#supernatural reader insert

[couldyouimagine-that]

Cuddles with Satan, Pt. 3

Genre; hurt/comfort, fluff

Word Count; 2.1k

Warnings; Canon-typical violence and death at the start, which you can skip if you wish. Dean being mean to the reader (but I love him, really I do). Reader has a bad head injury but it’s mostly the psychological aspect which is described. Lucifer being Lucifer (though per usual, a fluffier take on him).

Pairings; Lucifer (Supernatural) x Reader

Hi all! The long awaited and sought after (by some) part three of Cuddles with Satan is here! I had a lot of fun writing this one, hope it was worth the wait. This version of Cuddles involves wings :)

Masterlist

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It was yet another bad day. In fact, it was the worst one you’d had for a long time.

You had misjudged a situation involving what you thought was a single demon. There turned out to be four of them, two of which came at you from behind immediately after you had told Sam and Dean to go ahead and rescue the people who were being held deeper in the warehouse. Because you could handle it. Once they’d beat you bloody, one of them had hit you over the back of the head with a lump of wood so hard that you’d passed out. When you came to, Sam was hauling you vaguely upright. Dean ran past without a glance your way, a young man draped across his shoulders and covered in blood.

You didn’t remember getting to the impala, but then trees were streaking past rapidly with Dean behind the wheel. Sam was trying to stem the main cause of bleeding on the man who was now slumped on the seat beside you. Dean swore and slammed his palms down on the wheel when Sam gave up because the man had stopped breathing. The next thing he screamed at was you.

You were almost grateful that your head was ringing too badly for you to hear every word he spat, but a few things were rolling around on repeat. The three people had all died, because the place was crawling with demons. You had said there was only one and you could handle it, so their blood was on your hands. If you had done your job and stopped the demons you were fighting, those people would still be alive. You thought somewhere in your dazed state that he was right.

Sam had taken a few verbal swings at his brother in your defence, but you were just too out of it to pay attention. You had the feeling that you were hurt worse than either of the Winchesters realised. But Dean was driving at breakneck speed to the bunker anyway, and you could get help soon. Or so you hoped. With Castiel wherever the hell he had disappeared off to, Lucifer was your single option. You had no doubt he would want something in return, but with your thoughts growing fuzzy, all you could do was focus on him and mentally cross your fingers.

Dean stormed off the minute he cut the engine. Sam moved to help you out of the car, but you waved him off as best you could. Convinced him to deal with the man who had lost his life instead. He lifted up the guy like he weighed nothing, gone from the garage in the time it had taken you to get both feet planted on the floor. You realised you were swaying at random when you tried to lead your head on the car seat and couldn’t manage. The movement caused an onslaught of nausea which you closed your eyes against, and that was of course the moment your saving grace – he’d probably hate to be called that – decided to show up.

You hadn’t heard Lucifer say your name too many times, but you could hardly believe how soft his voice sounded. He laid a firm yet gentle hand on your knee and made no comment when you couldn’t so much as acknowledge his presence. The next thing you knew, your vision had cleared, the nausea was gone, and a throbbing pain at the back of your head which you hadn’t even noticed became conspicuous by its absence. The suddenness of it all sent you pitching forwards – and straight into Lucifer’s arms. Your forehead came to rest on his shoulder and he kept you there with a hand on the back of your head. You took the excuse to stay put and catch your breath, though you couldn’t have extricated yourself even if you had wanted to.

Without a word, the archangel looped his arms beneath your knees and around your back, and you opened your eyes to find you were now in the room he had taken as his own. He deposited you on the comforter atop his bed with a care you wouldn’t have believed he was capable of. When you tried to sit up, he pushed your shoulders down easily.

“Stay there,” Lucifer told you. He spoke quietly, but his calm demeanour was betrayed by his blazing crimson eyes.

It had taken you long enough to realise, but the Devil was furious. You had somehow missed the tension defining his posture, the agitated way he couldn’t quite stand still. You were still in a bit of shock, but your mind was slowly clearing. It was about to become a very bad day for the objects of his anger.

“Where are you going?” You asked, lunging forward to grab his wrist when he went to pull back again. For a moment, just a bit of that irritation was turned on you.

“Just for a little one on one with the Winchesters. Won’t be long.”

You suspected you had roughly a few seconds to save your friends from being incinerated. Not very long ago, you would have thought it wasn’t possible. But now…

“Please don’t leave me.”

You heard the words as though someone else had said them and felt ridiculous the second they were out of your mouth. But the truth was, you were scared. You still didn’t know how close to a near death experience you had just come, but Lucifer’s reaction was giving you a pretty good idea. And that meant there was space for panic to start creeping in. What would have happened if you hadn’t gotten back to the bunker in time, or if Lucifer hadn’t appeared when he did? Would the Winchesters have realised you were in serious trouble and could they have even gotten the help you needed? Truthfully, you were more concerned for yourself than the brothers, even though they were now the ones in very imminent danger.

Your admission gave Lucifer pause. He didn’t think anyone had ever said something like that to him before and he couldn’t deny the burst of pride the thought gave him. He was leaning back down towards you before he really knew what he was doing, and his power shifted so dramatically that his eyes turned back to their usual bright blue.

The mattress moved a little beneath you as Lucifer sat down by your side. He laid a hand along the side of your head, fingertips brushing close to where your injury had been. However inhuman he was, you knew what his mind was caught on. If you had been less shaken up, the reasons behind why he had so suddenly and obviously decided to care about you would have bothered you a lot. As it was, his hand was steady and his proximity comforting.

A risk though it was, you gathered your courage and pulled him closer towards you. Lucifer allowed you to do it, smug, but there was a hint of something else beneath all his pride. It was softer and much more well-guarded – something to be analysed at another time. The archangel manoeuvred himself to lay next to you, only to drag you half on top of him with an arm around your waist. Your bodyweight was nothing to a creature like him. You held onto his shoulder and tucked your face against his chest, keeping as close as you could manage. He watched you the entire time. His frame was solid against you, steady and comforting.

Lucifer squeezed you closer to him for a moment, an arm across your lower back and a hand on your ribs. Then, he wound his fingers through your hair and against the back of your head and you almost sighed out loud. Your head tipped forward automatically, eyes closed. The archangel gently dragged his fingertips over your scalp, almost massaging the skin. He was thrilled you would display so much trust in him in response to such a simple touch, but you didn’t need to know that.

He grinned to himself as your very energy changed, all your concerns melting away into utter relaxation. But his face fell as his mind began to wander. He had always known how fragile humans were. Before, it had only ever served as another way to show how flawed they were. Now though… That wound could have so easily turned fatal. There was no way the Winchesters, another set of idiot humans, would have realised the help you needed in time. Without wings, he doubted you would have even made it to the hospital. The brothers would pay for their oversight, even if you thought you could protect them from him.

You hissed lightly, and he realised the thought had made him catch his nails on your scalp. He healed what was an incredibly minor scratch with a click of his tongue, then went back to the massage you seemed to be enjoying so much. Lucifer couldn’t truly justify what he did next, even to himself, but with a sigh he physically manifested his wings. He doubted you even knew that was an option, but you were verging on the edge of sleep at this point. You hadn’t noticed.

The archangel wrapped his wings around you, covering you carefully with the longest feathers. He had never particularly felt their weight, but they were so large that he supposed you did. You did sigh out loud that time, then tried and failed to push yourself even closer against him in response. He scoffed quietly, but he knew the noise was far more fond than it should have been. That was definitely something to deal with later. As it was, laying on his back with his wings out wasn’t the most comfortable experience ever, but he found that it was worth it.

You eventually found the strength to open your eyes. It was a struggle not to fall asleep then and there, but you wanted to confirm for yourself that the literal Devil had in fact put a comforter over you. What you found was that your field of vision was so filled with white that you couldn’t make it out. The colour struck you as odd, given you couldn’t recall ever having seen a white comforter in the bunker before. Then again, maybe he’d just manifested it. So you did the next logical thing, which was to reach out a hand and touch this mysterious comforter to make sure of what it was. And the whole thing jolted sharply, Lucifer’s body tensing and his hand stilling in your hair.

It took you a minute to connect the dots. You propped yourself up on an elbow and half turned to get a better look – at Lucifer’s wings. They were immediately enthralling, the shadowy impressions of those belonging to ordinary angels absolutely nothing in comparison. You gently ran your fingers over the feathers on the leading edge of the one closest to you. They were cool and soft, perfectly overlapping with one another. Your touch trailed down one of the end primaries as far as you could reach, which was maybe halfway. If Lucifer possessed even an ounce of your trusting nature, he would have closed his eyes like you had earlier.

As it was, he let you go on for a while before pushing you back down towards him with the wing you weren’t touching. Your eyes went wide and your thoughts turned to panic as you realised what you had been doing, and to who. That was certainly enjoyable.

“Hush,” Lucifer murmured, before you’d had a chance to say so much as a word out loud. He guided your head back to his shoulder and returned his wings to their original position – which had absolutely nothing to do with wanting to feel like he was protecting you, as he had certainly not done that for real already. He threaded his fingers back into your hair and through, quite frankly, your disbelief of the entire situation, he heard you decide not to comment.

Though you fell asleep quickly, Lucifer didn’t move. He also didn’t allow himself to close his eyes, not even for a moment, to enjoy the feeling of your weight against him. Nor the feeling of holding someone who knowingly wanted him to be this close. He fully intended to go on ignoring the furious clash of you and his deep-seated hatred of humans for as long as possible.

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Jump the Shark | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Warnings: MDNI!!!!!! FLEE!!! sexual innuendo, canon violence, canon gore, daddy issues, general angst

Word Count: 4892

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It was clear all of you were exhausted, but Dean wanted to keep putting as many miles between the three of you and Lilith’s last location as possible. At some point, you forced him to pull over. Given it was the middle of nowhere, you, Sam, and Dean had to sleep in the car. Sam slept across the back seat, and you slept atop Dean with your arms and legs wrapped around him like a koala in the front seat. 

The next morning, you gently lifted your head to see Sam was leaning against the hood of the car brushing his teeth. Dean groaned, alerting you to the fact that he was awake, too, and you sat up in his lap. 

“Dean—” you sighed, feeling something beneath you. 

“What?!” he exasperated. “It’s the morning! Not my fault.”

You giggled and slid off him to open the passenger side door. Next, you found your toothbrush in your duffel bag and went to stand beside Sam.

“Hey, how’d you sleep?” Sam asked you.

Dean climbed out of the car and answered for you with a grumble. “How do you think? I'm starving. Let's get breakfast.”

Sam scoffed. “Where? We're like two hours from anything.”

“But I'm hungry now,” Dean groaned. 

“There's probably still a sandwich in the back seat,” the younger brother gestured with his hand before spitting out his toothpaste. 

You watched Dean while you brushed your teeth, and you giggled when he sniffed a sandwich bag and immediately recoiled.

“It's tuna,” Dean grimaced.

You handed Dean his toothbrush, and you stooped back to the duffel bag to find a comb or hair brush. Just then, you heard a phone ringing somewhere in the car. You felt your pockets, but it wasn’t yours. In fact, the ringing seemed to be coming from inside the glove box. You rummaged through the many phones within it before you found the ringing one at the bottom. 

Dean tossed you a quizzical look when you stood up as you stared at the phone in confusion. 

“Isn't that Dad's phone?” Sam questioned.

Dean nodded, and you opened it. “Hello?” you asked, putting it on speaker.

“Oh, sorry—” the voice immediately said, “I thought this was John.”

“He… can’t come to the phone right now,” you replied. “Whatcha need?”

“No, no, no—” the voice rushed out. “I really— I need to talk to John. This is Adam Milligan. He knows me.”

“I doubt it,” you said. “He died over two years ago.”

A small gasp came from the other end of the line, and silence followed. 

“Who is this, by the way?” you questioned, crossing your arms. 

“I'm his son.”

****

Adam instructed you and the brothers to meet him at a café in Minnesota. Ever the skeptic, Dean was plotting to bring as many monster-testing items as possible into the diner with him. 

However, Sam wasn’t so sure this kid was illegitimate. “Dean, look, best I can tell, Adam Milligan is real,” he explained as Dean sped into the parking lot. You handed him a folder of papers you’d found at a library you and the boys stopped at on the outskirts of town. You weren’t sure what to think as of yet, but your guard was certainly up. 

Sam read through the paper. “Um, born September twenty-ninth, 1990 to Kate Milligan. No father listed on the birth certificate. He's an Eagle Scout.”

Dean shoved various weapons into his pockets and jacket, and he even handed you Ruby’s knife. 

“Graduated from high school with honors and currently goes to the University of Wisconsin: biology major, pre-med… Dean? You listening?”

All Sam got was a grumbled response. “This is a trap.”

****

However, all signs pointed to it not being a trap. Adam passed every one of Dean’s tests; he wasn’t a shifter or werewolf, and as far as you could tell, he wasn’t a demon, either. There was even a section of pages in John’s journal from around the time of Adam’s birth that had been ripped out. Given it was a three-ring journal, John clearly left the remnants of the pages on purpose. 

As strange as it all was, you were beginning to believe it yourself. 

Adam explained his mom had gone missing, and he didn’t know who else to call. However, what interested you more was what Adam said about his relationship with John. 

“You know, called when he could. But still…” he trailed off before taking another bite of food. “He taught me poker and pool and even bought me my first beer when I was fifteen. And, uh, he showed me how to drive. Dad, he had this beautiful 'sixty-seven Impala—”

Dean cut him off. “Oh, this is crap. Y’know what? You're lying.” 

Adam recoiled in surprise. “No, I’m not.”

“Uh, yeah, you are.”

“I'm sorry, but who the hell are you to call me a liar?”

“We're John Winchester’s sons, that's who.” He gestured to himself and Sam. “We are his sons.”

Adam stared between the two boys. “I've got brothers?”

“No, you don't have brothers. Look, man, I don't know if you're a hunter or what kind of game you're playing here—”

“I have never been hunting in my life—”

Dean huffed. “Whatever. I'm out of here. C’mon, guys.” Your partner began to storm away, and you moved to follow him. 

Adam called after him, “I can prove it.”

****

Your heart was bleeding for Sam and Dean. The latter was currently holding a picture of a much younger Adam and John, and you swore he was on the verge of breaking the frame in his impossibly tight grip. “He took you to a baseball game?” Dean grunted, staring down at the picture.

Adam nodded. “Yeah, when I turned fourteen. Dad was around for a few of my birthdays.”

Sam gestured for you to come over. He showed you a page from the journal that was dated September twenty-ninth, two-thousand four. All he wrote beneath it was “Minnesota.”

“He took you to a fuckin’ baseball game?” Dean scoffed, his voice gruff. 

“Yeah. Why?” Adam looked at Dean quizzically. “What'd Dad do with you on your birthday?” He took the picture back from Dean, noticing Dean’s white knuckles.

Dean simply fumed, and Sam took the time to jump back in. “Adam, you said you called Dad because your mom was missing. How long has she been gone?”

“Three days,” he replied.

“Who was the last person to see her?” Dean questioned, returning his attention to the case.

“Mr. Abbinanti, our neighbor,” Adam explained. “He saw her come home Tuesday night, but she never showed up to work on Wednesday.”

You noticed a picture of John hugging a woman that looked almost identical to Dean’s mom. When you turned around, you saw Dean square his jaw and shoulders as he looked at the picture, too. 

Adam was explaining to Sam that the police hadn’t found anything, but you figured they wouldn’t. Your gut told you something was very wrong here. In Adam’s mother’s room, you and Dean began moving furniture while Adam questioned you about what you were doing. 

Dean’s replies to the young man were short, but you understood his frustration. 

“Dean, what else can you tell me about Dad?” Adam asked hesitantly.

“You knew him.”

Adam argued, “Not as well as you.”

Without looking at him, Dean said, “Trust me, kid, you don't want to know.”

Sam appeared at the door with a handful of papers.

“Give us a minute,” you said to Adam, brushing past him toward Sam. 

“You talk to the cops?” Dean asked in a hushed voice.

“Yeah. Like Adam said, no leads on his mom.”

“Shocker there,” you added.

“But I did find this.” Sam flipped through his papers until he found a newspaper dated from 1990. “In nineteen ninety, there were seventeen grave robberies in Windom,” he explained. He pointed to a photo accompanying the article where you and Dean found John in the background of the image.

“Alright, so, he was hunting something. What?” Dean said.

“No idea. Those were the pages he threw out of the journal. But last month, the corpse snatching started up again. Three bodies from the local cemetery.”

“So whatever he was after, he didn't kill it. It's back.”

“And, what, it's stepped up its game to fresh meat?” Dean challenged. “I mean, Kate's missing, and, uh—” he found a photo in the paper of a man in large black glasses and turned it toward you and his brother, “so is a local bartender; a guy named Joe Barton.”

Your brows furrowed, and you headed back to Kate’s— Adam’s mother’s— room. “Hey, your mom know Joe Barton?” you asked the young man. 

He gave you a quizzical look. “Uh, I don't think so. Why?”

With your lashes fluttering, you looked down toward Adam’s feet. Something under his left shoe caught your eye, and you looked back at Dean. He’d apparently noticed the same thing. 

“Watch out,” Dean told Adam, and you immediately set to work moving the mattress off the bed frame with your partner’s help. Below the bed was a vent just large enough for someone to squeeze through.

Dean and Sam looked at each other briefly before motioning to begin rock paper scissors. 

“You guys are such babies,” you snickered, stepping into the metal bed frame. 

Sam helped you take the vent cover off, and you then began wriggling down the vent with a flashlight in hand. On your hands and knees, you moved down the next horizontal portion of the duct. 

As you moved your right hand to crawl forward, you nearly put your hand on a dry streak of blood. As much as you felt a moral obligation to grimace, you weren’t exactly fazed by such a sight anymore. However, it did set you on edge, and you quickly took out your handgun. 

You crawled forward just slightly more and looked around the corner of the duct where you were greeted by the sight of bits of flesh and blood surrounded by copious splatters of blood. Unable to move any further forward, you crawled back toward Kate’s room.

****

Dean sat at the desk in the room while you claimed the floor. The two of you cleaned various guns in the trunk arsenal, and you quite enjoyed the silence blanketing the two of you save for a few clicks of the guns’ inner workings. It made you happy to have a partner you could simply exist with. 

Sam was reading a book  on his bed, and every once in a while, he’d wince and shift uncomfortably; no doubt related to having slept in the car the night before. Then, when a hammering knock came from the other side of the door, Sam went to open it. 

Adam barged into the room, and you threw your shotgun under the bed while Dean shoved his under his jacket he’d discarded on the floor.

“Who the hell are you?” the youngest man questioned. 

“Adam, hey.” Sam closed the door behind him. “Take it easy.”

“No, don't tell me to take it easy, okay?” He began to pace, and all you could focus on was the leather jacket he continuously nearly tripped over that barely concealed Dean’s weapon. “My house is a crime scene, my mom's probably dead, and you three— well, you tell me to call the cops, but you got to bail before they show? So, who are you really?” 

None of you answered. You kept staring at the jacket.

“Cops didn't know where to look for my mom, Dean, but you did,” Adam continued. And I heard you talking earlier; something about grave robberies. You're not mechanics. I just want to know what's going on. Please.”

“We're hunters,” Sam finally replied.

“Sammy!” you and Dean scolded simultaneously.

“He deserves to know, guys.”

“What do you mean, 'hunters'?”

You dropped your head and sighed. 

Sam explained everything to him. It looked like everything he was saying to Adam wasn’t quite computing in his head. “Okay, so...basically, you're saying that every movie monster, every nightmare that I’ve ever had, that's all real?”

“Godzilla's just a movie,” Dean smirked.

You cracked a small smile. 

“We hunt them,” Sam said. “So did Dad.”

Adam nodded, not looking at any of you. “Okay,” he said.

Dean scoffed. “ ‘Okay’? That’s it?”

“What am I supposed to say?”

“That we're liars, that we're crazy. Nobody just says ‘okay,’ " replied Dean.

“Well, you're my brothers.” He looked innocently between the two boys. 

“You are way too trusting, kiddo,” you said. 

Adam gave you a strange look.  “ They're telling me the truth, right?” You nodded. “Unfortunately.”

“Then, I believe you. Now, what took my mom?”

Sam shrugged and took in a deep breath. “We're not sure. Something's in town stealing bodies, living and dead, but we don't know what.” 

“There's a long list of freaks that fit the bill,” Dean added.

“You think maybe she might still be alive?”

Dean looked down at the floor, then slightly toward you.

“I think you know the answer to that, otherwise, you wouldn’t ‘ve asked,” you said. 

“Oh.” Adam’s shoulders fell. “How can I help?”

“You can’t,” you and Dean scoffed.

“This thing killed my mom. If you're hunting it, I want in.”

“Absolutely not,” you answered.

“No,” Dean grumbled simultaneously.

Sam huffed. “Guys, look, maybe—”

Dean cut Sam off. “ ‘Maybe’ what?”

“He lost his mother. Maybe we can understand what that feels like.”

“Why do you think Dad never told us about this kid, Sam? Huh?” Dean grunted with no regard for the fact that Adam was standing right there. “Why do you think he ripped out the pages?” Before Sam could answer, the older brother continued, “Because he was protecting him!”

“Dad's dead, Dean,” Sam replied in a much quieter tone than his brother’s.

“That doesn't matter! He didn't want Adam to have our lives, okay? And we are gonna respect his wishes.”

Adam piped up sheepishly. “Do I get a say in this?”

“No!” All three of you shouted.

Dean tapped your thigh and stood up, heading for the door. “Babysit the kid,” he told Sam.

“Where are you going?” Sam scoffed.

“I'm going out! C’mon, (Y/N).”

You looked back at Sam one last time before closing the door behind you and Dean. 

Once you were in the Impala, you asked, “So where are we really going?”

Dean gave you a look. You could tell he wasn’t mad at you, but he was also too worked up to entertain banter of any kind. And you knew better than to talk about Adam or Sam. 

“I think I wanna work,” Dean spoke up after a moment of tense silence.

“Okay,” you replied, “I’m good with that.”

****

You and Dean went to a cemetery to meet with its director. The stolen bodies were from his grounds, and the only thing of note there was embalming fluid beside the opened tombs. It seemed as though the creature had ripped the corpses open when it took them. 

Your next stop was a bar. Working hadn’t quelled Dean’s anxiety and frustration much, so you’d suggested getting a drink. While Dean stared down at the papers he’d brought in, you waved down the bartender. 

She was an older woman with a sad look behind her eyes. Still, it seemed she did her best to look and feel put together. “First beer's on the house for cops. Feds too,” she said, pouring you and Dean a glass.

“Are we that obvious?” Dean chuckled.

“I know all the local badges.” She set your glasses down in front of you. “You've got that… Law & Order vibe. So, what's the FBI doing in Windom?”

“Looking into the disappearance of Joe Barton,” Dean replied, sliding a picture of the man across the bar. 

Suddenly, that sadness in her eyes covered her face when she looked at the picture.

“I assume you knew him?” you asked softly. She’d managed to evoke more empathy from you than anyone else had in a long time.

“A little. I'm his wife, Lisa.” Though she tried to joke, she couldn’t hide her grief. Her eyes stayed glued to the picture of her husband.

“Well, Lisa, what can you tell me about his disappearance?” Dean questioned.

“Same thing I told the sheriff. He stayed late Friday before last to do inventory. Never came home.”

“And the police?” he continued to press.

“Nothing. Truth is, I was scared they stopped looking. But now, you're here.”

You noticed a picture of the missing man behind the bar. “He was a cop?” You nodded to one of him in a sharp uniform. 

“Deputy. For a little while. That was a long time ago,” she answered.

Your partner asked, “He didn't happen to work the, uh, the grave robbery case, back in 'ninety?”

Lisa gave the two of you a strange look. “He did, yeah. Joe was the one who found those bodies. He got an award for that.”

“That was an interesting case,” Dean nodded. “He ever tell you how he did it?”

You scanned the newspaper image next to the photo of Joe in his deputy uniform, and it seemed Dean did, too.

“Most of the time, he said good, solid police work,” Lisa explained. “But after a few beers, he'd admit he had a little help.”

“From who?”

“A 'specialist'. That's all he'd say.”

“Cops ever find the guy that stole the bodies?” Dean took a large swig of his drink.

‘Aha. John.’ You’d found him in the picture.

“No,” replied Lisa. “But when I asked Joe about it, he'd say not to worry; that ‘we took care of what done it.�� “

****

“ ‘S kinda weird—” Dean said after many minutes of silence on the drive back to the motel. 

You turned to face him.

“—seein’ my dad in that picture,” he finished. “Don’t know how to explain it any more than that, but, uh, just wanted you to know.”

A small smile tugged at your lips. “I get it. Thank you for telling me.”

Just as Dean pulled into the parking lot, you saw Adam standing next to a large truck while pulling at someone or something beneath it. Before the Impala had even rolled to a stop, you were out of the car and running over. 

“(Y/N)!” Adam called worriedly. “It’s Sam! Help!” He was pulling one of Sam’s arms with both hands, and he was visibly straining. You grabbed Sam’s other hand and pulled with all your might. Together, you and Adam managed to get Sam’s torso free from under the car, and Dean ran over with a shotgun. He tried to aim at whatever was under the truck holding Sam’s ankles, but he couldn’t get a clean shot.

It seemed the youngest Winchester gave a hard kick to whatever was holding him, and the creature let go. You and Adam fell back on the concrete, and Sam flopped forward. 

“Where the fuck did it go?” you asked, scrambling to your feet. 

“Adam, move your truck,” Dean ordered. 

He obeyed, and you discovered a sewer grate under the spot where he’d parked. You were leaning against the Impala next to Dean. “Did you see anything?” your partner asked Sam.

He shook his head. “I didn't get a good look.”

“What the hell is this thing?”

Adam hopped out of his truck looking flustered. “Why— Who— Should we go after it?”

“No, no. In that maze?” Dean scoffed, nodding at the grate. “That thing's long gone.”

“Alright, so,” Sam began, “we don't know what it is, but we do know who it's going after. Joe Barton, Adam's mom—”

Dean cut his brother off. “And Adam. It was under his truck, just waiting for him.”

“It set a trap, and I walked right into it.” It was clear Sam was beating himself off.

“Doesn't matter. You're right; there's a pattern. Joe Barton was a cop. I'm pretty sure he helped out Dad. So we've got him, Dad's girl, and his son.”

“All the people Dad knew in town.”

“At least we know why it's back.”

“It wants revenge,” Adam finished.

****

“I hate this idea,” you said, standing beside Dean with your arms folded.

“Yeah, I don’t feel any better,” he replied.

The two of you watched Sam teaching Adam how to hold and fire a handgun. Sam had been insistent that Adam have his opportunity to get revenge despite the fact that you and Dean were not on board at all. 

Sam had spray painted a target on the back of a “no trespassing” sign in the middle of the rural field you’d found, and there were three small holes in the center of the rings from where Sam had just fired.

You watched Adam take the gun and confidently fire, hitting inside the bullseye. While Dean just seemed frustrated, you were put on guard. Sam was an amazing teacher, undoubtedly, but he wasn’t that good. Adam fired as if he’d known how to shoot a gun all his life despite having said he’d never even seen a gun in person on the car ride over. While you didn’t feel it was disturbing enough to share, you certainly used it as an excuse to overanalyze Adam’s every move after the fact.

During a conversation Sam was having with Adam in the kitchen of his mother’s house, you sat back and watched Adam quietly and meticulously. Sam was busy telling Adam about the wendigo the three of you hunted years ago, and the conversation then shifted to what the life of a hunter entails. 

“That's the price we pay. You cut 'em out, and you don't look back,” Sam was saying. “There's only one thing you can count on. Family.”

Sitting beside you was Dean, and he seemed like he was on the verge of boiling over. “Sam,” he grunted. “Can I talk to you?”

You followed the two brothers over to the stairs. 

“What the hell was that?” Dean whispered harshly.

Sam scoffed. “What?”

“ 'Hunting is life. You can't have connections.' Dad gave you that exact same speech, remember? It was just before you ditched us for Stanford. You hated Dad for saying that stuff, and now you're quoting him?”

“Yeah, well, turns out Dad was right,” the younger brother shrugged.

“Since when?”

“Since always. Dean, when I look at Adam, you know what I see?”

“A normal kid.”

“No. Meat. Because the demons and monsters out there, that's all he is. I hated Dad for a long time. I did. But now I think I understand. So we didn't have a dog and a white picket fence. So what? Dad did right by us. He taught us how to protect ourselves. Adam deserves the same.”

Dean shook his head. “Listen to yourself, man.”

“You think I’m wrong?” Sam raised his eyebrows, waiting expectantly for a reply.

“I think it's too late for us. This is our life. This is who we are, okay? And it's fine. I accept that. But with Adam, he's still got a chance, man. He can go to school. He could be a doctor.”

“What makes Adam so special?”

“What, are you jealous of the kid?”

“Are you?” Sam shot back. “Dean… all this… it's not real. The dad Adam knew? He wasn't real. The things out there in the shadows; they are real. The world is coming to an end. That's real. Everything else is just part of the crap people tell themselves to get through the day.”

“Dad didn't have a choice with us, okay? But with Adam, he did. Adam doesn't have to be cursed,” the older brother argued.

“He's a Winchester. He's already cursed.”

“I still a little skeptical that he’s actually related to you,” you cut in for the first time.

“Whatever,” Dean huffed. “Whatever's hunting Adam, I’m gonna find it.”

“You already looked everywhere, Dean.”

“Well, then I’ll look again.” He stormed off to go to the car parked in front of the house. 

You stayed with Sam for another moment, trying to find the words.

“(Y/N), you coming?” Dean asked from the door, turning back only slightly. 

With one last look at Sam, you followed his older brother out.

****

The ride to the cemetery was silent. Both you and Dean were too deep in thought and operating on autopilot as you went down into the tomb the cemetery director showed you to the previous day.

Dean had found a tunnel behind a large stone on the far wall, and the two of you went down with your flashlights and guns in hand. In the corner of your flashlight’s beam, you saw limp fingers attached to a bloody arm that was partially decomposing, and a pair of black glasses were broken next to it.

“Sloppy Joe,” Dean commented, wincing. 

“God, the deputy,” you realized.

Then, you heard a sound behind you. You and Dean both wheeled around and fired several times, and the tunnel collapsed.

“Oh, son of a bitch!” He then tried to call Sam, but he had no signal.

“Son of a bitch,” you echoed, albeit more quietly. 

The both of you looked at the fallen entrance and immediately started trying to kick and shove the rubble out of the way. However, it was useless.

“Let’s just keep moving, then,” you said. 

Deeper in the tunnel, you found a sealed coffin with relatively fresh blood on the outside. Dean helped you shove the heavy lid off, and you both immediately recoiled at the smell it released. 

“Fuckin’ hell,” you breathed out, looking down at the dead eyes of Kate Milligan. Pieces of her arms and legs were missing, and her intestines spilled out of her abdomen.

Dean had noticed another coffin, and you went over to help him with its lid. Inside was the corpse of Adam Milligan. 

