#spn angst bingo

[imagineteamfreewill]

Crowned

Title: Crowned

Pairing: Prince!Sam Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: Whipping, brief language, slight angst, mostly fluff

Square Filled: Secret Relationship

Summary: Y/N is a castle kitchen maid in Lawrence, where Prince Samuel is scheduled to ascend to the throne on Christmas Eve. The extra work takes a heavy toll on her, but there’s something—or someone—else making it an even more eventful season for her.

A/N: This is a submission for the 2022 SPN Christmas Bingo (@spnchristmasbingo​). As always, thank you for reading, liking, commenting, and supporting me in so many ways. I hope everyone has a safe, happy, and healthy holiday season with their loved ones! Dividers by @firefly-graphics​

The village always bustled with activity as you neared the winter solstice, but this year even more so. The prince’s coronation was scheduled for Christmas Eve, which meant in addition to the usual preparations, everyone was getting ready for what was promised to be the grandest event the castle had ever had. Even you were mildly excited for what was to come, and normally you hated your job in the kitchens. 

“Y/N! Where did you put those eggs, girl?”

You sighed as you kneaded the dough on the table in front of you. The head baker had given you the task of making the braided loaves for the castle’s coronation feast. They were one of the traditional dishes that the prince had requested, so they had to be perfect. You’d been mixing, kneading, braiding, and baking from sunup to sundown most days, and when you weren’t working by the ovens, you were out gathering more supplies. She’d sent you to get eggs from Farmer Mills that morning and for milk from Farmer Singer the morning prior. No matter what you did, no matter how hard you worked, it never seemed to be enough. It felt like she’d been harping on you and critiquing your baking every second of every day. You were deciding between throwing something at her or crying. Maybe both.

“They’re with the butter, ma’am,” you called back, holding in the retort you wanted to tack onto the end. Her shrill voice was like a knife and you’d been on the verge of a blinding headache for three hours now. It wouldn’t be long before you’d need to beg her to send you home to rest. She probably wouldn’t agree.

“Are you daft? Come here!”

You winced, pausing mid-knead. That wasn’t a good sign. Slowly, you wiped your hands on the apron tied over your shift and made your way around the other long table. The head baker was in the back room, and as you passed by the other kitchen girls, they all gave you pitying looks of various degrees. You were the newest in the castle, having just started a few months ago after seeking refuge from a neighboring kingdom, which meant you got the brunt of all her anger and stress. Unfortunately for you, her anger and stress were at an all-time high given the upcoming feasts.

“Ma’am?” you asked, standing in the doorway to the makeshift storeroom.

“Come here,” she ordered, and you obediently stepped closer. “Where are the eggs?”

Turning towards where you’d set down the basket, you said, “They are—” You stopped mid-sentence. The basket had disappeared, as had the eggs. “They were there, Ma’am, I promise you. I put them next to the butter as soon as I got back.”

“Well, they’re not there now, wench, so what will you do now?”

You swallowed thickly, tears welling in your eyes. You’d be punished for this. “I’ll go to Farmer Mills’ straightway and fetch more, ma’am.”

“That’ll be comin’ out of your pay. Give me your hand.”

The head baker reached for her whip and struck it across your knuckles as soon as you’d extended your arm. Knowing better than to cry out, you bit down on your tongue and squeezed your eyes shut right as the whip lashed across the back of your hand again. Your skin felt warm where the blood welled up.

Three more lashes and you were free. You darted out of the storeroom and grabbed your cloak from the peg on the wall, wrapping it around your shoulders as quickly as you could. One of the other kitchen girls, Anna, was waiting for you by the door. She wrapped a clean cloth around your hand without a word, then slipped a few coins into the pocket of your apron. When you opened your mouth to protest, she shook her head and gently nudged you out of the kitchen and into the bitter cold.

You took the shortest route from the castle to the farm on the edge of the castle village. Jody’s family had farmed the land for decades. The land had been in her husband’s family since he was a young boy, and you’d become friends with her shortly after they’d married. She was kind and she always made sure you had the best. You hoped now that your friendship would help you procure the eggs you needed during the busiest time of year.

The streets were fairly empty for noontime, but you stuck to the edges of the paths, leaving room for the tradesmen and their wives, the knights, and the ladies that milled about, looking for someone upon which to bestow their Christmas generosity. Boughs of holly decorated the windows and their sills, and the red berries stuck amongst them added festive cheer to the otherwise dreary winter. Candles were already burning in the windows in an attempt to ward off the gray-tinged darkness that threatened each precious minute of daylight until the solstice. The coming winter promised to be a harsh one, but the hope of the evergreens loosened the tight knot of fear in your chest. Christmas was coming, and with it there would be rest and time for celebrations of your own. You’d never attended a servant’s dinner, and Sam would be a king. You knew that to be intimately true, more so than most, especially in the depths of the kitchens.

“My lady?”

A hand on your arm made you turn, and you almost stumbled when you met familiar eyes.

“Samuel,” you murmured, immediately smiling wide. Your cheeks felt warm even despite the cold and you glanced around, hoping no one would notice you talking to him.

He was dressed plainly, in a gray wool cloak drawn up over his head and tied securely around his shoulders, a long brown tunic that you were certain you’d seen before in the squire’s closet, and a pair of leather boots. Sam looked every part a common man, and your heart swelled with giddiness.

“What are you doing here? Someone could see you!” you whispered, though you couldn’t stop smiling. You pulled him under the eaves of a cobbler’s shop, out of the snow and away from prying eyes. The cobbler was deaf, and after you acknowledged him with a polite wave, he went back to his work.

“I was tending to my horse when I saw you leave. I have something for you,” Sam replied. He smiled down at you, his hazel eyes crinkling at the corners. A thrill went through you when his hands brushed yours as he placed a parchment-wrapped bundle into your hands. He didn’t seem to notice your bandage, nor did he see the blood that had soaked through it.

“I don’t have anything for you.”

He shook his head, still smiling. “Open it.”

Hesitant, you began to carefully unwrap the brown parchment. It fell to the ground and was instantly soaked with snow, but you could only gasp and marvel at the fabric in your hands. The dress shimmered in the winter sun, sparkling as the weak light hit it. You’d never seen something so beautiful, and you’d certainly never owned anything like it. The fabric felt lighter than air and as you ran your fingers over it, you held your breath, just in case you might blow it away. Certainly, none of the other kitchen maids or servant girls owned something like this. Not even the finest lady in all of Lawrence owned a dress as beautiful. You weren’t even sure if the royals in your home country had even seen something so fine.

“Samuel,” you finally murmured, and you regarded him with wide eyes, shaking your head in disbelief. “I can’t accept this.”

“Of course you can, my love.”

His words warmed you from the inside out and you ducked your head, hiding the bashful smile he always pulled from you. “I have no place to wear a dress like this, and Ma’am will surely find out…”

“Come to my coronation.”

Your head snapped up and the smile fell at the seriousness of his request. “What?”

“Come to my coronation,” he repeated. Sam reached out and brushed hair behind your ear. His touch was warm, a welcome relief from the winter chill, but you were too shocked to register it.

“I can’t,” you told him. “It’s not proper for a kitchen maid to attend a royal event of any kind. It’s forbidden. If I did, Ma’am would—”

“It’s my coronation. Nothing is forbidden if I say it isn’t, and I want you there.”

You looked away and stared at the feet of the horses as several knights rode by. Their hooves kicked up dirty slush and pebbles, spewing them over your shoes and Sam’s boots. Sam looked the opposite way, subtly using the hood of his cloak to shield his face from the men. After they’d gone, you didn’t turn towards him again, but you could feel Sam staring at you.

“I love you, Y/N,” he said, his voice barely audible over the cheerful calls of men and women loitering in the street. “And once I am king, we can be together. There will be no law to stop us.”

“But there is a law now, and I’m bound to keep it, as are you,” you replied. You pushed the dress into his grasp and stepped just out of his reach, drawing your own cloak closer around you. The wind ruffled your shift and apron and Sam’s hair fluttered in front of his face as he stared down at you with hurt in his eyes.

“Do you not trust me to take care of you?”

“Of course I do, my King.” You bowed your head slightly, silently willing away the lump in your throat.

“Y/N—”

You stepped back again, almost tripping over a pile of firewood. Sidestepping, you lifted your head just enough to meet his gaze for a brief moment. “I’m sorry, Samuel. I must go.”

His flickered to your bandaged hand when you reached up to adjust your hood once more, and your breath caught in your throat when he blocked your path and tenderly grasped your wrist with one hand.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“Nothing,” you replied, shaking your head. You kept your eyes down, hoping he wouldn’t see the lie in them, but he hooked a finger underneath your chin and gently guided you to look upward.

“It’s not nothing to me. You’re hurt.”

Your lower lip trembled as you held his gaze, until finally he dropped his hand and you could avert your eyes again. “I cut myself while I was helping cut vegetables. It was a clumsy mistake.”

Sam stood for a moment before he said, “You work in the bakery. Do not think so little of me that I do not know your trade. Tell me the truth, Y/N.”

“Is that an order?”

Even without looking, you felt him tense beside you.

“It’s a request,” he quietly answered. “Tell me the truth, my love.”

His words cut deep into your heart, expertly carving out the softest parts of you and extracting them from the walls you’d built. Sam knew how to get past your every defense in just a moment’s time, and a tear rolled down your cheek as you stared down at the muddy, snow-mottled ground.

“The eggs I fetched for Ma’am this morning went missing. She believed it to be my fault, and I was punished.”

“Punished?” Sam repeated, and you slowly nodded. “Show me, I beg of you,” he added.

You knew that he was no stranger to blood or injury, but the shame you felt while unwrapping your hand was like salt in your wounds. Sam would never understand what your life was like, not now in the kitchens and certainly not before you’d escaped your homeland to come to Lawrence. Accepting punishments you didn’t deserve came easily to you, and the scar that would form across the back of your hand would only be one of many that littered your skin.

Sam took your hand in his once the bandage was removed. He held it gingerly, cradled between his own gentle palms, as he inspected the lashes. They were precise and though the blood had crusted over and dirtied your skin, you knew that underneath the mess, the four lashes stood like tallies across your knuckles and hand. Four identical scars would form, a constant reminder to you and others of your supposed blunder. You’d be forever marked by your inabilities.

“You should see a doctor” Sam finally said, and you pulled your hand away.

“I’ll heal fine enough on my own,” you argued. Before he could say anything more, you wrapped the bandage back around your hand and tucked it underneath your cloak, out of sight. “I truly must go now. If I don’t return with the eggs…”

“Let me walk with you,” he insisted.

You shook your head, but Sam stepped closer, crowding your personal space. “Please, I beg of you. I’ll leave you before we near the castle upon your return. I just wish to be with you before…”

His next words went unspoken, but you heard them loud and clear.

Before I’m crowned King.

Before everything changes.

Before I’m forced to marry for the good of the kingdom.

Before you fade away from my memory.

Swallowing thickly, you looked back down at the ground and nodded. “Very well.”

Sam held out his arm. It took you a few seconds to stir up the nerve to take it, and then he was leading you toward the outskirts of the village before you could think twice. He walked in silence beside you, carefully veering you around large puddles and holes in the ground. He positioned himself between you and the busy village paths and took the brunt of the slush and mud splashing when horses rode by and when children pushed carts full of root vegetables, evergreen boughs, and firewood toward their families’ stalls. The two of you remained quiet even as you walked, and you thought it strange that Sam didn’t ask for directions to Jody’s farm, nor did he even ask the farm to which you were heading. He simply steered you along in silence.

When you finally arrived at the Mills’ farm, you removed your arm from his and gathered your skirts in one hand so you could navigate their crowded land with more ease. Chickens roamed freely in their appointed yard, as did the goats in theirs, but you knew that their son and one of the village boys wouldn’t be far off. They took good care of the animals. A loss of any could surely devastate them all.

Smoke blew from the chimney as you neared their small hut. As soon as you were within a few feet, the door swung open and Jody met your gaze, her own eyes filled with concern. You never visited midday.

“Y/N?” she asked. Once you were near enough, she ushered you inside to the waiting warmth. You immediately took your normal seat at her table, but you glanced back over your shoulder when she wasn’t there to join you. Instead, Jody stood frozen in the doorway, her eyes wide and her body tense with indecision.

“He’s a friend,” you told her, but she only continued to stare.

Jody suddenly dipped into a low curtsy, her head bowed until she could only stare at the floor. “Your Highness,” she frantically murmured. “I apologize, I did not recognize you from afar.”

From where he stood just outside the door, Sam met your eyes through the open doorway. His hood had fallen, revealing his face, and snowflakes clung to his hair. His skin was pink with cold as he gave you a sad smile, then knelt slightly to help Jody rise.

“Please,” he said, his voice soft. “I am only here to accompany Y/N.”

Silently, Jody looked between you and Sam, and you felt warmth rush to your face, though not from the heat of the fire burning in her hearth.

“Of course, please come in, Your Highness.” Jody stepped out of Sam’s way and gestured for him to sit across from you at the table. She shut the door tightly behind him, then bustled around her small home. You watched for a moment as she retrieved a second wooden cup and began to pour tea. It had been ready to drink already, and guilt as heavy as lead sank to the bottom of your stomach. Jody and her family had little as it was, and now they’d waste their precious tea on you.

Sam took the empty chair and his legs immediately crowded yours under the table. He murmured an apology, then looked around the room. Two beds had been pushed against the wall to make room for the table and chairs. A roll of blankets was tucked atop one of the hay-stuffed mattresses, and several sets of clothing hung on hooks above the second.

“I apologize for the state of my home, Your Highness,” Jody said as she carried over two cups, then placed one in front of each of you. “We make do with what we have.”

He shook his head. “You may call me Samuel. I’m nobody important here.”

Her eyes grew wide and she glanced at you, but you focused on preparing your cup of tea with the small bowl of sugar she’d somehow produced. You knew with every minute that passed you’d get in deeper trouble with the head baker. Still, you couldn’t sabotage Jody’s time with Sam with your own troubles. It was very likely she’d never see him again, just as it was likely you’d never spend this much time with him again after today.

“But Your Highness, you are always—”

“Please,” Sam insisted. “I’m only accompanying Y/N today. I needed to get away from the coronation preparations, and she agreed to show me around the village.”

Of course, you hadn’t agreed to that. You’d barely agreed to anything, and the reminder of the upcoming coronation made tears well up in your eyes.

You inhaled deeply, straightening up in your seat and willing them away. You had to focus on the task at hand. Both Sam and Jody looked over at you as you downed your tea and winced as it scalded your tongue and throat.

“I need more eggs, Jody,” you told her. “The ones I bought from you this morning have disappeared. If I do not return with more…”

You trailed off, but Jody knew what you meant. She’d managed to get you talking one day and you’d spilled the horror stories of the head baker and the punishments you and the other kitchen girls had received. She’d also heard all about the horrors of your previous home. You’d shown her the scars that came with those stories, too. The only thing she didn’t know about you was how closely you held Sam to your heart, but that was a secret you could never betray.

Sam didn’t say anything as Jody quietly excused herself to search their chicken yard for more eggs. You obeyed, sitting completely still with your empty cup cradled between your hands. The bandage kept rubbing against the healing lashes every time you moved. You tried to shift it away from them as subtly as possible, but Sam was watching you like a hawk.

“Does it bother you?” he asked.

Sighing, you turned your head to look at the flames dancing merrily in the fireplace. “Samuel…”

“I only wish for you to be comfortable, Y/N. Why will you not let me help you?”

You looked down at the cup in your hands, fidgeting with the cracked handle. It clacked against the wooden table as you carefully placed it at the edge of the table. The cups were the finest in Jody’s collection, and your stomach twisted at the thought that she might think differently of you now that she’d seen you with Sam. Would she tell the other women in the village? Or her husband? What if her son had seen you, or the other shepherd boy? If someone found out that you’d been consorting with the prince unchaperoned, you’d be done for.

“I can’t,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “I can’t get accustomed to your help. Soon enough you will be the king and I…”

“You will be my queen,” Sam fervently replied.

Shaking your head, you rose from your seat. The door swung open before Sam could speak up or join you. 

“I believe this will be enough,” Jody said. The basket in her hand was only half full of eggs, but your chest swelled with relief and gratitude nonetheless.

“It will have to make do,” you told her as you dug the coins from the pocket of your apron. “Will this be enough?”

Sam stood and you glanced over at him. His expression was unreadable, but then he nodded slightly, and you quickly looked back at Jody. It only took you a moment to realize that he’d been negotiating on your behalf.

You gripped his arm, digging your nails in until he looked over at you. He kept his expression neutral even as he turned his back on Jody to shield you from her curious eyes.

“You can’t,” you hissed at him. “They’ll ask why you’re paying her money. They’ll find out about us.”

His head shake was small, but not unnoticeable. “Dean won’t tell.”

If Dean knew, then there was no doubt in your mind that Sam had told others about your trysts, and your stomach twisted at the thought. You stepped away, staring at him for a moment longer, then turned and took the basket from Jody, who still stood by the door.

“Thank you, Jody. I’ll see you soon.”

With that, you stepped back out into the cold midday air and started making your way back toward the castle. If anyone had stopped to ask you, you would’ve told them the tears in your eyes were from the cold.

The head baker’s voice was like nails on a chalkboard and you hadn’t even made it to the actual feast yet. She’d ordered you and the rest of the kitchen girls to be working three hours earlier than normal, long before the sun even rose on Christmas Eve, and the upstairs servants had told you that the guests were talking about a feast that stretched long into the night. According to Lady Charlie’s handmaiden, most of the visiting royals planned to celebrate until the priests came for the midnight blessing. After that, there would be Christmas feasts tomorrow morning, afternoon, and evening, allowing everyone to celebrate. The leftovers would be taken to the villagers, and then there was the servant’s dinner to prepare for. You were exhausted. Between the extra work in the kitchens and the mental and emotional strain of avoiding Sam at any and all costs, you’d barely had time to catch your breath, let alone sleep or eat.

“Y/N, are you well?”

You glanced over and forced a small smile in Anna’s direction, though you never truly met her eyes. Your brain and hands were focused on the lump of dough sat on the table in front of you. Ever since leaving him at the Mills’ farm, you’d thought of little else besides how Sam could approach you next. He’d always teased you about getting bold and visiting you in the kitchens while you were working, but the very thought of that struck fear into your bones. If the head baker, or anyone, really, discovered your relationship with him, you’d be hung.

“You look pale, and tired. Maybe you should rest.”

