands back to your sides. “But… you feeling better, at least?”

Sam sucked in a deep, content breath, and marinated in the new freedom you’d given him. There was no way to ever make a lasting dent in that brick-wall-wrapped-in-barbed-wire that he called his back, but when he gazed up into your face—bleeding with thanks—you knew he’d be okay for a little while, at least.

“Much better,” Sam breathed. “You’re an angel, _____.”

You burst out laughing.

He picked up the loose button-up he’d been wearing earlier and put his arms through the sleeves, neglecting, to your enjoyment, to button it at all.

“And… you’re right, you know,” Sam flirts. “You do give good backrubs.”

-

tags: @lacilou @cookiemumster1 @cevans-winchester @leigh70 @seraphimluxe @emily-roberts @emme-loou

[supraveng]

Fandom Leap - prologue

Summary: Reader is stressed and enjoys diving into her favorite fandoms as her happy escape. What happens when she is some how transported into her favorite fandoms

A/N: this is my first time doing a story collaboration with the amazing mutuals I've encountered on tumblr, and being overzealous or crazy, I decided to collab with as many as i could. this series will have multiple chapters and each written by someone else.

(there should be a new chapter every week or so)

Word Count: 494

Pairing: none yet

Fandom Leap Masterlist

Falling into the Fandom

Your work week has been crazier than normal.   The last few years had been intense, with budget cuts your department of 10 has dwindled down to 6, but the work was divided out and you were all making due. But now, with James on vacation and Julia on maternity leave, there wasn’t much time to breathe.  

This is the monotony that had become your life, go to work, take a short lunch break so that you have something in your system besides coffee, then head home late, leaving a pile of work for the next day, grab some take out on your way home just to repeat it again the following day.  Thankfully, having to work on the weekends was not part of your humdrum existence, so you tried your best to have at least an entire day of something just for you.  

Occasionally meeting friends for brunch with bottomless mimosas, but usually binge watching your favorite TV or movie series.  That was until you were scrolling through social media and caught a notification for Comic Con coming near you next month.  

You didn’t usually attend these events, the cost usually rather intimidating, but this time you decided to at least see who might be there.  Clicking on the link you were shocked to see the wide range of appearances from nearly every series you followed.  

There were actors from Supernatural, Stranger Things, Marvel, DC comics, Walking Dean, Criminal Minds, Chicago Fire, 911, The Boys, Top Gun, The Wicther, Last of Us, Star Wars, and the list just kept going.   The more you looked the more excited you got about the idea of spending a long weekend at the cheapest hotel you could find and getting to meet as many of your celebrity crushes as you could.  

Now that you think about it, it wasn’t just the actors you had a crush on, the characters were a bigger part of your life than the people you actually spoke to on a daily basis.  Before you went to sleep that night you had your weekend booked, you were excited to say the least and you had something fun to look forward to while you dredged through the next month of her normal routine. 

The only difference this month was that weekly activities were as frugal as possible, planning on spending more of your weekly budget on meet and greets and photo ops with as many celebs and characters you could fit into the weekend at Comic Con.   

Packing up everything you needed for the long weekend, the only thing left to do was make sure your brother would be checking in on your cat before the 2 hour drive to the convention center to check out the vendors before the weekend began.   To say you were excited when you finally hit the road was an understatement, this weekend would hopefully be the highlight of your year and bring some true joy back into your life.  

NEXT

@nickfowlerrr @unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men @crazyunsexycool @swiftlymoniquesblog @missvelvetsstuff @vibraniumarm06-bucket @rosedpetal @imyourbratzdoll @herdreamywasteland @jamneuromain @potterhead2207

[spnfanficpond]

Secret Santa 2023 Masterlist

A Night By the Fireplace by @fangirlingfromdownunder

Summary/Prompt: SPN Pond Secret Santa: Stuck home because of a snowstorm

I'd Never Leave You Stranded by @samanddean76

Summary : Jared planned a getaway for their Christmas vacation. Jensen arrived the day before, but with the worsening winter weather, will he be able to get Jared from the airport? Or will their snowy adventure be a total loss?

Always Have Always Will by @little-diable

Summary: It's been years since Dean and (y/n) have parted ways, but perhaps this year's Christmas season is finally the right time to find their way back together.

Christmas Magic by @jessjad

Summary: Sometimes all you need is a little christmas magic to help you be at ease with the decisions you made.

The Christmas Present by @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior

Summary: Y/N is beginning to wonder just where she fits into Jensen's life. Is she expendable?

Need by @hoboal87

Prompt: Renewal of Mating Vows

Unlikely by @apocalypseornaw

Summary: It's an unlikely pair. A hunter and a men of letters or is it after all?

Incidentally, It Was Christmas by @ani-coolgirl

Summary: Sam comes out to his brother. Dean handles it about as well as to be expected, and is pretty cool about it--right up until he realizes something rather distressing about himself. That it's Christmastime is purely incidental.

A Christmas Case by @spnexploration

Summary: Dean drags you out of bed to go to a case, ruining your Christmas plans. But does he have a plan to make up for it?

(Don’t) Hurry Down The Chimney Tonight by @talltalesandbedtimestories

Summary: Dean saved Reader from the supernatural on Christmas Eve years ago. Every Christmas since, she has always found a way to show her unending appreciation.

Happy To be Stranded With You by @thepromiscuousduck

Summary: Sam and Dean are stranded on Christmas Eve.

Not So Silent Night by @ladylilithprime

Summary: The hunt was a bust and Dean just wanted to kick back and a bar and pretend he wasn't missing his little brother like one half his lungs. Turns out the bar he picked was a better choice than he'd thought.

The Best Gift One Could Ask For by @heavenssexiestangel

Summary: Dean didn’t expect to spend Christmas with anyone, just like every other Christmas in the past. This year is different, though, and it brings many different things with it - family, hope, a new beginning.

Resurrections and Confessions by @schizonephilim

Summary: The holidays have rolled around again, and Sam finds himself grieving the loss of the angels he never got to have.

Christmas past and giving Present by @a-nah

Summary: The boys hunting for gifts. last minute Christmas.

Snow Globes and Forgiveness by @kickingitwithkirk

Summary: Even with Chuck no longer narrating the story, it’s not a Winchester Christmas till something screws it up.

This is it for the 2023 Secret Santa masterlist!!! I hope you show some love to our wonderful writers!!

For any questions please feel free to ask!

Admins

Michelle - @mrswhozeewhatsis

Marie - @mariekoukie6661

MJ - @thoughtslikeaminefield

Mana - @manawhaat (Founder and Admin Emeritus)