You and Dean immediately rushed to your feet knowing that Sam was alone with the creature. The two of you ran up the tunnel to shove at the collapsed rocks once more and much more forcefully this time. 

“Fuck!” Dean shouted. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a stain glass window depicting an angel near the place you’d found the corpses of the Milligans. 

“Dee, gimme a boost,” you said.

He ran over to the outer wall of the tomb with you and helped you pull yourself up to the small window. 

“Cover your eyes!” you told Dean as you took your jacket-covered elbow and smashed the glass with it. Once you’d made it through, the ground was just about level with the bottom of the window’s ledge. You laid on your stomach and leaned through the window, ignoring the glass shards poking your torso while you helped Dean out of the tomb. 

“You okay?” Dean asked you.

You smiled a little. It was sweet how he checked on you even when you weren’t in imminent danger. When you nodded, the two of you immediately sprinted to the Impala to get back to the Milligan’s house. 

****

It was chaos when you found the creatures and a bloody, tied-up Sam in the basement of the Milligan home. You rushed to Sam’s side, being careful to avoid getting caught in the crossfire of the melee between Dean and the ghouls. Headshots were the only way to kill them, which Dean executed expertly. 

“You okay, Sammy?” you asked as you gave him a once-over. He’d been cut pretty deeply in his arm, and he groaned when you put pressure on it with a ripped-off piece of your shirt. 

“Dean, help me get ‘im up,” you instructed.

“Alright, here we go,” Dean told his brother as the two of you slung Sam’s arms around your shoulders. “Hang on, buddy.”

“Thank you,” Sam told you and his brother.

“Hey, that’s what we’re here for,” you replied. 

****

With Sam’s wounds dressed and your bags packed, you and the Winchesters set off into the night. In the clearing where Sam had taught “Adam” shooting, you set the body of the true Adam Milligan on a pyre wrapped in burial cloths.

“You sure we should do this?” Sam asked.

Dean poured a bottle of lighter fluid over Adam’s body. “Ghouls didn't fake those pictures. They didn't fake Dad's journal. Adam was our brother. He died like a hunter. He deserves to go out like one.”

You wrapped your arm around Dean’s to reassure him. 

“Maybe we can bring him back. Get a hold of Cas; call in a favor,” Sam suggested.

Dean shook his head. “No, Adam's in a better place.” He lit a match and threw it on the body. You backed away, arm still wrapped around his. 

“Y’know, I finally get why you and Dad butted heads so much,” Dean said. “You two were practically the same person.”

Sam looked over, but Dean kept his eyes on the burning pyre. The smell of rotting, burnt flesh began permeating through the air. 

“I mean, I worshipped the guy, y’know?” your partner chuckled awkwardly. “I dressed like him, I acted like him, I listen to the same music. But you were more like him than I will ever be. And I see that now.”

Sam gave a small smile. “I'll take that as a compliment.”

After a moment of silence, Dean said, “You take it any way you want.” 

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-nesmith @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

[spnfanficpond]

SPNFanFicPond Reblog Challenge!

We want to encourage reader interaction on SPN fan fiction stories, and we're ready to put an entire CultureFly box where our mouth is! Each fic you kudos/comment on (on AO3) or reblog with a comment (on Tumblr) will earn you one entry into the drawing for the prize. 

How to enter:

1. Read an SPN fic on AO3 or Tumblr.

If the fic is on AO3, click that kudos button and leave a comment! 

If the fic is on Tumblr, REBLOG the post with your comment!

The comment can be anything from (fic-relevant) key smashing to a bunch of emojis to a full book report on why you loved the fic. As long as you give the writer some love, that's what matters!

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The nitty gritty:

- Comments must be new. You can't submit comments you made in the past. 

- Comments must be individual and relevant to the fic. If we feel you have just key smashed on random fics in order to earn entries, or if all of your comments are identical, you will be disqualified.

The prize:

The Spring 2025 Culturefly Box!  Yes, the whole box! (Note, there is a tiny slice on the desk mat, and the Pestilence pen was damaged but could easily be repaired with a drop of super glue. Everything else in the box seems to be in perfect condition. When I saw the damage to the mat, I inspected the rest of the box thoroughly.) Contents include a 3XL Crowley shirt, a heat-reactive mug featuring Sam Winchester, a "demon tablet" tablet cover, Lucifer's Cage desk organizer, Azazel desk mat, and "Pen Set of the Apocalypse" with Notepad.

The deadline:

This form will be closed to submissions at midnight, EDT on June 30th. The winner will be announced on the SPNFanFicPond's socials: Tumblr, Twitter, BlueSky.

Note: This is open to everyone everywhere, but if you live in the EU or some other parts of the world, you may have to pay landed costs. Also, you will have to give your full name and mailing address to Admin Michelle to receive the prize.

Got Questions? Send us an ASK, or DM @mrswhozeewhatsis!

Have questions about this or anything else? Send us an ASK or send a private message to one of the admins below!

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[whimsyfinny]

Sexy F*cking Nerd

Dean Winchester x F!Reader

Summary: When Dean discovers a little secret of (Y/n)'s during a case research session he can't help but let temptation get the best of him.

Warnings: Language, Smut, Fingering, PinV, Oral (M receiving), slight angst if you squint, Dean having a glasses kink (not really a warning but not everyone wears them hahaha lucky bastards)

MDNI! 18+

Word Count: 5688

A/N: It's taken a little while but here is the second competition winner from a few weeks back, the prompt provided by the wonderful @foxyjwls007 - I hope you like it!

The motel room was stuffy to say the least - that usual aroma of stale cigarettes and cheap air freshener lingering around us. There was a dripping sound coming from God knows where and the AC hummed in between the concerning clinking from deep within the vents. It was crap. So crap. But it was home for a few nights; just like all the motel rooms that came before. Dean stepped past me and over the threshold, immediately slinging his duffle and jacket onto his chosen bed. He stretched his arms above his head, the grey Henley clutching his muscular abdomen and rising enough to flaunt what lay beneath. I sighed, following him in and slumping onto the bed beside his - the musty stench from the sheets enveloping me.

“Well…” Dean started, pulling Sam's laptop out of his bag and placing it on the small table by the window.

“Well…?” My voice echoed as I focused on the ceiling fan that spun off centre.

“...This is… nice?” His statement was more of a question as he looked around with raised eyebrows. I propped myself up on my elbows, flashing him a look of speculation.

“Seriously?” A moment passed before he huffed a long-held breath and slapped his large palms on his thighs.

“No of course not, this place sucks more dick than a hooker on payday.”

“You got that right,” I flopped back down onto the bed, a small dust cloud erupting under my weight. I closed my eyes and listened as Dean pulled a chair out from under the table, slumping down into it. Then there was the familiar click of the laptop opening followed by the sound of stuttered not-quite-touch-typing, presumably he was starting work on the case that we’d come here to investigate. The tap tap tap of whatever was leaking began to drill into my brain, my patience already wearing thin with the rooms dire ambiance. I pulled myself up to sitting, criss-crossing my legs on the bed and brushing whatever that dust from the bedding was off my sweater sleeves.

“When's Sam back?” I asked, watching as Dean searched the keyboard in front of him for some long lost letter.

“Uuuh, I'm not sure. He said to work this case without him.”

“Ugghhh, I bet he's having way more fun than us right now, it's not fair,” I plopped my chin into my palm and stared past the older Winchester out the window, almost willing Sam to appear and walk in like any other day.

“It's just some dumb wedding, I doubt he's having that much fun.”

I scoffed before I could stop myself, Dean breaking eye contact with the screen to throw me a raised eyebrow.

“Look,” I collected myself, “you didn't know Sam in college. He won't admit it but he was popular. Really popular. Not the total nerd you think he is. He's absolutely having fun with these people.”

“Yeah right. So who's at this wedding anyway? Why was it so important that he just had to be there?”

I rolled my eyes, knowing full well Sam had already told him all the details. Typical Dean.

“It's for a couple of friends who he and Jess were close with back then. Pretty sure the bride was prom queen in highschool or something and the groom was a trust fund jock. Either way, not my crowd,” I sighed slightly, memories from my college days flooding my mind.

Deans eyebrows twitched into a small frown, his thoughts seeming to cloud his vision for a second before he reluctantly dismissed them. I looked down into my lap for a moment, reminiscing how I always kept my distance from Sam whilst at Stanford, but he had always been that boy that would make my heart flutter when he spoke up in class or when I'd see him on the quad with his friends. I remember seeing him with his nose in a book once at my usual desk in the library, my cheeks burning when he caught me staring. Who would've thought several years down the line I'd be sat in a bottom-rung motel room with his obscenely good looking older brother researching monster lore. At least we would be researching monster lore, if it wasn't for the small growl my empty stomach had gurgled out. I couldn't stop the small pulse of embarrassment burning into my cheeks as Dean eyed me with a grin.

“Wanna get some lunch?” He asked, standing up like he already knew my answer.

“Fuck yes. I'm feeling burgers,” I shuffled to the edge of the bed and stood up, watching as Dean shrugged on his leather jacket and headed to the door, holding it open for me.

“Now you're speaking my language.”

*

The diner was almost as sad and withered as the motel room, however the food was nothing short of spectacular. I watched in awe as Dean polished off his second burger, a small glob of sauce sticking to his stubble and threatening to drip off his chin. He must've felt me watching in wonder - or perhaps disgust - as when he looked up from his plate he shot me a questioning glance.

“What?” His tone was a little defensive through the mouthful of fries he'd just shovelled in. I took a second before asking, half-genuine:

“Where do you put all of that?”

“Put what?”

“The food - where does it go? Do you have hollow legs? Two stomachs? Does it just evaporate as soon as you swallow it?”

He grinned, wiping the sauce from his face with a napkin.

“Goes straight to the abs baby. It's muscle fuel,” he leant back in his chair, stretching a little before patting his stomach to punctuate his statement. I simply rolled my eyes.

“Yeah right, you're not that muscly Dean.”

“How would you know? You've never seen me with my shirt off.”

“I know, and I plan to keep it that way.”

He feigned a pout before returning to his fries. We ate in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, my mind absently going back to all the lore we should be trying to gather. I gripped my milkshake that had so generously been served in a thin paper cup, attempting to suck the practically solid beverage up the equally thin paper straw. Finding the nearest library would be the next task on our to-do list, despite the protesting I know I'll get from Dean.

“Hey, (Y/n)?” My train of thought was derailed at the sound of my name. The slurping of over-thickened milkshake from myself ceased.

“What's up?”

“What were you like in college?”

I eyed him with caution, wondering what part of his brain was in control right now.

“What do you wanna know?”

Catching the wariness to divulge him to such information, he smiled slightly, shrugging his shoulders.

“I'm not asking to be weird, I just-” he paused, choosing his next words tactfully, “the way you described Sam as being a totally different person - some hot-shot with the perfect grades, popular friends and a girlfriend like Jess - it just got me thinking. How would Sam have described you?”

I almost spat my dairy-goop back into the straw, my brain freezing.

“Dean,” I started before planning what I was going to say, placing my cup on the table. “Sam wouldn't be able to describe me.”

My words brought a small smirk to his lips.

“You were that hot, huh?”

“What the fuck- no- I wasn't- he didn't- Sam never- ” I stopped myself before I had an aneurysm and took a deep breath.

“I was in a totally different crowd to Sam. He was always surrounded by people and, well, I barely even had a crowd.”

“Lone wolf?”

“Bingo. But definitely not the cool, collected, stoic type. Think more, invisible to the public eye, always carrying books, and borderline selective mute because of how shy I was.”

“Oh… what changed?,” Deans tone changed entirely, genuine intrigue seeming to take the wheel. I couldn't help but laugh slightly, remembering my method to forcing myself out of my bubble.

“The only job I could get was in a bar. No one else wanted the hours and I desperately needed cash. I didn't really have a choice after that,” I paused, remembering how terrified I was on my first day and grinned slightly, grateful for the extra confidence I had now because I took that leap.

“Hey, what sort of crowd do you think I would've been in?”

I snorted, looking up into his expectant eyes - almost captivated by the glistening greens.

“What am I? A BuzzFeed quiz? I have no idea Dean, you're too much of a wildcard to predict. You probably would've fit in with anyone and everyone.”

“Even you?”

For reasons unbeknownst to even myself, my breath caught in my throat. The sudden soft sincerity of his voice contradicting his usual temperament, my heart starting to flutter in my chest. If the college version of myself had met Dean back then I just know I would have been enthralled at first glance.

“I don't think you would've noticed me. You would've been surrounded by every tall, thin blonde and brunette with perfect tits. Trust me, you would've been distracted,” I smiled an almost sad smile at the thought of him simply being on university grounds and having the time of his life - knowing it was something that he was never going to get the chance to experience in this upside down life of his. Of ours. He tapped his fingers on the table for a second, likely lost in some ludicrous thought I don't think I'd want to be privy to. I attempted another slurp of my milkshake when the paper straw gave out and flopped in half, the need to leave conversation and the diner suddenly looming over me.

“Come on, let's get to the library before it closes,” I stood and pulled my oversized sweater down so it covered my ass before reaching for my backpack. Just as my fingers touched the worn fabric of the strap it was torn away, my head snapping up to Dean who flung it over one shoulder with his signature grin on his face.

“Lead the way nerd.”

I couldn't help but beam at his playfulness. I hated the fact that he made it so easy to adore him. Hated that he completely overlooked how I was his total opposite in almost every way. How when we were talking, his eyes never left mine - how he was genuinely interested in what I was like in the past. And how, when I had his attention, he didn't even notice that the hot waitress had written her number on a napkin and left it next to him.

*

The trip to the library was about as eventful as it sounded. After checking out multiple books on cursed items, local lore and popular antiques from the seventies, we loaded ourselves back into the impala, made an all-important beer run before heading back to the motel.

The small table by the window was now totally smothered by a blanket of books, maps and empty beer bottles. Deans chin rested in his palms as he stared blankly at the screen in front of him, and I must've read the last sentence of the paragraph laid before me a dozen times without it even sinking in. The obnoxious dripping and humming of ancient appliances was starting to make me feel restless.

“It has to be the boots,” Dean groaned, draining the last of his beer.

“Either the boots or the disco ball. But my money is on boots as well,” I sighed, pushing the book away from me and standing slowly, gathering the quickly accumulating litter now scattered around us.

“I'm gonna make some coffee, my brain is fried over how fucking ridiculous this case is,” I ditched the trash in the bin before filling the coffee machine, listening to it whir to life whilst I headed to my bed. I could feel Deans gaze on my back as I rummaged around my bag in search of a specific item.

“What are you looking fo-” he'd started to ask the question but his voice died in his throat when I turned around. I quickly pushed my newly adorned glasses up the bridge of my nose, already feeling the oversized frame start to slip down as I tried not to make a big deal over them.

“What?” My tone was a fraction off aggressive when I realised he was staring. He seemed to snap out of his daze, quickly rubbing the back of his neck and turning back to the laptop screen. He cleared his throat

“I uh, I didn't know you wore glasses,” I could tell from the slight tremble in his voice that his mind was reeling.

“Is there a problem with that?”

“No! I mean, no, absolutely not. They look good. The glasses, I mean. The glasses look good. Not on their own, obviously. On your face. They look good on your face. You have a great fa-”

“Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.”

“Sorry.”

I grabbed a mug from the cupboard and set it on the counter, filling it to the brim with caffeinated goodness. I couldn't stop the grin spreading across my lips at Deans fumbling, almost finding the whole ordeal a little charming. I sat back down at the table and pulled the books back towards me, also grabbing my pen and tattered notebook.

“The guests at the club mentioned hearing footsteps - so it has to be the boots, right? A disco ball wouldn't make that sound…” my voice trailed off when I realised that, even though Dean was looking at me, he wasn't listening to a word I was saying.

“Earth to Dean?”

He flinched slightly at his name, but felt no shame delving in with a completely off-topic question.

“So how long have you worn glasses?”

“I’ve always worn them,” I slid back into my chair at the table opposite him, not sure whether to laugh at the shocked expression on his face or whether to be concerned about his observation skills.

“What?! No way, I would’ve noticed,” He opened another beer and took a sip before tracing the opening to the bottle over his bottom lip.

“ I only wear them for concentration work, and I have emergency contact lenses if I know I’m going to be around a lot of people as I don’t particularly like how they look.”

Dean made a small disagreeable expression before averting his gaze from mine back to the laptop, taking another swig of his beer. I placed my coffee mug down and settled back into the book I was reading before, and after a few moments I could feel my skin begin to prickle - as though I could feel a pair of eyes on me. I glanced up, my breath immediately catching in my throat. Deans eyes found mine, burning with an intensity that made my heart hammer in my chest. I didn’t want to look away, but under his gaze I felt like I’d been stripped bare, unable to hide my insecurities from an eye that seemed to scorch through to my very core.

“Dean-”

“(Y/n), you should really have more confidence in yourself; I think the glasses look cute as fuck. You should wear them more,” a fierce blush erupted across my face when he spoke, his assured tone leaving no room for disagreement. I tried desperately not to let on that his words held any sort of impact over my decisions so I looked down, away from his scrutiny and simply said:

“Maybe I will.”

He hummed in approval, finally looking elsewhere and I couldn’t stop myself from breathing a sigh of relief when the pressure of his stare was averted.

The evening dragged on and an hour and a half had passed since his loaded comment. I was on the third book we’d checked out of the library, now trying desperately to find the curse that would cause a pair of 1970s glam rock boots to dance for eternity and haunt anyone who tried to wear them. This case was absurd, and I could feel myself growing restless with the small amount of progress we’d made. I huffed out a sigh and leant back in my chair, the faux leather and rusted metal creaking under my weight. Pulling the hair bobble from around my wrist I scooped my hair into a bundle on the top of my head, securing it in place; the sensation of air on my neck seemed to clear some of the fog from my brain. The messy bun was comfortably enough that I could forget it was there, and I allowed myself a stretch before leaning back over the table, grasping my pen. As I began to read the next segment, I absently traced the end of the pen over my bottom lip, running it back and forth a few times before gently nibbling on the end. I heard the shuffling of Dean moving in his seat and a ragged clearing of his throat before the sound of vigorous laptop keys clicking ensued. Without looking up at him I continued reading, the pen still tapping my bottom lip, and when I neared the bottom of the paragraph, I slowly licked the pad of my index finger. My eyes never leaving the words, I turned the page swiftly with my dampened digit, the transition from one page to the next perfectly seamless. Another shuffle from the man opposite followed by a quiet groan filled the silence between us. Pen still between my teeth, I lifted only my eyes to glance at him and noted the dusting of pink across his cheeks and the furrow in his brow. Concluding that he’d had one too many beers I decided to ignore his persistent fidgeting, returning to my previous task on monotonous reading. Several sentences in and I’d almost forgotten Deans restlessness - that was until I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth, deep in thought, that I earned myself a throaty groan and an exasperated sigh. I looked up just in time to watch him wipe a large hand down his face, momentarily masking his pained expression.

“Can you not do that? I can’t concentrate when you do that.”

“Do what?” Upon asking my question I absently took the pen between my teeth again, quickly glancing down at the book to place a mental bookmark.

“That.”

“What?”

“That. That thing you do with our mouth, and the pen, and your tongue and your finger. Can you please stop before it kills me.”

The heat beneath my skin was immediate at his admission, knowing my small, absent-minded actions were playing on his mind and making it hard for him to think straight. I instinctively crossed my legs, a fluttering in my lower belly instantly dragging my mind back to the deprived things I’d imagined Dean doing to me in the depths of night. The places I’d imagined his hands travelling, the areas his lips would touch and the sensations his tongue could create. These were deeply, deeply personal fantasies, and right now as Dean looked at me with a restrained hunger, I felt like I was wearing these fantasies for the world to see. For Dean to see.

“It doesn’t help that you’ve been sat over there like a sexy fucking librarian all evening, but every time you do that anything with that mouth - shit, sweetheart you’re driving me insane.” His voice was gravelly as he looked at me with desperate eyes across the table. The overly rational part of my brain had shut down completely, and now the part of my mind that had spent hours conjuring vivid scenes of Dean Winchester ravishing me in my entirety had taken the charge. I stood slowly, taking a moment to reason with myself - unsuccessfully of course - before sinking to my knees in front of my chair. I could see Deans strong thighs were spread wide beneath the table so I crawled forwards, across the cold tiles and placed myself between his legs. Resting my palms softly on his thighs I made him flinch at the unexpected contact. He immediately scooted his chair back, allowing a gap for me to poke my head through - his hand instantly acting as a barrier between the edge of the table and my skull. I got comfortable and allowed myself a moment to gaze up at him, to take in the strained furrow in his brow and the parting of his lips. I observed the way his chest rose and fell in apprehensive breaths, and the way his free hand clenched into a fist on his thigh - like he was so desperate yet so scared to touch me.

“(Y/n)-”

“Dean,” I spoke softly, slowly running my hands up his thighs - delicate palms against rough denim, “you’re a smart boy - you know I wouldn’t do something I didn’t want to do. So please, don’t say I don’t have to do this.”

Dean released a shaky breath the moment my fingers unclasped his jeans. I tugged them down slightly with his help, just enough so I could dip my hand into his boxers and wrap my fingers around his half-hard length. The moment my skin touched his, his head lolled back and his eyes fluttered closed with a breathy moan on his lips.

“Fuck…”

I gently pulled him from his confines, coming face to face with the cock I’d literally dreamt of again and again. I took the scene in, committing to memory the sharp outline of his jaw and the way his long lashes rested on his lightly-freckled cheeks. The way that, every time he breathed in, I could see his defined muscle tone through the thin fabric of his shirt; and with every small caress that my fingers made against his length, it made his fingers twitch and teeth clench. I licked my lips before leaning in and took his tip into my mouth, not giving him a chance to finish sucking in air through his teeth before I plunged his entire length down my throat. 

“Oh FUCK.”

His hands flew to my hair, fingers gripping tight as they loosened strands from the messy bun, causing them to fall around my face. He’d lifted his head to look down at me, pupils blown as he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth. He looked nothing more than enthralled. Infatuated. Entranced. I moved my head up and down, up and down, again and again to a steady rhythm, pressing my tongue to the underside of his now rock-hard cock to trace every vein and nerve-ending.

“Shit, (Y/n), I didn’t know you could suck cock, like, at all… how’re you s’fuckin’ good…” his voice was breathless as he continued to grip my hair, his head flopping to the side as pleasure started to overcome his senses. I released him with a small ‘pop’, wrapping my fingers around him and smearing the warm mixture of saliva and precum from tip to base.

“Despite everything I told you earlier, Dean, I’m not a virgin - and this certainly isn’t my first rodeo,” my voice came out more sultry than I’d expected and I could feel Dean tremble beneath my palms.

“Fuck, I wish I’d known that sooner,” I chewed on my bottom lip, quickly becoming addicted to the way he writhed at my touch. The way he moaned and gripped my hair tighter when I sucked him back into my mouth was like pure ecstasy, my insides heating up and throbbing with an ache of familiar arousal. Like a thirst that could only be satisfied by him. By tasting him, feeling him on my tongue and drinking in every sound that passed his plush parted lips. The sensation of my glasses slipping down my nose as I sped up my ministrations had me reaching to push them back up, but not before Dean beat me to it. With the rough pad of his thumb he pushed on the plastic bridge, his palm and fingers pressed to my flushed cheek in the most tender, almost heart wrenching caress. I thought my heart might stop when he tilted my face up to his; lustful eyes burning into mine with a vehemence I’d never encountered. I stopped in my tracks, all actions ceased as the spell he’d somehow put me under wouldn’t let me look away. 

“If you keep going like that darlin’ this whole thing is gonna be over before you know it,” his voice was raspy, a rawness to it from the harsh breaths and ragged moans that had been pulled from his throat. He slowly pulled his cock from my spit-slick lips and grasped it loosely, giving himself a few lazy pumps whilst his other hand never left my face. He stared down at me, taking a few moments as though he was committing the sight of me, knelt between his knees with flushed cheeks and swollen lips to memory. Once it seemed that memory was locked away in the depths of his mind, he grasped me by the arm and pulled me effortlessly into his lap, his fingers almost bruising against my skin. Immediately I felt him, in his entirety, press against me with the heat and wetness seeping through my jeans and past my panties. This time when our eyes met, there was a mutual desperation; a need to consume each other and to feel every inch of his heated skin against mine. He pulled me frantically down to him and crashed his lips against mine. 

Some people describe their first kiss with someone like butterflies in their stomach, or fireworks exploding all around them. That wasn’t at all what this was like. Kissing Dean Winchester was different - it was wild and untamed - and describing this experience in such a mundane way would be like adding water to a top-shelf whiskey. Kissing Dean Winchester was like driving the impala at one thirty with the roar of the engine drowning out the rest of the world. It was like trying to ride a wild mustang without a saddle, or daring to stand on the highest peak on Earth with nothing to tie you down. It was exhilarating in the most dangerous way imaginable - and I was now officially a thrill seeker. 

The warm taste of the beer on his tongue and the masculine scent of old leather and cologne was pulling me under. Breathing no longer mattered as long as his mouth was on mine and his fingers were in my hair, now tugging the bobble out and throwing it to the floor. As my hair tumbled free he grabbed under my thighs and stood effortlessly, moving me from his lap to the edge of the table without his lips leaving mine. I winced slightly as the corners and several books and the laptop jabbed into my rear and I fumbled to move everything aside, failing when I refused to unlock our lips. Deans patience was non-existent and with one sweep of his strong arm everything tumbled to the floor - including the laptop. I threw the remaining books from underneath me down to join them, no longer caring for their wellbeing. Before I could pull Dean back in - to allow him to do whatever the fuck he wanted to do to me - he hastily pulled off my boots and tugged down my jeans, throwing every item to the growing pile of chaos beside us. I discarded my sweater and top, but before I let his fingers touch my bra I wanted nothing more than to return the favour. 

“I guess you can forget about that whole ‘never seeing me shirtless’ thing, huh?” he smirked through the sexual fog, not waiting for a reply as his lips hungrily found mine again, his own top falling to the floor. 

“Shut up Winchester. Now are you gonna fuck me or wh- OH FUCK-”

Two thick fingers crept under my panties and plunged into me with zero hesitation, curling up and stroking the sensual cushion deep within my core with skillful precision. 

“Oh yeah? You want me to fuck you?” Even with my face now buried in the crook of his neck, I could hear the smirk in his voice, the tormenting tone going straight to my brain.

“Y-yes- fuck- please,” my knees twitched either side of him, squeezing at his hips with every push of his fingers. I gripped his shoulders tight, nails indenting his skin as I leant back to look at him better. Seeing the beads of sweat on his chest and brow alongside the raw, carnal desire in his eyes could have undone me there and then. He frowned in disapproval when I moved to remove my glasses, the fingers that were just inside me now wrapped forcefully around my wrist.

“What d’ya think you’re doing?” straight away I knew his growling question left no room for negotiation.

“I was just-”

“The glasses stay on.”

“To the end?”

“‘Til I say you can take them off.”

I did as I was told, moving my hand to grip the soft strands on the back of his neck, softly dragging my nails over his scalp and drawing a shiver from his spine and a groan from his lungs. He pulled me against him, crushing his lips against mine one more time. He swiftly pulled away and I leant back on my hands, both of us taking a moment to drink each other in - to bask in lascivious glory. I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth and looked up at him through my lashes, the lenses of my glasses starting to fog around the edges. Another deep moan rumbled from his chest as his heated gaze stayed locked to mine.

“I can’t wait any longer now that you’ve looked at me like that. Fuck.”

With a large hand gripping the soft flesh of my thigh he pulled my underwear to one side and lined himself up, slowly sinking in. Blissful moans harmonised between us, the rawness of him stretching me was unlike anything I’d ever experienced and my quivering thighs wrapped around him, pushing him to the hilt. He secured his large hands on the soft flesh of my hips and held me in place as he slowly withdrew. I could feel him; feel every ridge and vein drag out and then in, out and in, over my most sensitive, intimate, area. The slick sounds of our intimacy  began to echo around the room as he picked up speed, strong thighs working at a feverish pace. With every thrust he pushed against that one spot that made my legs jerk and eyes water, my arms almost giving out underneath me as the table rattled beneath my weight. With the ferocity of his pounding and the heightened sensitivity he’d curated between my legs only moments before, we both knew that neither of us would last long. The sounds of his ragged breaths and throaty moans alone had me clenching around him already, and I know my constricting muscles already had his hips stuttering as I sucked him in with every thrust.

“Fuck (Y/n)- You’re so fuckin’ tight-”

I chewed on my bottom lip as his desperate eyes met mine.

“Oh yeah? Well I feel like you’re cock is in my fucking ribcage- oh fuck-”

He slipped one hand between us, his large palm resting on my lower belly as his thumb drew fast circles around my clit. The immediate contact on my bundle of nerves had my whole body quivering, the knot of an impending climax already starting to twist tighter and tighter in the depths of my core. The way that Dean fucked me into the motel room table was something that I would be able to feel deep in my soul for the rest of my life - my body and entire nervous system having never been worked in such a feral way before. Dean dropped forward and crushed my body into his - one large strong arm wrapped around my trembling body and kept me pressed against him as his head dropped to the crook of my neck. Soft lips pressed hot kisses against my shoulder, teeth gently nibbling the soft flesh as the coil wound and wound, the wave of orgasmic bliss rising higher and higher as my mind emptied, leaving behind only one thought.

Dean.

He was all consuming - all I could see, taste and smell. All I could feel. Oh God could I feel him; driving me to the brink of pure bliss as he frantically sped up - desperate to seek his own undoing as well as my own. One… two… three more fervid thrusts and the peak he’d helped me ascend to shattered around me as I practically screamed his name, the white-hot euphoria scorching my insides as I clamped like a vice around him. 

“Oh shit- (Y/n) I can’t- fuck-”

I grabbed the back of his head and pushed his mouth to mine as he came undone, spilling inside me as he worked through his own white-hot euphoria. 

The kiss we shared evolved from hot and needy to soft and wanting - the sensation of hot cum running down the inside of my thigh and cooling against my skin being the only thing to pull me away. Dean continued to lean over me for a moment, looking down at me with an expression that told me he had so much he wanted to say. Instead, he looked down at his release now starting to pool on the floor beneath us, then to the books and laptop that had been thrown across the floor before turning back to face me with the most devilish grin on his face.

“You know that this mess is all your fault, right?”

I scoffed.

“My fault? How is it my fault?”

“Because, sweetheart…” he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and pushed lightly on the plastic bridge sitting on my nose.

“You put on on those fucking glasses.”

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

Taglist: @roseblue373 @hobby27 @calibootsgirl @suckitands33 @jackles010378 @lyarr24 @autistic-gothic @wattpaduser200 @spndeanwinchesterlvr @mxtansy @libby99hb @magssteenkamp @redmaro86 @slut-for-evans-stan @spookyysinsanity @localjisung

[very-merry-birthday]

Flirt

Summary: Older!Dean doesn't look at you the way you want him to, but you still like to flirt with him. What happens when you finally push him too far.