You shook your head and tried to muster a little bit more life into your tired body. “I’m fine, Anna. Truly.”

When you looked up at her, she was turned toward you but her gaze was focused on the doorway leading to the castle courtyard. All day long, pages and servants from the neighboring kingdoms had been arriving to serve their own dignitaries, so when you turned to see what she was looking at, you’d expected an exhausted young boy or girl, looking lost and very, very hungry. What you hadn’t expected was Sam.

Sam, dressed in navy velvet, a gold circlet atop his head, and a gold chain resting on his chest. Sam, with shining black boots and his sword tucked neatly against his hip. Sam, with his hair shining in the light from the candles and his eyes focused solely on you.

“Y/N,” he began, and you swallowed thickly, your fingers digging into the dough in front of you. Your legs trembled and you had to lean against the table for support. He stepped through the doorway, ducking down to avoid knocking his head, and slowly approached the table where you and Anna worked.

“I cannot do this without you by my side. It would be wrong for the woman I love to be absent from this part of my life. I beseech thee, with every part of myself, to join me.”

He held out his hand as he stopped a few feet from the table. You couldn’t tear your eyes away and you licked your lips, trying to come up with a suitable response. When notching came, all you could do was gape at him and shake your head.

“Sam, I— I cannot be with you.”

“Yes, you can,” he gently argued. “You will not be punished. You are committing no wrong.”

You closed your mouth and quickly shook your head, glancing over at Anna as you continued to grip the table through the bread dough. It would no doubt have to be thrown out after your mistreatment. No good loaves could come of it now, just as no good would come to you after Sam departed. You were utterly and truly ruined.

“And what’s this? Why aren’t you— Your Highness!”

Whirling around, you stared in shock as the head baker collapsed into a low curtsy. It only took a second before Anna had collected herself enough to do the same. Only you and Sam remained standing, but he was still focused solely on you.

“I cannot,” you croaked, shaking your head. You tried again, more urgently this time. “You need to go, Your Highness. Please.”

Against your better judgment, your eyes flickered down to the scars on your hand. The head baker would surely whip you again for this. When you noticed Sam looking down as well, you hurried to tug the sleeve of your dress down to cover them, but it was too late. His eyes caught the movement and his eyes darkened slightly at the scars, then even further when he saw the whip coiled on its wall hook behind you. Ma’am had left it there as a reminder of what would happen if you or the other workers slacked on your tasks for the coronation or the Christmas feasts.

Sam dropped his hand back down to his side and his other came to rest on the hilt of his sword. He walked around the table, approaching the head backer, who still lay prone on the dirty kitchen floor.

“Are you the mistress here?” he asked. His voice had changed and you shuddered at the formality of it. With you, Sam spoke softly, gently, and with all the earnestness he could muster. Now, his words dripped with displeasure.

Silently, Anna rose and helped you over to sit on a nearby barrel of brined fish. It hadn’t quite made it to the storehouses before everyone grew busy. The smell of the fish was overpowering and it had been all day, but you barely made it to the barrel before you stumbled over your own feet. Sitting in the stink would have to do.

“Yes, Your Highness,” Ma’am whimpered.

You closed your eyes, holding your breath even as your lungs burned. You couldn’t bear to watch Sam fulfill the part of his job you knew he hated. Yes, people far and wide respected him for his level head and for being a fair and just ruler in his father’s stead, but he was also Lawrence’s judge, jury, and, when absolutely necessary, executioner.

“Then I command you to treat your workers with the grace they deserve in my kingdom. This will be your one and only warning.” Sam paused. “My father would not be so kind. You are lucky that I will hold this discovery close. I will be watching you well.”

Ma’am whimpered again, her words unintelligible as Sam backed away and scanned the room for you. Once he found you sitting beside Anna, who’d stood tensely by your side throughout the whole exchange, his face softened.

“What must I do to convince you?” he asked.

You looked down at your hands, ignoring when Anna’s grip on your arm tightened at the sound of Sam’s voice directed toward you. 

“Samuel… I’m but a servant. What we had needs to end now that you are becoming king. You must marry for the good of the kingdom, even if it is not what you desire.”

“You sound like my father,” he replied, a hint of humor in his voice.

His footsteps were soft as he crossed the room, stepping over the baker. His sword bumped against the leg of the table when he stopped a few feet away from you and Anna.

“May he rest in peace. He was a wise king, and you will be too,” you added.

“I will be even better with you by my side, Y/N. I love you, and I always will. You cannot ask me to try and give my heart to another, not when it will always be with you.”

Tears made your vision blurry until you finally looked up at him. His expression was pained as he waited for you to reply. When Anna gripped your arm even tighter, unable to stand the silence any longer, you shook your head.

“And what of your people? They will speak ill of me. Will you be able to handle that?”

“No one will—”

“They will,” you interrupted, giving him a sad smile. You sniffled and patted Anna’s hand to signal her that she could let go. When she did, you carefully stood from the barrel, but you didn’t move away from it. “They will, my love, and you cannot punish them for it. They will be jealous and confused and angry that you chose someone so unworthy of your love, but fighting against their venom will only make it worse.”

Sam fell silent as he searched your face. Finally, he answered, “Are you accepting me, then? Will you stand beside me today, and every day after?”

After a moment, you nodded and offered him a small smile. “Yes, Samuel.”

Beside you, Anna laughed in pure relief, and you glanced over at her. She tried to muffle it, but you began to laugh as well. Sam surged forward and took your hand in his, making you look back at him. He dipped low to press a kiss to the back of your uninjured hand.

“I believe there is even a dress waiting for you, my lady,” he said.

You laughed a little more then, and when Sam took your hand to lead you out of the kitchens and up into the castle, you didn’t resist. Instead, you turned to wave at Anna. When she called after you in hopes that you’d come visit her in the days to come, you nodded fervently. You’d never forget the friend she’d been to you since arriving in Lawrence, and you’d repay her kindness tenfold.

Sam led you up to the main hall of the castle, where his older brother stood waiting in similar clothes. His robes were a deep red and the circlet on his head was also gold. The sash across his chest bore the Winchester crest, and the polished hilt of his sword gleamed bright in the winter sun streaming through the windows.

“You work in the kitchens?” he asked once you and Sam had fully emerged from the staircase. 

Tentatively, you nodded and glanced over at Sam, who’d positioned himself between you and the hall, shielding you from prying eyes. A tall evergreen decorated with candles and red berries stood proudly behind Dean.

“Yes, sire,” you replied, dipping into a slight curtsy. While you were certain that he’d disregard your show of respect given Sam’s affection for you, Dean was still captain of the King’s guard and that title alone was enough to make you tremble. He held more power than most people knew.

Dean scoffed and reached out to take your other hand. He bowed and kissed over the scars. His touch was gentle and you felt your face grow warm. Being kissed by one Winchester brother was enough to make your heart race, but two? You were practically floating, and Sam chuckled knowingly when he caught your somewhat dazed expression.

“Come, my love. Dean will be the one to escort you down the aisle for the ceremony,” Sam murmured.

You blinked and looked up at him, at a loss for words. Being left to your own devices in the upper parts of the castle was a terrifying prospect, especially since Sam was the one who’d escorted you up. If you were caught without him… You’d heard horror stories of servants who’d assumed too much of themselves. You shuddered.

“You will be perfectly safe,” he reassured you. He squeezed your hand and nodded encouragingly, but your stomach still churned with nerves. 

When you glanced over at Dean, he nodded as well. “You have my word that I will not leave you, Y/N. I am sworn to my brother’s protection, and therefore I am sworn to yours,” he said.

Slowly, you forced yourself to exhale and nod in agreement. “Very well.”

“I will see you soon, Y/N,” Sam said. He dipped down and pressed a kiss to your cheek this time. The flour that clung to your skin didn’t seem to bother him, and underneath the white dust your cheeks grew warm for the umpteenth time since he’d arrived to pull you from the depths of the kitchens. Sam always seemed to be able to turn you into a lovesick young girl, but you weren’t about to complain.

Sam backed away. You watched in silence as he turned, then strode down the hallway with such purpose that the path in front of him cleared immediately. Most of the crowds you had seen entering the castle for hours were nowhere in sight, but no one in the hall stopped to bow as he passed, as they had for King John. You wondered if he’d requested such behavior or if things would change once he was crowned. Since you’d begun meeting in secret months ago, Sam had never struck you as the kind of person who demanded a person’s respect. He always earned it in his own subtle way, just as he had earned your affections. He’d snuck past all your defenses in less time than it took you to escape from your home country.

Once he’d disappeared from view, Dean lifted his arm for you to hold. You gratefully accepted and let him guide you in the direction of the masses.

“Where are we going?” you asked as you entered the main part of the grand hallway.

“To the coronation,” Dean replied. He steered you around a group of knights who had gathered along the edge of the hall.

You stumbled and gripped his arm even tighter as ice cold panic flooded your veins. “The coronation? Now? I thought it not for a few hours!”

With his other hand, Dean steadied you. He slowed his pace for a few steps, then stopped when you planted your feet in the plus golden rug, refusing to move.

“Yes,” he answered, “the coronation. Where did you think we were going?”

“I— I did not know, but I am not— I cannot go to the coronation!” you hissed at him. You glanced down at your shift and the thin leather shoes you’d been wearing for years now.

“That’s horse shit. Of course you can go. Sam’s requested your presence, Y/N. You won’t be turned—”

“Maybe not,” you argued, “but I won’t truly belong.” You pulled your arm from his. “I’m dirty. I smell like yeast and fish. I don’t know the proper way to act or the proper things to say. I can’t dance. I don’t belong here, Dean, and one man’s love cannot change that.”

He watches you for a moment before his expression softens. “I believe that is why he cares for you, Y/N.”

You stared at him, confused. In your head, there’d been lists of reasons for Sam to turn you away. There’d been an even longer set of ways that the people of Lawrence could dismiss you from the coronation, each one more humiliating than the last. How could he love your faults?

Dean gently guided you to take his arm again, then began walking toward the cathedral at the far end of the castle. “You are not of royal blood, and you were once a stranger to Lawrence, but you’re intelligent. You’re quick, and you make him happy. Not a day has gone by that he hasn’t spoken of you, and he’s mentioned no less than a thousand times how beautiful you are.”

“Truly?” you asked, and he chuckled. When you glanced over, Dean stared straight ahead, but he smiled.

“Truly.”

You stopped before a set of doors that stretched high above your head, ending in a point only inches from the lofted ceiling. The wood shined in the candlelight and you shivered as guards on either side pulled them open for you and Dean. A gust of wind blew through the cathedral, making the candle flames on the golden stands all around you dance and flicker. Rows of dignitaries inside turned at the sound of the giant doors creaking open and every bit of giddiness from Dean’s commentary drained out of your body.

“You swear that this is what Sam wants? That this isn’t a trick?” you asked, looking up at him.

Dean regarded you with a soft smile. “I swear, Y/N. I gave my word that I would protect you, did I not?”

Hesitantly, you nodded. “This is true, but—”

“Then you are safe with me. I’m the captain, and they will obey me”

You took a deep breath, then nodded again. “Very well. I’m ready.”

He dipped his head and forced his expression into a neutral one before stepping forward. You kept your eyes focused on the grand altar at the front of the cathedral as Dean led you down the center aisle. The ladies and lords on either side of you gasped and whispered as you passed. It took every fiber of your being not to turn and run the other direction, and by the time you’d reached the steps that led to the altar, you were trembling.

“You are safe,” Dean whispered. He leaned in close to you so that only you could hear. “They cannot harm you, nor will I let them try.” When you shakily exhaled and nodded in understanding, he continued, “Sam will arrive soon. After he is crowned king, you will take his arm instead of mine.”

Confused, you looked up at him just as the fanfare began. “What then?” you asked.

The twinkle in his eye made your stomach flip. “And then you will join us at the feast. Sam can have new clothes brought for you, if you would like, and you will celebrate with us. I believe he had a gown made for you especially. Did he not?”

Before you could answer, Dean straightened and lifted his fist to place it over his heart, just like the other knights did as Sam entered, but his other arm stayed in place to hold you steady. You clutched it tightly as the music continued and Sam processed down the center aisle of the cathedral. Long strands of evergreen garland marked his way. You marveled at his steadiness amid the grand procession. Children selected from the village and from royal families assisted with his robes and men in heavily decorated robes of their own carried tall, pure white candles and shining gold artifacts ahead of him.

Sam looked every bit the king you knew him to be. In the time since he’d left you in the care of his brother, Sam had donned a red sash embellished with the Winchester crest. A long navy robe trailed behind him, trimmed with white and composed of the richest velvet and fur you’d ever seen. His expression was grave and steady, though you knew his nerves hid deep down inside of him. Sam had told you how scared he was to be king. He didn’t want to let down his people or harm them in any way, but you had faith in him. All of Lawrence did, too. If they didn’t, his father wouldn’t have allowed him to be crowned king until it was absolutely necessary. Instead, John had made way for his son to take the throne at a much younger age than he had. In his last breaths, John had ordered for there to be no royal advisors or interim leaders in between his death and Sam’s ascension. It was only to be Sam leading the people, and you agreed wholeheartedly.

The ceremony passed quicker than you’d expected, and soon Dean was leading you across the dais to where Sam stood, newly crowned. He looked out over the visiting lords and ladies with the same serious expression as before, but when he turned to look at you, the sun shone through the stained glass in the massive basilica. You couldn’t help but smile back as he took your hand in his, bowed, and kissed the back of it. The gasps from the gathered crowd were but background noise as Sam lifted his head just enough to catch your eyes from below.

“My King,” you greeted. Your cheeks ached from the intensity of your own smile, but you couldn’t stop. The sun shone down upon you, casting colored shapes across Sam’s face and the robes that swirled around his feet like dark ocean waves.

“My heart,” he answered.

Thank you for reading! <3

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[prodbionic]

Destiny vs. design (two faces of a coin)

@badthingshappenbingo prompt: caught in an explosion

Fandom: Supernatural

Word Count: 18.9 k

Summary:

Dean had been acting off. A recent bout of nightmares had overrun his sleep –Sam's sleep as well because that was bound to happen when one's brother woke up shouting from the bed next to his. Sam reckoned they were memories of Hell, triggered by the apocalypse creeping up on them. A regular hunt was Sam's fix to the situation, as it had usually proved a sure way to take Dean's mind off of more awful stuff. Of course, when had anything ever been that straightforward, or easy? In this case, nothing was what it looked like.

Read full on ao3

Snippet from chapter one:

To describe it as simply as "he woke up" would be a stretch when he merely got some of his senses partially, sluggishly awakened while others were deep underwater. Hungover , his mind helpfully deduced. Bar fight , screamed the way his body ached and his leg muscles throbbed... monster fight would also track. A successful monster fight? Now that was debatable. Sam was such a dick, Dean thought , for removing Dean's blanket when he was clearly cold and shivering. Did the punk want to wake and sober him up? Tough. He would sleep like the dead , even like this. He was damned tired, and he deserved his rest. And anyway, he had slept in worse conditions. Way worse. Although, his foggy mind failed to recall any such instance with any degree of clarity. Time passed, as time usually would in such a state of drunken haze, incongruent and corrupt, among halted dreams, broken recollections, and failed attempts at actually waking up. He had no idea how much of it had passed between his initial 'waking up' and his internal alarms blaring. It was when a warm trickle in his right ear slid outwards, followed by a low hiss in his eardrum, followed by faint warbled sounds like wind wheezing through a gap in a window frame–filtered through to him that it clicked: something was wrong. Eyes bleary, arm heavy, he moved to rub his ear until the hissing stopped and all the wetness had been smeared away. The surface underneath him was not that of a shitty motel's lumpy mattress—which in itself sounded heavenly compared to the rotting wood he was actually lying on. The darkness of the room or wherever he was, had some thin streaks of light enough to let him know it was shoddy. If his sinuses weren't so congested, he'd bet the cloying smell of mold would be up his nostrils. Shifting from his stomach sideways aggravated all of the sores he'd known about, and a lot he hadn't had a clue about. A throb in his thigh intensified to agony, it was all he could do not to gasp. Not an entirely successful monster fight. Memory didn't readily serve to erase the bewilderment of his situation, although upon some gentle prodding his mind supplied flashes of a gut ripping fall, and a whiplash into running water. Walking through the woods. Bickering. Looking at gooey remains. Running through the woods. Boring breakfast. Awful nightmare. Bullets. Pain in his abdomen. A Grenade launcher… All of it broken pieces of glass, hanging weightless, shining against a vast, blankness of context. They felt distant, like they happened to someone else. Except for the last one: his brother's face, calling Dean's name in panic, his face and hair dripping wet, inches above his own. That was recent, Dean was sure, and probably the last time he saw Sam. Further inspection of the room around him through his blurry vision assured him of being alone. Where exactly did Sam stash him? Couldn't the punk find a better spot? More importantly, what the hell happened? The stickiness on his face, when he followed it to its source and felt the god-awful gash in his head, was enough for him to connect the dots as to why his memory was botched. The dizziness was not helping.  Dean grunted, sitting up. In an instant, his vision swam and his head severely swirled inside his skull. He felt himself falling back the short distance he'd gained off the floor, but couldn't help it at all as he smacked the ground back. His poor battered head. He was going to kill Sam for leaving him like this , he thought, breathing the musty air wafting from the blood-wet floor.

[winchesterfanatic1967]

Supernatural Dean Winchester Mix Bingo

I would just like to say this isn’t my square and I would like to give credit to whoever made it! Send in your requests for which box you would like and I will update everyone on which ones are taken. Starting Monday 3/20 I will post one request a day! Again if you would like to be a part of my taglist please let me know ❤️

[holylulusworld]

Irresistible Scent - Kinktober (1)

Summary: Your scent is irresistable to him.

Rating: Explicit

Kinktober Special: Marking Kink

Square 14 filled for @spnkinkbingo​: Breeding Kink

Square 5 filled for @spnabobingo​: Breeding

Square 3 filled for @afgomegaversebingo​: Mate-Inducted Rut

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x Omega!Reader

Warnings: language, a/b/o, smut, unprotected sex, fingering, dirty talk, breeding kink, marking kink, marking with cum/and scent, mating bites, knotting, scenting, true mates, there is some fluff too, a little angst, implied smut, implied oral, possessive Dean

Words: 1,5+ k

A/N: Here we go. Kinktober is here. 

Kinktober 2022

2022 SPN KINK BINGO masterlist

2022 SPN A/B/O BINGO masterlist

AFG Omegaverse Bingo masterlist

That scent.