Warnings: Smut, Age Gap, Older!Dean x Younger!Reader (but it's sweet). Reader has tattoos??

~~~

You enjoyed flirting with the Winchesters.

Sam understood your game quickly. Maybe it was because he was younger than his brother, he realized almost immediately that your age plus your looks put older guys on edge.

Whenever you'd meet up on the road, a hunt putting you in the same town, he'd watch as you'd flirt with the bartender, the motel owner, the witness. You'd look back at him, a knowing smile on his face as he watched you get exactly what you wanted.

Everything but Dean. The one man who Sam knew you wanted more than anyone. Dean handled you with kid gloves, constantly on edge around you, making sure you were safe with your perceived vulnerabilities. The rest of the year you were a badass hunter who could take anything on by yourself, but the second Dean was around he couldn't see you as anything but a little kid, one who should be as far from a hunt as possible.

Sam understood your flirting, understood that with others it was just a means to an end, with him it was a joke, and with Dean... well he knew with Dean it couldn't be more genuine. But you just wished Dean could see that, or could even realize you were flirting in the first place.

The moment you'd shown up to the motel, a six pack under your arm, a grin on your face, you knew this occasion would be a lost cause. You'd gotten a black eye one week earlier, a ragaru with a crowbar leaving you with a purple bruise all the way to your temple, and while it was significantly less swollen now, it was still obvious. The second Dean had caught sight of you'd he'd sighed, starting on a lecture about keeping safe while you'd looked to Sam with desperate eyes, seeking an escape.

"Did ya kill it? The ragaru?" Sam cut his brother off.

"Easy." You replied with a wink.

"That's our girl!" Sam pulled you in to a hug, you hadn't seen each other for months and he'd missed your jokes.

You handed him a bottle, along with your bottle opener, and he clicked it open easily before handing the opener back. You outstretched another bottle to Dean who looked down at you with a frosty expression, "Are you even old enough to drink?"

"How old do you think I am exactly?" You pouted out your bottom lip, looking up at him with big eyes.

"What are you doing here?" Dean took the bottle and turned away to open it himself.

You looked over at Sam with a worth a try expression. He shook his head at you, a smile forming across his face at your halfhearted efforts.

"I was in the area, Sam texted, I came running."

"As you always do." Sam laughed.

"Only for you, honey." You sat down on one of the beds, kicking off your shoes in one movement as you tapped the space next to you for Sam to join. He did, taking a seat as you looked back at Dean, a firm expression on his face.

He took a sip from the bottle before speaking again, "So what's your plan? You got somewhere to stay?"

"Nah, Sam's gonna let me share his bed, aren't ya Sammy?"

Sam looked over at you with a grin.

"No chance-" Dean spoke before his brother was able to.

"Oh, you want me to yourself?" You bit the end of you finger, a fiery expression in your eyes.

"I'll get you a room." He placed the bottle down on the side table and left without another word.

You sighed, exasperated, laying down on the bed and staring up at the damp ceiling.

Sam laughed at the sight, "You shouldn't tease him like that."

"I'm not teasing! If he asked, I'd share a bed with him any day- or any night-"

"I'm gonna stop you there- That's my brother you're talking about."

You looked up at him, your façade gone, "Well then, how've you been?"

"Dean's been driving me crazy- he's been driving himself crazy! You need to move into the bunker already! I know I ask every time but I don't think either of us will cope by ourselves for much longer."

"What, so he can keep me locked away never to hunt again? No chance! He barely wanted me on this one did you see his face?"

"He only does it because he cares about you-"

"-He does it because he thinks I'm a kid." You sighed again, sitting back up and taking a swig of Sam's beer. He let you without a second thought.

"And you? How have you been? Keeping out of trouble I hope?"

"God you sound like a dad!" You rolled your eyes, but watched as a pained wince flashed over his face, "Sorry. I've been good, and yes, keeping out of trouble, apart from this!" You pointed back to your black eye.

"It hurting still?" He squinted slightly to get a better look at it.

"Nothing I haven't dealt with before." You touched it lightly, the swelling gone, just a bruised mark left. You looked back at him, remembering your news, "Hey! I almost forgot, I got a new tattoo!"

Sam grinned. Your tattoos weren't obvious, most of them hidden away under layers of clothes, but you'd shown him a few on a drunk night some months ago, and you'd always appreciated how much interest he'd taken in them. Not because they were hot, or because they were in scandalous places, but just because he was genuinely interested.

"Show me then!" He laughed.

You hopped up, hiking up the back of your shirt and tugging your jeans down only slightly to reveal the small of your back, looking back at him over your shoulder to catch his expression.

"Looks sick," he looked between your face and the tattoo, "but I don't get having a tattoo you can't see yourself?"

You let go of your shirt and turned back to him, "Thought I'd give Dean something to look at when he finally decides to bend me over and-"

"Stop right there!" Both of you stared at each other for a moment before breaking out in laughter. The door opened again and Dean stepped in holding a key between his fingers. You both burst out laughing again as you looked over at him.

He looked confused for a second, and then just sighed, holding up the key with an outstretched hand, "You're next door."

You looked over at Sam again with an amused expression, taking beer out of the six pack and picking up your shoes from the floor. You left, grabbing the key from Dean on the way out, looking back at him before he closed the door, "Thanks."

--

The next day you were up and out as quickly as you could be, not wanting to keep them waiting, or give Dean any excuse to leave you behind. You were already standing by the Impala, still brushing your teeth, as the two men finally left the motel.

Dean eyed you over quickly, enjoying watching you relaxed, toothbrush hanging out of your mouth as you gave them a lopsided smile. He liked seeing you like this, almost domestic, not that he'd ever admit that to himself let alone to you.

You hocked the toothpaste out of your mouth onto the floor behind you and wiped you mouth with the back of your hand. Sam lent down to give you a side hug as Dean walked past you and found his place in the driver's seat. You followed his lead, climbing into the back.

You and Dean sat in silence as Sam spoke, he started by explaining the case, everything you'd missed before arriving yesterday, what they'd been doing, who'd they'd spoken to. You nodded along, hunting mode fully taking over as you sat serious in the back seat. Then he laid out the plan for the day.

"I'm telling you, she wasn't being completely honest with us, she knows more than she's letting on. I only need five, maybe ten minutes with her and I think she'd be willing to talk to me."

"But there's a cop outside her door?" You pitched up.

"Exactly right." He turned back to you and smiled, "You and Dean just need to distract him for long enough that I can get in there and talk to her, and then we're set."

You looked at Dean, who was watching you closely in the rearview, "Sounds good to me."

You pulled up around the corner of the house and all hopped out, stretching your legs. Sam said his goodbyes, walking round the opposite way to avoid any suspicion. You looked at Dean closely, "What do ya say? I go in, little bit of flirting, see if I can't get the cop away from that door for a bit?"

"I'm not sure that's the best idea." His forehead creased, "I think I should go with you."

You rolled your eyes at his protectiveness, "Right. Well, what do you suggest? You pretend to be my boyfriend, we've broken down and need some help with the car?"

He looked down at himself and then back to you, he didn't have to say anything about the age difference, you knew exactly what he was implying, "I'm not sure that's believable, sweetheart."

He didn't even mean to say the nickname. Something in his brain connecting the word boyfriend and you together pushed it out of him involuntarily. Your stomach still flooded with butterflies, even if you knew it was harmless.

"Well, follow my lead then, I think I have a better idea."

You began to walk away before he could stop you, catching up as you rounded the corner to the house, the cop within sight. He straightened his face, knowing he'd have to go along with whatever you had planned whether he liked it or not.

You marched up to the front door, a meak smile on your face as you tried to act docile, "Hey sorry, do you have a second?" You fluttered your eyelashes at the man.

He was closer to your age than Dean's, not unattractive but not what you were usually into. Well- you were usually only into Dean anyway.

"How can I help?"

"I'm so sorry to do this, we've been driving all night and somethings just happened to the car, we can't seem to work out what's going on and we just need a little help." Dean sidled up next to you as you continued speaking. You held out your hand to the man for a handshake, offering up a fake name you'd used before, and then looked over at Dean, "And this here's my daddy!"

You looked over at him with a grin, a glimmer in your eye only he could see. He didn't want to even begin to do the math on whether that was really possible. He swallowed hard as he looked between you and the cop, before finally relenting and holding out his own hand, "Name's Malcolm."

You almost laughed out loud, the mixture of fake name and the expression on his face too much, but you kept a straight face. You wrapped your arm around his waist, pulling him towards you, "My daddy really ain't much of a mechanic, ya see, it'd be a real big help if you could take a look at it?" You bit your lip, looking the man up and down slow enough that you knew he'd catch you.

You felt Dean tense up beside you, but he didn't say anything.

"Sure, I'll take a look."

You walked around the side of the building, keeping in line with the cop as Dean trailed behind you, trying to catch your eye but you wouldn't let him. You were fully engrossed in the act now, a small touch on the younger man's arm, a lingering look at his lips, you knew everything you were supposed to be doing.

Dean popped the hood for you as he started a mental timer of how long this would have to last before Sam would be done. You knew what an honor it was for Dean to be going along with this, to be using his precious car in the ruse, and you knew you couldn't fuck it up.

"So, this is the engine?" You asked, wide eyed, trying to act perplexed.

Dean didn't like watching you flirt, he never did. Protective, he called it, never jealous. But it was undeniable how much he loved watching you hustle. He almost blew the whole thing with a laugh as he watched you point around the engine, acting like you couldn't tell your alternator from your carburetor. But when your hand landed back on the top of the cops arm, his smile fell again as he swallowed hard.

"Sounds like a fuel pump issue to me." The cop said, turning back to you.

Your doubt almost seeped into your voice, but you let it sounds like naivety, "Fuel pump?"

"Yeah, you and your- ehem- father, could probably just get it replaced by the mechanic in town."

"Ya hear that, daddy?" You looked over at Dean again, widening your eyes to mask your sarcasm, "He says it's a fuel pump issue."

"Does he now?" Dean's jaw clenched.

You turned back to the cop, "Forgive him, he doesn't like to admit how little he knows about cars. Say, how do you know so much anyway?"

Dean watched as you turned back around, looking back into the engine as the man pointed out different sections. He let himself look, it wasn't often that he did, but between the deception and the daddys he couldn't help himself. He looked down at your body, your legs, your ass clad tight in jeans. He let his tongue sit on his bottom lip deep in thought as his eyes trailed over your body.

And that's when he spotted it, as you leant further in, your hand brushing the cop's, he spotted your new tattoo. He swallowed hard. He'd always seen you as innocent. Sure you flirted with guys on cases all the time, but he'd never actually know you to go home with with one. He thought of you as pure, virtuous, maybe even immature. But as he looked down at your tattoo, he felt a growing arousal hit him. He shook his head, trying to clear the thoughts as quickly as they had arrived.

"Mechanic then?" He spoke up quickly, "I mean, you think we should take it to a mechanic?"

"Uh, yeah." The cop looked back over at him. You spun back, confusion on your face, this really didn't seem like enough time.

"Great, thanks." He held out his hand again for the cop to shake it, clearly a sign he'd overstayed his welcome. Your eyes grew larger: confused, angry.

You leant back into the cop, holding the top of his arm gently to stop him walking away, "Say, if we get stuck in this town overnight, where can I come find you?"

The cop looked between you and Dean, you could tell he'd made note of your black eye, "I'm not sure..."

You bit your bottom lip, letting your hand stroke down his arm, "Don't mind him, really, he wouldn't hurt a fly. Just gets a bit... protective of me sometimes."

He looked back at you, as you fluttered your eyelashes once again. "O'Reilly's Bar, downtown, that's where I tend to head after my shift."

You smiled at him as he pulled away, giving Dean a friendly nod before walking back the way he came. Your face dropped once he turned the corner, looking back at Dean, "What the fuck was that?!"

"What was what?!"

"Sam said ten minutes."

"He said five to ten! We've given him more than enough time!"

You let the hood of the car drop with a small clang. Dean winced slightly at the noise.

You both stood pacing for another few minutes, your jaw on edge as you tried to relax. Then you saw Sam turning the corner and you both let out a sigh of relief.

"All good?" Dean questioned once he was close enough.

"Think I've got everything we need!"

You smiled at him, "Had us worried there for a second. Dean, what was that?!" Now you knew Sam was safe, you could let your chastising begin.

"You have a tattoo." Dean spoke quietly, firmly, out of nowhere.

You let out a loud laugh, "I've got a few, what does that matter?"

"I- you've got a tramp stamp!?"

Sam looked between you and Dean, feeling like he was missing something. It didn't help that you felt like you were missing it too.

"Once again, I don't see how that matters?"

"You're a kid, you shouldn't be getting tattoos you're gonna regret! You can't even see it, what's the point?!"

Sam laughed, "Gives a guy something to look at when they bend her over." He looked at you with a knowing smile and you held back another laugh at his reference.

Dean's face dropped, "You're disgusting, dude, you're old enough to be her-"

He stopped himself, swallowing hard. The word daddy was glued between his lips, you knew it, and so did he.

Sam looked between the two of you, the tension sat between you as you eyed each other over cautiously. "I think I'm gonna walk back to the motel."

The concentration on Dean's face broke, "What are you talking about, that'll take hours."

"I just need to stretch my legs, you guys, uh, go on without me." He locked eyes with you, trying to tell you something with his expression that you couldn't completely understand, before turning on his heel and beginning to walk.

You looked at Dean, who looked at Sam, both of you confused but neither of you wanting to leave the moment. Eventually he slid into the driver's side, waiting for you to get in the car so he could start driving.

You both sat in silence as he drove back to the motel, occasionally glancing over at each other when the other wasn't looking. Eventually he broke, looking over at you, "A tattoo?"

"I've got loads, Dean, it's really not a big deal."

"You're just a kid."

"I'm old enough, Dean." The words were slick with implication. But you didn't want implication, you wanted him. You leant over, placing your hand on his thigh, "I'm old enough."

He gripped the steering wheel tighter, jaw clenching. He couldn't hide what he felt for you, he couldn't hide his looks when your back was turned, or the way he'd still smell your perfume in the Impala days after you'd left and miss you. But he knew he wasn't right for you, his life filled with too much danger, the distance between you too large, "I'd wreck you, sweetheart."

You knew what he meant, the solemn expression on his face, but it didn't stop you from looking over at him with a glisten in your eyes, "Maybe that's what I want."

There was a silent beat as you both sat in the moment. Then you pulled back, taking your hand off of his leg and sitting back down, eyes on the road. You were at the motel only a few minutes later, both of you shrouded in tension. He shut off the engine and you both sat, staring out the front window, neither of you willing yourselves to move.

He managed to whisper out the words, not looking at you, "You're just a kid."

You sighed and rolled your eyes. You knew he'd never see you how you wanted him to. The words hit you in the gut, winding you for a moment, making it hard to breathe in the small space.

You opened the car door, stumbling out and making your way to your room. Only a few hours and Sam would be back, then you could finish the hunt and get on with your life. Maybe you wouldn't even wait for him, just pack up and go. Yeah, that sounded good.

You heard the sound of Dean behind you, following your footsteps, but you didn't slow down. Frustration kept you moving, not even turning back.

He only caught up to you by the time you reached the doors to your rooms, grabbing your wrist to stop you going any further. You looked down at his hold, and then back to his face, his jaw tensed, worried lines creased into his forehead. He hooked a finger under your chin as he looked down at you, his eyes darting over your face.

He whispered again, "I'm too dangerous, sweetheart."

"I'm used to danger, Dean." You looked back down at his hand. He wasn't gripping you tight, you could push him away if you wanted, but you didn't want that. You wanted him touching you.

"You deserve someone your own age." His thumb reached out, lightly brushing over your bottom lip. You blinked hard to keep yourself composed as arousal flooded through you.

"I don't want anyone else." You replied back, meekly.

"It would never work." His eyes were firmly placed on your lips as his thumb brushed over them, before looking back at you.

You lowered your voice to match his, "I don't care."

He leant down torturously slowly, looking between your eyes and your lips. You didn't want to move, afraid of scaring him off, but you pushed yourself up only slightly onto your tiptoes to help close the gap between the two of you.

And then his lips were on yours. Soft, hesitant at first. They locked together, fitting into place around each other. He savoured the moment, the feeling of your lips. You held your breath as you leant into him, his hand moving to your jaw holding you tight, afraid that if he let go he might lose the moment. He allowed himself to kiss you deeper, his tongue swiping out to your lip, testing the waters, his other hand reaching for your waist, pulling you closer.

He pushed his tongue into your mouth, exploring you, as your own hand came up to his cheek, feeling his stubble harsh against your fingertips. You felt as he let go of your waist, fumbling with his keys as he tried to open the door to the motel without breaking away from you. You placated him for a moment, continuing to kiss him as you listened to the sound of keys jangling, before breaking away from him, allowing him to look at the door and finally get it open. He blinked hard as he looked down at you again, taking you in, the feeling of you still on his lips.

As you looked at him you could see his mind racing as thoughts filled it, his eyes darting over your body, his forehead beginning to crease without him realizing it. You reached out again before his thoughts could get the better of him, grabbing his shirt and pulling him into the room, your lips back on his, harder, seeking him out.

You were on your knees within seconds, pushing him against the wall and dropping in front of him, fumbling with his belt. His head rolled back instinctively, hitting the wall, as you pulled out his cock, wrapping your mouth around it without a second thought. It took you a moment to adjust to his size, but once you had you began to play with him on your tongue, letting your lips envelope him. And then you pushed your head down, taking him in your mouth, his head hitting the back of your throat as you choked down his salty taste. The sounds of you below him caused his fist to tighten at his side, a loud grunt escaping his lips as he lost all control.

But this isn't how he wanted it, you on your knees praising his cock. What the hell- of course that's what he wanted- but not right now. Right now he needed to show you what a real man could do.

He cupped your cheek gently as you looked up at him. He gave himself one last look at you, swallowing down is cock with wide eyes, before gently pulling you off of him.

You looked at him, confused, as he helped you to your feet, cautious that he'd come to his senses, that he'd tell you it was a mistake. Instead he just let his eyes roam your face.

"Dean, let me keep going-" you wrapped your hand around his cock, desperate for more.

"Next time, darlin'." The idea of a next time set your skin aflame, a flush overwhelming you. "Can I touch you?"

You lead him towards the bed, your lips connected again as you moved, his hands roaming over your body, tugging at the bottom of your shirt. You pulled at your own jeans, desperate to be unclothed as quickly as possible, while Dean broke away for a second to pull your shirt over your head.

He stopped to look down at you as you kicked your jeans off your ankles, taking you in. He'd never allowed himself to look at you like this before, it was always stolen glances, small looks, but now, with you naked except for underwear in front of him, he eyed you greedily. He made note of your tattoos, the ones he didn't know existed an hour ago, as he sought every inch of you, devouring you with his eyes.

He gently guided you down towards the bed, and you pulled him on top of you as you laid down, bodies entwined. He pulled his own shirt off before sinking back against you, skin pressed against skin as he kissed you, his mouth heavier, needier. You guided his head down to your neck, and he kissed messily against your skin. His cock twitched at the idea of putting a hickey on your perfect, innocent neck, of marking his territory.

He let his teeth graze slightly over your skin and you let out a gasp, rolling your head back as your hand combed through his hair. He chuckled lightly against you before biting down, sucking at your neck as you moaned into him. He could feel his cock rock hard in his boxers for you already, and your noises weren't making it any easier.

He pulled back only slightly to catch sight of you again, looking down at your body under him, before looking back to your face, watching him closely, "You're gorgeous."

His finger trailed down your collarbone absentmindedly, and you bit your lip as warmth spread over you. He made easy work of the clasp on your bra and pulled it off of you, his tongue darting out at the sight. Lowering his body down he lightly kissed at your skin here and there as you closed your eyes and relaxed back into the bed, letting the feelings take you over. He nestled between your legs, small kisses dotting your inner thigh, where the desperation to ruin you took him again, and he bit down hard. You let out a small yelp, that quickly turned into a moan as you sunk into the feeling again, his teeth on your skin sending pleasure through you.

He kissed you lightly over your underwear, and you whined quietly, needy. You felt as his finger came up to circle your clit through the fabric, and you pushed your hips up, desperate for his touch.

"You want me, darlin'?" He was half teasing, and half genuinely asking, his eyebrow cocked. You bit your lip as you looked back down at him, nodding enthusiastically. He hooked his fingers around the sides of your underwear, dragging them down your legs as he sucked in a ragged breath at the sight of you, completely naked below him.

His lips found your knee, then your inner thigh, working his way up dangerously slowly. You whined again for him, showing him how much you wanted him. He looked back up at you with a creased forehead, "You tell me if it's too much for you?"

You wanted to roll your eyes at his caution, but instead only nodded again as you looked down at him between your legs. He slowly pushed a finger into your entrance, a strangled groan escaping his lips as you moaned, your pussy slick around him. He inched in slowly, desperate to feel you, before pulling out just as slow, dragging out your pleasure. Slow, gentle thrusts as your pussy clenched around him.

"Dean- Please..." You pleaded, all you were able to get out, desperate for more.

You felt as he pushed a second finger into you and you gripped the sheets next to you, his movements still gentle, taking his time to stretch you open. And then his mouth was on you, softly lapping up your juices as his tongue roamed your folds. You let out another gasp, tightening your grip on the sheets.

Long strokes with a flat tongue, desperate to taste as much of you as he could, as his fingers gained speed, beginning to thrust in and out of you with ease. And then his tongue darted out, only for a second, to your clit, testing for your movements, your reaction.

You let out a loud gasp, wrapping your legs over his shoulders, needy for his mouth, for his hands. He began moving his fingers faster, building up momentum as you felt your orgasm rising. He kept lapping you up, his whole mouth on you with deliberate movements as you grinded against him, your rutting only pushing him deeper into you.

And then he curled his fingers, only slightly, continuing to thrust into you as he pressed against your g-spot. You felt your whole body clench up as you came, rolling your head back with a loud gasp as waves of pleasure flowed through you and you pulsed below him. He kept his movements steady, letting you ride out your orgasm as he continued to push his fingers into you.

He felt as you relaxed again into the sheets, coming down from your high with heavy breath, your hand moving down to comb through his hair gently.

He broke away from you for a moment, kissing your inner thigh lightly, "That okay? You okay?"

"Yes, Dean!" You laughed, exasperated, "Fuck, that was good!"

His kissing got messier again as he nipped at your skin, small red marks forming along the inside of your thigh that he kissed lightly, acknowledging his handy work. You went to sit up, reaching down to cup his face, but his grip on your legs tightened, keeping you in place as he continued to kiss against your skin.

He pulled you back down, closer to him, as his face moved back towards your pussy, still sensitive as you continued to come down from your orgasm. And then he dove in again, messier, frenzied, desperate to taste you. His tongue moved rapidly against you, and you rolled your head back again, not expecting the pleasure that rocked your body.

He lifted you towards him, your legs over his shoulders, one hand going to the small of your back to support you as he kneeled upright, pulling your ass off of the bed. His whole mouth was on you as he pushed his tongue through your folds, tasting you, his stubble rubbing against you sending your back arching. He sucked lightly at your swollen clit and you let out a pleading gasp, the feeling almost too much. He broke away for only a second to eye up your reaction before pushing back in, his pointed tongue darting out over your clit, not giving you a moment without stimulation.

He circled your bud messily, desperately, as you writhed below him, another orgasm rising quickly. He didn't relent, his need for you overwhelming any other thought as he continued to savor you. His free hand came up to spread your folds apart as he lapped at you, your wetness practically dripping over his chin as he sucked and licked at you.

"Dean- I'm gonna-" you panted out, rolling your head back into the pillow.

Without a response he focused back on your clit, flicking at it with the pointed end of his tongue. He felt your legs tense around him again and sped up his movements, overwhelming your body.

You came again, hard, grinding into him, a shuddering moan escaping your lips. He continued his frenzied movements as you choked out a desperate gasp, blinding pleasure overtaking you.

His movements slowed in time with you, letting you come down slowly from your shattering high. He rested one hand on your stomach, lowering you back down onto the bed, as he continued to slowly lap you up, staying away from your overstimulated clit. He watched you go limp below him as you sunk back into the sheets, your chest rising and falling heavily.

He kissed your thigh lazily as you came to, looking down at the grin spread across his face. "Y' okay, sweetheart?"

"Fuck-" You looked back up at the ceiling.

You heard him chuckling as he knelt back up, looking down at you, yearning for more. He reached out to lightly brush your clit with his thumb and you moved to clamp your legs together instinctively, earning a tsk out of his mouth as he moved his hand away again, "Sensitive?"

You only nodded in response, looking back at him with wide eyes.

"You ready for more?" He looked down at you, and then at his own cock, desperately hard beneath his boxers.

"Yes, Dean- Please-"

He looked down at you again, and then started to move, "I've got a rubber in my wallet-"

You grabbed his wrist, "Just pull out."

He looked at your body, your gorgeous naked body that he couldn't drag his eyes away from, the dark marks starting to form on your inner thigh and neck. He'd come this far, he'd earned you, but he knew he still had an obligation to keep you safe. "-It's in my wallet."

You rolled your eyes with a smile, shaking your head only slightly as he stood up, pulling off the rest of his clothes and fumbling around in the pile until he found his wallet, pulling out the rubber and ripping the packaging quickly with his teeth. A small pit formed, trying to push away your thoughts of where he was planning on using it, who he'd been planning on using it on. He turned back to you and you pulled yourself up instinctively, rolling over with your ass in the air, arching your back with your head buried down in the pillows, ready for him.

You felt him kneel behind you again, his eyes trained on your ass, the tattoo on your lower back, your pussy still pulsing as he trailed his finger over your wetness, causing you to let out another small gasp.

"Not- not like this...", heavy blinks bringing him to his senses.

You looked back over your shoulder, eyeing him carefully, "I thought you were going to wreck me, Winchester."

He broke his eyes away from your ass finally, feeling triumph at his self discipline, "I want to see your face-"

You swallowed hard at his confession, your mind buzzing as he guided you to lay down again, your back sinking into the sheets as he positioned himself above you, holding himself up with one arm next to your head, his other hand lining his cock up to your entrance.

He teased the head of his cock through your folds, as his eyes traced over your face carefully, watching your for your expression, "You sure?"

"Dean- Please-"

His face darkened, "Are you sure?"

"Yes."

He pushed into you slowly, his cock stretching you out. You bit your lip, wincing only slightly as you adjusted to his size, but as the pleasure of his movements filled you, you moaned, your shaking hand moving up to his chest as he began to thrust into you.

"You okay?" He watched you carefully.

You smiled in response, pressing your forehead against his, "You're big-"

He half chuckled, masking a genuine question with sarcasm, "Too big?"

"Biggest I've ever had." You laughed lightly, your hand flowing down over his body.

The thought caused a pang of jealousy to hit him, that you'd ever had anyone else, that other men had had you. But as you moaned beneath him, your own hips moving in time with his, guiding him in, he didn't care. Right now you were his, utterly and completely.

He watched your face again, soft grunts escaping his mouth as he thrusted, gaining speed. You felt as his expression tightened, his eyes fixed on the bruise next to your eye. You tried to turn your face away from his gaze but he stopped you, cupping your cheek with his free hand.

Both of you stared at each other for a moment before he pushed his forehead against yours again, "You're mine."

You gasped at the statement, another orgasm rising within you, speeding up your own movements as he began to drive into you harder. His expression softened as his breathing became more strained, "You're mine. And you're safe."

You smiled up at him as you felt your orgasm on the edge, your hands wrapping around his shoulder for leverage as you continued to move under him, your leg wrapping around him to push him into you completely.

You relaxed your forehead against him as you let pleasure dissolve your body, quaking under him as you came. He held his breath as your walls convulsed around his cock, pushing him to his own edge as you leant up for a messy kiss, lips colliding while your orgasm overtook you.

Within moments he was coming himself, breaking away from your kiss to push his face back into your neck, a groan vibrating through him. His thrusting faltered only slightly, and you kept your hips grinding against him as he saw out his release.

You both slowed, panting hard as he pulled his face back in front of yours, small kisses across your cheeks and nose. He kept himself in you for a moment, feeling your walls spasm against his cock as you came down from your high. And then he pulled back out of you again, kneeling in front of you as he pulled the condom off and threw it to one side.

He looked down at you as you closed your eyes, relaxing back down into the sheets below him. He kissed your legs lazily as you lay there, spent. He sucked in another breath, eyes tracing over your body, fixating on the new marks on your neck as his tongue darted out to wet his lip.

"You okay?" He sighed as you sat back up, stretching your body.

You smiled, warmth filling your face, "Yes, Dean, yes I'm okay- more than okay."

He blinked hard, "Sam'll be back soon."

You pouted out your bottom lip, sarcasm dancing behind your eyes, "You think he'll join us if we ask him nice enough?"

Dean's jaw tightened as he rolled his eyes at you, "Put your clothes back on."

You hopped off of the bed, bending down to pick your clothes up off the floor as Dean looked at you, longing still holding him.

You looked back at him over your shoulder as you stood back straight, "You're staring."

"You're beautiful." He climbed off the bed after you, his finger hooked under your chin once again, "You're so beautiful."

A pause. He leant down to kiss your forehead, his voice barely louder than a whisper, "But you need to put your clothes on before Sam gets back. I ain't sharing."

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Old Faces

Summary: At seventeen, Dean fell hard for the girl in his high school English class. He never got a chance to make a move before he was on the road again. When he bumps into her working the same case as himself, he wants to know how her apple pie life got flipped upside down...

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word Count: 1,200ish