That irresistible scent makes him crawl up the walls. He can’t fight it. Can’t breathe. Can’t think. Can’t resist.

You are luring the alpha in. Even though, he promised himself to never give in to his alpha. You are his brother’s best friend. The little sister they never had. His friend. His confident.

But you are so much more…

You are his true mate. The one making him want to have more than the life he has. You make him dream of something more. Something he cannot have, but desires, nonetheless. 

“Omega,” a soft and throaty purr leaves his lips. A stark contrast to the things his lust-clouded mind imagines right now. He balls his hand into fists. His teeth grit and his whole body feels like it’s on fire. “Fuck.”

Dean can’t help it. He slowly trots toward the door to leave his room. If he’s fast enough, he can sit this unexpected rut out before you even realized he’s gone. 

“I need to get the fuck out of here,” he groans as your scent just got stronger. “No-fuck…ngh…”

“Dean?” fuck. The worst case just happened. Not only did Dean not make it out of the bunker, but you also walked right in on him as he tried to escape your scent and his instinct. “Shit, what’s wrong…”

You softly call out Dean’s name, but he looks like he’s in trance. He only stares at you, as his teeth grit and his nostrils flare.

“OMEGA,” he growls rather than speaking. You take a step back, already smelling the rut on Dean. “My omega. Come here.”

“Dean, how come you are in rut?” you squeak as the alpha pounces on you. “Dean. What’s wrong? You just had your rut.”

“Your scent drives me crazy,” you pant heavily as Dean buries his face in your neck to inhale your scent deeply. “I want you to smell like me. You must smell like me.”

“O-kay,” it doesn’t take much to get you in his arms. You simply give in to your omega and your feelings. Dean was the one not wanting to give in. You lost the battle a long time ago. 

The moment you met the cocky alpha for the first time.

He purrs against you, hands pawing at the flannel you stole from Dean. “You’re mine. Only mine.”

“I’m yours,” you’re a panting mess. Dean’s scent. The way he purrs your name, and the fact that you can feel his erection press against your thigh turns you into a puddle. “Only yours.”

Dean is nuzzling you, all the while rubbing his aching cock against your thigh.

“Can we go to your room and not do this here?” you nervously laugh. 

Sam is somewhere at the bunker, and you don’t want him to walk in on you and his brother making out like horny teens.

“My room. Safe. My omega,” you don’t fight Dean when he easily picks you up in bridal style to carry you inside his room. “Mine…”

Scent. Mine. Breed. Mark. Dean’s mind is filled with you.

“Dean, fuck,” you end up pressed face first against the door the moment he slammed it shut.

He’s on you in a blink and rips your panties off of your body. Dean presses his body to yours and slides his hands over your chest, groping your plush flesh.

“Mine,” his hands wander down to your hips, gripping you tightly to press your ass into his crotch. You can feel his throbbing length press into your butt, and you hope, he won’t lose control. 

He’s slowly going down on his knees, hands moving over your body on his way.

“DEAN?” you squeak as he buries his face between your legs to capture some of your slick. “Oh fuck! What has gotten into you? Why are you in rut?”

“YOU,” he growls against your flesh. Well, you won’t get an answer tonight. Dean is busy roaming your ass, hips, and legs with his rough hands. He’s caressing every curve, every spot until one hand becomes brave and cups your pussy. “Fuck, you’re going to be the death of me.”

“I didn’t do-“ you whimper at the feeling of his fingers toying with your swollen clit. “Shit, Dean…we can’t. You said we can never be together.”

“You triggered my fucking rut,” he purrs while slipping two fingers inside of your cunt. Pumping his thick fingers in and out of your dripping pussy, Dean groans deeply. “You’re going to smell like me. I’m going to cover you with my scent and mark this body.”

“What? I-“ his fingers slip out of you much too soon for your liking. But you won’t be empty for long. Dean gets back up and drops his sweatpants to the ground. While he cups your ass, humming as you push your butt into his big hands, you hastily take off your flanell.

“This is mine,” one hand cups one of your breasts, roughly groping your flesh as you feel his cock poke your entrance. “Fuck.” He grips your hips, forcing you to stick your ass out a little. “I gotta breed this cunt, make you round. Everyone will know this is mine.”

“Fuck!” you exclaim loudly as Dean simply drives right into you. There are no gentleness or loving words. The alpha is too far gone to care for sex etiquette. “Dean! You didn’t use protection.”

It’s no use. Dean presses the full length of his body against yours, holding you pinned to the door as he fucks up into you with long strokes. “Gonna make this cunt my home,” he breathlessly moans in your ear. “Not gonna last long.”

Dean is on the edge for too long to hold back. He wraps his arms around your body and twirls around, with you in his arms. You end up on the bed, squeaking as the alpha is still on top of you, moving like a madman. “Dean!”

“Just…fuck,” he pushes off you to help you get on your hands and knees. You huff, as he barely gives you the time to take a breath before he grips your hips and fills you again.

The alpha roughly slams his hips into your ass, creating a squelching sound every time he enters your slicked pussy. 

You grip the bedsheets, hoping he won’t fulfill his promise and get you full of pups as he gets even faster.

Your body seizes up and you choke out a moan as the unavoidable happens. You gush all over his cock, making Dean growl in delight.

“That’s it, omega,” you whimper as your presentation leaves his lips and his hands gently move all over your back, sides and thighs. “You’re taking me so well. Fuck…I’m gonna…”

Before you can come down from your high you get pressed into the mattress again.

It’s a mess. You’re a mess as Dean mounts you from behind, moving his hips at a pace making you gasp and squeak. 

He doesn’t stop. Not when you tilt your head in submission. Not when his teeth sink in your mating gland to claim you. Not even when his knot pops open to lock you together.

“Dean, I can’t,” you whimper underneath Dean. It’s too much. His sudden change of mind. The intimacy. The bond forming. “Dean…”

“I’ve got you, sweetheart…I’ve got you…”

“Fuck, no,” you whimper and whine as Dean just covered you in his cum. 

After the first time he knotted you, you tried to have a shower. Only for the alpha to be all over you again. He threatened to breed you again and you tried to convince him to pull out.

“What?” he purrs as your ass, back, legs, and pussy are covered in his spunk. “You wanted me to pull out. Hmm…yeah. Now you smell like me all the time. You’ll not get me off your skin anytime soon.”

“I’ll just wash it off,” Dean growls now. His arms wrap around your body to keep you from getting under the spray. “DEAN!”

“No-no! You will show everyone that I marked you. Not only your neck and pussy, all of you,” his alpha hindbrain tells him to make sure every alpha crossing your path will stay away from you. “You’re mine.”

“I’m wearing your mark,” he hums, but still holds you in his arms, smearing his cum all over your body and his chest. “Dean, I can’t walk around covered in cum. It’s sticky and…uh…you know. I don’t want them to know what we do in private.”

“Aw, now my omega is shy,” Dean purrs in your neck. “I let you shower if you admit that you want me to mark you some more. Maybe I can leave a mark on your pussy too.”

He reluctantly releases you. Dean watches you turn around, quirking a brow as his eyes drop to your cunt. “Dean! You can’t bite me down there!”

“I can…and will,” you walk backward until your back hits the cool tile wall. “Spread those pretty legs. I’m gonna leave my mark right now…”

He goes on his knees, smirking as you let him hook one leg over his shoulder.

“Fuck, Dean…”

Dean won’t bite you. No. He will leave a different kind of mark. He will take you apart with his mouth until your pussy knows, she belongs only to him…

Tags in reblog.

[jacklesversebingo]

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[queen-of-deans-booty]

A Big Misunderstanding

Pairing: Lucifer x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.9k

Warnings: relationship angst, giving the silent treatment, fluff at the end

Request by anon: I wanted to ask for spn lucifer x reader…they are married she would have been a hunter in the past, but she left the business with him, "giving up" on being the devil, and they actually like live normal life…once she gives him the silent treatment because he was "mean" to sam and dean (they are like brothers), and he just He does little things to kind of get her off her chest so she can talk to him (even if it's shouting), and when she tries to do or fix the little things he did/ or broken but without talking to him yet he just goes to the guys (the brothers, cass and jack) for help and apologizes just to make it up to her!!! (the boys make fun of him but he accepts defeat because not talking to her is worse than having people irritate him

Summary: Your passion is sewing and you love to make clothes and blankets for people, especially the Winchesters whom you consider to be family. When you overhear a conversation you shouldn't have heard, you get pissed enough at Lucifer to give him the silent treatment. Best thing? He has no idea what he's done but he'll try hard to make it right.

Square Filled: never go to bed on an argument for @as-the-saying-goes-bingo (deleted bingo)

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Three down only ten more to go. You have a lot of people who want to buy dresses from you so you’re slowly making your way through the list of orders from people. You’re only on the first order but you’ve gotten done three of the thirteen items they wanted. Sewing and making clothes and blankets is your dream. You love making things people can wear or snuggle with, and you’ve always had this passion ever since you could write.

You’d draw your designs and show your mom who was also a seamstress for a clothing store. She entertained your ideas and gave you a small sewing kit that you’d use to make your Barbie’s clothes. She was so impressed that she got you into sewing classes as soon as possible. You started off making small things like gloves, oven mitts, baby clothes, and other easy projects before working your way up to the harder items.

Now, you have your own business that is run by you and only you, and you work out of your home. You don’t have the money to buy a big store or hire employees. Plus, you kind of like doing it all by yourself. At least you can look at someone wearing your clothes and say, “Yes, I made that all on my own.” or “They’re wearing an original Y/N.”. You pour love and pride into every piece you make and it shows.

The door opens and your husband walks in with a look of confusion.

“Have you been here all day?”

You look at him like you were just caught with your hand in the cookie jar.

“I have orders to make.”

“Being in your room all day isn’t going to help you. You need to get out and move around.” You know he’s right, and your ass is hurting from sitting all day. You nod in agreement and get up, setting your project aside for now. “Come on, let’s go on a walk.”

Never did you think you’d ever go on a brisk walk with the actual devil. The neighborhood you live in is very mellow so you go a few laps around it.

“Want to hear what I’m working on?”

“Sure.”

“So, Janice across the street asked for baby clothes for her daughter’s kid, Bruce and David want some slacks for David’s new job next month, and Ruby from the diner wants a blanket. Ooh! What if I make us another blanket?”

“Darling, we have eighty blankets in the house already.”

“And?”

“We have enough,” Lucifer laughs and kisses the top of your head.

Who is he and what has he done with your husband? He is so not the man you met years ago. He was so much harder and meaner than he is now. After Sam killed Lilith and brought the devil out of the cage, he was one of the meanest men you’ve ever met. His behavior and attitude were atrocious.

It didn’t get any better even after Sam let him in so he could trap him in the cage with Adam and Michael. The cage stayed closed for five years until Amara was released because Dean got his Mark removed from his arm by the Book of the Damned. Lucifer convinced Castiel that he could possess him so that he could leave the cage, and he wreaked havoc on the world because of it. After Amara expelled him from Castiel’s body, he disappeared for a while. He decided that he was going to be done with all this shit.

That’s when you came back into his life. He met you again after he had come to terms with living a simple life. Sam and Dean had pissed you off enough that you wanted to be solo for a while, and you and Lucifer formed a relationship. The Winchesters weren't thrilled to hear you had a thing for the devil, but they trusted you enough to know what you were doing.

You had scammed your way into a very nice resort where he was staying and hit it off. Eventually, you got married to him. You’re not a hunter anymore, he’s not the devil anymore, it’s just you and him until death parts you. Lucifer’s changed behavior is all because of you. Before you, he was angry at the world for what his dad did to him but after you, he wanted to live for you and for you only.

Only after you’ve finished with all of your commissions, you start working on some stuff for the Winchesters. Winter is coming up, and the Bunker has a terrible heating system. You figured they could use a few extra jackets, shirts, and blankets.

They gave you a key to the Bunker should you ever need to use it, so you let yourself in carrying the clothes. Sam and Dean are talking to someone in the library so they don’t notice you coming down the metal staircase in the war room. Suddenly, Lucifer’s voice is heard, and you look at the entryway in confusion. Why is he here? What does he want from the brothers?

“I can’t trust you to do anything! You two are brainless, hairless apes who have no idea what the fuck you’re doing!”

“Maybe next time give us better instruction,” Dean argues.

“God, you had one job and you managed to fuck that up. Typical,” he scoffs.

Why is he being so mean to Sam and Dean? You’re hurt he’d say such vile and mean things to the two men you consider family. You leave the clothes on one of the control panels before leaving the Bunker quickly. You don’t let them know you were ever here. If Lucifer wants to resort to who he was before, then he can but you’re not going to stand by him.

Lucifer comes home hours later in a good mood. You’re in the kitchen cooking food for yourself when he enters. He frowns when he sees enough food for one person in the pan.

“Is that food for both of us?” he asks. You don’t answer him and continue to cook in silence. “Y/N?” Still, no answer. “Darling, are you okay?” No answer. “Are you ignoring me? What did I do?” Again, no answer. “Y/N?”

You don’t go to bed that night because you and Lucifer have a thing where you never go to bed on an argument. Instead, you make more clothes. Lucifer didn’t go to bed either mostly because he kept thinking about why you’re ignoring him. What did he do to piss you off? In the morning, he goes to the room where you make your clothes to try and talk to you but finds the door is locked.

“Y/N, open the door.” No answer. He can hear your sewing machine so he knows you’re in there. “Come on, darling, open the door.”

He is at a loss for words because he doesn’t understand what he did to make you like this. He gives you the space you need for the morning, but you need food eventually so you leave the room in search of some. Lucifer is in the kitchen when you get there but you make no move to acknowledge him.

Lucifer is drinking some water and reading a newspaper. He finishes the water before dropping the glass on the ground. The glass shatters and he watches your reaction to it. He doesn’t care if all you’re going to do is yell at him. He just wants you to do something. You pause and look at the glass on the ground before grabbing the broom. You don’t say a word as you clean it up and throw it away.

“I just broke a glass! You should be pissed at me. Yell at me! Something!” Lucifer gasps. Again, you don’t respond to him. “Fuck!” He walks over to you and points his finger in your face but doesn’t actually touch you. He knows you fucking hate this which is why he’s doing it. He’s such a fucking child. “I’m not touching you. You can’t get mad at me because I’m not touching you.”

You stand still and wait for him to be done before moving around him and heading back to your room to sew. Lucifer doesn't know what to do so he visits the Winchesters in search of answers. Castiel and Jack are in the room, too. Great, more people to witness this humiliation.

“Here to berate us some more?” Dean asks.

“I need your help,” he sighs.

“What?”

“I said I need your help.”

Before Sam can answer, Dean cuts in.

“Sorry, let me just take in this moment. You need us. Isn’t that something?”

“Don’t be an ass.”

“No, I definitely will.”

“What do you need?” Sam asks.

“Y/N isn’t talking to me. She’s ignoring me and I have no idea what I did to piss her off. What do I do? I don’t care if she yells at me. I need her to do something.”

“Sorry, can’t help you there, buddy,” Dean shrugs.

“Does she know you’re an ass?” Castiel asks seriously.

“Yeah, let’s make fun of me. Seriously, you’re so funny.” Lucifer mocks laughs in their faces, ready to punch the shit out of them. “What do I do?”

“Have you tried apologizing?” Jack asks.

“I don’t know what I should be apologizing for.”

“It doesn’t matter. All women want to hear is that you’re sorry. Try that. It might get her talking,” Dean sighs.

Lucifer goes home with more questions than answers. Still, he thinks about their words the whole way home. When he gets there, you’re in the living room watching one of your shows. As soon as you know he’s there, you tense and turn the volume up on the TV. He walks around to face you but you don’t look at him.

“Darling, I am so sorry.”

“For what?” you ask and look at him.

Lucifer opens his mouth to answer but nothing comes out. You scoff as you get up from the couch. You go to leave the room but Lucifer is hot on your heels.

“I am sorry, but you can’t expect me to read your mind to figure out why you’re so pissed at me. You have to communicate, darling. What did I do?”

“You berated Sam and Dean and put them down for what? ‘You two are brainless, hairless apes who have no idea what the fuck you’re doing!’ Does that ring a bell? You treat them like shit.”

“I’ve said worse things to them.” You cross your arms angrily. “Look, I am sorry. I have a really bad temper, and I was trying to surprise you with something. I needed their help getting it but they did it wrong. It pissed me off because I wanted it to be perfect for you.”

“What is it?”

Lucifer takes you to one of the unfinished rooms in the house. You never got around to actually finishing it, but Lucifer has been working on it without you knowing. You walk in and gasp at what you see. Machines are lined up on the back wall, rolls and rolls of fabric hang off tubes, mannequins are in the other corner, and everything else you need to have a successful sewing business.

“I wanted it to be perfect and I took it out on them. I’m sorry you had to hear that.”

You rush into the room and admire everything he’s done for you. He’s trying to apologize but you’re too busy being excited.

“Is this all for me?!”

“Yeah, everything,” he smiles. “Do you like it?”

“Like it? I love it!!”

“Am I forgiven?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Not talking to you was killing me.”

Lucifer pulls you into him and kisses you, glad to have overcome this with you.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[deeranger]

Cosmic Entity

So, I made another drawing and a vignette fic for the SPN Eldritch Bingo 2024 - this time for the square "Cosmic entity"…. 🙃

Title: "A Cornfield Anomaly" Word count: 2,120 Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester Warnings: Heavy angst, open/ambiguous ending, it's aliens, folks

Read it on my Ao3!

[winchester-girl67]

My Father's Daughter

Summary: Y/N gets nervous when her anti-possession tattoo heals overnight. On her second attempt to make it stick she meets a boy that she might have more in common with then she thinks.

Requested by @rachelcarroll1819​ : “Can you do ome where the readers is the daughter of luicfer that john and bobby found as a baby bobby ends up raising her as his owns then when angels show up her powers finally show up also and sje in a relationship with either dean or sam ( whichever works for me)”

Pairing: Dean x Nephilim!reader

Square: Tattoo @supernatural-jackles​

Word Count: 5,805

Warnings: some SPN spoilers for season 12-15 (mainly surrounding Jack, and nephilim), not canon, language, adoption and related topics, implied relationship with Dean before the reader’s 18th birthday (reader and Dean are both 18), implied minor allergic reaction, injured!Dean, injuried!reader, blood, a little violence (involving guns/angel blades), angst, a little pining, kissing, fluff

A/N: This is before Castiel joins the Winchester’s side, I also took some liberties with the nephilim lore. Jack is such a fun character to write for, I had to include him in this request… Enjoy :) Also written for @supernatural-jackles​’ Tell Me a Story bingo.