Warnings: language

A/N: Enjoy!...

________________

“No Ding Dongs? Are you serious?” you said, standing up with a groan at the mini mart. 

“Sorry. I got the last of them,” said a voice that was vaguely familiar. You spun around, the stranger’s eyes going wide just as fast as yours. “Do I know you? You look so familiar.”

“Y/N Y/L/N,” he said with a big smile. “You grew up to be gorgeous. I would expect nothing less though from Mountainside’s head cheerleader.”

“Ah, we went to high school together,” you said, giving him a smile. “I’m sorry, I can’t remember your name.”

“I wouldn’t expect it. I was only there three weeks. Dean Winchester,” he said.

“The bad boy!” you said with a laugh. “I remember you. You dyed the football team’s pants pink on homecoming night.”

“Yeah,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I wasn’t the most mature guy back then.”

“You past the bad boy ways?” you said.

“Mostly,” he said with a hand wave. “You live around here?”

“No. I’m just in town for work,” you said.

“Me too,” he said.

“Hey, what ever happened to you? You just left one day out of the blue,” you said.

“My dad had a different job somewhere else. It was pretty normal for us to move around a lot,” he said. 

“Too bad. The cheerleading squad talked about you all the time,” you said. “You would have had your pick of a girlfriend.”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure the one I wanted wasn’t available,” he said, giving you a smile. He reached into his basket and pulled out the box of Ding Dongs, tossing them in yours. “Nice seeing you, Y/N.”

“You too, Dean.”

Later That Evening

“Drop it!” you shouted at the dark figure. It mumbled something but you saw a gun get lowered to the ground. The creature turned around but you went wide eyed for the second time that night.

“Y/N?” asked Dean, looking around before settling on you. “Wha...what are...”

“Fucking hell. You’re a hunter,” you said, lowering your gun, Dean dropping his hands. “It makes perfect sense now.”

“You hunt?” he asked.

“Well I-”

You woke up in a motel room, your head throbbing as you sat up, blinking at Dean and someone else.

“Sorry about the concussion. I thought you were the witch,” said the man.

“Nope. Not her,” you groaned, sighing as you tried to get to your feet.

“Take it easy,” said Dean, guiding you to stay on the bed. 

“Did you get the witch?” you asked.

“No,” said Dean. “Sam’s working another lead though. We think she might still be in town.”

“Good,” you said. 

“So you’re a hunter?” he asked.

“As I was saying before Paul Bunyan over there hit me, yes,” you said. “Been one for a while.”

“But you had such a perfect life,” said Dean. 

“Have you ever heard the phrase, keeping up appearances?” you asked. Dean looked over to Sam, both staring at their laps. “Of course. You grew up hunters. You knew how to pretend to be normal kids.”

“Did your parents hunt?” asked Dean. You scoffed and shook your head.

“When I was about thirteen, my parents went out on a date night. The things that came home were not my parents. If I played along and played house like everything was fine, they told me they’d let my parents go. They were demons. My parents died that night I’m pretty sure but I didn’t know any of that. I spent the next five years doing what they wanted, pretending everything was fine,” you said.

“What changed?” asked Dean.

“I found out about hunting, demons...I realized play time was over and I had to get out of there,” you said.

“And I thought we had a messed up childhood,” said Dean, running his hand through his hair.

“So...we teaming up on this witch thing or what?” you asked.

“Uh, sure,” said Dean, Sam nodding his head. “The more the merrier.”

“Sam,” you asked that night while Dean was busy grabbing some food from a fast food place. “Why does Dean keep staring at me?”

“Because you’re Y/N Y/L/N,” said Sam with a little laugh from the front seat of baby. “Dean had the biggest crush in the world on you. He wouldn’t shut up about you for three weeks straight.”

“He had a crush on me?” you asked. “Why?”

“Why does any teenage boy have a crush on the head cheerleader?” said Sam with an eye roll. “He probably thought you were cute.”

“He’s not like...obsessed or something,” you said, Sam immediately shaking his head.

“My guess is he’s just super surprised you turned out to be a hunter,” said Sam.

“Yeah. That’s probably it.”

“Well that went smoother than expected,” you said around midnight, slamming your trunk closed. 

“You should think about getting a partner. They come in handy,” said Dean. You nodded and went to climb in your car when Dean grunted. “Give us a second Sammy?”

“What’s up?” you asked, Dean waiting until Sam was tucked away in the Impala.

“Why didn’t you tell me? Back in high school. I could have helped. I could gotten my dad involved and-”

“I don’t know what you remember about high school but we weren’t friends,” you said.

“No but you did keep the football team from pounding me to death after the pants thing,” he said. 

“It was a harmless prank. I figured the new kid didn’t need to get beaten half to death,” you said.

“Yeah and I said thanks and you made some weird comment and I asked if you were okay and you gave another weird comment and then I never saw you again,” he said.

“I’m sorry. You’re right. I should have gone talking about my demon parents to every kid I didn’t know on the off chance they could help,” you said, crossing your arms. 

“Well...I could have done something,” he said. 

“It wasn’t your problem. I dealt with it and it’s over,” you said.

“You didn’t make a deal, did you?” he asked.

“No. I handled it,” you said. “Is that what’s been eating you all night? You think you didn’t save me back then so you’re responsible?”

“I’m thinking if I had the guts to ask you out, I might have gone over to your house and seen the signs and saved you a lot of crap,” he said.

“Like I said, I handled it,” you said.

“You don’t have to be in this life you know,” he said.

“Neither do you,” you said.

“Yes I do.”

“Me too,” you said.

“Can I at least buy you a beer?” he asked.

“Took you long enough to ask,” you said with a small smile.

“Better late than never.”

______________

[waynes-multiverse]

Ok hear me out. I got this idea after the episode of Dean getting his "virginity" back and hooking up with the porn star when he's digging through her dresser and finds the DVD of her ANYWAY

Best friend Dean who's been pining after you for sooo long but doesn't want to fuck it up and lose you. You're hanging out when you ask him to go grab something from your room and he's digging through your drawers looking and accidentally comes across some lingerie and now it's days later and he's so hot and bothered cuz he can't think of anything else (the boy has a serious panty kink lets be honest) and you catch him in your room going through your drawers again and OH

A/N: As I warned y'all, this is a longer DD because, well, the prompt was long, so it's not really my fault. All that backstory took on a life of its own, but I think no one will be mad about it 😅 Again, I had tons of fun with this one! You'll see 🤣

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Warnings: +18/NSWF, a ridiculous heat wave, friends to lovers (Wayne's Version), crack, a panty kink, some sneaky fluff, and some hot lovin' aka smut (oral f & face sitting)

Word Count: 4.5k (whoops)

Main Masterlist || Dirty Drabbles

Cruel Summer

“You open the beaches on the 4th of July, it’s like ringing the dinner bell for Christ’s sake…”

As Jaws flickered across the screen in the Dean Cave, the green-eyed hunter adjusted himself in his seat. Usually, he had perfect control over himself and his feelings for you.

But on some days – like today – when you sat right next to him on the couch in nothing but a loose t-shirt and some short sweatpants, fanning yourself with an old magazine of Busty Asian Beauties as beads of salty sweat collected on your forehead and trickled down your neck, you made it hard for him.

“God, I’m so hot,” you sighed exhaustively and sunk further into the couch cushions, lifting your shirt from your sticky skin to let some cool air to your boobs as a heat wave ravaged through Kansas.

Painfully hard.

“Dean?” You pouted with your best puppy dog look at your best friend.

“Huh?” Dean was in trance, watching you more than the movie, always on the edge of getting caught one of these days.

“We’re out of Sour Patch Kids. I have more in my nightstand. Can you get them for me please?” you asked sweetly. “I don’t wanna move. I might actually die from heat exhaustion.”

Dean sighed and wordlessly rose from his seat. He knew you always kept an array of salty and sweet midnight snacks in your room in case you got hungry and didn’t want to wander into the kitchen in the middle of the night.

Moreover, he was grateful for the break. God knows he couldn’t stand to be around you any longer, or he would’ve been too tempted to rip your clothes off and really make you sweat.

I’ll show her a damn heat exhaustion, he thought with a scoff.

Hastily grabbing the desired snack, his green eyes then caught something red and lacy sticking out from the first drawer of your dresser. The hunter knew the decent and honest thing would’ve been to just keep moving and leave your godforsaken room.

Turn around, as Bonnie Tyler sang. But for some reason, his bright eyes couldn’t resist, his curiosity overtaking him.

Dean opened the drawer with the intention to push the naughty little clothing item back into its place and out of sight. Get rid of the temptation, so to speak. It sounded like the perfect loophole. He got to touch it and look at it, but for a very heroic and noble reason – not because he was a creepy perv, violating his best friend’s privacy.

On some level, Dean knew he’d never stand a chance with you. He wasn’t good enough. He had so much baggage all his suitcases wouldn’t even fit into the bunker.

A damn touch of a pair of panties you weren’t even wearing was all he would ever get from you.

But then his fingers touched the soft and see-through material, his pads tracing every delicate scarlet thread with precision and care. It was game over for him then and there, cursing himself internally for not resisting harder as his cock twitched joyfully in his jeans.

Dean had laid his eyes on you the second you strolled with swinging hips into that diner in Wichita for your very first case together, a werewolf hunt six years ago. And he had managed to get by without an incident for years since then, even when you moved into the bunker, being rather proud of that achievement. He never wanted to lose you as a friend and didn’t dare to cross a line. Ever.

Recently, though, it became more difficult to keep his distance and not let his thoughts wander. His feelings were magma that slowly had filled a volcano over the years. Each time you did something sexy or sweet or goofy or smart, another drop was added. And now, that damn fire mountain was overdue for an eruption – no thanks to that stupid heat wave.

“Thanks,” you said absentmindedly as the hunter handed you the candy but didn’t settle back down. Instead, he stood behind the sofa and leaned his hands on the backrest.

What you didn’t know, though, was that Dean was sporting quite the boner and wouldn’t dare to come into your line of view. He was surprised he could even walk up straight and not like a caveman early in the evolution.

A hunter gathering panties.

“I’m gonna hit the hay,” he told you with a somber clear of his throat. As the fan carried a breeze of your perfume to his nose, his grip tightened on the couch.

You turned in your seat and looked over your shoulder at him, raising a surprised brow. “Already? But the movie’s not over.”

“Yeah, I’m beat,” he excused and tried his best not to look strained. He forced a tight smile to his lips while his little dude celebrated Spring Break in his jeans. “‘Sides, we’ve seen Jaws like a million times now, Y/N.”

It was a cherished summer tradition between the two of you, watching it every 4th of July.

“I guess so.” You shrugged disappointedly, watching your best friend retreat to his room. Truth was, you loved spending time with Dean and held those little traditions close to your heart.

The Winchesters were your family, the only one you ever had. And while some families wore matching pajamas on Christmas morning, you watched the first two Die Hard movies. You would watch Dean’s favorite horror movies on Halloween. Sixteen Candles and High Fidelity on your birthday, Tombstone and The Great Escape on Dean’s, and some lame-ass foreign language documentaries that you both snored through on Sam’s.

Valentine’s Day was a dreaded non-holiday for all three of you, but for the past four years, someone would leave a box of chocolate in front of your door. The salted caramel ones would always be missing, and it always came with the same Forrest Gump quote:

I’m not a smart man, but I know what love is.

You knew the anonymous someone was Dean, and you knew he meant it as a joke. Still, you clung to those little traditions. They might seem silly and stupid to some, but to you, they were your lifeline in a world full of darkness.

So, you felt rather saddened Dean didn’t seem to honor them anymore. It wasn’t just Jaws, either. He’d been withdrawing from you for a while, and you didn’t understand why.

Unbeknownst to you, the green-eyed hunter had kept a lacy souvenir from your room.

Now, Dean had managed to avoid you for four days. Every night since his stealthy excursion, he would lie in his bed with your stolen panties in one hand and his throbbing length in the other, feeling goddamn pathetic for sinking so low.

It was probably so low that even his memory foam mattress would remember it.

With closed eyes, he then imagined how the perky globes of your ass would look like covered in crimson lace. How you would stretch out on his bed on all fours, with your ass high in the air and wiggling in front of him. How his fingers would push the wicked material aside to push into you, taking you deep and hard while you moaned his name.

As he ruined tissue after tissue, the guilt would wash over him as soon as he was done. Call it a post-nut epiphany.

Dean knew it was wrong to think those things. He knew he only made it harder for himself to ever look you into the eyes again. Hell, he barely could do it now, even though a part of him audaciously wondered what other treasures were hiding in that drawer of yours. And more pressingly, what ultimate wealth he would find beneath your clothes. If your lingerie was gold, he’d be a creepy-ass dragon sitting on it.

So, Dean tried to avoid you as best as possible. Mostly because, well…

“God, fuck me,” you groaned exhaustively and opened the refrigerator door, leaning against it as the refreshing cold hit you from behind. On top of that, you held a big bag of frozen peas to your sweaty chest. You already wore the bare minimum – some short denims and a white tank top, your hair up in a messy bun.

“I swear underboob sweat is the worst. Just be glad you don’t have tits,” you complained. “Guys, seriously, can we invest in an AC? This heat wave is killing me! This bunker is like one giant oven…”

You watched as Dean squirmed in his seat as he ate his cereal, looking as uncomfortable as you. Surely, the boys were suffering just as badly during those sweltering temperatures, already forgoing the usual flannels and opting for plain t-shirts instead. How they were still wearing jeans was beyond you. When you first moved in, you protested against Dean’s suggestion of Naked Tuesdays, but these days, you were actually giving it a second thought.

“Well, I’m gonna drive to Kansas City today and see if I can get us an AC. Apparently, they’re all sold out, but I figured maybe with a bit of flirting and some cleavage, I can still get us one,” you explained your plan with a bright smirk and wiggled your eyebrows. “What d’you guys think, huh?”

Dean then abruptly banged his fist on the table, spilling some milk from his bowl on the surface. “For God’s sake, Y/N!”

You frowned in confusion at his unexpected outburst. “What’s up with you? Are you having a heat stroke?”

“Flirting, really?!” the hunter barked, his brow shaped into a deeply furious v.

“What’s wrong with that? Double standard much? You do it all the time to get shit,” you countered and watched his jaw clench in anger.

“I do-... not,” he remarked snappily with a fierce finger drilling into the table, clearly lacking a good argument. Sam cleared his throat in agreement with you, but that only earned him a glare. “And Jesus fucking Christ, would it hurt you to put on some goddamn clothes? You’re not even wearing a bra!”

“Did you not hear my tits rant just now? Of course I’m not! ‘Sides, those boobs are gonna get you an AC, so be a little more grateful to them,” you retorted, annoyed with his attitude. You’d think of all the people in this world, Dean Winchester would understand. (And maybe even appreciate it.) “And how can you even tell, huh?”

“‘Cause science, Y/N! You’re literally cooling your tits! What did you think was gonna happen, huh? Nipples!” he vented outrageously. “This ain’t a strip club!”

“It’s 102 degrees, Dean!” you argued, throwing your arms up. “Look, if I could, I’d even go naked, alright? It’s fucking hot!”

“Oh, for crying out loud!” Dean shook his head and stormed out of the kitchen without any further comment.

Confused, you blinked at the younger Winchester. “What’s up with him?”

But Sam only shrugged, shaking his head. “Uhm, I don’t know,” he replied, although he could take an educated guess, suspecting his brother’s feelings for you as the culprit.

“Well, alright, I’m going to Kansas City,” you decided without wasting another thought on the older Winchester’s strange behavior. “Text me if you guys need something. I can pick it up on my way home.”

Dean knew he was in deep trouble as his bow legs bolted down the bunker’s hallways. He tried so hard to keep it together, but when he saw you, half-naked and panting in front of the fridge, he quite literally lost his coolness in this goddamn heat wave.

The green-eyed hunter understood a thing or two about torture, but this was the worst of all. He’d rather have a demon repeatedly peel off his skin in hellfire than endure a day more of this fucking madness.

If the temperatures didn’t drop soon, it would be a cruel summer ahead of him.

As Dean heard the door to the garage close, he knew you’d left for your trip and exhaled a deep sigh of relief. At least he’d get a few hours of peace.

With the best intentions, he strolled to his bedroom, but as he passed your room on his way, he found the door ajar. Whatever good motives he had up until this point, went quickly out the window right then.

His hand twitched at the thought of more riches, worse than any trigger finger and competing with a California earthquake, and well, so did the dick in his jeans. It was an addiction at this point, an obsession he couldn’t resist nor get rid off. The fact that it was forbidden and wrong only made it even more appealing. The apple in the garden of Eden.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t an anonymous support group for this kind of sickness.

As unbearable shame and guilt collected in his stomach like rainwater in the gutter, his eager hands rummaged through your dresser drawer. There was purple lace and black satin, navy G-strings and white Brazilians. It was never ending, and the hunter couldn’t stop as he picked up each item and let his fantasies roam wild.

God, the things he wanted to do to you were as colorful as your rainbow full of underwear.

“Dean?!”

The green-eyed hunter froze in his place, a white lace panty still bunched up in his large palm. The hair in the back of his neck stood up in shock, a part of him refusing to turn around at the sound of your voice. He was caught red-handed, and he knew it.

“What are you doing in my room?” you prompted, suspiciously cocking an eyebrow. It looked fairly obvious what your best friend was up to, but you didn’t want to accuse him right away, giving him the benefit of the doubt.

Frankly, it was quite unbelievable.

“It’s not what it looks like,” Dean replied and swallowed thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he held up his hands like a criminal during an arrest, the evidence still in his grasp.

“Well, it looks like you’re snooping through my lingerie,” you pointed out bluntly.

Dean nodded, guilt-ridden and reluctant. “I can explain.”

“Good,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’m waiting…”

“Right, uhm…”

“Oh, before you scramble for an answer, you should know, though, that I’m aware a pair of red lace panties is missing, and I know the washer didn’t eat them,” you said and raised an expectant brow.

You had a feeling your pervy best friend was behind the mystery of the missing item. Now you knew for sure.

“Man, I always knew you were a kinky son of a bitch, but this is a new level, Dean,” you scolded.

Dean’s gaze dropped to the floor in shame, scratching the nape of his neck. “Look, uhm, there’s no good excuse. I know I fucked up here. I’ll sleep in a motel tonight until I find my own place. You can stay here with Sam, alright? I’ll move out and won’t bother you anymore.”

As he tried to brush past you, you blocked his exit and grabbed his arm. “So, you’re gonna leave? Just like that?”

“What other choice do I have? I don’t wanna make you more uncomfortable,” he stated without glancing at you once. He couldn’t bring himself to look into your eyes and see the disappointment and disgust there. “I know what I did was wrong.”

“Oh, so wrong,” you agreed. “I just figured you wouldn’t run away like a coward and take your punishment like a man, you know? Aren’t you at all curious what I’m wearing right now?”

That was when Dean’s juniper eyes slowly wandered to you and caught your gaze for the first time. You smirked as his breathing became heavy and his look darkened and filled with lust. It seemed like he wanted to rip your clothes off with his goddamn bare teeth like a wild animal.

“I can’t tell if you’re joking or if I’m dreaming,” he admitted, his deep voice part harsh swallow and part nervous chuckle.

“Neither,” you said, biting your bottom lip.

Carefully, you leaned closer, your hands reaching up to cup his scruffy cheeks. Noses nuzzled as your lips ghosted against his with a daring grin. You wouldn’t go further; it was up to Dean to make that final decision.

And then, as no more than a mere second ticked by on the clock, the hunter crashed his lips against yours in a kiss so scorching it made the current heat wave look like an ice age. If you thought you were hot before, now it felt like you were burning in a wildfire.

Dean roughly pushed you against the door, his kiss all teeth and tongue in an uncontrollable frenzy. His dick was hard and thick, straining against his jeans and rubbing along your thigh. Pantingly, you gasped for air and grabbed his hand, guiding it down your body and into your shorts.

“Feel that?” you asked mischievously as his fingers dug through your soaked folds and collected the arousal he caused. A wanton growl left his plush lips. “All for you, baby. You’ve been a bad boy, haven’t you?”

“Shit, yeah, so bad…” Dean rasped huskily against your throat as he worshipped his path down your body, forcing your shirt up till his wet tongue rolled over your pert and still cold nipple.

“Gonna make it up to me, huh? Show me how sorry you are?” you prompted, your fingers raking through his sandy blond and soft hair, eliciting a groan from him every time you tugged a little harder.

Teeth pinched your skin, tongue cherished your taste, and lips left your throat bruised. It was equal parts hot, sweaty, messy, naughty, dirty, and sticky as your bodies rutted against one another, looking for dire release.

With swollen and plumper than before lips, he came back up for air and found your eyes. He kissed you with heated passion once more as if he couldn’t resist to touch you over and over again. He had to restrain himself to be able to speak.

“So, uhm, you sure about this?” Dean asked between labored breaths with an insecure gleam in his green eyes. “‘Cause if we go further, I don’t think I can stop. And I don’t mean just this time but ever… If you want this to be a one time thing, you gotta tell me, sweetheart, so I can mentally prepare myself. I mean, I’ll take what I can get, you know? Not that I care either way… Well, that’s not true. I do care. A lot… But, you know, you’re you, and I’m me, so I’m not delusional. I know there’s no way you would–”

You interrupted his babbling with a kiss, causing the hunter to lose his words. You looked deeply into his eyes and offered him a small smile of comfort.

“Dean, listen to me, okay? ‘Cause this is very important,” you urged, your hands gripping his shirt tightly.

He nodded, gulping anxiously. “O-Okay.”

“You’re incredible,” you said and watched him inhale sharply at your words, blinking at you in disbelief. “Absolutely fucking bonkers incredible. You’re right – you’re you. And thank God you are, because you’re the best, funniest, smartest, kindest, and goddamn hottest man I’ve ever met. I’m tired of you not seeing that. As my boyfriend, I really need to you to see that, alright?”

As Dean pensively took in your words, his brow began to furrow. “Boyfriend?”

The corners of your mouth rose to a beam. “Yeah, boyfriend,” you confirmed. “That’s what you want, right? ‘Cause I’d really like that, too.”

“Uh, yeah, yeah… That’s what I want.” Dean nodded eagerly before another swallow followed. “I mean, among other things…”

You bit your lip, smirking. “What other things?”

“Well, uhm…”

Dean didn’t finish his sentence, his lips impatiently claiming yours instead. He pressed you hungrily back against the door, massive hands sliding down your sides till they hooked into the hem of your denim shorts and ripped them down to your ankles, leaving you only covered in teal lace. He growled shamelessly at the sight, his thick digits eagerly diving inside.

“Wanna be inside you,” he groaned into your ear, thumbing furiously at your clit. “Every hour of every day…”

“We can do that,” you agreed with a giggle, your arms locking around his neck, fingers carding through his hair in the back.

“Wanna feel your mouth around my–” The last word was muffled as he ravaged your neck, but you understood where he was going with this.

“You can do that,” you said with a smile.

“And fuck, I want you to ride my face,” he declared. That demand left you speechless, making even Dean stop for a minute and look at you. “Too far?”

You shook your head and smirked. “I can do that.”

Before Dean’s mind could fathom your words, you shoved him onto the bed, his back hitting the mattress. When you stood before him, slotted between his muscular legs, his gaze trailed up and down your body, memorizing every beautiful curve. As your fingers curled into the waistband of your panties, however, the hunter stopped you.

“Leave ‘em on, sweetheart. Don’t you dare take those off,” he told you, his hands rapaciously reaching out to you.

You played with the hem of your top and smirked, your tongue licking over your lips. “What about this? On or off?”

“Off,” he shot back faster than a bullet leaving a barrel.

“You first,” you demanded and grinned. “Remember, this is still your punishment.”

“God, I love getting punished,” Dean mumbled and slipped out of his shirt. He then swiftly shimmied out of his jeans, discarding each item carelessly around the room.

He then took a deep breath as he tugged the waistband of his boxers, his erection already fighting its way out. “Well, here goes nothing,” the hunter said and pulled his underwear down.

You tilted your head to see his hard cock from a better angle as it sprang against his stomach. Your lips parted in anticipation, wondering what he’d taste like on your tongue and how deep you’d be able to take him. You guessed there’d be a struggle ahead, considering how huge and wide he was.

“Oh, I would not call that monster nothing,” you commented with a scoff, your pussy throbbing with need. “Explains all that BDE.”

Dean blushed. It was cute to watch. “Thank you.”

Giggling, you removed your shirt and tossed it at his face, blinding him for a second. You used that momentum to slide onto the bed and straddle his torso. As his eyes finally found you again, he almost choked on his spit when he gazed up at your perfect tits above him. A primal grunt escaped his throat.

With a mesmerized sparkle in his eyes, his hands trailed up your body and cupped your breasts, massaging them roughly as your panties grew damper by the minute. He then pulled you down to his lips and kissed you breathless before he left them with a boyish smirk on his freckled face.

“Hop on, sweetheart.”

And as if his words hadn’t been enough motivation, his hands wandered to palm your ass and hauled you closer to his mouth. He was an impatient one – or maybe he’d waited years for this and was finally tired of it.

Your knees sunk into the mattress on either side of his stubborn head. His fingers dented your flesh as they grabbed onto your thighs. Yours held onto the headboard for support. You tried not to look down, because then you’d see his big lopsided and full of excitement grin.

The same one he had when you found a diner in Kentucky that advertised the biggest burger in America (it wasn’t). The same one he had when he thought he had run into a member of Metallica at a gas station outside of Phoenix (he didn’t). The same one he had when you and Sam gifted him his own beer brewing station for his last birthday (which tasted horrible, but neither you nor Sam had the heart to tell him).

And now, he had that same grin when he was about to be with you.

As your pussy dripped above him, Dean couldn’t hold back his lewd groans any longer. You didn’t even have to lower yourself; he just dragged you down onto his face all to eagerly. His fingers swiped your panties to the side, and before you could even adjust your grip on the bedpost, his tongue darted into your soaked channel as deeply as he could and sucked you goddamn dry.

With several whimpers, you clenched around his wet muscle. If you were water in the desert, he was parched and drinking to survive.

His nose was buried in your folds, rubbing deliciously against your clit as he lapped your pussy in a vicious attack that left you squirming and moaning to a pornographic degree above him. Because Dean was just that – pure porn.

Instinctively and irresistibly, you ground your cunt against him, the vibrations of his keen groans against your sensitive flesh rocking you to the edge of your climax. He ate you out and devoured you like that damn gigantic burger in Kentucky. And as you dared to blink down and watch him in action, he had the audacity to devilishly smirk up at you with the crinkles around his green eyes alone, gauging your every reaction to his touches as if you were a goddamn movie on a silver screen.

You trembled and quivered and screamed as your orgasm electrified every molecule in your body. You white-knuckled the wood in your grip, your body only held up by Dean’s strong arms because God knows your weak legs were useless now.

As wave after wave washed over you, Dean drank every drop of yours, his tongue never getting enough of your taste. The sounds that filled the room were carnal and obscene.

“Fuck, Dean,” you sighed blissfully and lifted off his face and captured his swollen and red lips in a grateful kiss, your palms finding purchase on his broad shoulders. Your drenched and sensitive cunt settled on his thighs as an egregiously large erection poked your belly and tempted you further.

Dean smirked up at you, all satisfied and confident with his achievement. “I think we have a slight problem, though.”

Your brow knitted, your heart tightening with anxiety. Had you been as disappointing as the burger, beer, and that fake Metallica band member?

But Dean only grinned teasingly at your confused face. “There’s no way I learned my lesson here.”

You snorted and sought out his lips, the kiss giving you a taste of yourself. “We’ll work on that. I might have to nickname you Jaws after this,” you joked.

“Can’t wait for you to explain that one to Sammy.” Dean snorted, chuckling. “Now, how about you hop on again, but this time a little further south, huh?” he proposed with a wiggle of his eyebrows and a suggestive twitch of his cock for emphasis.

You giggled with a few nods. “I can do that.”

Was it worth the words? 😝

For all you newcomers and as a general reminder, Dirty Drabbles are always open. I still have quite a few left, but you're welcome to send more in, and we'll add it to the collection at some point 😎🔥

PUT YOUR DIRTY THOUGHTS HERE

TAGS:

Everything Jensen: @alwaystiredandconfused @xlynnbbyx @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @blackcherrywhiskey @deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @zepskies @agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27 @imsapphine @globetrotter28 @mxltifxnd0m @lacilou

[gilverrwrites]

Im back on my supernatural shit, can you please do TFW + Gabe and anyone else you wanna do reacting to finding out the reader had a dirty dream about them?

Author note: Me too Boo, me too. I added lucifer, just cause I wanted too. Hope you enjoy! I also switched things up with gifs for each instead of one image for everyone. Lemme know which one you guys prefer.

Rating: M/18+

Please remember: that it is enough to exist as you are.

Dean

You’ve never seen a bigger shit-eating grin in all your life; he looks like he hit the jackpot.

No matter how much or how little you tell him, he won’t stop making jokes or bragging how bad you want it.

Dean I need you t- “Yeah you do.” Stop it! “Bet you weren’t saying that in your dreams last night.” *Gesturing at something even remotely suggestive* “Hey hey hey, did we do that?”

He promises to stop if you give him the full run down.

And when you do, he’s like Christmas came early.

All wide eyes and dopy smiles, occasional blushing.

He’s got a million and one questions throughout, but the final and most is obviously: “You wanna go at the real thing?”

Sam

Immediate shuts down for like 5 minutes. His brain has to comprehend and then reboot.

He won’t joke or make fun of you, at least not in front of other people.

But as soon as you’re alone, he’s got questions, lots of detail-oriented questions.

He’s not outright asking what your dream was, just teasing you with meticulously detailed fantasies of his own posed as questions.

“Did I make you beg for it? Did you make me beg?” “Were you completely naked, stretched out underneath me? Were my hands around your throat?” “What did I say? Did I tell you I would ruin you? That you deserved it? Did you want me to?”

Castiel

Angels don’t dream. Primarily because they don’t sleep.

So, he’s not really sure what to make of this confession at first.

Queue the signature furrowed brow and head tilt.

“Why?” I don’t know, I didn’t do it on purpose! “That’s true. I suppose this is your mind’s subconscious way of informing you that you are sexually attracted to me."

Boy, he doesn’t beat around bushes.

He would need time to stew on it from there.

It could be hours, days, maybe weeks before he brings it up again.

“I am curious about your dream.” What dr- oh right. “I am flattered. Should you be willing, I would like to discuss this more. For example, which of us…”  

Gabriel

You can sense the raised brows and the satisfied smirk before he even does it.

“Reeeeeally?”

Gabe’s reaction is very similar to Deans, just like a Trickster in a candy store.

Only he’ll wait to get you alone before he starts bombarding you.

If you won’t tell him outright, he’ll keep guessing.

And every new guess is accompanied by a costume and/or scenery change.

“Maybe we filmed the newest instalment of casa erotica?” “No? Maybe you paid Dr Sexy a visit?” “Mile high club?” “No? Kinkier? You into a little BDSM?”

I’ll let you fill in the visual blanks. 😉

Lucifer

His reaction is a lot more subdued. 

That doesn’t make it any less dubious. You can feel the smugness radiating off of him.

He’ll ask earnestly enough to start out.

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

When you refuse, he doesn’t push. Doesn’t joke, or tease.

But the smile he keeps giving you.

The way he watches you, totally engrossed but poised, is enough to drive you crazy.

When he finally asks again, later on, in that low, relaxed tone:

“Are you sure you don’t want to tell me all about your dirty little fantasies?”

Temptation really is his game.

[take-it-on-the-run]

And I Love Her

Sam Winchester x Reader

The reader and Dean are being tortured by Gordon Walker because of her relationship with Sam, and all they can do is hope he'll get there in time.

Word Count: 1.5k

Tags: Torture, graphic depictions of being cut into, descriptions of gore and severe bodily harm, Sam Winchester is out of character depending on who you ask

Characters: Sam Winchester, Reader, Dean Winchester, Gordon Walker

@ghostlyaccurate requested: "Hii! Can I request a Dean and/or Sam Winchester (sepperate) x fem! Reader set in season two, with an established relationship, where it's like when Gordon kidnaps Dean, but instead of just Dean he also kidnaps reader. (I can imagine if it's a Dean x reader Gordon uses reader to get Dean to not try anything, and if it's a Sam x reader Sam just going even more ballistic than he originally does in the show). Thank you!!"

Read it on AO3!

A/N: Beatles title. My first Sam fic! Honestly, it was really hard writing this one for some reason, and after five revisions I'm still not completely in love with it. Regardless, I hope you enjoy, and heed the warnings! Do not read if this will make you uncomfortable!

Sam Winchester Masterlist | Supernatural Masterlist | Main Page Masterlist

Gordon stared blankly at the wall in front of him while you tugged at the ropes on your wrists. A bandana was tied tightly around your mouth that tasted like dirt and your own blood. Dean was tied up to the left of you in a similar state, and both of you were staring down Gordon like it would kill him.

Traps lined every entrance from the doors to every small crack in the wall. Sam was powerful, but you doubted he could break through solid brick. Grenades, tripwire, even a shotgun trap that looked like something straight out of a movie; Gordon wanted Sam dead at all costs.

You knew your boyfriend would come to you and Dean’s rescue, but damn was this cutting it close. Gordon had already tried his best with Dean, but when it was your turn, he took his sweet-ass time.

He punched you, kicked you, even spit on you. Now, you tried your best to not scream as he dragged a knife against the soft flesh between your neck and shoulder.

You failed.

Biting down on the bandana, a muffled scream ripped through your lungs. You tried focusing on Dean, but he wouldn’t meet your eyes which were spilling over with more tears than you thought were in your body.

You could feel your blood dripping down your back and your chest, slithering its way to the floor as Gordon wiped his blade with the rag in his back pocket. He wrenched your head to the side, forcing the fresh wound close and for more tears to streak down your face.

He repeated his process on you a few times.

Your arms.

Your hands.

Your legs.

Every time somehow hurt more than the last, the hunter pulling open your skin and snapping it back together like a rubber band. Your vision was spotty, but you held steadfast to the thought that your boyfriend would be here any minute to save the day like he always did.

Gordon took a step back, wiping sweat and blood from his face and arms. He looked down at you with a glare that you’ve held plenty of times for the less-than-human creatures in the world. You guessed that, in his eyes, you, Sam, and Dean, were held in a similar regard.

Snaps.

Taunts.

Cracks.

Screams.

All because you fell in love with someone born under a bad sign.

You didn’t regret meeting Sam. Kissing him, falling for him, even the idea of just having him in your life was enough for your mind to justify the situation you were in. It wasn’t his fault you were having your life drained out of you minute by minute, and you hoped he would be smart enough to know that.

“Sam’s going to be here any minute, you know. Gotta convince himself he’s the hero of this story, and I’m the big,” Gordon turned to you, knife in hand, “bad, evil dragon. But I’m not the one with demon blood, am I, Y/N?” He placed the edge of the blade against the bottom of your chin. You could feel the cold steel heavy against your skin, and any sudden move would surely spill even more of your blood.

Dean glared at Gordon, his face shades of purple and blue, which mirrored the pain you felt along your entire body. Gordon dug the knife into the bottom of your chin, piercing your skin ever so slightly, but not enough to fatally wound you. Your mind was trying hard to hold onto the cracks of reality that remained in your vision; the smell of the dingy house you were in, the feeling of the carpet making contact with your boots, anything that wouldn’t send your consciousness reeling over was enough of an anchor for you to hang onto.

Gordon walked away from the two of you, returning to his position of peering out one of the boarded-up windows in wait for Sam. You glanced at Dean, which granted you a glance back from him. His eyes were dry, but they held enough behind them to let you know what he was thinking. Sam was going to burst into this booby-trapped hellhole, and Dean could do nothing but blame himself.

It’s all your fault, really, a thought that smashed through what you knew was the truth said.

This isn’t any of our faults, you told it back, wanting to tell Dean the same. Sam wasn’t to blame for the two of you being taken, and neither of you was at fault for being used as bait; it all landed in the hands of the rogue hunter who deemed himself holier-than-thou.

Though you couldn’t see yourself, you knew you were starting to resemble a bloody pulp more than a human being. Dean could barely look your way for longer than a second, and deep cuts that surged whether you moved or not continued to scrape away at your consciousness.

Gordon disappeared, and as you tried to turn your head to follow him, you felt a burning pain across your chest. Highlighted by a spurt of blood splattering over your thighs, you wanted to vomit. The top of your head started to feel like it was being lifted off from the rest of your skull, and the black spots in your vision connected at the edges of your eyes.

You grunted, head going slack and opening wounds on the back of your neck. Either spit, blood, or bile dripped out of your mouth, but at that moment you didn’t care- the black at the corners of your eyes bled together, and all you could do was limply hope Sam would find you.

You blinked, slowly, noticing light creeping in from the boarded-up windows. The second thing you noticed was the searing pain in your body, coupled with grunting and what you could guess was a well-landed punch.

“Y/N!” Someone called out to you, but you could barely lift your head to meet their voice. The bandana in your mouth was pulled away and hands cupped your face, warming your skin that was ice cold after losing so much blood.

The hands left your face and moved to the ropes at your wrists, cutting them off quickly and placing your arms in your lap. You forced your eyes up high enough to see it was your hero, Sam, standing before you with tears starting to fill his eyes. If your face would’ve let your smile, you would’ve, but every movement flashed the memory of Gordon cutting into you.

Gordon.

“Where’s-” You managed to sputter out through a sore jaw and a severely dry mouth.

“Dead,” Sam answered coldly. For the first time, you noticed his knuckles were a hue of bright purple, complimented with blood splattering up his arm. Sam moved your arms around his neck and picked you up as gently as he could.

“Dean’s already in the car patching himself up. I’m going to try and lay you down in the back seat so we can get to the closest hospital. I left Gordon in the room by the first door, so keep your head to my chest if you don’t want to see him, okay?” He asked softly. The tears that were in his eyes had faded slightly, but you could see the emotions he’d no doubt try to hide later on. Regret, blame, guilt - the more he looked at you, the more you could sense that your battered state was tearing away at his consciousness. You wanted to reach out, hold his face, and tell him you’d be okay, you’d survived worse, that it wasn’t his fault, but your thoughts were halted by Sam stepping past Gordon’s body.

If you could call it a body, that is.

His nose was sunken into his face enough that his eyes were slightly popping out of their sockets. His mouth had more gums than teeth, which were scattered around the room. He was lying against a dresser, and his limbs were spread out in the wrong directions. You thought you saw a bone, but before you could look closer, Sam turned and shut the door behind you.

Sam laid you across the back seats of the Impala, trying his best to be gentle with the abhorrent number of cuts across your body. You couldn’t guess how the hospital wasn’t going to ask questions, but you hoped the brothers would figure that out. Your head laid in Sam’s lap, and he looked out the window as Dean buried Gordon.

“Sam,” you slowly moved one of your arms to his face, bringing his attention to you, “thank you. You saved us both. You had to do what you had to do.”

Sam smiled but still didn’t say a word as he dipped down and planted a gentle kiss on your forehead.

You wanted to be able to tell him everything your racing mind was coming up with but were beaten by the overwhelming need to not move. Dean climbed into the front seat, beating the gas pedal to the floor and hitting the highway as Sam ran his fingers comfortingly through your hair.

[arjwrites]

crawl home to her- dean winchester x fem!reader

summary: heaven or hell, dean will always crawl home to you.

warnings: brief mentions of hell, references to drinking, fem!reader

word count: 1.4k

a/n: i got a bit carried away with this one and it ended up a little longer than anticipated hehehe i had too many ideas. this song is so sickening and is so dean-coded in the very best way. i hope you enjoy <3

arj's 100 follower event

xxx

Dean awoke in a permeating blackness, blinking his eyes, unable to tell at what point they were open or closed. His first instinct? To draw in a deep, sharp breath. His lungs resisted him, hesitant to stretch and swell as if they had been sitting stagnant for months. They offered him no help in forming words, a call for help. It took him a minute to gather his bearings, but the next thought that came to his mind? You. And from that moment, his body took over. As he kicked his way out of the pine box and clawed his way through the cold and heavy earth, he felt almost animalistic. He didn’t know where he was, he hardly knew who he was, but he knew he had to crawl home to you. Wherever you were. 

As Dean emerged from the ground, he gasped for air- clean, fresh air. It swirled around inside of him, exacerbating the emptiness of the cavern of his chest. He grappled with the earth around him, arms reaching out in a desperate fervor to pull him safely from the grave. There were sensations everywhere, almost screaming at him, so loud and foreign as if he hadn’t experienced them in… he didn’t know how long. The tickling of the damp grass against his arms, the hot sun beating down on his back, the heavy breeze settling behind him. It was you, he thought. It had to be your way of welcoming him back earthside- planting soft green kisses to his skin, wrapping him in healing warmth and light, and lifting him up to carry him home with the wind. He let his body push him to his feet, feeling every flex and release of his muscles individually, excruciatingly. 

 It was agonizing for Dean to will one foot in front of the other, trudging aimlessly in search of civilization. Maybe it was the exhaustion, or maybe it was the hunger, but he could see you right there next to him, clear as day, coaching him through each step of his journey. You floated along next to him like an angel, filling his emptiness and setting direction in his footsteps. 

He thought back to the day your paths had been undoubtedly intertwined forever. You and Dean had known of each other for a while- hunters always did- but never exchanged more than a few cordial hellos in passing. That was until a vampire hunt in a small town drew the attention of more than just himself and Sam. When you showed up on the hunt, he couldn’t help but be enamored by you. The way you made hunting, something so dark and painful, into something so graceful, so elegant, so beautiful. 

When he was able to convince you to stick around and celebrate after finishing the hunt, Dean felt both his heart leap and his stomach sink. As he drove, he kept glancing up into his rearview mirror to catch a glimpse at you, following behind him in your own car. He wracked his brain, trying to come up with conversation topics like he was rubbing together stones trying to create a spark. He was so excited to have you around, yet so nervous- an accusation he defended against when Sam taunted him on the ride over to the bar. 

“I don’t get nervous, Sammy. I- I don’t know, man. There’s just something about her. Can’t put my finger on it.” 

His eyes flickered back up to the rearview mirror as he spoke, catching you singing along to whatever song you were listening to. His heart fluttered- he wanted to know you, to memorize your favorite songs, to hear his inner thoughts spoken in your voice. In the here and now, where he was trekking through the woods, he smiled at the memory and let it instill in him a surge of motivation. He picked up his pace, humming your favorite song as he went, half to keep him grounded in the moment and half to help his mind wander back to you. 

Still thinking back to that first day, he remembered getting to the bar and admittedly, letting his nerves get the best of him. He threw back shots and tipped back beers in the hopes of quelling his anxieties, suppressing the parts of him that weren’t useful and drawing out his confident, personable self. Sam had left early, as usual, leaving the two of you alone, sat at a table in the corner of a crowded bar. The surface was a graveyard littered with empty bottles and glasses, very few of which belonged to you. You had been nursing your drinks, sipping slowly as Dean downed and gulped. So when he got a little out of hand, you were there to carry him home. 

When Dean woke alone the next morning, he was sure you had been a dream- too perfect to be real life, or his real life, anyway. His head pounded as he glanced around the unfamiliar motel room, noticing the single bed and feminine belongings that clued him he wasn’t in the room he had rented with Sam. He sat up, grasping at his head, trying to piece together where exactly he was. There was no way he had gone home with you. He remembered the way he had acted the night before, and how sober you had still been. You must have dumped him with a random girl to take him off your hands. His heart sank to his stomach- if he had messed up his chances with you, he wouldn’t forgive himself. 

Before he could linger in this fear for long, he heard two separate laughs nearing the front door. When it swung open to reveal you and Sam, chatting and clutching coffees and paper bags of breakfast food, Dean let himself flop back down to the bed in relief. Wishing him a good morning, you tossed him pain relievers and a water bottle, setting a coffee and a breakfast sandwich down on his- no, your- bedside table. You briefly recounted the night before for him, noting how you had brought him back here when Sam didn’t answer his phone. You didn’t dwell on his actions, didn’t poke fun, didn’t complain or criticize. Your presence was light as a feather, your body and voice floating around the room as you tidied things up or nibbled at your breakfast. Sam shot him a knowing glance that would later be supplemented with verbal approval. I like her, Dean. Don’t mess this up. 

Back in reality, Dean had finally emerged from the woods, stepping from the dense tree cover onto a dusty road. There wasn’t much to see- no buildings or signs of civilization in any direction. The breeze picked up and whistled through his ears in the form of your voice- keep going, Dean. So on he went. 

As he walked, sometimes his image of you would flicker and fade like a ghost and his thoughts would plunge back down to Hell. There were a few moments along his path where he would pause to hinge at the hips and dry heave in a desperate attempt to purge the memories from his body alongside the dust in his throat. It made him sick, what he did in Hell. At a few points, when he got too caught up in his thoughts, he’d come to a full stop. In those moments, he didn’t care if he lived or died. His heart ached for you, but he didn’t deserve you anymore. You were the only pure goodness in the world that he had ever known, and now, he was tainted beyond repair. But then would come the breeze. This time, it smelled sweet- miraculously, as there was nothing but dirt road and baking heat to scent it. It was beckoning him, calling him home. It was washing him of his sins. You didn’t care, you never would. Always kind, always forgiving. That was his baby. Sweet as can be.  The journey ended in your arms. At times, he thought it never would. He thought he was trapped, imprisoned on a long dirt path, being taunted with the promise of you like a carrot on a stick. But he found a car, found a map, found his way home. You didn’t believe it was him at first- why would you, when a long list of monsters seemed so much more plausible? But if Dean’s first act of repentance had been his passage home, his second act was proving himself to you. That it was him, here and now, real and resting in your fingertips. All Dean knew was Hell. It was real, he had lived it. But when you reached out your arms to embrace him, Hell was just a word that dissipated into space the moment it left his lips. This must be Heaven. You must be heaven.

[s0urw00lf]

Twisted luck

Woman in white

Sam Winchester x reader ALL INCLUSIVE

Summary: when Sam and dean show up in your living room telling you that you mother and john were missing you couldn’t leave them hanging. Besides it was only one hunt, one hunt can’t hurt right?

AN: I'm actually super proud of readers addition to the story. I hope everyone likes it!!! Also if you see any mistakes please let me know, I went over this 4 times. Twisted Luck master list

Next chapter

You usually slept all through the night when your boyfriend was home, the comfort of his presence behind you gave you the constant reminder that you aren’t alone anymore usually helped you sleep better, but recently you couldn't shake the feeling of doom that settled deep in your gut.

So you sat awake with the t.v. on low hoping that the soap opera playing would lull you to sleep, but you were the furthest from it and really wanted popcorn but you knew Jason would wake up if you were gone too long.

‘I'll just be quick’ you thought to yourself before carefully removing his arm from around your waist and tiptoed out of the room, closing the door so that if you made too much noise it wouldn’t wake him.

You walked to the kitchen rummaging through the cabinets in search of the popcorn, until you saw a glimpse of it on the third shelf, “Jason you ass” you muttered to yourself, climbing onto the counter reaching for it.

Your fingertips barely brushed the box before you found yourself pausing when you heard one of the floorboards creak, immediately you tensed from instinct.

Looking over to the bedroom you saw that the door was still closed so it couldn’t have been from your boyfriend.

You slowly climbed down off of the counter and bent down below the counters, opening up one of the lower cabinets you reached in feeling the top for the gun you had hidden before your boyfriend moved in, silently cursing to yourself when you realized it wasn’t there.

You looked around for another efficient weapon and your eyes landed on the rack of knives Jason insisted on buying for the kitchen. You grabbed the one that Jason had just sharpened the day before and began moving towards the sound.

It was as if the person you’d tried to bury for three years was seeping back out through the cracks. Your breath was even and your heart was beating steady. You knew whoever was in your home would regret even laying eyes on it when it was all said and done.

Your trained ears picked up the hushed whispers coming from the living room, you long ago memorized every nook and cranny of the apartment, down to which parts of the floors creaked and avoided them easily.

You peeked into the room and saw two tall figures one towering over the other immediately you knew who they were.

You placed your knife on the floor before you swiftly ran towards the shorter one wrapping your legs around his neck before twisting your body, causing his body to flip over and landing on his face. “Told ya” he groaned.

You stood up placing your hands on your hips and let a sly grin take form on your face “Hiya Dean” you said, then looked over to Sam who held an impressed expression. “I see you haven't lost your touch” he teased, moving to help Dean up.

“Over my dead body” You said, moving to flick on the lights and motioning for them to have a seat.

You sat on the couch in front of them crossing your legs out of habit from your job “so what's with the family reunion?” You asked, looking between the two of them.

Both Dean and Sam glanced at each other having a silent conversation that you completely understood. “Our parents are missing. They were on a hunting trip” Dean started. “And?” You questioned urging him to get on with the story.

“And that was about a month ago, haven’t heard from ‘em since” he continued. You eyed him “okay, well what were they hunting” you asked leaning forward.

Dean pulled out an article from his jacket pocket placing it on the coffee table “ they were checking out this two lane blacktop just outside of Jericho California. Around the time they left this guy-“ he pointed to the picture of a young guy “they found his car, but he vanished. Completely MIA”

You skimmed over the article before glancing back up at the brothers “so what was he kidnapped?” You questioned, finally Sam spoke up, “that’s what i thought too but check this out, there was one in April, another one in ‘04, ‘03, ‘98, ‘92” he said as he handed you more articles of missing men. “Ten of them over the past twenty years” Dean said. “All men, all the same five mile stretch of road”.

”i'm guessing it got worse” you said and Dean nodded “so they went to dig around, I haven’t heard from them since. Then I got this voicemail yesterday.” He says as he pulls out a tape recorder before pressing play. The audio was scratchy and breaking up but you could make out John’s voice almost perfectly.

“Dean...something big is starting to happen...I need to try and figure out what's going on. It may... Be very careful, Dean. We're all in danger.”

“You check it for EVP?” You asked, Dean gave you a grin telling you that he had “not too bad sweetheart” Dean shakes his head before “I slowed it down, ran it through a gold wave, took out the hiss and this is what i got” he said pressing play again

“…. I can never go home”

Dean sets down the cassette tape and they both look at you expectantly. You sighed rolling your eyes, knowing your answer before they even ask ‘once a hunter always a goddamn hunter’ you thought, rolling your eyes. “So what do you think?” Sam asks, eyebrows pinched together as if he was trying to read you.

You looked back towards the bedroom, surprised your boyfriend hadn’t come out in search of you even through all the ruckus ‘it’s just one hunt. Right?’ You thought. “I think… we got ourselves a hunt boys”

At that a smile slipped on both boys faces and Dean let out a loud ‘whoop' causing you to let out a laugh before pausing, “just this one. I have a… life here” you explained, and just as quickly as it came it was gone, well for Dean at least. “Wha-“ he was cut off by the bedroom door creeping open and out walked Jason, his hair was messy from sleep but he looked confused at the two men you were so comfortable sitting with in the living room.

“The hell,” Dean muttered as he stood up. Before anyone could do or say anything you stood up “uh Jason this is Dean and Sam. I grew up with them.” You explained as Jason got closer a look of realization set on his face “uh nice to meet you” he said as he stepped to give the brothers a handshake, Dean eyed him but surprisingly shook his hand, and then he moved to Sam who gave you an unreadable look as he shook Jason’s hand.

You then decided to break the silence, looking at Jason “uh i need to talk to you” you said, he looked between you and the boys confused “sure okay” he said with a slow nod.

You glanced at Sam and Dean, giving them a look that meant ‘beat it’. Sam immediately picked up on it and cleared his throat “we’ll wait in the car” he said, stepping past Dean. Dean gave your boyfriend one last look as he followed Sam.

Once the boys were gone Jason gave you an expectant look, you sighed trying to think of the best way to tell him about the situation.

You’d never talked about your life before leaving hunting, especially not to your clueless boyfriend, no matter how annoyed it made him that you knew more about him than he did you. “I'm going on a trip with them, just a… family thing.” You began.

Jason scoffed “so you just decide at what-“ he paused to check his watch “four in the morning to go on a family trip?” He asked, tilting his head.

You slowly nodded her head “yeah, just family stuff” you shrugged, Jason rolled his eyes at you “babe the most I’ve ever heard about your family were their names. You don't visit them during holidays, or birthdays. To be completely honest I thought they didn’t exist.” He said rubbing a hand through his hair.

You scoffed, taken aback by his comment, walking away from him and going to your shared room to pack. “Where are you going?” He called, following after.

“To pack my stuff, so I can go on a roadtrip with my ‘imaginary’ family” you sarcastically remarked, grabbing your old hunting bag and subtly placing the box full of your old hunting gear in it before moving to pack some clothes.

Jason sighed “look babe, I didn’t mean it like that. All i'm saying is it's a little weird they show up randomly at four in the morning and demand a road trip” he defended himself.

You threw her head back in irritation. Not at him but more so that you’d been born into such an odd, unexplainable family life, “can you at least tell me where you're going” he asked defeated.

You put your head down, clenching your eyes shut hoping that this moment would end already, “my mother is missing.” You stiffly admitted.

Jason let out a scoff, when you looked at him he looked about ready to lose his mind because you’d lost yours. “Your mother is missing and instead of calling the cops you go on a road trip?” He asked, not really being able to believe what he was hearing.

You paused “you wanted to know my family? Here’s a glance into my world.” You said, zipping up the duffel bag. Looking at Jason you could see the confused and helpless look on his face, sighing as you walked towards him and pressing a kiss to his lips, before pulling away, brushing the stubble on his chin with your thumb “i'll only be gone three days tops, ‘kay? Then when i get back you can ask me anything and i'll do my best to answer” you promised

Jason looked like he was studying your face for the last time “okay” he said, you nodded leaning in to give him one last kiss before you departed “ill see you soon, i lo-“ you cut yourself off before you could even start.

Jason nodded again, giving your hips a squeeze and pressing a long kiss to your forehead, before you backed away.

Sometime after getting in the car your body finally allowed you to sleep, maybe it was the sound of baby’s engine lulling you to sleep like it used to all those years ago, or maybe it was the sense that nothing would hurt you while you’re with Sam and Dean and that allowed the feeling in your gut to settle.

When you woke up, the sun was up and the car was no longer moving. Sam was sitting half way out of the front seat looking at the box of cassette tapes Dean inherited from john. “Where’s Dean?” You asked, catching Sam’s attention.

He gestured to the old looking gas station. You took in the surroundings and grimaced “charming” you muttered to herself as you got out of the car, to stretch your legs.

You were finally able to take a good look at Sam and suddenly a wave of nostalgia hit you like a truck.

Though he’d gotten taller and more lean since the last time you saw him, you felt like that nineteen year old girl on the road with her boyfriend and best friend, and a sense of longing filled you quickly seeping into her chest, but you shut it down before you could dwell too much on it.

You had a new life now, better, safer, and a boyfriend you couldn’t wait to get back home and see. Though you weren’t excited for the ‘ghosts, goblins, and vampires are real’ talk.

You moved towards Sam and leaned over him to peek into the box to see the same old cassette tapes he had when you left. Not one more or less.

“He seriously needs new music,” you joked, pulling out a cassette labeled ‘AC/DC’. “Tell me about it,” Sam laughed, causing you to smile. “Hey” Dean called from behind the car, catching you and Sam’s attention. He held up some snacks he bought while in the gas station. “Want breakfast?” He asked

“No thanks” Sam said, returning his attention back to the tapes. Dean then looked to you questioningly “im fine, but i will take that” you pointed to the drink in his hand. He tossed it to you and you caught it effortlessly. “So how’d you pay for that stuff? You and dad still running credit card scams?” Sam asked. You snorted “you’re surprised?”

“Yeah well hunting ain’t exactly a pro-ball career” Dean replied as he put the gas pump back where it belongs. “Besides all we do is apply, not our fault they send us the cards”. You raised your eyebrows in agreement “can't exactly argue with that” you said, getting back into the car. “Yeah, and what name did you write on the application this time?” Sam re-adjusted himself in the seat before closing the door.

Dean paused before he got in the car “uh Bert afframnian, and his son hector. Scored two cards out of the deal.” Dean smiled proudly. Sam laughed “sounds about right” he said. “I swear man, you gotta update your cassette tape collection” Sam said, causing Dean to frown “why?” He asked.

“Well for one there cassette tapes” you interjected putting your head in between theirs, Sam began to pick up singular cassettes and list the names “and two, Black Sabbath, motor head, metallica” Sam finished as Dean snatched the tape from his hand looking very offended.

“It’s the greatest hits of mullet rock, Dean there’s a whole world of music you’ve left undiscovered. You’d love Avril Lavigne” you teased causing Sam to laugh. Dean placed the cassette in the player “house rules Sammy, driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cake hole, and you stay in the back seat” he said pushing your head back so you were sitting correctly before starting the car.

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother ”Sammy is a chubby twelve year old, it's Sam” he tried to correct. You laughed “good luck trying to make that stick sammy” you said before Dean turned up the music. “Sorry I can't hear you, the music’s too loud,” Dean said before pulling off. The sound of the engine giving her another wave of nostalgia, maybe you had missed this more than you let yourself believe.

“Okay thanks” you said before closing your phone, “so there’s nobody at the morgue matching mom or john’s description, so that’s a start” you tell the boys. Sam nods at the information while Dean pulls off to the side of the road, his attention set on the bridge just ahead crossed off with yellow tape.

“Check it out” he said before opening the glove box and pulling out another box filled with fake ids, he smirked at you and Sam before getting out of the car “let's go”. You and Sam looked at each other with worry, both of your carriers were on the line if you got caught, you tilted your head “we have to” you said, before following Dean out the car, Sam not too far behind.

You, Sam and Dean walked onto the crime scene taking in every piece of information you could. “I’m guessing that’s the sheriff”, you pointed to a man looking over the bridge before moving to talk to another officer who looked to be dusting for fingerprints inside the car.

“No sign of struggle, no footprints, fingerprints spotless, it’s almost too clean” the officer said to the sheriff. The man sighed at the information “so this kid Troy, he’s dating your daughter isn’t he? How’s Amy doing?” The sheriff asked the officer.

“She’s putting up missing posters downtown” he answered. Dean walked toward them interrupting their conversation “you fellas had one like this last month didn’t you?” He spoke loudly, catching the sheriff's attention. “And who are you?” He asked, causing Dean to flash his fake badge “federal marshals” Dean answered.

The man did a once over at the three of them, none of them looking a say over 20 “you three are a little young for Marshall’s aren’t you?” You and Sam smirked at each other while Dean laughed “thanks that’s awfully kind of you” he said before moving on quickly “you did have another one just like this correct?” He asked. The sheriff nodded “yeah that’s right, about a mile down the road. There’ve been others before that.” He said.

You walked over to the car leaning down to get a closer inspection “do you mind if i uh…” you asked, gesturing to the car, the sheriff nodded “go ahead, but there’s nothing there. We swept it from top to bottom” he said. You smiled “I’m sure, I just want to get a good look myself” you said. You began to inspect the car making sure not to touch anything or leave any kind of DNA just in case.

Sam and Dean continued questioning the sheriff while you inspected the car, and so far you came up with nothing. The car’s clean, eerily so. Maybe some small part of you began to believe that whatever was here took your parents, that maybe they didn’t skip town to lead their kids on a manhunt for them, but then again they were too stubborn to die by the hands of something as little as a pissed off spirit.

Dean walked over beside you “anything?” He whispered, you shook your head “nothing, almost like he was never even here” you told him, standing up. “So what's the theory?” Sam asked, walking over to where you and Dean stood. The man shrugged “Honestly? We don’t know, serial murder, kidnapping ring” the sheriff answered.

“That is exactly the kind of crack police work I'd expect out of you guys-“ Dean was cut off by Sam stomping on his foot. Your eyes widened but you covered it with a smile “please excuse us, we're done here” you said, pushing Sam and Dean to walk past the confused man “thank you for your time” Sam said giving a quick smile.

Sam walked ahead of you and Dean and she could tell he was irritated just by the way he was walking. Dean looked back to see if any of the police were looking before he slapped the back of Sam’s head. “Ow!” Sam whispered with clenched teeth.

You rolled your eyes at their antics, not in the mood for their arguing, you walked ahead of the both of them, somehow being the only one to catch the three men walking towards the three of you.

Two of whom were real FBI agents, you paused your walking backtracking a few steps and turned to both Sam and Dean who had his back toward you, you caught Sam’s eye over Dean's shoulder and gestured to the men behind her. Sam cleared his throat trying to send the message to his brother. Dean turned just as the men reached them.

“Can I help you kids?” The local officer's demeanor was a lot more authoritative than the others. You gave the men a charming smile “oh no sir, we just wanted to know what happened, we were just leaving” you said, not dropping the innocent act.