_____

“What the H-E-double-hockey-sticks?” You gasped at your reflection in the mirror. “Balls, that can’t be a good sign.”

You held open the collar of your flannel and traced your fingers over the unblemished flesh below your collarbone. It was easy to ignore when it happened the first time. A pencil standing on its point for three seconds longer than it should’ve was easy to play off as an illusion soaked in extreme boredom at the time. Strange occurrences were common especially around the Winchesters or anyone involved with the Winchesters, but this was- wasn’t possible. It was your eighteenth birthday yesterday and Dean brought you to get your first tattoo, an anti-possession symbol. You had it inked into the left side of your chest over your breast, just like him, but now it was gone as if it had... healed.

You decided not to tell anyone and buttoned your shirt a little higher than usual. You would just go back to the tattoo parlour today before you met up with Dean. You kept the little anomalies like this to yourself more often than not lately, after finding out you were adopted and who your biological father really was. Lucifer. Talk about daddy issues. You didn’t want anyone finding out that you had inherited anything from him. Eighteen years without a single sign of angelic anything and now you couldn’t deny there was something filtering through you, trying to get out. It felt like power.

“Meeting Dean this early, pumpkin?” Your father, Bobby, asked as you bounced down the stairs and into the kitchen. You nodded, not wanting to lie to him but it was for the best, “Do your old man a favour and grab something to eat before you head out.”

“Alright, dad.” You said, grabbing an apple from the fridge.

“You make sure that boy gets you home in time for dinner,” he cocked an eyebrow at you, “I mean it this time, Y/N. I will get my shotgun out if you’re a minute past six, got it?”

You were his little girl, but he wouldn’t actually shoot Dean, right?

You laughed and nodded, playing it off as a joke. He could only be about eighty-percent serious, at most. You didn’t have a curfew but tonight was an exception. There were family and friends and family-friends, coming over to celebrate your birthday, since yesterday was a weekday and Bobby had steaks marinating in the fridge.

“We’ll be home on time, promise. Bye, daddy.” You pecked him on the cheek and turned his cap around so the visor was in the back.

“Always with the damn hat,” he grumbled as he fixed it back to the front.

You giggled as you twirled out of the room and bit into your apple. You took a couple of bites before holding it between your lips as you laced up your boots and slipped on your jacket.

Outside, you chucked the core into the tall grass opposite the house and climbed onto your motorcycle. You started it up and pulled your hair into a quick braid for the wind, otherwise it would tangle to an extent that could never be brushed out, and took your helmet off the handlebars. You secured the strap under your chin and revved the engine as you kicked it into gear, fish-tailing around before speeding off down the laneway.

Leaves were changing colour and it was cooler outside now. For a moment you wished you had remembered your gloves but you would power through, the tattoo parlour wasn’t too far away anyway. You chose a different parlour across town than the one Dean had brought you to, just in case the artist that tattooed you the day before was on shift today too. Too many questions would be asked and you didn't have the answers.

It was easier this time around, since you knew what to expect and how much it would sting, but you hated that Dean wasn’t there to hold your hand. The woman wiped away the excess ink when she was done the final flame and held up a mirror for you to see. You grinned at the permanent ink, marring your flesh the same way it did Sam and Dean and Bobby and every other hunter you knew.

To anyone else, they’d probably think it was odd but to you it meant protection and family. It was pretty, even with the red raw edges that would eventually flatten out as your skin healed. You loved the way new tattoos raised the skin and appeared to jump out at you. You felt like a badass sporting your fresh ink and bit your lip at your excited smile.

The artist snapped a pic for her portfolio and the shop’s website and you noticed a boy about your age smiling at you from behind the gap in the privacy curtains. He was sitting in the waiting area with his hands on his knees and just staring. At. You.

“Hello.” He said when you passed him on your way out.

His blonde hair was combed to the side, unlike Dean’s whose was always spiked up like an angry hedgehog. You gave him a nod of your head and nothing more. Glancing back at the parlour as you climbed onto your motorcycle, partially just to make sure he didn’t follow you out. He didn’t give off any creeper vibes but he was… odd.

“Ow,” you hissed suddenly as your chest burned. You pulled aside your flannel to see the tattoo glowing white hot before it fizzled out. Your body healing itself again and your tattoo disappearing. You looked up at the tattoo parlour sullenly, there would be no point in trying again. “Shit-balls.”

Just when you thought puberty was over. What the hell was going on with your body now? All you could think was that your bio-dad’s genes were finally kicking in.

It would be easy enough to hide it from Bobby, not so much Dean. Things were getting heated between you two lately and it was inevitable that he’d see you in a bra again. The thing was, the only people who knew about your bio-dad were John, who had passed away a couple years ago and Bobby, who promised never to tell another living soul; especially the boys. Sam would probably understand but he was four years younger than you and he couldn’t keep a secret from his older brother. Dean on the other hand, thought of things in black and white and anything tainted with the blood of a monster must be a monster in and of itself. And Lucifer was a monster, you heard the stories.

You wanted to be like Bobby, not your bio-dad and you wanted Dean to keep loving you. Which you weren’t entirely sure was possible if you told him that you were a nephilim. Until recently you had been questioning it yourself but you couldn’t ignore the weirdness surrounding you anymore or the dreams you’d been having of a man with glowing red eyes, a raspy voice calling out to you. You always woke up in a cold sweat and now you were thinking they might be more than just dreams. Maybe if you’d said something Bobby could help you make them stop.

You started up your motorcycle and pulled on your helmet, glancing back at the parlour one last time and watching as the blonde boy walked down the steps. He still had a smile on his face when his blue eyes met yours and he raised his hand to wave. Then he started walking towards you and you didn’t stick around to find out what he wanted. You weren’t in the mood to be hit on, although you didn’t get that vibe from him. He had more of an innocence about him. You still weren't in the mood.

You must’ve drove past the laneway to your house six times before you decided you couldn’t face your father or everyone else who had congregated there for your birthday dinner. Bobby had bragged about you finally getting your anti-possession tattoo and becoming a real hunter and what if someone asked to see it? How could you explain that?

You went to the one quiet place where you could always think. The graveyard on the west side of town. You didn’t know anyone there but you felt it was nice if someone visited them from time to time. You were always respectful and you liked to sit on the bench at the back between the overgrown trees. The spot was hidden from the road and you could hear the resident owl from time to time.

It was late now and well past six, when dinner was supposed to be ready. Bobby would likely be fuming or worried as hell, probably both. On the brightside, Dean would be with him and everyone else so Bobby would have no reason to blame him or shoot him. Except it was possible he still might try.

You checked your phone to find too many messages from both Bobby and Dean, all asking where you were and when you were getting back. One more recent one asking if you were in trouble. You typed off an ‘I’m fine’ when you heard the leaves crunch under the weight of a sneaker.

You whipped your head around to find the blonde boy from the tattoo parlour peeking out from behind the trunk of a tree. He smiled brightly as he slowly approached you, waving again and if you were about to make a run for it, you no longer felt the need.

“Hello, I’m Jack. I’m sorry if I scared you earlier. This is my first time..." he paused, seemingly struggling to find the word, "-talking." He grinned again.

“O-okay.”

Did he just break some sort of oath-of-silence or something?

You were still skeptical even if you weren’t scared. He wasn’t all that big, kinda skinny, you could take him in a fight if you had to.

“Are you following me?” You asked, he smiled and nodded like he didn’t understand how creepy it was to admit to following someone. “Why, -the fuck?” You almost laughed, it was so awkward, but you settled for a single puff of air. “How’d you find me?”

"I've been looking for you, I’ve been wanting to meet you, you're not easy to find, I can only sense you some of the time -This place is nice." He glanced around, it was hardly the word you would use to describe a graveyard but what-the-hay there were stranger things at foot, “You seem troubled. Can I help?"

"Um, no? I'm just a bit confused. You ‘sensed’ me?" You asked, squinting your eyes up at him.

"You put off an energy when you're stressed and I could tell you needed me. It smells like... sour strawberries -Are strawberries good?" He asked and tilted his head. Dude was weird, but probably harmless.

“Um, yeah, when they have chocolate on them, otherwise they make my tongue feel funny.” You shrugged, Dean had bought you chocolate covered strawberries for Valentine’s day, almost made it worth the itchy throat. “Why do you think I need you? I don't need you, I don't even know you.”

“We have more in common than you think.” He alluded and you wanted to wipe that smirk off his face as he stood there.

“I’m getting impatient, Jack, and you won’t like me when I’m impatient.” You quipped and he tilted his head in confusion. Dean was rubbing off on you, after all those hours watching ‘classic’ movies with him. “Okay, I’ll bite. Why do you feel so familiar?” That was the feeling you were picking up from him, a closeness; you finally figured it out.

“I’m your brother.”

Your face blanched, “The only person I’d consider a brother is Sammy -even if it is a little awkward since I am dating his actual brother- but we’re not related, we just grew up together, sort of... our dad’s knew each other and we hung out… quite a bit actually but that’s not the point. I don’t have blood relatives, up here, anyway.”

“But we have one in common, down there." Jack pointed as he laughed and sat down beside you.

You scooched over to the end of the bench, "So... Your father...?"

"Is Lucifer, yes, and so is yours." He said.

Did he always smile? He seemed too cheery to be a descendant of the Devil himself. At least you had the decency to be unbearably irritable once a month.

"Prove it," you smirked back snidely. Yup, too much time around Dean.

"Okay," he pulled a long silver blade from his jacket, one you knew as an angel blade and levitated it in the air. He moved his fingers and the blade mimicked his motions. "Pretty cool, huh?"

You nodded and remembered the pencil; could you do something like that someday? Maybe you had to focus more or less, he didn't seem to put much effort into it.

"Do you want to try?" He asked, grabbing the blade from mid air and handing it over to you. "It's easy, just focus on what you want it to do and make it happen."

You focused on the blade in your hands and squinted your eyes, picturing it spinning in a circle like a top. You almost burst a blood vessel in your eye before you huffed and gave up, "It's no use! I can't do it."

"You're just trying too hard. We can work on it," he smiled again and you handed him back the blade.

Jack wasn't a threat, somehow you just knew, but how long was he planning on staying? And if he stayed you'd have to explain yourself and him to Bobby, that wasn't something you were looking forward to.

"Do you have any tattoos?" You asked.

"No, should I?" He asked, his smile fell and he looked worried for a moment as if you wouldn't like him if he didn't.

"I tried to get one, twice now, but it keeps healing." You pulled open your flannel a little to touch the skin where the tattoo should've been. "Kinda sucks, you know? I've been injured on hunts before and I have scars, so it doesn't make any sense to me. Why now?"

"Maybe..." he thought and tucked the blade back into his jacket, "Your powers are only developing now because you grew up slowly. You had a normal adolescence."

"I'd hardly call my childhood normal," you rolled your eyes. You were raised as a hunter and Bobby took you out for target practice every Sunday and when John and the boys were in town, you would have to participate in sparring and weapons training, all before you could read. And when you could read, lore was added to your studies along with your typical -normal school work. "How come you have your powers already then? You're about my age."

"I had to grow up faster than you, there are things -people here that want to hurt me and I needed them to protect myself." He explained, “That’s probably why yours are just showing up, your body feels it too.”

“Feels what?”

“Our father, his return.”

“Bio-dad, Lucifer?” You huffed, “Uh-yeah, I don’t think so. My surrogate dad sealed him in a cage eighteen years ago with the late-great John Winchester, you might’ve heard of him? Trust me, dude, we’re safe.”

“You can’t feel him? Maybe I can help you along,” Jack reached out to touch your forehead with two fingers and before you could push his hand away your body was flooded with images, feelings, light, dark, energy -it was too much and you pulled away, trying to catch your breath and blink away the numbing headache.

You gulped and met his blue eyes, “How are you only a day old?!”

Not only had he transferred everything he felt to you but also every memory he ever had, tracing back to even when they were just feelings in the womb of his mother. You didn’t remember any of the same stuff from your own life. How could you be the same but totally different? You were stressed beyond belief, your mind racing a mile a minute and that’s when you noticed the pulsing light coming from your palms.

“Um, Jack,” you said, inspecting your palms and turning them to face him as the light got brighter and pulsed more frequently with every heavy heartbeat. “What’s happening to me?”

“I helped you find your powers, they were -uh… hidden. I just pulled them to the surface so now you can access them.” He smiled and you gaped as a single pulse of light left your palms, hitting Jack like a force field and knocking him off the bench. He landed a good ten metres away but shook it off and stood back up, “-Ouch.”

Voices filled your mind as if multiple people were whispering in your ears all at once and they kept getting louder and louder until all you heard was a blaring hiss as if a radio was in the midst of tuning. You fell off the bench, clutching your ears with your hands, squeezing your eyes shut as if it would help.

You screamed over the noise though you couldn’t hear yourself, “Jack! Jack!”

You felt his hands rest over yours and a moment later the noise faded away. You sighed and blinked open your eyes. Your ears felt as if they were bleeding and you touched them to check.

“What the balls was that?” You asked, catching your breath.

“Angel radio, I forgot to warn you it can be overwhelming but you’ll get the hang of it. It gets easier to tune out with practice.” Jack said, helping you to your feet.

“I don’t like it.”

“Yeah, me either.”

“All I really heard was buzzing, will I be able to understand them? When I get the hang of it.” You could hardly believe this was your life now, hearing angelic voices in your head and pulsing shockwaves from your palms.

“Yes,” he nodded, “The pain will always be there though.”

“What were they saying?” You asked, noticing the dirt on your jeans and brushing off your knees.

“It was a distress signal about Lucifer.” Jack explained, brushing some crumpled bits of dried leaves from your shoulder.

You heard someone approach, heavy on their heels, “Get away from her!” Dean yelled with his gun drawn, eyeing Jack like he was ready to kill.

But you didn’t want him to hurt Jack, your little brother, “Dean, No!” You spun around and held up a hand. You didn’t mean to release another shockwave and it sent Dean flying into the tree behind him. He hit it back first and slumped to the ground, unconscious. “DEAN!”

You ran to him and cradled him in your arms, pulling his head to your chest. Tears welled in your eyes and dripped onto his cheeks as you curled over him and rocked back and forth. You didn’t know if it was your new powers but you could tell he wasn’t okay. He hit his head hard and you didn’t even know if he’d wake back up.

“Stay right there, boy.” You heard your father’s voice warn Jack as he approached you.

“Daddy?” You sobbed.

“It’s okay, pumpkin, he’s gonna be okay.” Bobby crouched next to you and inspected Dean’s head. His hand was covered in blood when he touched the back of it. He frowned and scrubbed the other palm over his scruff, “Oh, balls! Hang on, Dean.”

“Y/N,” Jack risked a step forward even with Bobby’s gun still trained on him. “I can help him. I’ve done it before.”

He had, hadn’t he? A single memory of Jack healing his birth mom while still in her womb came to mind. He wasn’t lying. You nodded and put your hand on Bobby’s gun to lower it. You weren’t even sure at this point if a bullet could even hurt him... or you anymore. Now that you feel more angelic than human.

Jack knelt next to Dean and laid a hand on his head. His fingers glowed a warm gold, the same colour as his irises and you felt Dean’s body react; his heart stabilizing with stronger beats and his breathing evening out until he began to stir. You watched intently as his green eyes fluttered open and you wiped away your tears, then dried his cheeks with your thumbs.

“Are you okay?” You whispered when he locked eyes with you.

He stared up at you, registering all that just happened and then a shot rang through your ears. Dean sat up and pushed away from you, his gun smoking in his hand and you looked down at your chest. Where he shot you.

“Idjit! What did you do?!” Bobby yelled at Dean and tried to inspect your wound. It actually didn’t hurt all that much and when you opened your shirt, the same golden glow you’d seen moments ago healed the wound until it was as if it was never there.

“That’s not Y/N! What are you, you bitch?! What did you do with her?!” Dean shouted, raising his gun again. "I swear if you hurt her-"

“Boy, you better put that gun down if you wanna see your next birthday.” Bobby warned and Dean glanced between you both, noting that he was the one out of the loop. He lowered the gun but kept it ready on his thigh and felt the back of his head curiously. “I was wonderin’ when those nephilim powers of yours would kick in, the only question I got is... Who in the holy balls is this guy?” Bobby asked, nudging his head towards Jack.

You always loved how he could incorporate balls into any sentence whether it fit or not and you guessed you did it too; you were your father’s daughter after all.

“He’s -um, my brother. Half-brother.” You said and glanced back at Jack who smiled and held a hand up as if to shake your father’s. Bobby didn’t reciprocate though and you added, “On my bio-dad’s side, obviously.”

It was well known that a human mother couldn't survive the birth of a nephilim child. Your note was more to tip off Bobby to shut up in front of Dean about it. Not that Bobby took the hint since he probably felt the cat was out of the bag anyways.

“So, good-old Lucy got sprung from the cage, eh? I figured that would happen eventually -was hoping for more time though.” Bobby grunted and fixed his cap like he did when he was unnerved and not wanting to show it.

“Am I the only one who doesn’t have a fucking clue what in the hell is going on? Y/N?!” Dean huffed and furrowed his brow.

“I -um,” you didn’t know how to explain. “I -um, I’m adopted. Surprise.”

“You’re Lucifer’s daughter?” Dean asked, catching on quickly.

The light in his eyes dimmed at the idea and you knew you needed to correct him and fast.

"No! No, I am Bobby’s daughter and I suppose... a by-product of Lucifer’s sperm donation.”

Dean nodded, then cringed. "That’s kind of gross.”

“I’m still me, Dean, the girl you’re in love with but won’t ever admit it to.” You said, hoping for him to see you the same way he did before. “I’m the same girl.”

“No, you’re not. Your eyes are different.” He stared hard like he was trying to see past something.

You looked to Bobby as if he had the answers, “Your eyes are glowing, pumpkin.”

You imagined your reflection with the eyes you’d seen Jack wear when his powers filtered through him. Then you felt it, the difference, you weren’t in control of them yet, they manifested with the waves in your emotions. It was extremely hard to control.

“Jack, how do I make it stop?” You asked and squeezed your eyes shut.

“Take a deep breath and let it go.” Jack said.

You didn’t think it could really be that fucking easy, but gave it a try. When you opened your eyes again you could feel the light dimming and then extinguish. You were exhausted.

“I wanna go home.” You looked to your father and he nodded. Jack’s smile seemed to turn upside down and you added, “Can Jack come too?”

“Might as well, party’s cleared out anyhow.” Bobby stood up and eyed Jack, sizing him up. You could tell your father didn’t trust him yet, but you knew Jack was good, you could feel it.

“Sorry I missed the party.” You stood up and hugged Bobby.

“Don’t worry about it, pumpkin.” He patted your back and ruffled up your hair when you broke the hug. You frowned and tried to tuck the loose strands of hair back into your braid. “We should get outta here before-”

You heard what could only be described as a rush of feathers before a bald man in a suit appeared before you, "Hello, Robert.”

“It’s Bobby, jackass.”

There was another louder rush and two others appeared next to him. One of them oddly wore a trench-coat over his suit. You knew instantly that these men were angels. You could see their halos shine brightly above their heads. A side effect of finally getting your nephilim powers you assumed. In all your time hunting you hadn't come across any angels, you never wanted to either based off of the stories Bobby and other hunters told you.

"Zachariah," Bobby said, nodding at the bald angel before him, then the other in the tight suit, "Uriel... long time, no see."

You knew from your studies that Uriel was an archangel, by far more powerful than the others, even if he seemed to let Zachariah take charge at the moment.

“I thought we had an understanding." Zachariah continued, "If the nephilim child showed any signs of getting her powers you were supposed to contact me, right away."  

“Like you wouldn’t have known, don’t you have some sort of angelic radar? As soon as the kid showed any signs of grace you'd feel it. That’s why you’re here isn’t it.” Bobby snapped back at the man, or angel wearing some poor sap as a meat-suit like a demon would.

“Precisely, which is why we wanted to avoid an event large enough to attract our attention. She hurt the boy, didn't she? That could've been avoided. She is an abomination and she will offset the order of the universe, given the time; there’s only one way to deal with this sort of thing... Castiel.”

The angel wearing the trench-coat stepped forward with a stoic face as if he was about to carry out some unspoken order. Like a good little soldier of heaven. An angel blade dropped into his hand from his shirtsleeve and he advanced towards you. You stumbled back and Jack grabbed your hand and puffed out his chest. Castiel stopped in his tracks just as both your eyes began to glow.

“That can’t be.” Castiel said as he backed off. He glanced back at Zachariah and then disappeared with a flutter of his wings. At least he knew when he was outranked.

The others however, Zachariah and Uriel, did not retreat and advanced upon you. Each with their own angel blade in hand. You and Jack channeled your powers together and raised your hands. You released a joint shockwave that blew them apart to mere atoms which floated away in the wind like snowflakes on a cold winter day. Your power alone was great, but together it was unmatched.

There would be no issues destroying or caging Lucifer when the time came for it. But you would have to find him first. Or maybe he would find you now that your powers had emerged. Apparently it sent up a pretty big blip on the angelic radar or whatever Bobby called it and Lucifer was probably still connected to that, right? Or at least had some sort of version of it.

"Holy hell,” Bobby cursed, “Come on, Y/N, we best be getting home before someone or something else comes looking for them or who did that to 'em."

You let your father lead the way to his truck and towed Jack along with you. Meanwhile Dean trailed behind keeping a watchful eye on your new found brother. All the while not saying much.

He didn't say anything actually, not even when you remembered your motorcycle. He just took the keys from you so you could drive back with your family. Or maybe he just didn't want to be squished into the cab of that old Ford with a being more powerful than an archangel -that was born yesterday- and your father. Bobby was super protective of you, and Dean and his relationship was strained because of that. It was a miracle they drove here together without someone getting shot now that you thought of it.

And Dean's silent treatment continued for days longer than any fight you'd had with him since you had gotten together. You didn't even know if you were still together anymore. So to say you were surprised to see him show up when Bobby and Jack went out on a day trip for some bonding, was an understatement.

"Hiya, sweetheart." Dean said, standing in the front doorway and glancing behind you, his eyes searching the space. "Bobby out?" He asked, you nodded, "How 'bout your -uh... b-brother?"

"You mean Jack?" You asked, he'd probably just forgotten his name. Dean gave you a soft smile and nodded twice, "Yeah, s'just me home. Why, you come to snuff out the monsters? One abomination at a time?"

Dean pushed his brows together and frowned down at you. "Listen, girly-"

"Girly?!-"

"Y/N," Dean pleaded, slipping your name off his tongue with his hands held up as if to pose no threat. "I know Bobby said you needed time and you didn't wanna talk to me, but I just gotta get this off my chest and then I'm gone, okay? Can you just listen? Please."

That wasn't true. Bobby lied. But you motioned for him to continue anyways.

"I was pissed at you. For not telling me, not trusting me. You were there for me when my father-" Dean choked up and cleared his throat. His eyes watered as he searched for the right words to say, "I just -I didn't understand why you didn't want me there for you, so I blamed you. But then I thought about it, really thought about it and it's no wonder you couldn't trust me, hell, why would you? All I've ever done is maim and kill-"

You'd heard enough, "Dean, I trust you! Nothing's ever going to change that and I didn't tell my dad to tell you shit. You just looked so hurt, I didn't know how to reach out and thought maybe you didn't want me to." You chewed on your lip before you decided to swallow your embarrassment and rolled your eyes at yourself, "Fuck it, I love you." It was the first time either of you said that out loud, "And I know at one point you felt the same about me and I guess, I'm just hoping that's still the case?"

Dean gave a delicate nod and shrug of his shoulders, "You'll always belong with me, Y/N." He confessed and stepped forward to wrap his arms around you. You let him and he pressed his forehead to yours. "And I care about you, too."

It hurt a little that he didn't say it back, but that was close enough for you. Dean wasn't touchy-feely in the case of emotions and you didn't need to make him say it. You felt it in the way he clutched you to him and you sunk into his embrace.

Dean pressed a hard kiss to your temple and another open lipped kiss to your cheek. You felt the heat of his breath on your lips before his mouth molded to yours and your tongues touched. His movements were slow and passionate and when his fingertips touched that ticklish spot on your neck you giggled into the kiss.

He felt like coming home; safety and warmth in his arms. Even if you didn't need protecting anymore, it was nice. It was the first time in days you let yourself relax and it seemed like you weren't the only one.

Dean pulled away to let you catch your breath and you slowly blinked open your eyes to meet his. He let out a breathy chuckle and his forehead fell to yours again, his eyes admiring yours with an amused grin on his face.

"Your eyes are glowing," he breathed and sucked on his bottom lip. "You are so damn beautiful.” And he brushed the hair from your face. “You’re everything to me.” You felt his eyelashes brush your cheek and his hand sink from your lower back to grip your butt cheek. "You’re my everything.”

Your cheeks instantly hurt from smiling so bright at his words.

His other hand met on your backside and you squealed when he squeezed hard enough to bruise, but only for a second. Dean chuckled, slapped your butt and kissed you again. And you got lost in it.

Until the backdoor slammed shut, “Boy, get your damn hands off my daughter!" Bobby commanded as he set the cooler he was carrying on top of the counter.

Jack followed in behind him and smiled at Dean with a small wave.

Dean stopped kissing you and raised his hands as he stepped away from you. He was grinning wildly and biting his lip, his eyes roaming your body like they always did before they held your gaze.

You so easily fell back into the way things were before with him and this was the good part. The part where you could speak novels with a wink of an eye. It was like a language only the two of you could speak and he was saying 'I still love you, so damn much'.

Your father cleared his throat and you rolled your eyes, "Dad, I thought you said you were taking Jack fishing? Shouldn't that take a couple more hours?"

"Not a chance, pumpkin." Bobby side-eyed Dean, "Besides, kid, already caught a week's worth. He's a natural." He boasted, coming around to Jack much faster than you expected him to.

"I'm a natural," Jack repeated and beamed with a little tilt of his head. He bounced on his heels, twice, he was so excited.

You groaned and shook your head, "I'm surrounded by dorks."

"What's a dork?" Jack asked and furrowed his brow.

Dean answered, "A little brother."

_________________________ Dean: @akshi8278 @laycblack @thoughts-and-funnies @mrsjenniferwinchester @crustycheeks @kazsrm67 @sexyvixen7 @lyarr24 @suckitands33  @eliwinchester99 @yvonneeeee @igotmajordaddyissues @djs8891 @leigh70 @globetrotter28

Forever SPN: @hobby27​

Tell Me a Story Bingo: @princessvader15

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Have a Holly Jolly Christmas

John Winchester x plus size reader

Christmas is just like any other day for John, but this year is different, his girlfriend has created a winter wonderland for him and his boys, but he won’t let her stay to celebrate

Warnings:  john is a shitty ass parent and boyfriend, angst (honestly Lou can’t you write a fluffy fic for once), insecure!reader, alcohol, fluff

WC: 3.1k

Square Filled: Grumpy during the holidays @spnchristmasbingo

Minors DNI

SPN Christmas Bingo

The low budget motel room had been completely decked out in Christmas decorations. Tinsel over all the lamps and beds, a small tree on the coffee table decorated in cheap bobbles, poorly wrapped presents sitting around it, and fairy lights all around the room. There was even a piece of mistletoe hanging over the doorway to the tiny bathroom and three stockings tapped up under the tv. 

Sam and Dean had gone feral when they walked in after school. Their little minds couldn’t comprehend all the lights and colours that you had hung up everywhere. They ran around, studying everything they could before their eyes landed on the arguably massive pile of presents. You had barely stopped the 8 and 4 year old in time before they ripped off the newspaper to get access to their goodies. 

And now, after gorging themselves on eggnog and Christmas cookies, they were passed out in your arms, Dean on the left and Sam on the right, their little hands linked across your plump stomach, sleeping peacefully for the first time in a while. You had only been in the boys’ life for a few months, John was extremely protective of them, not letting you meet them until you had been dating for a couple years, but already you knew they were your boys and you would do anything for them. And apparently, that entailed spoiling the shit out of them every chance you could. 

Sighing sadly, you looked up from where you had been watching them sleep, to the clock above the small kitchenette. It was well past midnight and yet, John still wasn’t home. You knew Christmas was a hard time for him though, so you just sucked it up and focused on the kids. 

“Kitty?” It was the nickname the boys had given you because John insisted it was rude for them to call you by your first name. Glancing down, you were met with wide green eyes, still glazed over with sleep. 

“What is it, Dean?” You whispered, mindful of the younger boy who was still dozing away, thumb tucked firmly between his lips. He sat up a bit so he could look you in the eye as a very serious expression came over his little face.

“Do you think dad is with Santa and that’s why he isn’t here?” Sometimes you forgot how truly young Dean was. He was forced to be so mature from such a young age, it was quite easy to not remember that he really was only eight. Cupping the back of his head, you gently guided him to lay down once more. He complied without a fight.

“Yeah that’s right. Your dad is helping Santa give out presents to all the little kids all over the world, but he’ll be back soon.” 

“Do you promise?”

You couldn’t help but smile. “I pinky promise.” His little pinky curled around your own before his eyes shut and he fell asleep once more. 

It was around four in the morning that you were able to slip from the bed. Carefully, you pulled your duffle bag from under the bed and grabbed the last few presents from it. Each was wrapped in colourful (and expensive) paper with bows and neat little tags. Some said ‘from Santa’ but the largest of the bunch you had labeled ‘from Dad’ with your best attempt at emulating your boyfriend’s handwriting.

The sky was turning a light grey with an impending snowstorm when you heard the impala turn into the motel’s parking lot. Quickly, you threw your clothes and toiletries in the now empty bag before pulling on your boots and coat. You finished zipping it up just as the man himself walked through the door. 

He had obviously been drinking if the stench of whiskey and smoke was anything to go by. But mostly, he just seemed tired. He was beat down, still fading bruises from his last hunt littered his arms and one of his eyes. “Thank you for staying with the boys.” He said it like you were just some babysitter and not his partner of the last three years.

You nodded at him. “It was no problem, you know how much I adore them.”

“Yeah.” He sighed in a way you knew he meant that he was done talking about it. “John?” He glanced at you but you could tell he wasn’t really looking at you or else he would have seen the heartbreak clearly written across your face.

“Just- just enjoy today. They need it, you need it. Forget the world for once and just be with your boys.” And with that, you kissed his scruffy cheek and walked away, planning on driving to Bobby’s to pick up another hunt. “Merry Christmas John.”

He didn’t even try to stop you.

Bobby handed you a beer as he walked back into his living room. Gratefully, you took it and downed half the bottle in one swig. “Woah, slow down there. Someone might think you were turning into me.”

“Har har.” You replied sarcastically and took another pull. Your legs were curled up under you on his couch as your eyes fixed on the small fire he had built up in the fireplace. He raised an eyebrow at you, taking his place in the worn recliner beside you.

“Thought you were with the Winchesters for Christmas?” 

“You know John, he doesn’t want anyone close to his boys, especially not me.” Your voice wavered with barely concealed tears. The ache in your chest had grown with each mile you drove away from them until you felt like someone had ripped out your heart by the time you had gotten to the scrap yard.

“I don’t get why that idjit pushes you away. You’re good for all those boys, not just him.” You shrugged, keeping your gaze fixed on the fire in some vain attempt to stop yourself from crying.

“I’m not his girlfriend, Bobby. I’m a distraction, a babysitter, a nurse sure, but never his girlfriend. I can’t live up to Mary and he knows it, the same as I do.” You shrugged and finished off the bottle. It had been like that since you started dating. John needed a partner, someone to watch his back and keep his bed warm and he never did anything to change that.

He kept you at arms length all the time and you just accepted it, knowing what he had gone through. But now, it was ripping you apart. You loved those two boys with your whole heart and seeing them but never able to be anything more than an occasional visitor in their lives hurt like a bitch. 

“Maybe you should leave.” Bobby bluntly said. “Why stay with a man who can never see how truly incredible you are?” You couldn’t answer him.

The hunter sighed deeply. “Just think about it for a couple days. Figure out if he’s actually worth your heartbreak.” With a friendly squeeze to your shoulder, he left you alone with your thoughts.

——————

John hated Christmas for one simple reason: it had been Mary’s favourite holiday. She went all out, lights, decorations, the works. And it got even better when Dean was born.

After she died, he found it hard to tolerate the holiday. He knew the boys questioned why they couldn’t have a celebration like the other kids at school but it hurt his heart even just thinking about having a Christmas without her. He avoided the day as much as he could with hunts and booze, but otherwise treating it like any other day.

And now, walking into the hotel room they had been camped out in for the past few weeks, John wanted to cry. You put in so much work to make the place look nice, even if you weren’t sticking around (not that it was your choice). His frown deepened as he glanced at the presents by the tree. 

Knowing you, you had bought the presents with the scant amount of money you earned from actual jobs instead of hustling or downright stealing. You were too kind for a business like this, too soft. 

With a heavy heart, he collapsed on the ratty sofa after pulling a beer from the fridge. His brown eyes occasionally flicked over to his boys, unconsciously making sure they were still alive and well. They would be devastated when they woke up and you weren’t here but he could deal with that.

What he couldn’t deal with was how involved you were in their lives. You had consumed his heart, his soul, his mind and his body. He was terrified of how quickly he had fallen for you. It left him questioning his love for Mary and he hated you for that.

So, like the way he regarded Christmas, he treated you like he would any other woman he had taken to his bed. He knew it hurt you, he could see it in your eyes when he dismissed your feelings or when he shoved you away from the boys. But they were more important, they couldn’t lose another mother and he couldn’t lose another woman he loved.

“Daddy!” He was shaken from his thoughts by a small body landing firmly on his soft stomach, knocking the wind from his lungs. Sam’s skinny arms wrapped around his neck in a tight hug. John quickly recovered, hugging his youngest back.

“Hey there Sammy.” He chuckled, holding him as close as he could.

“It’s Christmas!” 

“I know it is buddy, why don’t you wake up Dean and you can open your presents.”

“Ok!” As Sam scrambled away, John put his beer down on the ground beside him, purposely keeping it out of their potential eye line. It would do them no good to see him drinking this early in the day. He watched as Dean’s eyes shot open and sprung from the bed.

Soon enough, the kids were surrounded by ripped up paper and brand new toys and books. This is how it should be, John suddenly thought. He had gone four years without giving these boys the joy they deserved, no the joy they needed and he felt like the shittiest person ever.

“Daddy?” Sam was looking up at him with the biggest puppy dog eyes he had ever seen, clutching a gorgeous copy of the Wizard of Oz to his chest. “Where did kitty go?” Now that hurt even more. Dean’s gaze also settled on him and he could clearly see the questions in his green eyes.

“Well, kitty had to go see uncle Bobby for a while.” Both their faces fell.

“But why?” 

“He needed her there.”

“But we need kitty here!” Sam insisted as he stomped his little feet as hard as he could. “It’s Christmas! She has to be here for Christmas!” 

And then, he watched in slight horror as Dean stood up and hugged his little brother like a parent would hug a crying child. One hand on the back of his small head, the other arm across his shoulders and tugged him into his chest. “It’s ok Sammy, she’ll come back.”

“But what if she doesn’t? What if she doesn’t want us and then doesn’t come back!” 

“She always comes back Sammy.”

“I want kitty right now!” And he descended into a truly heartbreaking fit of sobs. Moving quickly, John scooped him up and settled back down on the couch, doing his best to sooth his youngest. But Sam fought back, wiggling almost violently in his grasp. “I don’t want you! I want kitty!” With an all mighty jerk, he tumbled from John’s arms and made a mad dash to the bathroom.

The door slammed and locked shut before the hunter could react. “Sam!” He shouted after him, making a move to follow but a little hand on his forearm stopped him in his tracks.

Dean was crying too but they were silent tears, dripping quickly down his full cheeks. “Why does kitty always leave us?” 

His knees creaked as he slowly dropped to his knees. Kneeling before his son, John looked him dead in the eyes. “Sometimes, it just has to be like that Dean. And we’ve got each other, that’s enough.”

“But we wouldn’t even have a Christmas without her.” Dean followed his brother into the small room, leaving John alone with his thoughts and a sinking feeling in his gut.

You would know what to do, you always seemed to have the answers when it came to the boys. The thought ripped through his chest like a bullet. In the seven months since you had known his sons, you had effortlessly become a better parent than he ever had been and yet, you never demanded recognition or love from any of them. You loved them because you could.

And they were right. It was Christmas, the first real Christmas that Sammy had ever had, a Christmas Dean could actually remember. But you weren’t here, because you knew John wouldn’t want you there.