You led the brothers away from the bridge and back to the car, shaking your head the whole way.

When they all got back in the car you spoke “i say we go talk to that Amy girl”

Downtown

You, Sam and Dean walked downtown in search of Amy for about five minutes until all of your eyes landed on a girl putting up ‘missing’ posters. “I bet you that’s her” Dean said, you and Sam agreed.

The three of you walked up to the girl “you must be Amy” Dean said, the girl nodded as she taped up a poster. You stepped in front of Dean “yeah Troy told us about you, I’m y/n, this is Dean and Sammy were his aunt and uncles”, Amy eyed you weirdly, Sam and Dean could pass but you not so much.

Dean must’ve noticed because he nudged you toward Sam’s side and you caught on pretty quickly, wrapping your arm around him.

You couldn’t see Sam’s face but you were sure it was something along the lines of shock, then a look from you to Dean then quickly covering it with a tight lipped smile as he stiffly tugged you in closer.

Amy must’ve accepted the facade as she returned to putting up the posters “he never mentioned you to me” she said before turning to walk. The three of you followed and you and Sam let Dean take the lead in talking “yeah well that’s Troy i guess, we’re not around much we’re up in Modesto” he lied.

Sam broke away from you making you frown a bit, watching him move in front of Amy bringing her walk to a halt. “So we’re looking for him too and were kind of asking around-“ Sam was cut off by another girl stopping next to Amy asking her if she was okay, you assumed she was her friend.

“Do you mind if we ask you a couple questions?” You asked to which Amy agreed.

Amy and her friend led the three of you to a cafe, it was dark inside no thanks to the lack of sunshine outside, you sat between Dean and Sam whilst the two teenage girls sat on the other side.

Amy began telling you about the last time she and Troy spoke “I was on the phone with Troy. He was driving home. He said he would call me right back, and...he never did.” She said.

Sam leaned forward, more intrigued. “He didn't say anything strange, or out of the ordinary?” He asked. Amy shook her head, a frown painted on her face “no. Nothing I can remember” she said.

You glanced down at Amy’s necklace. It was a pentagram “i like your necklace” you complemented. Amy glanced down at the necklace and smiled “thanks, Roy gave it to me. Mostly to scare my parents with all that devil stuff.” She laughed at the memory.

Sam huffed out a laugh beside you “Actually, it means just the opposite. A pentagram is protection against evil. Really powerful. I mean, if you believe in that kind of thing.”, you raised your brows not expecting Sam to go full on encyclopedia. “Okay. Thank you, Unsolved Mysteries.” Dean said earning a bitch face from Sam

Dean took his arm off the back of the seat and leaned forward. “Here's the deal, ladies. The way Troy disappeared, something's not right. So if you've heard anything” Dean trailed off noticing the look Amy and Rachel give to each other “What is it?” You ask, tilting your head slightly.

“Well, it's just... I mean, with all these guys going missing, people talk.” Rachel started “What do they talk about?” The brothers say in unison, creeping you out just a little bit “It's kind of this local legend. This one girl? She got murdered on Centennial, like decades ago.” Rachel continues to explain.

Dean gives you and Sam a look you returned with a glance while Sam continues to listen to Rachel’s story “Well, supposedly she's still out there. She hitchhikes, and whoever picks her up? Well, they disappear forever.”

Sam and Dean looked at each other. “We got a lead,” you muttered under your breath to the brothers.

You sat in a chair to the side watching as Dean typed on the computer, coming up with nothing every time he pressed enter. Sam tried to take over the computer “let me try.” He said, but Dean smacked Sam’s hand away, “I got it,” he grumbled.

Sam sighed, pushing Dean's chair out of the way and scooted his closer, “dude!” Dean says hitting Sam’s shoulder, though the younger Winchester didn’t even spare him a glance “you’re such a control freak” Deans says and he scoots closer.

You smiled at their bickering, you didn’t miss the blow out fights you all used to have but you did miss the moments like these that you found yourself thinking about often causing a comforting feeling to spread in your chest.

“So angry spirits are born out of violent death, right?” Sam asks.

“Right” you confirmed, scooting closer to get a better look at the computer. “Well maybe it’s not murder” he says replacing ‘murder’ with ‘suicide’ in the search bar then pressing enter, an article popped up titled ‘suicide on Centennial’.

“I think he's got you beat Dean-o” you sarcastically remarked, earning a glare from Dean.

Sam opened the article dated back to April 25, 1981. “This was 1981. Constance Welch, twenty-four years old, jumps off Sylvania Bridge, drowns in the river.” Sam reads, Dean leaned forward “does it say why she did it?” He asked.

“Yeah” you answered, “what?” “Says an hour before they found her, she called 911. Apparently her two little kids are in the bathtub. She leaves them alone for a minute, and when she comes back, they aren't breathing. Both die.’” You read, sympathy settled in your gut for the woman.

Sam continued reading “‘Our babies were gone, and Constance just couldn't bear it,' said husband Joseph Welch." Sam says as he scrolled, a picture of the bridge you were at before showed itself on the screen “that bridge looks familiar to you?” Dean says.

SYLVANIA BRIDGE

By nightfall you, Sam, and Dean were back walking down the bridge, you all stopped to look over the railing down into the rushing river, “so this is where Constance took the swan dive” Deans said, before continuing on walking.

You and Sam followed “so you think they would’ve been here?” Sam asks Dean, Dean looks back at the two of you “well he’s chasing the same story and we're chasing him” Deans answered.

You sighed, continuing your walk. “Okay, so now what?” You and Sam simultaneously ask. You could tell Dean was purposefully not looking back at you and Sam “Now we keep digging until we find him. Might take a while.” Dean answered slowly.

You and Sam stop, glancing at each other before looking at Dean. Sam sighs “Dean, I told you, I've gotta get back by Monday-“ Dean cuts Sam off as he turns around “Monday. Right. The interview” he says, cutting a glance at you.

You shrugged, while you didn’t have any important plans like Sam, you still had to get home to Jason “i gotta get home Dean” you said.

“You're really serious about this, aren't you? You think you're just going to become a Lawyer? Marry your girl?” Dean asks, and something struck your heart, the thought of your first love marrying someone else, you pushed it away. “Maybe, why not?” Sam answered.

Dean looked at you “you gonna marry that guy hmm? Knowing he can't protect you? Being normal while knowing the truth about the things that come out at night?” He asked, stepping towards you.

You shrugged, getting irritated. “If that's what happens, yeah Dean, why is that so bad?” You questioned, you thought when you left Dean was happy for you, supportive at least but you could see now it was a facade.

“Do they even know the truth, i mean do they know about the things you’ve done?” Dean asks. Sam steps forward “ no and she’s not ever going to know” “that’s not gonna happen” both you and Sam said at the same time.

Dean paused, raising his eyebrows “Well, that's healthy. You can pretend all you want. But sooner or later you're going to have to face up to who you really are.” Dean said as he turned and kept walking.

You sighed, knowing that Dean was just upset. He wanted things to go back to how they were with you, your mom, Sam, John and him. He wanted his family back and you couldn’t fault him for it.

But the way he was going about it wasn’t the right way. Sam however feeds into it “and who’s that?” He asks. “You're one of us.” Dean answers, making Sam rush to get in front of Dean.

“No. I'm not like you. This is not going to be my life.” Sam finalized, Dean rolled his eyes “You have a responsibility to-“ Sam cut Dean off “To our parents? And their crusade? If it weren't for pictures I wouldn't even know what Mom looks like.” He said before pointing to you, “she’s been on the receiving end of y/m/n’s anger about y/f/n’s death her whole life” he continued, your chest tightened a little at his words, you’d never admitted it to anyone other than Sam when you were barley thirteen.

“And what difference would it make? Even if we do find the thing that killed her, they’re gone. And they aren’t coming back.”he finished. Dean grabbed Sam by his collar and shoved him up against the railing of the bridge, making you step forward “hey! Calm down” you shouted, Dean ignored you.

“Don’t ever talk about her like that”Dean warned before releasing Sam from his grip and continuing on his walk. Sam looked at you seeing your expression “y/n i-“ you cut him off “don’t, just don’t.”

You walked past him, it wasn’t what he said about your father that upset you, you’d accepted it a long time ago, but him telling Dean something you admitted to him after he found you crying, hit a nerve.

When you looked ahead your heart skipped a beat, not far ahead of you was Dean, but what caught your eye was the woman in the white dress standing on the ledge of the bridge.

“Sam.” Dean called, not taking his eyes off the woman, Sam moved to stand next to Dean and the tree of you watched the woman look at you before stepping off the ledge, you immediately sprint towards where she was, but when you got there she was gone “where’d she go?” Sam asked, “I don't know,” you said looking down at the river for the second time that night.

The sound of the impala starting immediately caught you and the brother’s attention, the headlights shined bright and the engine revved loudly. “Shit” you muttered. “Who’s driving your car?” Sam asks. Dean pulled the keys out of his pocket and you glance at them and roll your eyes “great”.

As soon as the words slipped past your lips the car began speeding towards the three of you, you didn’t waste any time taking off in a sprint, Sam and Dean weren’t far behind you and you could hear one of them yelling “go go run”.

They caught up to you fairly quickly thanks to their long legs, Sam grabbed your wrist pulling you with him as he jumped over the railing after Dean. Luckily he hadn’t let go because your foot slipped off of the side leaving you dangling over the river, holding on to nothing but Sam.

“Don’t let me go!” You shouted over the loud rushing of water below you. “It’s okay i got you” Sam said, pulling you back up, and this time you were careful with your footing.

You let out a breath “thanks” you huffed, Sam smiled “no problem”. His smile warms your heart and you fight the blush threatening to show on your cheeks. You looked back over the railing to see baby parked as if nothing happened.

Looking around you couldn’t spot Dean anywhere “where’s Dean?” You asked Sam. The both of you looked over the ledge, shouting Dean's name. After two calls you saw something crawl out of the water covered in mud “what!” It shouted.

It was Dean, “are you okay?” You shouted, Dean put up an OK sign with his hand “I’m super” he said. You and Sam smiled glancing at each other before climbing back over the railing.

Not long after Dean closed the hood of the impala “car alright?” Sam asked. “Yeah whatever she did to it, seems alright now. That Constance chick, what a bitch!” Dean shouted into the distance.

You came up beside him “well she doesn’t want us digging around that’s for sure” Sam said, and you hummed in agreement “So where's the job go from here, genius?” You asked Dean who just flicked the mud off of his hands in response.

Just then the wind blew and your nose caught the smell wafting from Dean making you cringe. You saw Sam making the same face before looking at Dean “you smell like a toilet” he said, you smiled, holding your laughter at the look on Dean's face.

“One room please” Dean said, dropping the card on the guest registry list, the old man at the front desk picked up the card eyeing Dean's muddy attire, before looking at you then Sam.

“You guys having a reunion or something?” The clerk asked, your brows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?” Sam asked, speaking your mind. I had another guy, Burt Aframian came in with his wife. He came and bought out a room for the whole month.” The man said. Dean turned and gave you and Sam a look.

You stood beside Dean completely blocking the view of anyone looking while Sam picked the lock to the room your mother and John stayed in. The door creaked open and you followed Sammy into the room.

You looked around in shock and Sam yanked Dean into the room and closed the door. “Woah” was all Sam could muster up. The room was a mess as if they just vanished, a suitcase thrown over the bed, food wrappers were still on the nightstand.

And papers were still thumb tacked to the wall. You stepped over the ring of salt and further into the room not paying any attention to Dean sniffing the day's old burger. You moved to pick through the discarded suitcase that was unmistakably your mothers, not listening to the conversation Sam and Dean were having.

Your heart sped up feeling as if you were about to commit a crime when you opened the suitcase, you would’ve never heard the end of it if your mother ever caught you going through her personal belongings.

Her clothes were inside neatly stored in rows of shirts, pants and whatever else, however nothing could’ve prepared you when you pulled a knife out of the bottom. The blade was covered by a white sheath.

You pulled the knife out of the sheath to take a look at the blade. It was long about the size of a ruler, and the brand new white leather on the handle made your breath hitch.

It looked exactly the same as your mothers, the one your father had gifted her the day of your birth, you turned the knife to look at the bottom and your initials and a date was engraved in a small font. “Hey Sam?” You called, catching him and Dean's attention. “Yeah?” He said moving towards you.

“What’s today’s date?” You asked. Sam’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion but still pulled his phone out to check “it’s November second, why?”. You turned to face the brothers showing them the knife.

Dean opened his mouth to speak “is that-“ “no, it looks like hers but it has my initials and today’s date. What does that mean?” You asked. Sam and Dean looked at each other unsure themselves.

You excused yourself from the motel so you could call Jason and update him a bit, the phone rang a few times before Jason’s cheery voice greeted you ‘Hey Jason here, I couldn’t come to the phone. Leave a message and I’ll get back to you when I can’. Voicemail.

You started to feel that feeling settle in your stomach again. So you called again, and again voicemail. Every time. “Son of a bitch” you said tilting your head back. After a few more tries and still no luck you re-entered the room again.

Sam looked up at you from one of the two beds in the room. He turned off his phone, he must’ve been calling Jessica and had just about the same amount of luck as you.

You plopped down on the other bed letting out a breath, you and Sam sat in a comfortable silence until you broke it. “How’s college life treating you?” You asked, looking at him. Sam looked back at you from his seated position and smiled, “it’s great, yeah. Normal” he said.

You smiled, “I bet, can't imagine Sam Winchester at a college party” you laughed at the thought, Sam laughed along with you shaking his head “yeah no it’s not really my scene” he said. You smiled, “so, what have you been up to since you left hunting?” Sam asked you. You paused, huffing out a laugh i uh- I’ve been looking to join the FBI. Behavioral analyses specifically.” You admitted.

Sam’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, “The FBI? Y/n that’s great! I mean what-“ Sam cut himself off with a scoff.

You smiled “yeah i know i uh got into Yale, not long after i left and majored in criminal justice and psychology. Got through it pretty fast, thanks to hunting I mean it was pretty easy to grasp.” You shrugged.

“Y/n this is big! Does anybody know-“ Sam was cut off by Dean swinging the bathroom door open “know what?” He asked, grabbing his jacket off of the coat rack. “Uh nothing” you said before Sam could say anything.

Sam picked up on your hesitance and sent Dean a tight lipped smile. He looked between the two of you weirdly before shrugging it off. “Anyway, I'm starving. I'm gonna go grab something to eat at that diner down the street” Dean said “want anything?” He asked.

“No thanks” “no” you and Sam said. “You sure? Aframian’s buying” he said, both you and Sam declined again. Dean shrugged and stepped out of the door.

When the door closed you turned back to Sam “I haven’t told anyone. Just you.” you said, Sam looked at you with understanding. “Well maybe we’ll work together on a case,” he said with a smile. “You bet law boy”.

After the conversation ended, Sam began to fill you in on the woman in white legends that you missed earlier, but he wasn’t able to get very far in because your phone began to ring.

You picked it up hoping it’d be Jason, it wasn’t it was Dean. You sighed, answering “yeah?” You answered.

“Dude, five-oh take off.” You whipped your head to Sam “what about you” you asked standing up “they kinda spotted me. Go find our parents” he says then he hangs up.

“We gotta go, cops. They’ve got Dean already” you said. Sam moves to look out of the window but quickly backs away when he sees the cop start towards the room.

After you and Sam escaped you both split up, Sam went to speak to Constance’s husband and you went to figure out a way to get Dean out of the hole. Which wasn’t too hard, all you had to do was shoot a few rounds and then call it in, waiting for the cops to leave and let Dean do his part.

While you were waiting Sam called you “got anything?” You asked, “so the husband was unfaithful. We are dealing with a woman in white. And she's buried behind her old house.” He said.

You looked at your surroundings, you weren’t far from the old Welch house “okay, how bout i meet you there?” You suggested, eyeing the small blue car you were passing. “Wait, what about Dean?” He asked

you smirked “Deans fine, trust me”. Sam nodded, though you couldn’t see “and uh, how do you plan to get there?” He asked, and just as he finished his question he heard a car alarm go off, he scoffed with a smile “you're stealing a car?” He said.

You shrugged “what can i say Sammy, old habits die hard”. Sam rolled his eyes “okay meet you there”

While you were driving your phone rang again, the id wasn’t one you knew but you answered none the less. “Hello?” You said.

“Sam’s in trouble” Dean's voice rang out. Your eyebrows furrowed “what how?” You asked, speeding the car up a little. “No time to explain, just get to the Welch house” he said before hanging up. “Damn it Sam” you said driving way past speeding limits.

When you arrived you started to hear gunshots, telling you that either of them beat you there. You stopped the car seeing Dean holding his shotgun, shooting at Constance’s spirit with a… salt round?

You shook off your confusion before getting out of the car and running towards him. But before you reached them the impala took off and crashed into the side of the house. Suddenly the voice rang through your head ‘I can never go home’ you almost laughed to yourself. He took her home.

Hurriedly you ran towards the passenger side beside Dean. “Sam! Sam, you okay?” Dean asked, Sam groaned, causing relief to spread through you “I think..” Sam said.

“Can you move?” You asked. Sam nodded his head “yeah, can you help me” he asked, and Dean helped Sam out of the car.

When Sam was out of the car you noticed Constance holding a frame, most likely of her family, until she looked up at the tree of you and dropped the frame, stepping out of the way and pushing you guys against the car with the dresser.

You groaned when the dresser hit your hips and it was for sure to leave a bruise, even with you and the boys combined strength you couldn’t move the dresser.

Constance stepped towards you with malice in her eyes, but stopped when the lights started flickering. You looked around in confusion at her confusion.

Then water began flowing down the stairs and you saw shadows of two small children at the top. ‘You’ve come home to us mommy’ the children said, sending goosebumps down your spine.

Suddenly the children were behind Constance, she turned and looked at the children who embraced her in a hug causing her to scream, soon enough all three spirits were reduced to a puddle on the floor.

The hold on the dresser disappeared and you guys were able to push the dresser off of you. You walked over to the puddle with Sam and Dean in tow “ So this is where she drowned her kids.” Dean said.

You and Sam nodded “that’s why she could never go home, she was too scared to face them” Sam replied.

You frowned “it’s tragic what heartbreak can do to someone” you said. There was a silence before Dean slapped Sam’s chest “you found her weak spot. Nice work Sammy” Dean complemented proudly. Sam winced at the impact but shrugged it off with a laugh.

“Yeah, I wish I could say the Same to you. What were you thinking shooting Casper in the face, you freak?” Sam joked “Hey. Saved your ass.” Dean replied, moving to look at the car. “I'll tell you another thing. If you screwed up my car?” Dean turned around to look at Sam. “I'll kill you.” He pointed. You and Sam looked at each other with huge grins

And just like that you were back on the road headed home. Sam in the passenger seat held a flashlight so he could see the map “okay, here’s where they went. It’s called black Water Ridge, Colorado” Sam said.

You leaned forward looking over his shoulder “how far?” You asked. Sam glanced back at you before looking at the map “about six hundred miles” he answered. You hummed, sitting back in your seat.

Dean nodded along to the music “Hey, if we shag ass we could make it by morning.” He said. You and Sam paused glancing at each other. “Dean-“ you started but was cut off by Dean “you’re not coming” he said nodding. “The interview's in like, ten hours. I gotta be there.” Sam says, Dean looks back at you through the rear view mirror.

“I have a job Dean… and Jason’s expecting me-“ Dean cut you off “yeah whatever, I’ll take you home” he said, you could hear the disappointment in his tone. You sighed

laying your head against the headrest.

When you got to Sam's apartment you waited for him and Dean to say their goodbyes before you got out of the car calling his name. 

He turned around and you wrapped your arms around him. He hugged you back with a laugh, “it was good seeing you sammy” you said, pulling away. He nodded “yeah, you too… see you at work?” he asked. 

You smiled, nodding “see you at work” you confirmed. Before getting back in the car, the front seat this time. Before pulling off, Dean looked at you with a smirk causing you to roll your eyes. “Knock it off Winchester,” you joked.

 Dean laughed before pulling off. You weren't able to get very far before your stomach began burning like molten hot lava in your organs. 

You whimpered, holding your stomach in pain. The sound caught the older Winchester's attention as he began shaking you and saying something you couldn't make out. 

But what you could make out were the flashing images in your head. Blood and fire. It was everywhere like a massacre. 

When the images went away the pain faded slightly and you were finally able to say “Dean, go back, we have to go back.” the look in your eyes must've scared him because he didn't waste any time swerving the car around.

When you got back to sams apartment it was already on fire and before the vehicle was stopped you were out ant running towards it

Dean wasn’t far behind you and it didn’t take any time for you to reach his apartment, Dean kicked down the door and you both ran in. Sam was on his bed staring up at the ceiling in shock shouting Jess's name.

As much as you wished you could save the girl she was already gone so you and Dean dragged Sam out of the apartment, it wasn’t an easy fight given Sam’s height and strength but you did it nonetheless.

However getting Sam out didn’t stop the burning feeling in your stomach, the ambulance arrived on the scene officially announcing Jessica dead, and you saw the emotion drain from Sam’s face, it was as if a switch flipped inside of him, he walked off leaving you with Dean.

You looked at the older Winchester with teary eyes “Dean you have to take me home. Please.” You begged. Dean looked at you with sorrow as if he already knew. You both knew what it meant but you wouldn’t believe it. No you wouldn’t accept it. He saw the inner turmoil in your eyes and nodded “okay, let’s go.” He said, wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

He led you back to the car where Sam had been putting a shotgun together with tears in his eyes. He looked at you then Dean, before shaking his head, throwing the gun back into the trunk. “We got work to do”

On the drive Dean quietly filled Sam in on what happened with you, though you weren’t too sure he was listening. You weren’t listening either, you were busy calling Jason’s phone over and over and over.

Every time the call went to voicemail the burning sensation got worse. When Dean parked outside of your apartment building you wasted no time getting out.

You heard both of their doors open as well and Dean called your name. You turned around to look at him, eye’s nothing but teary. “You want us to come with?” He asked. You looked between him and Sam, who looked like he couldn’t handle much more tonight.

You shook your head not trusting your voice enough to speak. Dean nodded “we’ll be right here if you need us” he said. You nodded, before turning around and continuing your walk.

The whole way to your apartment you held your new knife in your hand, when you reached your door you paused, not sure if you really wanted to enter, however you pushed the feeling down and opened the door.

Immediately the smell of blood hit you, the metallic smell seemed so strong it almost gave you a headache. Tears began to freely fall down your face when you saw the puddle of blood leaking from the other side of the kitchen counter.

Carefully you stepped over the pool of blood and walked further in, that’s when you saw him. He was on the floor, his face bruised and neck slashed.

Your heart shattered, and you began to hyperventilate as you dropped to your knees, not caring anymore about his blood staining your clothes.

You placed a soft hand on his face, it was still warm and your tears dripped onto his cheeks “please, Jason please im sorry. I’m sorry I shouldn’t have left. I could've protected you. I'm so sorry” you sobbed.

The longer you looked at him the more it hurt. You began to shiver from the feeling of your clothes soaked with his blood and the heartbreak that was crushing your chest.

But you didn’t care “no, no, no, this wasn’t supposed to happen to you.” You laid your head against his chest, hoping to hear a heartbeat.

But it was silent. Your sobs filled the air around you, until you heard footsteps enter the apartment.

You picked up the previously discarded knife with shaky unstable hands ready to fight whoever, but it was just Sam and Dean.

You saw Dean first, he stopped in shock and Sam wasn’t far behind. They took in the scene, your bruised bleeding boyfriend, and your completely broken state.

You seemed to be covered in his blood which made it worse. Neither of the brothers knew what to say or do and Sam looked on the verge of crying again too.

Dean moved to pick you up out of the bloody mess until he saw bloody writing on the wall ‘you were too late’.

Sam saw what his brother was looking at,and you turned to see. The bloody letters dripped down the wall as if it was still fresh.

Dean shook his head, picking you up from the ground. You hardly made any effort to fight him off and Dean thanked God for it because even though you were now a grown woman, he still saw you as that little girl he always protected. And you need that now more than ever.

[doctorbitchcrxft]

The Monster at the End of This Book | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Warnings: religious trauma lmfao that's p much a warning for this whole season, canon violence, canon gore, MDNI 18+, smut, fluffy smut, mentions of sexual actions, dacryphilia

Word Count: 8583

A/N: I actually started writing this episode on Dean’s birthday… crazy!!! Happy birthday, Dean!!!!

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“Hey,” Dean told you as he shut the door to your shared motel room behind him. 

“Hi,” you replied, shutting your journal. You’d recently started doodling and jotting down your thoughts again, and it felt good to try to establish a healthy habit again.

“I wanna talk to you about something,” said Dean while he shrugged off his jacket.

Your heart jumped a little. “Okay, shoot.”

Next to come off were his boots. “Did you mean what you said back at Sandover? About feeling like you’re constantly an accessory to somebody else?”

You considered for a moment while you tried to remember what he was talking about. “Oh, yeah,” you noted. “I did,” you said honestly. “Now that I’m me again and have my memories back, it definitely solidifies my feelings about how the angels regard me given they made me your assistant in their dream land.”

Dean nodded, seeming unsure of what to say. “I’m sorry,” he told you finally.

“Why?” you asked. “None of it’s your fault.”

“I know. Still thought you’d wanna hear it from somebody.” He looked down at the carpet.

You stood and walked over to him, putting your hands around his neck. “I did,” you said. “And I appreciate it.” You gave his lips a small peck, which he then turned into a deep kiss. Eagerly, you responded, and he pulled your hips closer to his while his hands roamed your ass. 

You bit his lip slightly, and he growled into your mouth. Immediately, you felt wetness pooling between your thighs. 

“Are we really doing this?” you asked him between kisses.

“Please, sweetheart, please,” he begged. “I need you. Please.”

“You have me,” you replied, and he began to kiss down his neck.

He nipped you, and you could feel a smile on his face as he did. “You know what I mean.”

You grinned. “I really don’t, though.”

Dean swiftly spun you around and plopped you down on the bed. It wasn’t long before he was back on top of you, and you tugged his hair hard while he made quick work of shoving your shirt upward to gain access to your breasts. He kissed and nipped at them with fervor, suckling each nipple as if you were his last meal. 

“Dean,” you moaned, back arching into him. When you did so, your clit brushed over the tip of the bulge in his pants. 

“Fuck,” he hissed. Dean instantly went back to kissing your lips, rolling his dick against your core, nevermind the many layers of clothing still between them. He grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head. Then, he instructed you to keep them there. “You move them, and I stop, got it?”

You nodded feverishly. 

“Words, sweetheart, so I know you understand,” he cooed.

“I got it,” you said breathlessly. “Touch me, Dean, please.”

That was all he needed to hear. Dean’s fingers made their way down your stomach with a gentle, teasing touch. He shoved your jeans and underwear off with one hand while tweaking your nipples with the other. When he’d finished, he immediately began coaxing you toward ecstasy with rough circles around your clit. Just before you could come undone, he stopped. 

You whined, and he took that opportunity to shove his dripping fingers into your mouth. You licked them clean and swirled your tongue around them, looking up at Dean with wanton eyes. 

He captured your lips in a feverish kiss, and you were unsure when he’d even had time to take his jeans off. The next thing you knew, though, he’d sheathed himself inside you. 

Your hands instinctively moved to clutch his shoulder and hair when he rolled his hips against you, and Dean pinned them above your head again. You whined against his lips and moved your hands back to his shoulders, and he grunted. 

“What’d I tell you,” he said as he stilled against you. 

Unexpectedly, tears welled in your eyes. “Dee, I want to hold you. Please, Dean. I need to.”

His expression softened as tears spilled down your cheeks, and he kissed them away. “Okay, baby. C’mere.”

He held you close to him, protectively caging your body in with his elbows propped up on either side of your head. Dean brushed away stray strands of hair as the two of you kissed passionately. Before you knew it, your orgasm came crashing into you. Yours seemed to milk his out of him, and the two of you fell asleep with his cock still inside you and your arms around each other. 

****

You laid awake the next morning with Dean’s arms around your waist limply. At some point the previous night, he’d slipped out of you. Which, you had to admit, you were ever-so-slightly disappointed by. The rising sun coming through the blinds made him almost glow. His eyelashes kissed his cheeks, fluttering every once in a while as he dreamt. With the arm that Dean’s head rested on, you reached around to the side of his head to stroke his hair rhythmically. It seemed to be soothing him into a deeper sleep despite the fact he’d normally be awake by this time. 

You revelled in this moment. You and Dean had been through so much together, and there was no one else you’d rather spend your days with. 

Moments like these were rare, but it was during these times you started to adore him even more. Despite his hard exterior and sarcastic comments, he was endlessly forgiving and caring. Dean found you exactly when you needed him, and you would never let him go again. 

Finally, his breathing shallowed, and he began to wake up. With his eyes still closed, he hummed, “Mm, morning.”

“Hi, sweet boy,” you said, giving him a kiss on the nose.

He scrunched his nose in response, but he couldn't fight the smile spreading across his face.  Dean opened his eyes and immediately gave you a deep kiss. “Love you,” he mumbled.

“Sorry, what was that?” you asked between kisses, a smile tugging at your cheeks.

“You—” he kissed you again, “—heard—” and again, “me.” 

You broke away from him and gently removed his arms from you despite his protesting. “Come back!” Dean whined.

“Babe, we gotta get going,” you told him. “We’re supposed to leave in, like, twenty minutes.”

“Why’d you let me sleep, then?” he groaned, and you could hear him roll into his pillow in the squeaky bed.

You poked your head out of the bathroom to look at him with your toothbrush hanging out of your mouth. “You looked so cute; I didn’t wanna wake you up.”

“Shut up,” he grumbled, though you could hear the smile in his voice that he was doing his best to hide.

You smiled around your toothbrush before turning back to the bathroom. Once you were dressed, you returned to the bedroom to find Dean appearing to still be asleep.

“Dean,” you said, shaking him lightly. “De-an.”

In a flash, he grabbed your arm and pulled you down to the bed. You squealed, and he chuckled while he pulled you underneath him. You smiled, and Dean studied your face for a moment before kissing you. The kiss was sweet, and you threaded your fingers through his hair. 

Though, when you wrapped a leg around his waist, you made a comment. “Dude, you’re seriously hard again?”

“What?” he asked. Dean went back to kissing you. “You’re fuckin’ beautiful; what do you expect?”

You ran your hands down his chest, giving him one more lingering kiss before pushing him off. 

“What?” he groaned. “C’mon.”

“Stop whining,” you said sarcastically. “If you go get dressed, I’ll blow you before we leave. ‘Kay?”

Dean was dressed and ready to go in under two minutes.