Something came over the hunter then and suddenly he stood bolt upright. His mind was in a haze as he tore down the decorations littered about the room, stuffing them into spare trash bags. Presents were thrown into duffle bags, along with the boy’s clothes. 

“Boys! We’re leaving!” The bathroom door opened a crack and both their little heads peaked out. John threw the last bag over his broad shoulder as he grabbed their winter boots from beside the front door. “Let’s go!” 

They watched him curiously, confused as to why their father had pulled apart the room and was now in a rush to leave. “Where are we going?” Dean spoke up, slowly inching his way out of the bathroom.

John’s face remained stern but his brown eyes were sparkling with something the boys couldn’t quite figure out. “We’re going to save Christmas.”

——————

The fire had begun to burn out but you didn’t care to add any more wood. Your eyes were fixed on the dying flames as you absentmindedly sipped on the warm beer in your hands. Was being with John really worth it? Could you handle feeling like nothing but a burden or bed warmer any more?

You wanted to stay, you loved all three of the Winchesters so much. Yet, in the cold light of morning, after a night with John worshipping you and your body, when he would ignore your existence and dismiss you like just another one night stand, you felt lower than dirt.

You would give him Christmas, and then, you would be gone forever. The room glowed a dull orange with the sunset and your eyes drifted over to the window beside you. Snow was falling lazily from the sky, covering the junkyard in a layer of peaceful white.

“Kitty!” Your head snapped around and your breath caught in your throat as tears built up behind your eyes. Sam and Dean stood in the doorway, huge smiles on their faces, dressed up as little elves, complete with fake ears and hats with bells.

“Boys? What are you doing here?” Sam looked like he was about to sprint at you but a large hand suddenly appearing on his little shoulder stopped him. You laughed tearfully.

John stood behind his boys, dressed head to toe in a ridiculous red suit with matching hat. He was smiling brighter than you had ever seen him smile before. A full duffle bag was in his other hand, tinsel spilling from the open zipper. 

“Now, what did we practice in the car?” He prompted, eyes falling to the children in front of him.

“Merry Christmas Kitty!” They shouted together before Dean took a step forward and held out a piece of paper.

“Santa says you’ve been very good this year so you get a very spectial present.” 

“Special Dean.” John corrected.

“Special.” He nodded and then shuffled forward, holding the paper up even higher. Sam was visibly vibrating in his dad’s grip, eager to run at you. You slipped from the couch, landing painfully on your knees but you ignored the pain and instead took the paper from the 8 year old’s hands.

Dean smiled shyly as you turned it over. It was hard to make out at first like most drawings done by a child but as soon as the lines and colourful smudges became clear, the tears broke free. 

There were four figures carefully doodled on top of various stickers, two of them significantly taller than the other two. One smaller figure had a book in their hands, obviously Sam. While the other was holding what appeared to be a pie or scrambled eggs, you couldn’t really tell. It was Dean.

The bigger people were holding hands with a sloppy heart over their heads. The slightly taller one had a beer beside his feet and a dark beard while the wider person had cat ears on their head. It was you and John.

Written at the top of the paper in very sloppy handwriting was: ‘We love you kitty!’

Suddenly, your arms were full as Sam and Dean launched themselves at you. You pulled them to your chest and cried, your heart feeling so full and yet so broken at the same time. How could you have even thought about leaving these perfect little boys? 

Your chest shook with sobs as you held them as tight as you could. There was a thud and then another pair of arms wrapped around you. John’s chin rested on the top of your head, the boys nestled between you. “I love you, I’m sorry I never showed you the love you deserve.” His voice was thick with emotion.

“I love you too.” You murmured back, lifting your head to look him in the eyes. The edge of his lips turned up and he surged forward, capturing your own in a deep and passionate kiss that made you ache for more. 

“Ewwwww.” Sam gagged, trying to pull away but you just laughed and yanked him closer. John laughed heartily.

“Get used to it Sammy, kitty is never leaving us again.” You glanced at him curiously but he just smiled mysteriously at you. “Kitty is staying for good.” He gently cupped your full cheek, his thumb tracing the peak.

“I am?” You questioned playfully.

“You are.” He answered definitively. “Because it’s Christmas and family is supposed to be together on Christmas.” 

“Yeah!” Dean emphasised, excitedly wiggling against you. “And Santa needs Mrs. Claus! Everyone knows that!” 

“Oh really?”

“Yes!” Sam spoke up this time. “And daddy is Santa so you have to be his wife!”

You grinned. “I guess I have to agree then.” The boys cheered and John tightened his grip, tugging you away from them so he could kiss you once more.

“Merry Christmas Mrs Claus.”

“Merry Christmas Santa.”

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[dragonnan]

WIP GAME!

I've been tagged by the lovely @embroiderling

Rules: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

Okay there will be lots more under a cut....

Fandoms included: The Sandman, HTTYD, Doctor Who, SPN, MCU, Sherlock, Psych, and a smattering of one-offs

The Sandman

Art Story

Dream Angst Abuse Rescued by Hob

Dream PTSD

Hob and his life

HTTYD

Asgårdsreia 3

Doctor Who

Alternate Universe Pete's World Doctor

Donna Fix-It

Return of Adam

SPN

The Big Stink Chapter 3

Crossovers

Moonlight - Psych Van Helsing fanfic

Dr Who Meets Darth Vader

Doctor Strange Doctor Who Crossover

Simon & Simon and Psych Chapter 10

MCU

Avengers A New Beginning

Sed Diabolus

You'd Think That'd be as Bad as it Gets

Aunt May and Loki

The Snap Reversed

Therapist to Marvel Characters

Tony PMS

Untitled 1

backstory of Odin in the nursing home

Stephen Thrown in Ocean

Stephen with Wings

What Did You Do Bingo Prompt

Peter Quill on Earth

Bullied Teen Tony

Creepy Grooming Obie

Howard Stark POV on Tony

Howard Stark Returns

Peter Kidnapped

Tony home Invasion

Tony Stark Fisk

Sherlock

Faun Sherlock Story 2

John Mary Divorce

The Fire in Which We Burn

Mollys Dillemma

Sherlock Time Travel

Sherlock Witch Trials

Winged Sherlock

Psych

Gonna Wash That Man Right Outta My Snare (started by SydneyWoo and I took over later on)

Hubris 2.1

Shawn Yang fangirls

Shades of Grayish

Meet the Sheridans

Breaking Shawn

Worst Case of Crabs Ever

Dog Days of Santa Barbara

O Shawn Spencer, Where Art Thou?

I Need You to Like Me

Henry Protecting Shawn - Syd Birthday Fic

Moonlight Psych Halloween

Psych random

Rookie Juliet AU

Shawn loses leg

Shawn Tattoo Torture

Suicide By Psychic

Little Boy Lost

Gus Shoots Shawn

Henry and Shawn attacked in Alley

Highscool return of bully

Shawn starved torture

Gus stays with Psych to protect Shawn

Shawn drops Gus

Shawn shootout trauma

Radiator Burn

Vampire Psych Fic

Milk Carton

Shawn Shot in hand

Buzz Shawn buddy fic

Please consider yourself tagged if you see this on your dash!

[deanwinchesterswitch]

The Girlfriend Who Remade Christmas ~ Master Post

Summary: Dean’s holiday spirit is nowhere to be found. Fed up with his Grinch-like behavior, Nicole is determined to open his heart again to the wonders of the world around them and help him find joy in the Christmas season.

Pairing: Dean x Nicole/Nico/Nic {OFC} (Established Relationship)

Warnings: Fluff; Angst; Flirting-lots of flirting (sometimes sexually suggestive); Implied smut; Language (not too over the top); A bit of canon divergence

Share in Dean and Nic's journey. Visit The Road So Far Travel Map.

*Photos were taken by me or downloaded from Creative Commons sites Pixabay and Unsplash.*

Word Count: TBD ~ chapter length will vary greatly.

Beta(s): @princessmisery666 and @wayward-and-worn

Credit: The stunning title cards and dividers were made by @talesmaniac89. I love them so much!!

Author’s Notes: A sixteen-part series based on my SPN Christmas bingo card. Each square will tie into an overarching storyline. I will tag my Love Me Some Pie tag list (tagged for all Dean-centric fics). Let me know if you would like to be added. Fic titles are lyrics from songs that apply specifically to the square prompt or spirit of the story for that square. 

Part One ~ A Bad Banana

Part Two ~ See What the Time's Done

Part Three ~ Hail the New

Part Four ~ Sweetest Things

Part Five ~ Let Me Show You

Part Six ~ Take the Freeway Down

Part Seven ~ We Three Kings of Everything, Jack and Johnny, and Jim Beam

Part Eight ~ Fancy Ties n' Granny's Pies

Part Nine ~ A Babe So Dear

Love Me Some Pie tag list:

@123passwort // @akshi8278 // @asgoodasdancingqueen // @calaofnoldor // @compresshischest09 // @deaneverafter // @deans-baby-momma // @deans-spinster-witch // @deanwanddamons // @globetrotter28 // @iamsapphine // @idreamofplaid // @impala-dreamer // @iprobablyshipit91 // @irgendwas122 // @jerkbitchidjitassbutt // @justagirlinafandomworld // @justrealizedimmascifygurl // @ladysparkles78 // @lyarr24 // @mimaria420 // @mrswhozeewhatsis // @musicissmylife // @mvdeanw // @pallographsunspot // @princessmisery666 // @raisinggray // @shawnie74 // @thinkinghardhardlythinking // @thoughts-and-funnies // @waynes-multiverse // @wayward-and-worn // @waywardbaby // @weepingwillowphoenix // @yvonneeeee

[imagineteamfreewill]

A Collapsible Crutch Christmas

Title: A Collapsible Crutch Christmas

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: Canonical violence, broken bone and pain from moving a broken bone, vomiting, passing out, mentions of splinting a broken bone, snowstorm, angst with a fluffy ending

Square/Trope Filled: Blizzard (SPN Christmas Bingo) and Rescue Mission (25 Days of Tropes)

Summary: On a solo hunt, you find yourself not only nursing a major injury, but snowed into a cabin on Christmas.

A/N: This is a submission for the 2022 SPN Christmas Bingo (@spnchristmasbingo​)and fulfills a trope on my 25 Days of Tropes list! It is more angsty than my other Christmas fics, but I hope you all enjoy (even though it’s after the holidays). Dividers by @firefly-graphics​

25 Days of Tropes Masterlist

Highway 75 twisted through miles of deep forest, making it and the cabins nearby a picturesque location for honeymooning couples, college students on summer road trips, and families looking to unplug. It also made it perfect for wendigos and a handful of other creatures that liked to prey on the unsuspecting.

Snow crunched underneath your boots as you trekked away from the highway, heading for the log cabin you knew was a few miles in. The public trails all led in the opposite direction, but this was the shortest route and it would give you a chance to check out the area without worrying about civilians. Your backpack was full of nonperishable food and extra layers of clothing, along with your usual hunting supplies. You knew that Sam had slipped in an extra charger for your phone, along with batteries for the flashlight, and Dean had packed an extra knife somewhere in your bag. They always worried about you, despite the fact that you’d been hunting almost as long as they had. It wasn’t your first time going on a solo case, but the eeriness of the silent, winter woods made you wish that you’d taken Dean up on his offer to come with.

Behind you, the sun had sunk low on the horizon, casting shadows that stretched far across the ground. You shivered and zipped your coat up a little further, then pulled the maglight out of your pocket. It turned on with a click that felt far louder than necessary and you looked around.

The hair on the back of your neck stood up. Something was wrong. You slowed, then stopped and turned in a circle, shining the flashlight in every direction. The light glanced off the trees and made the snow on the ground almost blindingly white, but there were no monsters to be seen and nothing seemed out of the ordinary. You knew better, though. Your instincts were fine tuned after years of hunting, and when your gut told you something was wrong, you needed to listen.

You slipped your gun out of the thigh holster and clicked off the safety. After a moment, you began walking again, heading toward the cabin with a slightly faster pace. Your heart pounded in your chest and you stayed on high alert, all while trying not to trip over your boots or the bumpy forest floor hidden under the fresh powder. A cold wind blew through the trees, cutting through your clothing like a knife and making you curse under your breath. The first thing you’d have to do once you got to the cabin is start a fire to warm up, then eat. Your stomach had been growling ever since you’d parked in the public lot near the trailheads.

When the cabin was finally visible in the distance, you relaxed a little. As soon as you did, however, something grabbed your pack and yanked you backwards, sending you flying to the ground. Your flashlight flew out of your hand, its beam shining off to your right. You yelped, then lifted your gun and fired off two shots at the hulking beast above you. Its pale limbs blended into the snowy landscape, and it was only the weak light from the winter sunset that allowed you to see its face. 

You’d read up on the news reports before leaving the bunker. You, Sam, and Dean had all agreed that it was a single wendigo that was taking out the hikers and photographers who’d braved the weather to take pictures of the trees covered with snow and ice. The reports had all been consistently spread out several weeks apart for over a decade, but it had been almost three months since the last one. You’d been skeptical that this was even a case worthy of your attention—after all, another hunter could have easily offed the monster without your knowledge—but Sam had been certain that the wendigo was still out there.

Now, as the monster growled at you from above, you realized that Sam had been right. The weather had been so bad that the trails had been closed for two months now, which meant that not only were you dealing with an incredibly strong wendigo, but you were dealing with a very hungry one, too. There hadn’t been anyone for it to hunt, and now you were its main target.

You cursed and righted yourself, scrambling to your feet and moving as far away from the wendigo as you could. A flare gun was in your other thigh holster and you quickly pulled it out, but before you could shoot, the creature disappeared. The woods fell deathly silent again and you tried not to breathe so loudly as you listened for any sign of the wendigo.

Slowly, you turned in a circle, surveying the quickly darkening forest. The sun was almost completely below the horizon and the flashlight had flickered off. The only light visible was the outdoor safety light by the cabin door a quarter mile away.

You stayed silent as you carefully made your way toward the cabin again, this time with your handgun in one hand and the flare gun in the other. When you were only a few hundred feet from the rickety cabin porch, the wendigo grabbed at your arm. It yanked you to the right and your handgun went flying. It discharged once, sending a bullet into a nearby tree, then disappeared in the shadows and snow. The wendigo’s claws tore through your coat like butter. Immediately, the cold slipped in through your layers and a shiver ran down your spine, but the adrenaline making your heart pound would quickly negate its effects.

You struggled against its grip. When it became clear that there would be no escaping the hungry monster’s grasp, you twisted as much as possible to get the flare gun into your dominant hand so you could shoot with better aim. It took a few tries before you were able to grab it and get your finger onto the trigger. You had one shot, and though your heart thundered in your chest and every part of your brain was screaming at you to fight and get away, you took a deep breath and tried to calm yourself so you could focus. 

The trigger moved smoothly under your finger. You pulled and seconds felt like hours. You held your breath, listening as the flare lodged itself in the wendigo’s chest. It screeched and threw you away from itself, sending you flying through the air and into a fallen tree. Even over the creature’s horrific screams you heard the snap of your leg breaking upon impact. The snow did nothing to cushion your fall. You screamed too, your own cry mixing with the wendigo’s as it burned to ashes in the darkness of the forest.

All around you, the temperature continued to drop and snow began to fall. You clutched your thigh as sobs ripped through you, making your throat more and more hoarse with each passing minute. The pain shooting up your leg was unbearable every time you tried to move, and though you’d had worse injuries, you’d never had to face them alone.

Finally, rationality kicked in and you realized you had to get inside the cabin before hypothermia set in. The snow grew worse by the minute, and you vaguely remembered the radio host mentioning a blizzard coming down from the north. If you weren’t inside soon, you could freeze to death and nobody would find you for days. Getting to the cabin was your only hope of survival, no matter how painful it would be.

You groped around in the snow, digging through the heavy, wet powder until you were able to find one of the fallen tree’s branches. With the last bits of adrenaline still rushing through your veins, you pulled on it until it snapped off. It emerged from the snow with another firm tug, and then you were able to use it to push yourself up off the ground. The branch was long enough for you to use as a crutch if you hunched over. You just had to hope it would make it all the way to the cabin’s door.

The pain as you dragged yourself from where the wendigo had left you to the cabin porch was excruciating. Every survival instinct you had kicked in and you had to fight against yourself just to keep going. 

“Come on, come on, open!” you screeched. You banged on the front door with your fist, being mindful to keep your weight on your good leg and keep yourself propped against the cracked wooden doorframe. Your makeshift crutch had fallen down beside you, but you left it alone—you wouldn’t need it until you got this door open.

The door swung open into the cabin with one last heavy shove. You almost fell through into the living room when it did. Snow blew in as you stumbled inside, tripping over the threshold with a shout, and grabbed onto the back of the couch a few feet inside the door. Thankfully, you managed to avoid much impact on your broken leg, but you still had to stop for a minute and gasp for air as the snow continued to blow into the cabin from the open door behind you. Black spots danced in your vision as you held onto the couch with a white-knuckled grip, trying to catch your breath.

When you finally managed to summon the energy to stand upright again, you pivoted on one foot to reach back and grab the makeshift crutch you’d left on the porch. You shook off the snow before pulling it inside, then locked the door and hobbled around to the front of the couch, using the crutch to support you most of the way. The fireplace was barren, not even ashes had been left behind by the previous occupants, but you were able to lower yourself to the floor between it and the couch. A stack of locks had been pushed up against the wall and you sent your silent thanks to whoever had had the forethought to stock it for the next guest.

Slowly but surely, the warmth of the fire filled the cabin, and the light from the flames allowed you to get a better look around. The lamp nearby hadn’t turned on when you’d tried, leaving you to believe that either the power had gone out or there was a problem with the generator. Either way, you weren’t in any shape to investigate, so the fire would have to do.

Your energy was slowly being sapped away by all the movement, but you needed to splint your leg and figure out if there was anything other triaging you could do before you passed out. After taking a few deep breaths, you braced yourself with one hand on the couch cushions and pushed yourself up. You wobbled on your good leg for a second, then grabbed your crutch and headed for the bathroom you’d noticed on your way in. A first aid kit had been wedged in the cabinet under the sink, and with it safely in hand, you limped back to your spot on the floor.

You collapsed onto the now snow-soaked rug, heaving as bile rose up in your throat. The pain worsened with every movement you made, and having to get up to get the first aid kit had taken an extreme toll on you.