****

Contrary to how people normally treated you when you showed up with badges and “FBI” written on them, the man behind the counter at the comic book shop you’d entered looked skeptical; almost amused.

“Uh, can I help you?” the man asked, a small smirk on his lips.

“Sure hope so,” Dean replied. “Agents DeYoung, Shaw, and Panozzo. Just need to ask you a few questions.”

The three of you put your badges away, and you scanned the man’s face for why he seemed like he was on the verge of laughing.

“Notice anything strange in the building, last couple of days?” Sam asked.

The man snorted. “Like what?”

“Well, some other tenants reported flickering lights.”

The man squinted and shook his head slowly. “Uh, I don't think so. Why?”

“What about noises? Any skittering in the walls? Kind of like rats?” Sam pressed.

“And the FBI is investigating a rodent problem?” He quirked an eyebrow.

“What about cold spots? Feel any sudden drops in temperature?”

Then, a smile broke across the man’s face. “I knew it! You guys are LARPing, aren't you?”

“Come again?” you questioned, tilting your head to the side.

“You're fans.”

“Of what?” you snorted.

“What is ‘LARPing’?” Dean echoed.

“Like you don't know,” the man replied. However, when the confused and stunned expressions didn’t change on your and the brothers’ faces, the man prompted, “Live-Action Role-Play! And pretty hardcore, too.”

“I'm sorry, I have no idea what you're talking about,” Dean replied.

“You're asking questions like the building's haunted. Like those guys from the books. What are they called? Uh... ‘Supernatural.’ Two guys, one gal— I think one of the guy’s girlfriends— use fake IDs with rock aliases, hunt down ghosts, demons, vampires. I’m pretty sure the girl’s name is (Y/N)—” at that, your jaw dropped. “But the guys; what are their names? Uh... Steve and Dirk? Uh, Sal and Dane?”

“Sam and Dean?” the younger brother tried.

“That's it!” the man exclaimed.

Dean pressed further, “You're saying this is a book?” The employee nodded. “Books. It was a series. Didn't sell a lot of copies, though. Kind of had more of an underground cult following.” He got up from the stool behind the counter and moved to a table labeled “Bargain Bin.”

“Let's see,” he said. He picked up a book and handed it to you. “That's the first one, I think.”

The title was “Supernatural” by Carver Edlund. The cover was illustrated like an ‘80s-style smut book with Sam depicted having much longer, flowing hair, shirtless and holding a gun. Dean, on the other hand, was depicted in a muscle tee with huge biceps and a much squarer jaw, and you were splayed across the hood of the Impala with a tight tank top and skinny jeans on. You cringed at the sexed-up fantasy versions of you and the boys, and Dean took the book from you.

He flipped it over and read, “ ‘Along a lonely California highway, a mysterious woman in white lures men to their deaths’.”

“Holy shit,” you murmured.

Sam grabbed the book and read it for himself. He looked up at the man, bewildered. “We're gonna need all the copies of ‘Supernatural’ you've got.”

****

You, Dean, and Sam spent the day reading through each and every one of the books; the three of you baffled by every page.

Dean shook his head. “This is fuckin’ insane. How's this guy know all this stuff?”

“You got me,” Sam replied, scrolling away on his laptop. He took it upon himself to research the book’s author to try and find him as well as learn about the series itself. 

“Everything is in here. I mean everything. From the racist truck to– to me having sex. I'm full-frontal in here, dude,” Dean replied, shutting the book titled “Route 666.” “By the way, (Y/N), you were totally jealous,” he smirked.

“I was—!” you sighed. “Nevermind. How come we haven't heard of them before?”

“They're pretty obscure,” Sam replied. “I mean, almost zero circulation. Uh, started in '05. The publisher put out a couple dozen before going bankrupt. And, uh, the last one – ‘Strangers’— ends with (Y/N) and the angels while you were in Hell.”

You sat down at the table across from Sam, turning his laptop toward yourself. 

Dean leaned on the back of your chair, reading over it. “I reiterate. Fuckin’ insane.” Your partner tapped the side of your hip, prompting you to get up. He took your spot, and you took that as an invitation to sit on his lap. 

“Seriously?” Sam deadpanned. “PDA?”

“Oh, come on, dude,” you replied. “I wanna sit down, too.”

“Check it out,” Dean said, scrolling through the website with one hand while the other stayed wrapped around your hips. “There’s actually fans. There’s not many of them, but still. Did you read this?” he questioned, looking between you and Sam.

“Yeah,” Sam replied.

You leaned over to look more into the page. 

“Although for fans, they sure do complain a lot. Listen to this— Simpatico says, ‘the demon story line is trite, clichéd, and overall craptastic.’ Yeah, well, fuck you, Simpatico. We lived it,” Dean grunted.

“Keep on reading,” Sam told you and Dean. “It gets better.”

“There are ‘Sam girls’ and ‘Dean girls’,” your boyfriend smirked. “Oh, even ‘(Y/N) girls,’ and— and,” Dean looked up from the computer, his face dropping a bit. “What's a ‘slash fan’?”

“As in... Sam-slash-Dean. Together,” the brunet cringed.

“Like, together, together?”

Sam nodded. 

Dean was appalled. “They do know we're brothers, right?”

“Doesn’t seem to matter,” Sam replied, grimacing.

“They know (Y/N)’s my girl, right?”

“Speaking of which,” Sam added, trailing off. He took his laptop back, scrolled a little, clicked a bit, and then turned it back toward the two of you. “There’s Sam-slash-Dean-slash-(Y/N).”

“Eww,” you and Dean groaned in unison, and you stood from Dean’s lap.

You crossed your arms and started to pace.

“Oh, come on. That— That's just sick,” Dean grunted. He shut the laptop sharply. “We gotta find this Carver Edlund.”

“Yeah,” Sam sighed. “That might not be so easy.”

“Why’s that?” you questioned.

“No tax records, no known address—” Sam took his laptop back and started typing. “Looks like ‘Carver Edlund’ is a pen name.”

“Somebody’s gotta know who he is,” Dean argued.

Then, it looked like a lightbulb went off in Sam’s head.

****

Sam’s grand idea was to meet with the publisher. She seemed a little strange, a little awkward, but you found those traits endearing. She wrapped her long sweater around herself in slight discomfort, eyeing you and the boys up and down. It seemed she was pretty skeptical of your intentions.

“So, you published the ‘Supernatural’ books?” Sam asked.

“Yep. Yeah,” she nodded, talking very quickly. Her eyes glazed over dreamily. “Gosh, these books…” she trailed off, “y’know, they never really got the attention they deserved. All anybody wants to read anymore is that romance crap. Y’know, ‘Doctor Sexy, M.D.’?” she scoffed. “Please.”

A lopsided smile pulled at your lips. Dean loved Dr. Sexy, and you teased him about it frequently.

“Right, well, we're hoping that our article can,” Sam trailed off, searching for the words, “shine a light on an underappreciated series.”

“Yeah! Yeah, because, you know, if we got a little bit of good press then m-maybe we could start publishing again,” she said excitedly. 

“No, no, no, no,” Dean rushed out. “God, no. I mean, why— why would you want to do that? Y’know, it's, uh, such a complete series, what with Dean going to Hell and all.”

The publisher clutched a hand to her chest, suddenly growing quite emotional. “I don’t think it’s complete! I mean, look at poor (Y/N) and the angels! Gosh, you must not ‘ve read it yet.” Before Dean could even reply, the publisher was off on another rant. “Ugh, the book where he went to Hell… that was one of my favorite ones, because Dean was so— so strong, and sad, and brave. And Sam— I mean, the best parts are when they'd cry. Y’know, like in— in ‘Heart’, when Sam had to kill Madison, the first woman since Jessica he really loved. And in ‘Home,’ when Dean had to call John and ask him for help.” The publisher turned away, tearing up. “Gosh, if only real men were so open and in touch with their feelings.”

Dean nearly choked. “Real men?”

The publisher turned back around with a sniffle and an awkward smile. “I mean, no offense. How often do you cry like that, hmm?”

“Well, right now, I'm crying on the inside,” Dean remarked dryly. 

“Is that supposed to be funny?”

“Lady, this whole thing is funny.”

She crossed her arms again. “How do I know you guys are legit, hmm?”

“Oh, trust me. We, uh... we're legit.”

“Well, I don't want any smart-ass article making fun of my boys,” she said. “And don’t even get me started on my (Y/N).”

You, Dean, and Sam quickly chimed in with a chorus of “No”s. 

Sam quieted your chatter by saying, “We— We are actually, um... big fans.”

“Hmm.” She looked skeptical. “You've read the books?” “Cover to cover,” Dean insisted, and you nodded.

A smirk pulled at the woman’s lips. “What's the year and model of the car?”

“It’s a 1967 Chevy Impala,” Dean replied.

“What's May 2nd?” she tried.

“That's my—” you gave Sam a sharp elbow to the side, “uh... that's Sam's birthday,” he corrected, giving you a slight glare.

“January 24th is Dean's,” you said.

“And (Y/B/D) is (Y/N)’s,” Dean added.

“Sam's score on the LSAT?”

Sam looked over at you and Dean, slightly at a loss. “One… seventy-four?”

“And (Y/N)’s middle name?”

“Trick question,” you replied. “She doesn’t have one.”

“Dean's favorite song?” the publisher questioned.

“It’s a tie,” you responded. You could feel Dean staring at you as you answered, “It’s between ‘Ramble On’ and ‘Traveling Riverside Blues’. Both Zeppelin.”

“What’s (Y/N)’s?” the publisher asked.

“Easy,” Dean smirked. “ ‘End of the Line.’ Traveling Wilburys.”

“Back in book one, what’s the first thing (Y/N) thinks when she sees Dean?” the publisher asked.

The question made a slight heat rush to your cheeks. “I— uh, she, she thought he was wearing too many layers for being in the California sun. And that he was really beautiful.”

You could feel Dean’s eyes burning a hole through your skull, and you refused to move your eyes from the publisher’s.

“Okay, okay,” the publisher finally conceded. “What do you want to know?”

“What’s Carver Edlund's real name?” Sam asked.

The publisher’s excitement seemed to deflate. “Oh, no. I— No, sorry, I can’t do that.”

“We just want to talk to him. You know, get the ‘Supernatural’ story in his own words,” Sam begged.

“He’s very private. It’s like Salinger.”

“Please. Like I said – we are, um…” you gave Sam a weird look as he unbuttoned his shirt with a slight cringe to reveal his demon-protection tattoo, “big, big fans.”

It felt like the intro to a bad porno, and Sam gave you and Dean an intense glare to get you to reveal yours as well. 

Dean rolled his eyes, and you pulled down the waistband of your jeans just enough to reveal the bit of your hip with the tattoo on it. 

The woman licked her lips, and she was pretty brazenly eyeing your boyfriend and his brother up and down. “Awesome. You know what?” She turned around and hiked up her skirt. Your eyes nearly turned into saucers when she revealed her left ass cheek to have a matching demon-protection tattoo.

“Whoa,” Dean chuckled uncomfortably. “You are a fan.”

“Okay,” the publisher grinned, scribbling on a pad of paper. “His name's Chuck Shurley. And he's a genius, so don't piss him off.”

****

Dean poked your side as you walked up to the front door of Chuck Shurley’s house. “I didn’t know that’s what you thought of me when you met me.”

You playfully tried to shove him away. “Fuck off.”

He continued trying to poke you, and you shoved him. He quickly rebounded and grabbed you from behind with his arms around your waist. You squeaked and playfully tried to get away from him. 

“Guys, can we focus, please?” Sam asked.

You could almost feel Dean glaring at his brother while he set you back on the ground. To cool him off, you pressed up on your tip-toes and gave Dean a peck on the cheek. His anger seemed to immediately melt away, and he turned to give you a small smirk. Dean then rang the doorbell, and a short, squirrelly looking man answered it. 

“You Chuck Shurley?” Dean asked gruffly.

“The Chuck Shurley who wrote the ‘Supernatural’ books?” Sam prompted further.

The man crossed his arms. “Maybe. Why?”

“I'm Dean. This is Sam and (Y/N). The Dean, Sam, and (Y/N) you've been writing about.” Chuck closed the door in your faces.

You rang the bell again, annoyance growing and patience thinning.

“Look, uh, I appreciate your enthusiasm,” Chuck said when he opened the door again. “Really, I do. It's, uh, it's always nice to hear from the fans. But, uh, for your own good, I strongly suggest you get a life.”

Dean put a hand out to stop the door when the author tried to shut it. “See, here's the thing. We have a life. You've been using it to write your books.” He shoved the door open with his shoulders squared, subsequently forcing Chuck to back up into the house.

“Now, wait a minute. Now, this isn't funny.” Chuck held his hands up in surrender, and he shrank away from the approaching older Winchester.

You found the way Dean’s shoulders bristled to be incredibly attractive. “Damn straight, it’s not funny,” your boyfriend said.

“Look, we just want to know how you're doing it,” added Sam.

“I'm not doing anything!”

Dean pressed forward. “Are you a hunter?”

“What? No. I'm a writer.”

“Then how do you know so much about demons?” He continuously approached the shorter man, and Chuck fell back on his couch. “And Tulpas, and changelings?”

“Is this some kind of ‘Misery’ thing? Ah, it is, isn't it? It's a ‘Misery’ thing!” he rambled.

“God, no, it’s not a ‘Misery’ thing,” you snorted. “You’d already have your ankles broken if it was.”

“And believe me, we are not fans!” Dean growled.

“Dean, babe, relax,” you urged him.

“Well, then, what do you want?!” Chuck questioned. His voice had risen about an octave as he asked the question.

“I'm Sam. And that's Dean. And that’s (Y/N).” The younger brother gestured between the three of you.

“Sam, Dean, and (Y/N) are fictional characters. I made them up! They're not real!”

You thought for a second. “Come with us,” you ordered. 

“What? Where?” the author asked.

You simply grabbed his arm and dragged him behind you.

“I told you this is a ‘Misery’ thing!” he panicked, trying to shrug you off.

“Dean, pop the trunk,” you told him.

He nodded.

“What?! The trunk!”

“Relax, dude.” You brought the reluctant Chuck behind you to see the arsenal in the trunk. When you let his arm go, his shoulders seemed to relax.

“Are those real guns?” Chuck asked, looking a bit shocked. 

“Yup. This is real rock salt, these are real fake IDs,” Dean replied, pointing to the objects in the trunk.

“Well, I got to hand it to you guys. You really are my number one fans.” He still seemed very nervous. “That’s, that’s awesome. So, I— I think I've got some posters in the house.”

“Chuck, stop,” Dean grunted.

“Please. Wait. Please, don't hurt me.” He cowered in fear.

“How much do you know? Do you know about the angels? Or Lilith breaking the seals?” Sam asked, clearly running out of patience as well.

Then, Chuck seemed confused. “Wait a minute. How do you know about that?”

“The question is, how do you,” Dean nearly snarled.

Chuck looked at your partner as if he was crazy. “Because I wrote it?”

“You kept writing?” Sam questioned.

“Yeah, even after the publisher went bankrupt, but those books never came out. Okay, wait a minute. This is some kind of joke, right? Did that— Did Phil put you up to this?”

“Well, nice to meet you. I'm Dean Winchester, and this is my brother, Sam,” Dean said. “And that’s (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

Chuck then seemed more confused than startled. “The last names were never in the books. I never told anybody about that. I never even wrote that down.” The author looked like he was going to vomit. He turned on his heel and hurried back into the house, and you and the boys were quick to go after him. 

When you made it to Chuck’s kitchen, you found him pouring a large glass of whiskey. He gulped it down, and then, he turned around. He startled a bit, groaned, and closed his eyes. “Oh! Oh, you’re still there.”

Dean nodded sharply. “Yup.”

“You're not a hallucination.”

“Nope.”

“Well, there's only one explanation. Obviously I'm a god.” You and Dean groaned.

Sam rolled his eyes. “You're not a god.”

“How else do you explain it? I write things and then they come to life. Yeah, no, I'm definitely a god. A cruel, cruel, capricious god. The things I put you through— god, the physical beatings alone,” Chuck grimaced.

“Yeah, we're still in one piece,” Dean grumbled.

“I killed your father. I burned your mother alive.” Chuck ran a hand through his hair and then gestured at you. “And you! I made you kill your parents! And then you had to go through the whole horrific deal again with Jessica—”

Sam tried to object. “Chuck—”

“All for what? All for the sake of literary symmetry,” he rambled. “I toyed with your lives, your emotions, for... entertainment.”

“You didn't toy with us, Chuck, okay?” Sam exasperated. “You didn't create us.”

The author seemed to calm down for a moment, and he gave the three of you a side eye. “Did you really have to live through the bugs?”

The three of you nodded.

“What about the ghost ship?”

Dean nodded sharply. “Yeah, that, too.”

“I am so sorry. I mean, horror is one thing, but to be forced to live bad writing,” Chuck trailed off. “if I would have known it was real, I would have done another pass.”

“Chuck, you're not a god!” Dean grunted.

Sam added, “We think you're probably just psychic.”

“No. If I were psychic, you think I'd be writing? Writing is hard,” the man whined.

Sam searched for the words. “It seems that somehow, you're just... focused on our lives.”

“Laser-focused,” you chimed in. “You workin’ on anything right now?”

Then, something seemed to dawn on him. “Holy crap,” the author breathed out. He skittered over to a stack of papers and frantically flipped through them. “The, uh, latest book? It's, uh, it's kind of weird.”

“ ‘Weird’ how?” Sam questioned.

“It’s very Vonnegut,” replied Chuck.

Dean quirked a brow. “Slaughterhouse-Five Vonnegut or Cat's Cradle Vonnegut?”

Sam seemed surprised by his brother. “What?”

“What?” Dean grunted defensively.

The younger brother looked amused.

“It's, uh, Kilgore Trout Vonnegut. I wrote myself into it. I wrote myself, at my house, confronted by my characters,” Chuck explained.

You dropped your head back, slightly frustrated and slightly amused by the absurdity of the situation. With your head reeling, you walked out of the front door of Chuck’s home.

“Think you could let me see that?” Sam asked him.

Hesitantly, Chuck nodded and handed over the manuscript.

The brunet took it and immediately started flipping through it while you and the brothers headed out the door.

“But that’s—”

“We’ll bring it back,” Dean noted sharply, shutting the door behind him.

****

Once in the car, Dean began driving to the laundromat nearby as you’d suggested on the way to Chuck’s house.

“Since when do you read Vonnegut?” Sam asked Dean absentmindedly while he scanned through the manuscript.

“Since—” Dean started, cutting himself off, “none of your business.”

You smirked. “We watched Slaughterhouse-Five two summers ago. Dean really liked it, so I suggested he read Cat’s Cradle. He liked that one, too.”

“Huh,” Sam chuckled. “You’re rubbin’ off on him, (Y/N).”

“Slow your roll, Sammy,” you replied. “I haven’t even gotten him to Farenheit 451 yet.”

“In my defense, there’s only so much to do in some of these crap towns,” Dean added.

As night fell, you helped Sam carry the dirty laundry into the laundromat.

Dean took the manuscript off the front seat and brought it in with him while you and Sam loaded the machine.

“I’m sitting in a laundromat, reading about myself sitting in a laundromat reading about myself,” Dean said, slightly bewildered.

“My head hurts.”

“There's got to be something this guy's not telling us,” Sam replied.

“Sam, no darks yet,” you told him, taking the t-shirt he’d just tossed in out of the machine.

“ ‘Sam, no darks yet’, (Y/N) said, having gotten used to parenting the two men she lived with,” Dean read from the paper. “Sam rolled his eyes at (Y/N), but his mind was elsewhere. He was starting to have doubts about Chuck; about whether he was telling the whole truth.”

“Stop it,” Sam grumbled.

“ 'Stop it,' Sam said’,” Dean smirked. “Guess what you do next.” The younger brother turned away.

“ ‘Sam turned his back on Dean and (Y/N), his face brooding and pensive.’ I mean, I don't know how he's doing it, but this guy is doing it. I can't see your face, but those are definitely your ‘brooding and pensive’ shoulders,” Dean mocked.

Sam gave an exasperated sigh.

You looked over Dean’s shoulder. “You just thought Dean was a dick.”

Sam turned around, suddenly seeming impressed. “The guy's good.”

****

The next day, you returned to Chuck’s house with the papers. You and the Winchesters had read through every page.

“This feels like The Twilight Zone,” you told Dean as you approached the doors of the house.

Chuck opened it before you even had a chance to knock, catching you slightly off-guard. “Oh, good,” he shuddered, “you’re here.” He skittered back into his house, and the three of you followed him inside.

He picked up some more pages off his messy kitchen table and began to pace back and forth. 

“So, you wrote another chapter?” Sam deduced.

“This was all so much easier before you were real,” the author sighed.

“We can take it; just spit it out,” Dean said, growing impatient.

“You especially are not gonna like this.”

“I didn't like Hell,” Dean deadpanned.

“I didn’t like Uriel,” you added.

Chuck nodded shakily. “It's Lilith. She's coming for Sam.”

“Coming to kill him?” Dean’s eyes widened.

“When?” Sam wondered.

“Tonight.”

“What, she’s just gonna drop outta the sky?” you scoffed. “Here?”

Chuck sat down and put his glasses on the end of his nose. “Uh... let’s see, uh, ‘Lilith patted the bed seductively. Unable to deny his desire, Sam succumbed, and they sank into the throes of fiery demonic passion’.” Sam laughed. “You're kidding me, right?”

“You think this is funny?” Dean snapped.

“You don't? I mean, come on. ‘Fiery demonic passion’?”

“It's just a first draft,” Chuck said sheepishly.

You shook your head. “Wait, wait, wait. Lilith is a child.”

“No, uh, this time she's a ‘comely dental hygienist from Bloomington, Indiana’,” Chuck answered.

“Fantastic,” you grumbled.

“So what happens after the... ‘fiery demonic’ whatever?” Dean asked.

You and Dean were barely giving each other time to finish before you were bombarding Chuck with more questions.

“I don't know, it hasn't come to me yet,” the author replied.

“Guys, look, there's nothing to worry about. Lilith and me? In bed?” Sam scoffed.

You spun on your heel to face Sam. “Wouldn’t put it past you, darlin’!”

Sam glared at you, ready to fire back, but Dean cut him off by asking Chuck, “How does this whole psychic thing of yours work?”

“You mean, my process?” he replied.

“Yes, your ‘process’,” the older brother mocked.

“Well, it usually starts with a headache,” the smaller man began. “A really bad headache. Aspirin is useless, so... I drink. Until I fall asleep. The first time it happened, I thought it was just a crazy dream.”

“The first time you dreamt about us?”

Chuck nodded. “It flowed. It just— it kept flowing. It still does. I— I can't stop it, really.”

“You can't seriously believe—”

Dean cut Sam off. “Humor me.” 

Chuck held up the manuscript.

“Look, why don't we, we just,” Dean trailed off, reaching for the manuscript, “take a look at these and see what's what.” He then seemed to realize what had happened. “You—”

“—knew you were gonna ask for that. Yeah,” the man nodded.

****

You refused to speak to Sam, and your mind was spinning. With no idea whether or not the angels still expected you to kill him if he fell out of line again, you just kept your mouth shut.

Dean was white-knuckling the steering wheel as he drove, and Sam was reading the latest chapter in the passenger seat.

“Dean, come on,” Sam scoffed. He then read from the pages, “ ‘The minivan accident wasn't that bad, but Dean was still seeing stars. He scratched absently at the pink flower Band-Aids on his face’.”

“So?” you questioned.

“So, I’ve seen him gushing blood. You'd use duct tape and bar rags before you'd put on a pink flower Band-Aid,” Sam replied.

“What's your point?”

“My point is this— all of this— is totally implausible; it's nuts,” the younger brother argued.

“He's been right about everything so far. You think he's just gonna ground out at first now?” Dean finally said. 

Sam rolled his eyes and shook his head, continuing to read. “Huh. ‘Dean slid behind the wheel of his beloved Impala and drove off, the plastic tarp on the rear window flapping like the wings of a crow’.” “A tarp?” you and Dean questioned in unison.

“Yeah. On the rear window. And you drive it like that,” Sam nodded at Dean.

“Well, he might be wrong about the details but doesn't mean he's wrong about the end result,” the older brother replied.

Sam looked annoyed. “So we’re just gonna run?”

“Dude, we are a long way from ready for a face-to-face death match with Lilith.”

“Babe, slow down,” you said, looking at the officers blocking the road ahead.

A deputy leaned over into the car’s window while Dean rolled to a stop. 

“What seems to be the problem?” Dean asked, trying not to seem defensive.

“Bridge is out ahead,” the deputy nodded in the direction of the roadblock.

“We're just trying to get out of town.”

The deputy pursed his lips. “Yeah, ‘fraid not.”

You could see by Dean’s shoulders he was beginning to panic. “Is there a detour?”

“Nope.”

“There's not a side road that takes us to the highway?” 

“To get to the highway, you have to cross that river. To cross the river, you have to take that bridge,” the man answered.

“How deep's the river?”

You sighed, folding your arms and slumping down in your seat. “Dean—”

“Sorry. Afraid you kids are gonna have to spend the night in town.”

****

It was safe to say you and Dean were at your wit’s end. This was just another instance in which you felt like an accessory to your life; that free will wasn’t yours to have. Your mind was absolutely swimming as Dean and Sam tried to figure out a way around the manuscript.

They proposed the three of you do the opposite of what the paper told you, but something in you knew that was futile. Your theory was proven true when the “tofu burger” Dean had ordered turned out to be the bacon cheeseburger you knew he wanted.

Dean then decided to head to the Toreador Motel, and Sam made his distaste apparent.

“Dude, this place charges by the hour,” he scoffed.

“Yeah, well, the book says Lilith finds you at the Red Motel. Hence, the uh, hooker inn. It's opposite day, remember?” Dean replied.

You followed your partner into the motel room you’d be sharing with him and Sam. You began taking hex bags out of Dean’s duffel to try to keep Lilith away for as long as possible. 

“What are you doing?” Sam questioned. His tone was slightly judgmental.

“Couple of hex bags ought to Lilith-proof the room,” Dean replied, coming to your defense. He motioned for you to throw one to him.

“So, what? I'm supposed to just hole up here all night?” the brunet scoffed.

“That's exactly what you're gonna do, okay? And no research. I don't care what you do— use the Magic Fingers or watch Casa Erotica on Pay-Per-View,” Dean replied, taking Sam’s laptop out of his bag with a grin. 

“Oh, dude, come on.”

“Just call it a little insurance,” Dean replied.

“What are you gonna do?”

“Well, the pages say that I spend all day riding around in the Impala with (Y/N). So I'm gonna go park her. Behave yourself, would you? No homework. Watch some porn,” he grinned wickedly, pleased with himself.

You followed him out with a small smile on your face.

As soon as you were in the car, you asked Dean, “What’s bothering you?”

“What?” he asked, starting the Impala’s engine.

“C’mon, tell me. You’re not… you,” you replied.

Dean sighed, tearing out of the parking lot before speaking again. “You remember how you said you felt like an accessory to your own life?”

You nodded.

“I’m startin’ to feel that way, too.” 

You just started at him while you waited for him to continue talking.

“I’m runnin’ on fumes, here, (Y/N). And the fuckin’ angels and the apocalypse, and Lilith, and…” he trailed off, “Sam.”

“Don’t even get me started,” you replied, scoffing slightly.

“Yeah,” he said, looking sad.

You dropped your shoulders. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to pick on him or get between you two. I just… I’m so frustrated with him.”

“Trust me, I am, too,” Dean told you. “You don’t have to feel guilty for givin’ ‘im shit. I’m this close to swingin’ on ‘im.”

You giggled slightly. “Sorry. ‘S not funny.”

“You’re right, it’s not,” Dean grumbled.

You shrank further in your seat. “I’m sorry.”

“Sweetheart, look at me.”

You pulled your eyes up from your lap and looked over at Dean. 

He occasionally looked away from the road briefly to flick his eyes to yours. “I’m not mad at you. You’re okay.”

You nodded, but you still felt your heart pounding. 

“I’m gonna kill those fuckers for what they did to you,” he growled, white-knuckling the steering wheel as he drove.

You looked up again. “Who?”

“The angels,” Dean responded. “You’re not yourself anymore, sweetheart.”

“I’m sorry.”

“(Y/N), stop,” Dean urged. “I’m not mad at you: really. You’re okay. I still love you.”

Tears welled in your eyes. “You shouldn’t.”

“I should.”

“I’m sick, Dean.”

“So am I.”

“It’s not the same,” you protested. “You did what you did because you had to. I did what I did because I wanted to.”

“You wanna know why I’ve had such a hard time forgiving myself?” Dean asked, his tone slightly elevated. “Because I wanted to do it, too. I’ve told you that. And you still love me. Why can’t you believe I feel the same about you?” Dean parked the car on the corner of the street, turning to look at you. “I’m serious, look at me.” He grabbed your face gently and turned it up to face his. You kissed him deeply. 

“I love you,” you muttered against his lips. 

“I love you, too.”

Just then, the back window of the Impala shattered. You quickly grabbed your gun out of the glovebox and wheeled around, firing off a shot. 

“(Y/N), wait!” Dean shouted, but it was too late. 

You dropped the gun in shock, praying to god you didn’t just kill someone. Frozen to the spot, Dean got out to go look if the person trying to break into the car had been killed. 

Dean looked through the shattered back window. “They’re fine. They were a bunch of punk teens. They’re runnin’ away.” Dean started around to your side of the car to open the door for you. “C’mon, if we run, maybe we can catch ‘em!”

Just then, a van came careening toward him.

You screamed, putting your hands over your mouth when Dean got thrown to the ground. “Dean!” you cried. Instantly, you got out of the car and ran over to his unconscious body. 

You rolled him on his back and straightened out his legs to check him for injuries or fractures. “Somebody, help!”

The family driving the van got out and profusely apologized to you. The woman driving the van wore long, dangling star earrings, and she said, “Does— Does he need first aid? We— We have some in the van; it’s not ideal, but—”

You cut her off. “Anything works,” you replied quickly, tucking your hair behind your ears while you fussed over Dean.

The woman returned shortly with a box of pink, flowery bandaids, and you stared at it blankly for a moment.

“Is— Does that work for you?”

You nodded. “Yeah, yeah. This is great, thanks.”

****

“Fuckin’ hell, my head hurts,” Dean groaned from the passenger seat. You drove the Impala with a busted-up Dean covered in pink bandaids and the back of the Impala’s window covered with a tarp from the van’s owners. It flapped in the wind like the wings of a crow.

“I know,” you told him, “I’m sorry.”

“Where are we going?” he asked. 

“Chuck’s,” you answered shortly.

****

You and Dean helped yourselves to waters from Chuck’s fridge while you waited for him to return home. When he did, he didn’t seem surprised to see you. 

“Why do I get the feelin’ there's something that you're not telling us?” Dean nearly growled, approaching Chuck with his shoulders squared.

“What wouldn’t I be telling you?” he stammered.

“How you know what you know, for starters!” Dean was backing Chuck against a wall, and you just watched with your arms crossed.

“I don't know how I know, I just do!”

“That's not good enough,” Dean replied. He shoved Chuck to the wall by his collar. “How the hell are you doing this?!”

Suddenly, Castiel appeared beside you. “Dean, let him go!” 

Your partner wheeled around. 

“This man is to be protected,” the angel insisted.

“Why?” you scoffed.

“He's a Prophet of the Lord.”

You scoffed. “Yeah, right.”

“You... You're Castiel... aren't you?” Chuck breathed out.

“It's an honor to meet you, Chuck. I... admire your work.” The angel picked up a book and started thumbing through it. 

“Whoa, whoa, what?” Dean chuckled dryly. “This guy, a prophet? Come on, he's – he's... he's practically a Penthouse Forum writer.” He turned to Chuck, his eyes slits. “Did you know about this?”

You picked up Chuck’s whiskey and handed the author the bottle. 

“Thanks,” Chuck swallowed, taking a huge swig. “I, uh, I might have dreamt about it.”

You snarled, “And you didn’t think to tell us?!”

“It was too preposterous. Not to mention arrogant. I mean, writing yourself into the story is one thing, but as a prophet? That's like M. Night-level douchiness.”

You sighed. 

“This is the guy who decides our fate?” Dean whispered harshly to Castiel.

“He isn't deciding anything. He's a mouthpiece: a conduit for the inspired word.”

“The word? The word of god? What, like the new new testament?” you asked.

“One day, these books: they'll be known as the Winchester gospel,” the angel replied.

“You’re kidding,” you deadpanned, rolling your eyes.

“I am not,” Castiel replied, looking confused.

Chuck disappeared upstairs with a small excuse for himself.

“Him? Really?” Dean questioned.

“You should've seen Luke.”

You smiled a little. 

Dean asked, “Why'd he get tapped?”

“I don't know how prophets are chosen. The order comes from high up on the celestial chain of command.”

“How high?”

“Very.”

“Well, whatever. How do we get around this?”

“Around what?”

“The Sam-Lilith love connection,” Dean grimaced. “How do we stop it from happening?”

“What the prophet has written can't be unwritten. As he has seen it, so it shall come to pass,” the angel replied.

“Great. Fantastic,” you muttered.

****

You and Dean immediately raced back to the motel you’d left Sam at. When Sam told you he’d burned the hex bags to ward off Lilith, you were furious.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” you shouted.

“Lilith is gonna slaughter you,” Dean added.

Sam shrugged calmly. “Maybe she will, maybe she won't.”

“So what?” Dean scoffed. “You think you can take her?”

“Only one way to find out, Dean, and I say bring her on.”

“You are out of your fucking mind,” you laughed humorlessly. 

Sam glared at you. “You think I'll do it, don't you? You think I'll go dark side.”

“What else am I supposed to think?!”

“Dean, little help here?” Sam questioned, gesturing at you. 

The older brother held his hands up in surrender. “I’m on her side, here.”

“Seriously?!”

“Yes! Okay? Yes. The way you've been acting lately? The things you've been doing?”

For the first time, Sam looked a little startled.

Dean’s voice got dangerously low. “Oh, I know. How you ripped Alastair apart like it was nothing, like you were swatting a fly. Cas told me, okay?”

“What else did he tell you?” Sam questioned.

“Nothing I don't already know. That you've been using your psychic crap, and you've been getting stronger. We just don't know why, and we don't know how,” Dean responded. It was clear his guard was up.

“It’s not what you think—” Sam tried to defend.

You scoffed. “Sam, just stop. I don’t believe a word that comes out of your mouth anymore.”

“You have no right to say that—”