Over the next few hours, you drifted in and out of consciousness as you put your leg into a splint and tried to fix your injuries as best as you could until you could call for help. The blizzard raged outside, and each time you came to, you stoked the fire, threw up beside you, and tried to triage as best as you could before passing out again. At some point, you managed to peel off the holsters on both legs, lamenting the loss of your weapons. You hoped that they wouldn’t fall into the wrong hands.

A gust of cold wind coming in through the open door made your fire sputter, almost going out, and a shiver ran through your body before you could stop it. You groaned at the sharp knife of pain that went up your leg, then your hip and back.

“Shit! Sam, she’s hurt!”

Dean’s voice made you open your eyes just enough to catch a glimpse of his face as he hovered over you. He cupped your cheek in his hand but you whined and shied away at the chill of his gloves met your heated skin.

“How long has she been here?” Sam asked.

The door slammed closed and the howling of the blizzard grew muffled again. Beside you, there was a heavy thud. The wood floor of the cabin shook beneath you as Sam and Dean hurried around. Someone shifted your leg on the rug and you cried out. Your eyes flew open and Dean was immediately above you, his eyes frantically trying to meet yours. He grabbed your hands before you could do any harm to him or Sam.

“Hey, hey, Y/N. Hey, sweetheart. It’s okay. We’re just fixing your splint a little bit and tryin’ to figure out what happened. Can you talk to me?” 

You recognized that tone of voice—Dean was panicking, but he was trying not to show it. Something inside of you reminded you that he was mostly panicking because he didn’t know what had happened and that the wendigo was really gone. His anxiety wasn’t a sign that your leg was worse than you’d originally diagnosed.

It took you a moment, but you managed to croak out an answer. “It threw me,” you rasped. You licked your lips and swallowed against the sandpaper feeling in your mouth. “But it’s dead.”

He nodded and forced a small smile. His eyes were glossy, and in your pain-riddled mind, you knew that you didn’t want him to be.

“I’m okay,” you told him, and you tried to force a smile as well, but in reality, it was probably more of a weak grimace. “I think it’s just broken.”

Dean nodded again. “Okay. Okay. Sam’s gonna check it out. Did you take any painkillers?”

When you shook your head, he looked over his shoulder, then reached out and took the white bottle from his brother. With one hand, you tried to sit up without jostling your leg too much, but after throwing up so many times from the pain and the injury itself, you were weak. Dean noticed immediately, of course, and quickly ditched the bottle of pills to help you.

“Water?” you asked.

Sam was there immediately, holding out a bottle for you. You took it and he went back to searching through the first aid kit. Dean shook out a couple pills and passed them to you once you had the cap unscrewed on the bottle. You closed your eyes as you drank, panting against the open mouth of the bottle after a long drink, and when you opened them again, Dean had a bottle of whiskey in hand.

He smiled a little at your confused expression, then held up a packet of crackers you recognized from when you’d packed your bag. Behind him, Sam mumbled something and Dean shifted, moving from beside you to sit behind you so you could lean against his chest. He pulled you back against him and situated his legs on either side of you.

“Sam’s gonna fix your splint a little bit more so that when we travel back to the road, it’s a bit easier for you. Take a drink,” he instructed. 

You took the whiskey when he held it out to you from behind, lifting it to your lips and taking a long swig. The drink burned on the way down and you winced, shuddering slightly, and Dean chuckled. You felt it against your back when his chest rumbled with laughter. Relief flooded you when the realization hit you that things would be okay now. Sam and Dean were here—you weren’t alone.

Dean rubbed his hand over the thigh on your good leg and you leaned back against him a little more, tilting your head back to rest on his shoulder. You closed your eyes, wincing and grunting as Sam adjusted the split. Dean’s other hand found yours and you squeezed it hard.

“It’s okay,” he murmured. “It’s okay.”

You nodded. “Mmhmm. Keep talking?”

“We hadn’t heard from you, so we came looking.”

“In the—” You hissed in pain, your whole body tensing and your hand squeezing Dean’s even harder as Sam profusely apologized from where he bent over your injured leg. “In the middle of a blizzard?”

“It’s not so bad now,” Dean said. His voice was soft and low in your ear, and he paused to kiss the side of your head. “We borrowed some snowmobiles from the ranger station a few miles away. I’m surprised none of them came out here to check the cabins.”

You hummed, trying to focus on his voice and the warmth of the whiskey instead of the pain coursing through your body. The painkillers would be kicking in soon, but until then, you had to ignore the churning of your stomach and the pain trying to push you back into unconsciousness.

“I missed you so much. I was worried about you, and it’s Christmas Eve. We didn’t want to celebrate without you.”

If it was Christmas Eve, you’d been lying on the floor of the cabin for almost a full day. There was no light coming in from the windows of the living room; you’d been so out of it that you hadn’t even realized when the sun had been up, unless the snow from the storm had blocked it out entirely.

“It would’ve been okay,” you groaned. “We would’ve celebrated later.”

Reaching one arm around you, Dean pulled you back against him, holding you down as your reflexes tried to move you away from Sam as he worked. You cried out, tears slipping down your cheeks as your back arched against the pain.

“No, it wouldn’t have. Last year was our first Christmas together, but we got held up with that Crowley thing, so I didn’t get to celebrate properly with you. I wanted to be with you this year. I wasn’t gonna let a little snow stop me,” he said.

You laughed, a bit of a groan slipping through as you grit your teeth together and tried to stay still. “A little snow, huh?”

“A little snow,” Dean repeated, chuckling. “He’s almost done, sweetheart, and then we’re gonna get out of here.”

Sam spoke up as he tightened the split, and you forced your eyes open to look at him.

“We can’t leave now, Dean,” Sam said, and Dean shifted behind you. “Y/N needs to rest and hydrate. She probably needs to eat something, too.”

Your stomach churned again and you swallowed down the bile. “Don’t talk about food. Please.”

As Sam worked, Dean continued to comfort you and hold you, until finally, they would be able to move you. The painkillers had kicked in and once they moved you to the queen-sized bed in the only bedroom, you were able to relax for the first time in days. You refused the crackers when your stomach flipped at the sight of them, but Dean left them within reach of your spot on the mattress in case you woke up hungry. 

Sam stoked the small fireplace opposite the bed while Dean arranged the blankets and pillows for you, and as he moved, you caught a glimpse of the time on his watch.

“Dean,” you said, grabbing his hand as it moved past. “Dean, hey.”

He paused, looking down at you. When he saw you smiling at him, he chuckled and smiled back, then took his other hand to brush the hair off your sweaty forehead.

“Hey, sweetheart. You okay?”

You nodded. “I’m good. Those painkillers really helped,” you told him, laughing a little. He laughed again and carefully took a knee beside the bed so he was closer to eye level with you. “But guess what?”

“Are you going to say chicken butt again?” he asked, and you grinned a little wider.

“No. Merry Christmas.”

A little v-shaped wrinkle appeared between his eyebrows as he lifted his other hand to check his watch, and then he smiled again.

“12:03,” he read aloud. “Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

Drowsiness was creeping up on you, aided by the warmth of the blankets and the fire, and Dean seemed to sense it. He reached out again and ran a hand over your hair. His expression softened and the firelight made his eyes sparkle a little. 

At some point, Sam had left the room, so when Dean leaned in to kiss you, you reached up to keep him close. Compared to other kisses, it didn’t even rank in terms of intensity, but you knew you’d remember this one for a long time. He braced one hand on the mattress and lifted himself up to lean just slightly over you, and you shifted to the side to kiss him better. His other hand slid up from your cheek to tangle into your hand for just a moment before he pulled away. You kept him close, one hand gripping the slightly damp fabric of his jacket. After a moment, you opened your eyes, but you had to blink a few times to focus on his face.

Dean smiled, chuckling slightly before pressing a second kiss to your forehead. “I love you. Get some rest, okay? I’ll come check on you in a few hours,” he murmured.

You whined and gripped his jacket a little tighter. “No, stay.”

He pried your fingers from the lapel. “Sam and I have a couple things to take care of. I promise I’ll be back.”

Nodding, you relaxed back against the pillows and released him fully. You kept smiling even as he exited the room, then closed your eyes. It felt like only moments had passed when you opened them again, but sunlight was peeking through from behind the curtains. The fire still crackled, though the stack of logs beside it had gone down, meaning that Dean had kept his promise to check on you throughout the night.

Groaning, you shifted yourself to sit up a little bit more in the bed. “Dean?” you called. “Sam?”

Silence answered you and panic fluttered in your chest for a brief moment. You were about to call again when the door swung open and Dean stepped inside, smiling. He quickly shut the door behind him.

“Hey, how you feelin’?” he asked.

You smiled a little, still fighting against sleep, and yawned. “Still not great, but better than before. Are we going home today?”

He nodded and came toward the bed. “Hospital first, then home, but uh… There’s something else we have to do first.”

Smile fading, you helped Dean move the blankets off your legs, then accepted the water bottle and pills he’d set out on the bedside table while you’d been asleep.

“Is everything okay? Was there another disappearance?”

His eyes grew wide and he carefully pushed you down by the shoulder when you started to sit up even further. “No. Hey, no. Everything’s fine, Y/N. You got it. It’s dead. Relax for a second.”

“Then what do we have to do?”

Dean didn’t answer, but Sam knocked and stuck his head in the door. “She ready?” he asked. When Dean nodded, Sam opened the door the rest of the way and held out a pair of crutches.

You propped yourself up on both hands, looking between them with a smile. “Where did you even find those?”

They handed them off to you and Dean helped you carefully pivot on the bed, then stand, using the crutches to support your weight. Sam had fixed the splint well enough that you were able to follow the two of them out into the living room of the cabin.

“What— What is all this?”

An evergreen tree had been propped up in one corner. Pinecones and balls of tinfoil had been used in place of ornaments and there were stockings hung on the mantle of the fireplace. The fire crackled, warming the entire room and from where you stood, you could spy three bowls of soup and mugs of hot chocolate set out on the coffee table you’d originally shoved out of the way.

You laughed, at a loss for words. “What—? How?”

Dean led you over to the couch and helped you settle in the middle, smiling wide. “We brought the stockings and the presents—”

“The presents?” you asked, gaping at him.

Sam laughed and set a few wrapped packages beside you. You glanced at them, looked up at him, and then over at Dean again.

“The soup and hot chocolate was in your bag and the dishes were in the cabinets,” Sam explained. “The crutches were part of an emergency kit loaded onto the snowmobiles. They’re collapsible ones, but they’re better than that stick you had when we showed up.”

The couch dipped as Dean sat on the other side of you, and the packages slid down against your leg. He set his hand on your thigh, smiling.

“I know it’s not a real Christmas with lights and a fancy dinner, but I was thinking that it was better than nothing,” 

Smiling, you reached up to cup his face with one hand, keeping his gaze on you. “It’s perfect,” you told him. “I love it.”

You kissed him, just as gently as the night before, and brushed your thumb over his cheekbone. He squeezed your thigh in return.

Thank you for reading! <3

If you liked this story, please reblog! That is the best way to share your love for my work and to spread it so that other people can enjoy this story. If you would like to support me further, please consider supporting my writing by donating on Ko-fi, supporting me on Patreon, or commissioning a story of your own!

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[smowkie]

finished my third bingo card from @ficreadingchallenge, woo! thanks again for such a fun challenge 💖

list of fics under the cut

1 pets

like a boat at sea by coffinbirth

Will & his dogs, Hannibal, 926 w, rated teen

summary:

“It’s all right, Harley,” Will murmurs, as the dog peers up at him intently from beneath her heavy brow. “I’m all right. We got all we need, don’t we? Just us.”

2 under the influence

Pass the Kanar by Fanfic_For_The_Void

Garashir, DS9, 6,592 w, rated teen

summary:

After a long day at work, Julian shares a deeply discounted bottle of Kanar with Garak.

3 secret identity

Iron Man: Unavailable, Tony Stark: In Trouble by navaan

Stony, MCU, 40,779 w, rated teen

summary:

After what happened in New York the Avengers with the help of Tony Stark are trying to become more independent. The team has grown together and for Steve Iron Man is a big part of that, although he has some trouble getting along with his employer. Then Steve faces a bit of a mystery when Tony Stark gets kidnapped – and Iron Man, who is supposed to be the man's bodyguard when he's not an Avenger, is nowhere to be found.

4 author's oldest fic

A Friend in Need by AuroraNova

Julian & Jadzia, DS9, 1,833 w, rating teen

summary:

“Drinking alone isn’t any fun.”

5 new author (< 1 year)

Late One Night by uv_DatLakeLady

Sam & Dean, SPN, 666 words, rated gen

summary:

Sam and Dean have a silly chat on a serious matter, while grave-digging.

6 angst

Far From Home by cucumbermoon

Garashir, DS9, 47,041 k, rated teen

summary:

Julian had always longed for adventure. More than that, he’d longed for a desperate adventure, the kind where all the odds were stacked against you, and every step was a struggle, and every breath a victory. He probably would have come to Cardassia even if he hadn’t missed Garak. He hoped that was true. He couldn’t touch it, really, couldn’t scrape the dust away from his thoughts enough to name it, but Garak was different.

7 future AU

call me by the old familiar name by simplyprologue

Garashir, DS9, 40,359 w, rated mature

summary:

Fourteen years after the end of the Dominion War, Bajor and Cardassia are finally poised to enter the United Federation of Planets, together. But when Castellan Garak and Military Minister Kira find the body of Julian Bashir—with a heavily encrypted datarod containing the last fifty years of covert operations by Section 31 in his hand—on the eve of the treaty signing on Deep Space Nine, negotiations fall apart. There is some nuance to it, of course, but what is nuance when your friend’s dead body has been found in a stasis container in Cargo Bay Four? Or, Julian dies in the name of service to the Alpha Quadrant, but does a poor job staying dead. It does get his friends back together in one place, though.

8 secret relationship

Quintessence by mrbarbacarisi

Garashir, DS9, 11,832 w, rated teen

summary:

“So, to recap,” Garak said, “you have a stranger’s soul living inside you that could take over at any minute. It caused you to be in shock for two days, lose time, and then breakdown with a migraine less than an hour ago. And now, we may have to go all the way across the Alpha Quadrant to participate in a religious ceremony to get rid of it.” Julian laughed. “That sounds about right.”

9 holiday fic

The Best Part of Waking Up by entropic_saudade

Wincest, SPN, 799 w, rated mature

summary:

Dean is home for the holidays. Based off the infamous Folgers Christmas commercial from 2009. You know the one.

10 happy ending

Penultimate Rites by ro_moray

Garashir, DS9, 15,975 w, rated teen

summary:

Julian Bashir returns from a five-year mission in the Gamma Quadrant and is greeted by some distressing news from Cardassia Prime. Garak is dying, again—and it seems like there might not be anything he can do about it this time.

11 road trip

running into the sun by kiden

Stony, MCU, 3,267 w, rated teen

summary:

There are other people Steve could ask. Sam or Nat. Even Clint would make more sense. It's not that they aren't friends - they are, they're good friends, hard won, fought for, worked on - it's just weird. They can live together and fight together, but Tony's not so sure a few weeks with just the two of them in a car is a good idea. It's definitely not a smart idea. "Can you repeat that, please?" or: tony and steve go on a nice, soft road trip that brings them closer together.

12 bodyswap

Bodyswap by thisroadsofar (orphan_account)

Wincest, SPN, 130 w, rated mature

summary:

Shortest bodyswap fic ever, pretty sure.

free space

A Civil Death by Regann

Garashir, DS9, 13,896 w, rated teen

summary:

Coincidence brings Garak back to Deep Space Nine where Bashir is determined to save him from an ominous threat, even if he doesn't want to be saved.

13 podfic

[Podfic] Trade-offs by Philosopher_King read by DevilWithABirdDress

Garashir, DS9, ~1 min, rated gen

summary:

Julian reflects on what he has sacrificed to be with Garak.

14 lyric title - listen to the song too!

Love is a Burning Thing by Fanfic_For_The_Void

Garashir, DS9, 2,015 w, rated teen

summary:

After their first night together, Julian wants to make something special for Garak. What could go wrong?

15 werewolf AU

Kindling the Hearth by KandiSheek

Stony, MCU, 2,044 w, rated teen

summary:

Transforming on the new moon can leave werewolves pretty damn sore. Steve is no exception, despite the super soldier serum. So Tony takes it upon himself to keep his boyfriend warm, fed and happy in the aftermath.

16 hurt/comfort

End Racism in the OTW || Trust Fall by treepyful (treeperson)

Garashir, DS9, 13,089 w, rated teen

summary:

So Laurel, how did you spend your shore leave? Oh, you know, just helped hold down the CMO while his terrifying Cardassian husband stabbed him in the chest with a giant skewer – the usual. * A shuttle trip gone awry leaves Ensign Hart and Mr. Garak to tend to a gravely injured Dr. Bashir.

17 BFFs

A Body, In Parts by RocksInMyShoe

Robin & Steve (background Steddie), Stranger Things, 2,096 w, rated gen

summary:

“Hey Steve,” she starts, her eyes brightening as she wiggles her toes. “We made it.” And he sees the relief, palpable in the exhale of her breath. He gently reaches for her ankle and squeezes. He opens his mouth to answer and he- or; Glimpses of Steve (and Robin) learning how to live after the spring break of 1986.

18 vampire AU

The Cure by gladdecease

Garashir, DS9, 1,175 w, rated gen

summary:

"You have two options," the doctor said. "Well, three, but I don't approve of the third option and will probably ask you to reconsider if you choose it."

19 crossover fic

new york, new york by givebackmylifecas

Buddie, 911 & Barisi, SVU, 5,793 w, rated teen

summary:

Eddie turns to look at Buck, squished into the middle seat of the cab and smiles. On Buck’s other side, Chris is pressed to the dirty window, staring out at the city. “You okay?” Buck asks quietly. Eddie nods. “Yeah. Just wish we didn’t have to go to give witness statements on our vacation.” “I feel you,” Buck says, bumping his knee against Eddie’s. “But hey, we’ll wrap this up quickly and then we can go see the Statue of Liberty.” Buck, Eddie, and Chris take a trip to New York and accidentally become witnesses in an SVU case. Helping out the detectives leads Eddie to learn some things about himself and his relationship with Buck.

20 gen fic

One Cube, Two Cube, Red Cube, Blue Cube by Fanfic_For_The_Void

TOS, 1,272 w, rated teen

summary:

It’s lunchtime on the Enterprise, but a member of the bridge crew is missing. A little vignette about colourful food cubes, the dangers of the job, and the taste of home.

21 short fic (<1000 words)

Plant Friends (Or: Garak's Second-Favourite Lunch Companion) by ConceptaDecency

Garak & Keiko (background Garashir), DS9, 585 w, rated teen

summary:

Garak's second-favourite lunch companion grills him about the changes in his relationship with his favourite lunch companion.

22 domestic/curtain fic

Cards on the Table by fictionallemons

Wincest, SPN, 3,385 w, rated mature

summary:

After Jack leaves, it’s just the two of them left in the bunker. Dean realizes what he wants next, and decides to put all his cards on the table at last.

23 unfinished/in progress

Archimedes Snippets by AuroraNova

Garashir, DS9, 2,771 w, rated gen

summary:

Glimpses of Julian and Garak's new life on the USS Archimedes, featuring Starfleet Spouse Garak.

24 multichapter fic

The Book Club is a Lie, and Bashir, a Liar by Cosmo_is_Beink_Melon

Garashir, DS9, 21,928 w, rated teen

summary:

Julian tells a lie. It has unexpected consequences. Garak hears a lie. Lies do not bother a liar. Usually.

[spnfanficpond]

Rating: Explicit

Archive Warning: Rape/Non-Con

Category: M/M

Fandom: Supernatural

Relationship: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester

Characters:

Dean Winchester

Sam Winchester

John Winchester

Additional Tags:

Rape

Date Rape Drug/Roofies

Non-Consensual Drug Use

Abuse of Authority

Control

Obedience

Father Figures

Loyalty

Pre-Stanford Era (Supernatural)

Unrequited Love

Pining Dean Winchester

Abusive John Winchester

Top Dean Winchester

Bottom Sam

Sibling Incest

Non-Consensual Somnophilia

Somnophilia

John Winchester Being an Asshole

Anal Sex

Spit As Lube

Crying Dean Winchester

Poor Sam Winchester

Poor Dean Winchester

Barebacking

Unrequited Lust

Dean Winchester is John's Good Little Soldier

Smut

Heavy Angst

Sexual Abuse

Not Suitable/Safe For Work

Dark

Ambiguous/Open Ending

Manipulation

Lies

Voyeurism

Voyeur John Winchester

Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

Language: English

Collections: SPN Kink Bingo, SPN Masquerade Fall 2021

Published: 2021-10-24

Words: 7,935

[holylulusworld]

Always daddy’s good girl (3) - Kinktober 8

Summary: You are still mad at John...

Rating: lightly explicit

Kinktober Special: Daddy kink

Square 4 filled for @spnkinkbingo: Teasing

Square 15 filled for @spnaubingo​: Public sex

Square 4 filled for @j3bingo​ former @jdmorganmixedbingo 

Pairing: John Winchester x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, language, daddy kink, age gap, established relationship, needy John, dirty talk, light smut, unprotected sex, quickie, voyeurism

A/N: 3rd installment to: Daddy’s good girl & Still daddy’s good girl

Words: 1,3 k

Kinktober 2022

2021 SPN AU BINGO masterlist

2022 SPN KINK BINGO masterlist

Jeffrey Dean Morgan Mixed Bingo masterlist

Another month later John wants you to join the Winchesters for a night out. The last hunt was a piece of cake and now, the boys are up to cheap drinks, fast sex, and celebrating the hunt. Or life in general.

“No,“ you cross your arms over your chest. “Forget it. I won’t go anywhere with you. You still didn’t make things up to me.”

“Doll, don’t be a brat,” John grumbles. He wraps his arms around your waistline from behind to bury his face in your hair. “I apologized. Let daddy buy you drinks and make things up to you some more.”

“Sex and drinks won’t fix that you broke my trust. You just let that guy watch us fuck. I’m not a prude, but letting strangers watch us is a hard limit.”

“I know,” he softly kisses your neck. “I’m sorry, Y/N. This will never happen again. Your man is a jealous and possessive old bastard. But I learned my lesson.”

“I don’t think you did. You only want to get laid again,” you smirk as Sam and Dean walk inside the library. “Look what the cat dragged into the bunker. Two lumberjacks.”

“Did you forgive him?” Dean grumbles. His father is in a bad mood since you forced a dry spell on the hunter. Every chance he gets, John makes sure his sons can’t get laid themselves. 

If John suffers, he won’t let his boys have fun either.

“Like hell,” you size Dean up. “Do you think I’ll just forgive him for what he did? No. Fucking. Way. John Winchester must learn his lesson.”

“What did he do?” Sam huffs as you still refuse to tell them what happened. John presses his lips into a thin line while his sons try to interrogate you. “Y/N, what did he do?”

“He didn’t cheat, right?” the elder brother presses on. “Right?”

“I would’ve castrated him if he cheated on me,” your eyes darken as John tries to kiss your cheek. “If he puts his dick in another pussy, he’s dead.”

“I would never cheat on you, baby,” John mumbles against you. “I swear. You’re the only woman I want. And the only woman I had sex with since we met.”

“Sir, can you not make things up to Y/N? You are on the edge for weeks.”

“Stop asking stupid questions, Winchester.”

Dean easily dodges your attack when you try to punch his chin. 

“No violence, sweetheart.”

“I’ll shoot you,” you grumble, “if you don’t stop asking stupid questions. What happens between me and your daddy is none of your business.”

“Boys, go and change. We will go to the bar and have some drinks. Maybe my girl will forgive me too.”

“In your dreams, Winchester.”

“Careful,” John whispers in your ear. “I’m still your daddy. If you don’t stop acting like a bad girl, I’ll treat you like a bad girl.”

“Well, maybe I should look for a new daddy then,” you wiggle out of John’s embrace.

He sighs deeply as you walk out of the library.

“Baby, I told you that I’m sorry…”

“Just a little more,” you think to yourself. 

John is on the edge. You insisted on dancing tonight. He reluctantly agreed and now, he regrets his decision. You press your ass into his crotch and grind into him.

“Doll,” he warns. “Don’t make me lose control.”

You smirk. 

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” you move your hand behind your head to pat his cheek. “I’m dancing, daddy.”

“You’re getting me hard.”

“That’s not my fault. Maybe you should learn to control your libido, John,” he wraps one arm around your waistline to hold you against his body. John starts to grind his raging hard-on into your ass.

“You are a little troublemaker,” he purrs in your ear. “But I’ll show you how to be a good girl, doll. Daddy will make sure you know whom you belong to.”

Dean watches you turn in his father’s embrace. He chuckles as you shamelessly cup John’s crotch, making even his father blush.

“Sammy, I think we are going to get laid tonight.”

“Dean, we didn’t even talk to one of the women,” Sam huffs. “How do you wanna know that we are going to get laid?“

“Call it a hunch…”

You watch John spread your legs roughly. He darts his tongue out while looking at your dripping cunt.

“See, I told you to not tease your daddy,” he slaps your pussy with his cock, making you whine. It’s been too long for you without sex too. “Do you even deserve my cock?”

John watches you cup your tits. “Cat got your tongue, doll? If I ask you a question,” he slaps your pussy with his hand, “I expect you to answer.”

“Daddy needs to make things up to me,” you coo. “You promised to have sex with me on the Impala to fuck with Dean.

“You really want to mess with my son, huh?”

You giggle.

“I really want to ruin his car with your cum, daddy,” you crook your finger. “Please fuck me. I can’t wait any longer.”

John grip one of your thighs. His blunt nails dig into your flesh as he teases your entrance with the tip of his cock. “I think you deserve to get fucked by daddy.”

“I do.”

“Daddy is going to give it to you. I know you have missed my cock.”

He slowly inches his way inside your dripping cunt, not giving away he has something special planned for tonight. “Fuck, you’re always so hard for me, baby.”

“Only for you.”

John hooks your legs over his forearms. He wants to control your body and make sure, you won’t move too much. “Hmm…so good and big…”

“So wet and pretty,” you chuckle at his words. “This is my sweet cunt. The one I own. No one touches what’s mine.”

You’re propping yourself up on your elbows to watch John move his hips. His eyes are glued to his cock sliding in and out of your slicked cunt. He can’t look away, even though, he wants to watch your reaction.

Little gasps and moans leave your lips, letting John know that he hits your sweet spot.

John doesn’t have to look at your face. He already knows your lips parted a long time ago and that your eyes are closed. You always close your eyes when the pleasure gets too much.

“Daddy.”

“Shit, you’re already close, aren’t you?”

“’m gonna cum,” shit, it has been too long for you. Your pussy clamps hard down his cock a few thrusts later, dragging John with you over the edge.

“Damn, babe. I wanted to go for longer,” he breathlessly says. “Fuck…fuckity…fuck. That fucking cunt of yours, doll.”

“I don’t fucking care,” you fall back onto the hood to catch your breath. “I love me a quickie on Dean’s car.”

“You’re a dirty girl.”

“You’re a dirty daddy.”

“What the fuck!!!” 

“Uh-oh. I think Dean caught us red-handed, daddy,” you giggle as John doesn’t give a shit his son walks toward his car. He still rolls his hips to ride your highs out.

“I said – what the fuck are you doing on my car!!” the hunter yells at John and you. “You can’t just fuck on my car!”

“It’s still my car.”

“You gave it to me.”

“Deano don’t be mad. I always dreamed of getting fucked on your car,” you wink at Dean. “Did you enjoy the show too, Sammy?”

“Warn me next time,” Sam shudders, but his eyes drift toward your chest. “Stuff for nightmares. Watching your father fuck your stepmother is the worst.”

“Don’t act as if there is no tent in your pants, Sammy.”

Sam's cheeks turn bright red at your words.

“How about you go back to that pretty girl you were chatting up earlier? I think she wants to ride some dick tonight…”

“You will clean my fucking car,” Dean turns around to storm back toward the bar. “I’m getting drunk to get the images of my father’s naked ass out of my head.”

“It’s a great ass,” you snicker as the brothers hurriedly walk away. “Don’t come home before you got laid. I and your daddy want to christen the bunker tonight…”

“And don’t think you will ever see my girl naked again,” John yells. “She is and always will be daddy’s good girl…” 

Tags in reblog.

[minefield-of-a-ninja]

All fics are 18+ ONLY unless otherwise noted

SERIES

*at least three parts or chapters

Combat Baby - Dean Winchester x Jo Harvelle

Summary: Dean’s sweet, but Jo likes him nasty

Warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, canon divergent, rough sex, dirty talk, brief name-calling, exhibitionism, role play, squirting

Words: IN PROGRESS

If We Make It Through December - Dean Winchester x Donna Hanscum

Summary: Donna is horrified to learn that the boys have never had a proper Christmas, so she invites them to her house for the holiday.

Warnings/tags: canon/divergent, there was no rebar, 18+ ONLY, fluff, light angst, domesticity, holiday celebrations

Words: IN PROGRESS

The Mud On Your Boots - Dean Winchester x Donna Hanscum

Summary: Dean and Donna finally give in.

Warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, canon divergent, dirty talk, fluff, consent is sexy, period sex, fisting, blood as lube, shower sex

Words: IN PROGRESS

Temporary Scars - Dean Winchester x Donna Hanscum x Benny Lafitte

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, angst, Donna has intimacy issues, Dean’s the sweetest, self-sabotage, sort of established relationship, Benny’s swoony as fuck, Dean’s in love, tags on each part

Word: IN PROGRESS

Where Is My Shiny Gun? -  Dean Winchester x Donna Hanscum (voyeur Sam Winchester)

Summary: Sam finds himself in a quandary when he realizes he has feelings for Donna by way of the obvious mutual attraction between her and Dean.

Warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, canon divergent, Sam is kinky, Dean is adorable, so is Donna, Dean likes to give Donna massages, Sam directing while masturbating, brief spanking + breast slapping, brief knife play - no blood

Word Count: 7785

ONE-SHOTS

*one and done, usually 2k or more

Bad Girls Underneath -  Ruby 2.0 x Dean Winchester x Jo Harvelle

Summary: Ruby and Jojo get hit by sex pollen, again, but this time, they need Dean's help.

Warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, magical dick/male gaze bullshit, probably too much commentary and emotional complication, why am I like this, I’m sorry, sometimes I can’t help myself, fisting, brief choking

Words: 2,600

Cactus - Dean Winchester x Meg Masters x Castiel

Summary: Post-battle, exhausted and wanting, Dean and Meg and Cas take care of each other.

Warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, rimming, choking, dreamlike sex, Dean’s always hungry

Words: 3,200

Moving Furniture - Steve!Cas x Meg Masters 2.0

Summary: She’s been gone for a year – sacrificed herself to save Sam and her unicorn – but Cas still dreams about her.

Warnings/tags: non-explicit dream sex, fluff, shmoop, there’s a dog

Words: 2K

Summary: During a pit stop for gas and snacks, Meg promises to keep an eye on Emmanuel while Dean does his shopping.

Warnings/tags: mature, Meg shenanigans, coming while clothed

Smokestack Lighting - Sam Winchester x Rowena Macleod

Summary: It’s been a long time coming, and the dam finally breaks.

Warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, height difference, sex magic

Words: 2200

FLASHFIC

*random ideas, prompts, challenges, usually less than 1k

Because You’re Worth It - Sam Winchester x Rowena Macleod

Prompt: Sam Winchester ends up with his hair cut shorter than it has ever been.

Warnings/tags: crack-ish, mature, fluff, Dean being insensitive about Sam’s glorious mane, Rowena saving the day

Words: 790

Being Human - Castiel + Dean Winchester

Summary: Cas gives Dean a break.

Tags: Dean and Cas being Dean and Cas.

Words: 555

Carrion - Ruby 2.0 x Sam Winchester

Summary: While Sam sleeps, Ruby plays.

Warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, dark contemplation, somnophilia

Words: 340

Celibacy, Interrupted - Jody Mills x Sam Winchester

SPN Kink Bingo Square Filled: Facials

Warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, blow job, sam has no refractory period bc this is fic

Word Count: 570

Fifth Base - Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Rowena MacLeod

Prompt: surly, scruffy Dean — maybe trying to get back to business after a wild night? But the aches and panties in his pocket keep distracting him?

Tags: snarky, hungover Dean

Words: 470

Foxholes - Annie Hawkins x Bobby Singer/Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester

Summary: Annie recalls time spent with each man and what their facial hair told her about them.

Warnings/tags: mature language and references to sexual activity

Words: 340

If You Don’t, Dear, Confess - Sam Winchester x Rowena Macleod

Prompt: Sam has dream about being seduced by Rowena in the bunker that gets interrupted/woken by Dean?

Warnings/tags: mature

Words: 620

I’ll Keep Them Still - Dean Winchester x Jo Harvelle

Summary: Dean remembers promises and pictures in his mind. And he remembers her.

Warnings/tags: mature, songfic, angst, dream/afterlife sequences, purple prose, I’m sorry

Words: 1K

It’s Not Delivery - Sam Winchester x Rowena Macleod, Castiel x Meg (mentioned), Dean Winchester x adult female actresses in costume (in his head)

Summary: Sam wants to play D&D, Castiel is confused, Rowena is Rowena, and Dean is drunk and amused.

Notes: disappointed Sam, comforting Rowena, mischievous Meg, Dean likes porn, and pizza, and whiskey, one F-bomb

Words: 435

I Know All Your Graces - Donna Hanscum x female reader, mentions of Dean Winchester x Donna + reader

Prompt: Donna x fem!reader with the line “that sounded a lot better in my head” please?

Warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, fisting, breast play

Words: 600

Magic Sex & French Fries - Jo Harvelle x Ruby 2.0

Prompt: Great Big Lesbian prompt: SPN, Jo and Ruby II have to have sex to save the world. Or something. Sex pollen? I don’t care. 😘

Warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, sex pollen, fisting, confuzzled boys

Words: 1K

Meanwhile… - Sam Winchester x Jody Mills

Prompt: I don’t even remember your rules, but listen Sam and Jody hooked up while Dean was banging the porn star.

Warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY

Words: 500

Not Fade Away - Emmanuel!Cas x Meg Masters

Summary: During a pit stop for gas and snacks, Meg promises to keep an eye on Emmanuel while Dean does his shopping.

Warnings/tags: mature, Meg shenanigans, coming while clothed

Words: 350

On Your Six - AU Dean Winchester + his 11yo daughter

Prompt: Write something fluffy with NO smut or angst! So sickeningly sweet that our teeth fall out 🤪😘

Tags: Dean is basically my dad lol

Words: 480

The Prerogative To Have A Little Fun - Donna x Jody, Donna x Jody x Sam + Dean (kinda)

Prompt: Donna’s visiting Jody for the weekend and the boys swing by on their home from a hunt. Dean mows the lawn, Sam fixes a leaky showerhead, Dean makes dinner, and they both do the dishes. Meanwhile, the ladies sit back and enjoy the domestic display. Really, really enjoy. In fact, once the boys drive off to head home, they decide to help each other work out their frustrations. 😉

Warnings/tags: mature, men doing manly things, inspired by Shania Twain’s song “Man! I Feel Like A Woman”, voyeurism

Words: 1K

Reciprocus - weechesters then bigchesters, John  Winchester, female character

Prompt: “I wasn’t supposed to have favorites.”

Notes: angst

Words: 950

Samwena - Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Rowena Macleod, and a very fluffy puppy

Prompt: I want some snarky Rowena and petulant Sam and just fuck me up however you see fit.

Tags: 1st person Dean POV

Words: 780

Soft Cell - Dean Winchester + teenaged female character

Prompt: Dean x reader dancing in the bunker

Tags: one F-bomb

Words: 720

Till The Clock Struck On The Twelve - Jo Harvelle x Ruby 2.0

Summary: Jo and Ruby hit the town. Ruby dons a necktie and insists on being called Daddy for the night.

Warnings/tags: mature, purple prose, male gaze forbidden, Daddy Kink

Words: 325

Virtues - Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Rowena Macleod, Castiel

Prompt(s): 1) "Have you ever licked a lamppost in winter?" 2) "Oh, what a beautiful bloodbath." "Don't forget the glitter!" 3) "Patience is a virtue." "Not right now, it isn’t!"

Warnings/Tags: couple of f-bombs, weechesters

Words: 970

We Shall Go Until We Die - Bela Talbot

Summary: A letter to Sam and Dean.

Tags: I liked Bela.

Words: 225

Whiskey, Leather, and Lace - Arthur Ketch x female reader

Summary: She doesn’t love him.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, bondage, panty gag, orgasm control

Words: 400

You Want It, You’re Wanted - Sam Winchester x Gabriel

Summary: Mutual gratification is the name of the game.

Warnings/tags: mature, Wartenberg wheel, tiny bit of blood

Words: 320