“Really?” you challenged, raising your eyebrows and stepping to him. “ ‘Cause if you wanna lecture me about trust and honesty, we can go there. We can talk about the phone call you had with Ruby after you nerfed Alastair.”

“You what?” Dean roared.

“Dean—” Sam pleaded, still clearly very frustrated.

The older brother just grabbed his bag and turned for the door. “Are you coming or not?” he asked, fuming.

Sam took a deep breath, eyes steely. “No.”

Before Dean left the room, he dropped his bag forcefully on a chair next to the door before heading out. You followed him, slightly confused.

“Dean, we gotta get the hell outta dodge,” you told him. “Lilith is coming, and we cannot fuckin’ stop her.”

“I know, (Y/N),” he replied, sighing. “I know, I know.”

“So, what now?”

“Just let me think a second, okay?” He stopped next to the soda machine and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Well, I feel stupid doing this. But... I am fresh out of options.”

It was then you realized he wasn’t talking to you. 

“So please. I need some help. I'm praying, okay? Come on. Please,” Dean begged.

Castiel, thus, appeared. “Prayer is a sign of faith. This is a good thing, Dean.”

Rage boiled in your chest knowing you’d prayed to him for so long while receiving no answer. It hurt to know that especially your mother’s prayers had been ignored.

“So does that mean you'll help me?” Dean asked. 

The angel shrugged somewhat. “I'm not sure what I can do.”

“Drag Sam out of here, now. Before Lilith shows up.”

The angel shook his head. “It's a prophecy. I can't interfere.”

You sighed. “Castiel, please. You’ve ignored my prayers before,” you told him, a little pain in your voice. “But even still, I’ve gone to hell and back for you. And so has Dean. He has never asked you for anything. As far as I’m concerned, Sam’s made his choices. But for Dean’s sake, please. Please.”

“What you're asking,” Castiel sighed, “it's... not within my power to do.”

“Why? 'Cause it's ‘divine prophecy’?” Dean snorted.

He nodded.

“So, what? We're just supposed to sit around and, and wait for it to happen?”

“I'm sorry,” the angel responded.

“Fuck you. You and your mission. Your ‘god’,” Dean snarled. “If you don't help me now, then when the time comes and you need me, don't bother knocking.” He brushed past the angel, and you followed.

“Dean,” Castiel called after him. “Dean!”

Your partner wheeled around. “What?!”

“You must understand why I can't intercede,” the angel explained.

“Prophets are very special. They're protected.”

He huffed. “I get that.”

“If anything threatens a prophet, anything at all, an archangel will appear to destroy that threat. Archangels are fierce. They're absolute. They're heaven's most terrifying weapon.”

“And these archangels; they're tied to prophets?” Dean questioned.

You could practically see an idea rolling around in his mind.

“Yes.”

“So if a prophet was in the same room as a demon—”

Castiel cut Dean off. “Then the most fearsome wrath of heaven would rain down on that demon. Just so you understand why I can't help.”

He offered a half-hearted smile. “Thanks, Cas.”

“Good luck.”

You nodded at him, and the two of you headed to the Impala.

****

Utilizing a bit of coercion, Dean figured out a way to stop Lilith and Sam from their “fiery demonic passion.” He used the knowledge given to the two of you by Castiel to make Chuck come with you to Sam’s motel room. 

Just as it seemed Lilith was going to attack Sam, the three of you burst through the door. 

“I am the prophet Chuck!” he cried shakily.

Lilith’s shoulders dropped. “You've got to be joking.” With a roll of her eyes, she began approaching Chuck.

“Oh, this is no joke,” Dean smirked, his voice low and gravelly. The ground began to shake, and a brilliant white light began filling the room as Dean continued. “You see, Chuck here's got an archangel on his shoulder. You've got about ten seconds before this room is full of wrath and you're a piece of charcoal. You sure you want to tangle with that?”

With one last look to Sam, she poured out of her vessel’s mouth.

****

Dean didn’t want to waste any time. As soon as Chuck was dropped back off at his house, you and the brothers were on the road again.

The tarp flapped loudly behind you, slightly driving you insane. However, you were trying to focus on the conversation between Sam and Dean.

“So a deal, huh?” Dean questioned.

“That's what she said.”

“To call the whole thing off— angels, seals, Lucifer rising— the whole nine?” he asked again.

“That was the gist of it,” the younger brother shrugged.

Dean huffed.

“What?” Sam asked.

“You didn't think once about taking it?”

Sam scoffed. “You kidding me? Dude, you spent all day trying to talk me off the Lilith track.”

Dean shook his head. “I'm just saying—”

“She would have found some way to weasel out of it. And all it would have cost us was our lives.”

Your partner sighed. “Yeah, I guess you're right.”

“Anyway, that's not the point.”

“Then, what is?” you asked.

“She's scared,” Sam replied. “I could see it. Lilith is running.”

“Running from what?”

He pursed his lips. “Don't know. But she was telling the truth about one thing.”

“What's that?” Dean chimed back in.

“She's not gonna survive the apocalypse. I'll make sure of that.”

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-nesmith @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

[couldyouimagine-that]

Take a Moment

Genre; hurt/comfort, fluff

Word count; 1.8k

Warnings; description of reader feeling overwhelmed, reader having a little doubt as to why Gabriel is helping them so much.

Pairing; Gabriel (Supernatural) x Reader

Gabriel who is absolutely smitten with the reader sees they are feeling overwhelmed whilst researching a case and offers to take them somewhere quiet – comfort and cuddling ensues.

I’m back! I really enjoyed writing this one (I'm rewatching Supernatural at the moment and my love of Gabriel has been rekindled) and I’m considering doing something similar with Lucifer – let me know if that’s something you would want to read. Enjoy!

Masterlist

-

You didn’t even have to say anything for Gabriel to know something was wrong. Castiel was never likely to notice, but the archangel had to forgive him that. His brother wasn’t the most perceptive when it came to emotion. The Winchesters were very perceptive, but they were only human and you were covering your discomfort well. Your breathing was regular and steady, there were no signs of a tapping foot or a repetitive hand movement, or anything that would signal how you felt.

But Gabriel could actually feel how you felt, one of the perks of his true form being an enormous series of celestial wavelengths. It was incomprehensible to you, he was sure, but you understood enough about angels to get the gist. He watched as you sat at the end of the table in the bunker’s library, having put yourself there so that no one would sit down next to you. You had your legs crossed tight at the knee, your arms crossed where you leaned forward on the table. Your posture looked closed off, but there was a mug of coffee by your side and you had been reading lore for hours. The others would assume you had slept poorly or were bored senseless. What that posture really meant was that you were protecting yourself, consciously or not.

Nothing had happened to trigger it, but it was clear to Gabriel that you felt incredibly overwhelmed. He stayed were he had set himself up by one of the bookshelves, one hip cocked against it. He had seen you leave situations like this in the past, when things finally did get too much and you needed some space to yourself. Equally, he had seen you try to tough it out and pretend everything was fine more times than he wanted to count. He truly wishes you knew you didn’t have to, regardless of if that meant you wanted his help or not.

Sam and Dean were sitting far enough down the table that it didn’t seem to be affecting your clear need – or clear to Gabriel, at least – for personal space. Castiel was browsing books along the shelves on the other side of the room, so whilst Gabriel wanted desperately to intervene and help you, he was glad for a moment to think that he wouldn’t need to.

That was until the idiot brothers decided to open their mouths.

“Hey Y/N, did you find anything on that weapon?”

Gabriel would have liked to snap Dean’s mouth shut. You told him that you hadn’t with a small smile, short but not unkind. Gabriel could see the effort it took for you to regain your focus on your reading. Just a few minutes later and Sam was the one to interrupt you, asking for the title of a book you had mentioned to him the previous day. This time it was harder for you to concentrate on your task again. It was when Dean disrupted your work for a third time, asking if you wanted more coffee as he stood and made his way to the kitchen, that you couldn’t take it a second longer.

Your refusal was decisive and your chair legs scraped against the floor as you pushed back from the table. You left the room quickly with a muttered excuse about going to look for a different book. Gabriel took his chance and flew ahead of you, leaving the library without anyone noticing. He was leaning against the wall outside your room when you arrived in a flurry from the speed at which you had been walking. You jumped in surprise when you rounded the corner to see him standing there and promptly tried to push straight past him in an effort to get a moment by yourself.

“Sorry Gabriel, I just need a minute.” Your words were quiet and your breathing had turned heavy. He knew that he would be making things worse for you in the moment, but he also knew he could help in the long run.

“Hey, sugar…” he murmured, voice even softer than it normally was when he spoke to you. “You wanna go somewhere quiet?”

You paused, hand on the door to your little closed in space in the bunker. No windows, not much by way of fresh air, and a whole group of people in the library just waiting to interrupt your alone time. You trusted Gabriel, knew he would never do anything to hurt you. And you desperately needed a break from it all.

He could have jumped for joy when you nodded, but he kept his reaction contained. He offered you a hand, palm up, which you took hold of immediately. The bunker was gone in the time it took you to blink. Instead, you stood in the main room of a sunny villa-like house, all open plan and large windows. Orange sunlight streamed in from a setting sun and to your right, double glass doors led out onto a sprawling patio. Bright blue pool water glimmered from its centre.

Gabriel let your hand slip from his as you took a few steps into the room, looking around with a beautiful if not tired smile.

“Is this yours?” You asked, a hint of wonder in your words that made Gabriel’s chest swell.

“Just a bit of real estate I have over in Cali.” He gave you his classic playful smirk as you looked back at him, amused by his dismissal of such a nice place. “Make yourself at home, sugar. You want a drink?” You seemed to consider something for a moment, rolling the sentence around in your mouth.

“Actually, I – this is probably silly, but can we just sit down for a minute?”

We.

You wanted to sit down with him until you felt better. That was how much you trusted him, how safe you felt with him. Outwardly, he just gave you a smile and sauntered over to one of the couches arranged artfully around the room.

“Course we can! And don’t ever worry about sounding silly with me.”

He held an intense moment of eye contact with you to make sure his message sank in. You took a seat on the other side of the couch and Gabriel couldn’t resist stretching an arm out along the back of it, behind your head. Not touching, but the invitation was there. You smiled to yourself at his less than subtle antics. He grinned like a cheshire cat when you shifted further towards him and rested your head on his shoulder. He slid his arm around your shoulders and pulled you in close, resting his cheek atop your head. You in turn curled into him fully and wound an arm around his neck.

Gabriel didn’t bother to fight the warm feeling in his chest. He felt no need to deny to himself how fond he was of you, instead just enjoying the moment. He felt you relaxing against him physically, but he also felt your mind becoming calmer. His breath shifted your hair as he took in the scent of your shampoo. He had years of experience passing time in the company of humans, but this little display of trust you were putting on meant more to him than a lot of that put together.

His other hand alighted on your hip as you moved closer still, mindlessly seeking comfort. You tucked your legs up onto the couch and the movement allowed you to put more of your weight against the archangel. He wrapped an arm around your waist and you reached your own up over his shoulders. He smiled at you ever so warmly as you tucked your face into his neck, watching your eyes close as you let out a contented sigh. He began to card his fingers through your hair, lightly scraping his nails over the back of your head, and all but basked in the way your head tilted further forwards onto his shoulder.

“You know you can talk to me when you feel like that, right? Or any time. I’m always here if you need me to be.” You tightened your hold on him for a brief moment. “And you can come here whenever you want, just give me the word.”

You leaned back a little at that, catching his eye.

“Gabriel, thank you. Really, thank you, but… why are you doing all this for me?” He rolled his eyes playfully without missing a beat.

“Oh no, the big bad archangel Gabriel looks like he might actually give a crap about some human.” He waved his hands around for dramatic affect before placing them back on you. He then tilted his head forward, narrowing his eyes and raising a brow. “Seriously?” The half shrug you offered had him muttering heatedly to himself in Enochian. “Seriously? Is it really that shocking that I give a damn about you? Why is this coming as such a surprise?” You were planning on not answering that verbally but he refused to let you look away. “Come on, sugar. You must know I care about you by now.” Gabriel’s hand started on a steady path up and down your back, waiting for your answer. You stumbled around your words for a lot longer than you would have liked, still unhappy with what you settled for in the end.

“I – didn’t really realise.”

“You think I bring anyone else here when I can see they need some space to breathe?” He wasn’t mocking, or even upset, he was just being direct.

“I’m surprised you brought me here,” you muttered, very quiet. He didn’t deign to answer that in words, but the look he gave you said come on. You gave a soft sigh of your own. “Gabriel, look. I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t realise you cared about me so much, I really didn’t.” He went to hit back, likely with something disparaging, so you tapped his nose to get his attention. The self-righteous expression of how dare you had a grin pulling at your lips. “You can complain about me not realising later, alright? You were a much more calming influence when you weren’t saying anything.” He repeated that back to you, absolutely exasperated by your nerve, but you tucked your face back into his shoulder instead of replying. You felt him shake his head, even as his arms wound back around you.

You knew you wouldn’t have much time left before you needed to return to the bunker, but for the time being, you simply enjoyed your moment of peace.

[whimsyfinny]

Fix Your Attitude

Dean Winchester x F!Reader

Summary: (Y/n) is just like an other woman trying to function in this fucked up world - and she's starts her day with coffee. At least that was always the plan until Dean interfered.

Warnings: Language, Smut, Fingering, PinV, slightly Dom! Dean, and if you squint there's maybe possessive/jealous Dean

MDNI! 18+

Word Count: 4470

A/N: So this is technically my first ever one shot! Woop! I've written this as part of my competition from a few weeks back, and this is for the wonderful winner @spookyysinsanity ! Hope you enjoyyy.

“Seriously, Dean? What the actual fuck!?” The audacity of the older Winchester brother had me throwing my hands up in frustration, my irritable tone bouncing off the walls in the kitchen and landing on ears that couldn’t possibly care any less.

“Should’ve got here sooner, sweetheart. You know how it is; first come first serve,” he tauntingly raised his coffee mug to my dishevelled figure standing over the empty coffee pot. The lack of caffeinated bean-water had brought a panic-sweat to my temples, knowing all too well how things would pan out if I didn’t get what I needed.

“How many cups have you had?”

“What?” He blinked frustratingly slowly - he knew what I’d asked.

“Jerk - I said ‘how many cups have you had’?”

“Hmmm…” he tapped his finger against the side of the mug, lips pursing over feigned thoughts.

“DEAN.”

“Maybe… three?” He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly - although the nonchalant bubble popped when a sly smirk slipped through the cracks. My mouth opened and closed a few times, words forming and disappearing too rapidly through my mind to even make it past my lips as desperation sizzled into rage.

“You DICK!”

“Hey don’t yell at me - just make another pot,” he held his hands up defensively.

My eyes flitted over to the empty tin on the side - an empty tin left tauntingly in plain sight.

“You know damn well I can’t do that! We’re out of coffee, totally out. Zilch. Nothing. Empty.”

“Well,” he lifted his mug to his lips, “not totally empty.”

“What do you- oh…OH,” I felt my razor sharp glare zero in on the mug at his lips - there had to be at least half a cup in there with how little he had to tilt it up before taking a gulp. I took a step forward and jabbed my finger towards the prize.

“Give me that.”

He offered me nothing but raised eyebrows and a loud slurp.

“Dean.”

Again, silence only echoed back, however my frustration towards him started to buzz in my head as he slowly lowered the mug to unveil a slap-worthy grin.

“DEAN.”

He gently placed the mug on the table and turned to me, large arms crossing over his broad chest as he settled in his chair, thighs spreading wide for comfort.

“Wow, I thought I was grouchy in the mornings before coffee but damn, sweetheart you’re really claiming first place with that one.”

I took a step closer, my eyes practically burning a hole in the cup next to him on the table. His grin widened as he noticed me stalking forwards, like a predator ready to pounce on its unsuspecting prey. However my prey was incredibly suspecting and, in all honesty, not really prey at all. My bare feet padded quietly towards him, each tentative step raising more suspicion in Dean as my desperation for caffeine became all-consuming and my honed hunting skills became sloppy. I gave myself away when I tore my gaze from the mug and glanced over at Dean, catching his amused smirk and playful eyes before I lunged forward, hands grasping at air where the liquid-treasure should have been. Spinning on my heel after almost colliding with the table I turned to face Dean, now standing a few steps behind me with one hand wrapped around the ceramic and the other dipping lazily into the pocket of his jeans.

“Come on darlin’ you’re better than that.”

“Fuck you.”

A low whistle floated in the air between us before he tutted at me, shaking his head slowly.

“So mean.”

“Says you!”

“Hey I got here first - I'm the victim here. You're the one trying to rob me.”

“Don't play that game - you are not the victim here. All of your bullshit has been calculated,” I narrowed my eyes up at him as he traced his tongue over his bottom lip.

“Maybe it has been. Not much you can do about it now though is there?” His eyes glinted like the tricksters before he took another gulp of his coffee. I could feel my palms growing sweaty in apprehension, knowing all too well that the coffee level was dropping inside that cup.

Time to try a different approach. Something more… tactical.

“You know…” I pulled a lock of hair between my fingers, twirling it around, “you're my favourite Winchester.”

I paused and he raised his eyebrows, suspecting yet silently urging for more.

“Sam is just so nice and tall but…” I quietly stepped towards him, inwardly cheering when he made no attempt to move away.

“But?”

“But I mean look at you, so ruggedly handsome… and with that authentic ‘tough guy’ personality to make all the ladies swoon. And don't even get me started on these broad shoulders and big arms of yours…” I padded around him, tracing a single finger delicately up one arm, over the back of his shoulders and down the other arm. I almost missed the small shiver that ghosted over his skin and raised the hairs on his exposed forearms.

“Oh, so you like what you see?” He raised an eyebrow, his voice subtly dropping to a deeper tone.

I chewed my bottom lip slightly before stopping in front of him, a hair's breadth away. From here I could smell the masculine scent of his cologne - the same one I'd only ever known him to wear - and the subtle, intoxicating scent of leather and gunpowder. Combined, those three items were the very essence of Dean, the warmth of it all clinging to his clothes and practically seeping from his pores. I couldn't stop myself from taking a deep breath and letting the hypnotic scent travel straight to my brain. He’d always smelt divine, but I was never going to give him the satisfactory access to that information.

Upon tilting my head up to lock eyes with him, I could feel his coffee-scented breath fan over my face, the smell of what I wanted most almost making my mouth water. I couldn't let myself become enveloped in the addictive haze around him - I needed to remember what I was here for without letting myself become distracted.

Evergreen eyes flitted between mine, unsure of my next move. But the more I looked into them, the more dilated his pupils became. I couldn't help but grin a little to myself, relishing in his reaction.

“Come on Dean, just hand over the coffee. I know deep down that you really want to…”

He hummed, the sound a little gravelly as it emanated from his chest.

“You see sweetheart,” he smirked a little as he gripped the mug, lifting it to his lips. The action immediately caused me to take an urgent step forwards, a part of me truly believing that he would drain the cup right there and then. He must've seen the panic jolt through me as he released a small, breathy laugh.

“I see what?”

“You see… I don't think it's coffee that you need to stop being such a bitch in the morning.”

My eyes immediately narrowed towards him at his choice of words. He can make it so easy to look past his good looks when he acts like such an ass.

“What the actual fuck does that mean?”

“Oh I think you know what it means.”

“Fuck you, Dean.”

“If you want.”

“Go to- wait what?” I felt my heart leap in my chest, my mind unsure if I wanted to have heard him correctly.

His smirk spread across his face as he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, his mossy green gaze dragging over my figure as though I were totally naked.

“You heard me,” he took a step forward, his boots heavy on the hard kitchen floor. My cheeks burned, and I wasn't sure if it was from whatever scandalous thoughts of him I'd pushed to the back of my mind that I never intended to humour, or the rage bubbling to the surface at the sheer audacity from him, thinking I'd just accept this sort of shitty attitude.

“You’re crazy if you think that I’d let you in my pants,” the bewilderment in my voice was evident, and so was the growing frustration. This conversation had taken a wild turn and it’s safe to say that I didn’t like the direction it was headed. It was a rocky path of buried desires and a cocky male ego - a male ego that somehow knew what buttons to press to get my temper sizzling.

“Oh but sweetheart I could make it so good…” his voice was like caramel, becoming harder to ignore as he took another step forward, backing me into the table. I swallowed the almost nervous lump that had started to form in my throat, my heart rate quickening with every second he looked at me with those darkening eyes.

“And why would you want to do that?” I did well at hiding the slight nervous wobble in my voice. He chuckled slightly before breaking eye contact and looking down at his boots, thinking for a moment before shooting his eyes back to me, his intense gaze burning into mine.

“Because for once, I’d love to see that smart mouth of yours moan my name.”

I couldn’t stop that small gasp that escaped between my parted lips at his sudden bold statement, and that small gasp seemed to be all that it took to invite Dean in. In one fluid movement he drained the remainder of the coffee into his mouth and took a final step forward, closing the gap between us and wrapped a single strong arm around my waist, pulling me firmly against his body. His other hand quickly discarded the mug before grasping my face, his thumb pushing into my cheek and urging me to open my mouth. Before I was able to conjure a single thought he’d pulled my mouth to his, his plush lips covering mine before transferring that mouthful of coffee over to me. My eyes widened at the sudden appearance of warm liquid gliding over my tongue, the flavour of coffee, sweetened with sugar, would have soothed my senses if it wasn’t for the way it was administered. I hurriedly swallowed it down, not caring for the trickle that escaped the corner of my lips, now more preoccupied with Dean Winchesters mouth pressing onto mine. He allowed one… two… three heated kisses before pulling away, leaving me gasping and gripping the edge of the table for dear life. As he pulled away, he released his grip on my jaw, spotting the trickle of coffee and catching the droplets with his thumb. I didn’t intend to dwell on the action too much, at least not until he pushed his coffee-coated thumb past my lips and into my mouth, pressing lightly on my tongue. Still taken aback by the kiss, I stared up at him dumbly, my mind simultaneously racing whilst emptying itself of all logical thoughts. On instinct, I licked the coffee from his thumb, hearing a gruff hum of approval from him.

“Look at you - quiet for once.”

Before I could retaliate to his comment he pulled his thumb from my mouth and grasped my jaw again, a little softer this time as he guided my face to his. His lips grazed mine as he spoke.

“Have you finished acting like a bitch?”

I nodded.

“Are you sure? Because I think I should fuck you on this table here - just to be sure.”

The involuntary shiver that shimmied down my spine gave my innermost thoughts away when Dean noticed it; another smirk gracing his lips as he pulled himself between my knees and grasped under my thighs to lift me onto the table. I hissed slightly as the cold surface bit at my bare rear, the oversized Metallica t-shirt doing nothing to shield me as it rode up on my hips. There was a short moment, like a breath taken and held as we paused to look at each other. His eyes darkened like a forest at dusk, piercing into my own before studying my lips. I found myself doing the same to him, watching how his gaze darted up and down, frantic to find a focal point on my face whilst his lips parted, tongue poking out to wet them. We shared each other's hot coffee-scented breath, my heartbeat starting to echo in my ears as my blood began to run hot at the thought of him taking me right here on this table. He chewed slightly on his bottom lip, the fantasies of my own prurient mind running rampant at what that mouth was capable of doing to me. What I undeniably wanted it to do to me. Before another thought appeared he hastily leaned in and planted a searing kiss on my neck, his stubble tickling my ear whilst one large, strong hand planted itself just below my shoulder blades; his whole arm crushing me against him. Everything he did made me want to purr. His lips exceeded expectations as he kissed red-hot paths up and down my neck; my skin prickling when he pressed his lips below my ear and jaw, pulling pathetic whimpers from my lungs. He kneaded the silky-soft flesh of my thigh with his other hand, eventually causing me to gently hook my legs around him to ease the desperate need to writhe at his every touch.

“Dean…” his name left my lips as an airy gasp when the hand on my thigh travelled up, his thumb hooking under the waistband of my panties.

“What happened to that big, tough girl persona? Can’t really take it huh?” His taunting words went straight to my brain when he spoke them with his lips pressed right to my ear.

“Fuck, Dean… I hate you.”

He chuckled, placing a kiss on my cheek before uttering over my lips:

“Of course you do, sweetheart.”

As his sentence ceased as his mouth claimed mine, muffling the moan bubbling in my throat as his tongue pushed against my own. I reached one hand up to tug on his hair, dragging my nails across his scalp when the strands at the base of his skull were too short to grasp. He groaned into the kiss, lips moving faster at the sensation of my fingertips. His broad chest became a resting spot for my other hand, the taught muscle flexing beneath soft skin as I glided my delicate fingers up to clutch his shoulder. It was like being in a trance; the only thing I was capable of thinking about was him. Dean. The strength of his hand on my back contrasting the tenderness of the one on my thigh. The heat of his mouth, his tongue on mine, consuming my gasps and ragged breaths. His devouring reduced me to naught but lustful putty in his arms, especially when an assured hand slid from my hip to my ribs and a gentle thumb smoothed over the softness of the underside of my breast. The feather-light touch caused goosebumps to erupt on my skin, the warmth of his palm doing nothing to soothe them away. When a groan passed my lips at his actions, he gripped tighter, my legs instinctively pulling him closer. This time it was Dean that groaned, as pulling him towards me had pressed the ever-growing bulge in his jeans against the soft cotton of my panties. The sensation was electric, igniting the fiery ache between my legs as my thighs twitched when he didn't pull away - instead pushing himself against me harder. I sucked in a breath where I could, his lips refusing to leave mine, even to let me breathe. He was hungry. Animalistic. Dominating. I don't know what I'd been imagining when I was alone in my room in the depths of night, but this… this was something I'd never fantasised about. How commanding he was, how he pulled me in with stern words and an air of authority. Gone was the boyish charm and playful pickup lines - this was something that could easily suck me in and pull me under. He could drown me in sharp comments and tantalising games.

And I would let him.

“Look at you, twitching like a virgin,” he pulled away enough to huskily speak against the corner of my mouth. I moaned slightly, biting my lip when his thumb moved from the underside of my breast to my nipple, delicately toying with the perky skin.

“Who's to say I'm not?” My voice was more breathy than I'd anticipated, my head lolling back when he started to trail kisses down my neck again. My comment pulled a laugh from his chest, the sound almost cutting through the sexual haze.

“Oh darlin’, don't think I don't know about your motel room escapades - I was always in the room next to yours,” he finally pulled back slightly to look at me, the cool air flooding between us in his absence. As my eyes met his, my heart hammered in my chest at the raw blackness of his irises - pupils blown wide with hot arousal and leaving no soft greens in sight. I could feel my cheeks heating up with embarrassment, realisation creeping in. Dean took it all in with a grin on his lips.

“That's right sweetheart - I heard it all. Every little noise you made when those jerk-offs touched you. When they tried to make you feel good,” his smile faltered slightly before he leaned in a little closer, “but you know, I never heard any of them make you cum. I only ever heard you finish when they were gone and you were all alone.”

He pressed more of those red-hot kisses just below my jaw, the hand on my breast descending, trailing a path down the soft skin of my abdomen before disappearing down the front of my panties. A moan tore from my throat when he slid his skilled fingers through my folds to gather my pooling wetness, his hum of approval ringing in my ears when my mind emptied at his fingers tracing circles around my clit. My grip on him was vice-like, whimpers already tumbling off my tongue.

“You know (Y/n), you should've just come to me. You should've told those useless bastards to fuck off and let me do everything you needed me to do,” his breath was hot against my neck as he spoke, and he finished his sentence off by finally pressing a rough finger against my clit. I whined like a bitch in heat as he went around and around and around, making me clench around nothing and crave him in his entirety.

“I would've done this to you every night - made you forget everything but my name.”

“Dean…”

“Thas’right sweetheart. Never would've left you unsatisfied.”

“Please, Dean… please… I need you to fuck me,” my words were desperate and I could tell he relished in that, suddenly plunging two thick digits inside me without so much as a word. My hands flew to his back, nails digging into broad muscle as I leaned into him, burying my flushed face into his neck and breathing in his intoxicating scent. He curled his fingers up and pushed against the pleasure-cushion inside me, knowing exactly what to look for and what to do with it. My legs tightened even more around him as I was unable to stop the euphoric twitches jolting through my limbs. He removed his hand that was pressed below my shoulder blades and lifted it to my hair, unclipping the claw-grip to let the unruliness tumble out. He practically chucked the plastic clip to the table before threading his fingers through my hair, grasping close to my scalp before tugging my head back to make me look at him.

“Now that you've dropped your attitude and asked nicely, I'm going to fuck you until you can't walk.”

He pressed his fingers inside me one final time, drawing another pathetic whimper from my lips before pulling his fingers out and lifting them to his lips. I watched, mouth agape and breaths ragged as he licked my slick from his digits, savouring the taste of me with a satisfied groan.

“That’s the best shit I’ve ever tasted,” his deep, gravelly tone had me reaching desperately for his belt buckle as Dean claimed my mouth again, his own eagerness starting to show. As I finished unzipping his jeans I pushed them down his hips just enough to dip my hand into his boxers and pull his cock free. A deep moan pushed its way into my mouth as I curled my fingers around his length, his size already intimidating as his cock rested hot and heavy in my palm. I wasted no time on gripping him tight, starting gentle motions going up and down again, and again, and again, causing Dean to move both hands to my thighs - his grip on me threatening to leave bruises. I dragged my thumb over his tip, urging a blissful shudder to surge through him as I smeared the gathering precum up and down his length. His lips never once left mine. I could feel him becoming breathless as I slowly increased the speed of my hand, so I caught his bottom lip between my teeth as a means to pull away for a moment. As I breathed in his contented groan, I pulled back slightly further to get a look at his face.

“Dean… Dean please - I need you inside me-”

“Stop fucking around then and c’mere.”

I squeaked a little at his harsh tone, unable to stop the next words from tumbling out.

“Yessir.”

I watched his brows knit together and his eyes almost roll before he dropped his head to my neck, grabbing the underside of my thighs and dragging me right to the edge of the table. With one hand he grabbed his cock and used it to move my underwear to one side before lining up and sinking in. The lascivious moans that spilled from our lips were almost harmonious, Dean pushing in to the hilt and forcing me to wrap one arm around his neck and the other to prop me up behind me - both stopping me from losing my balance under Deans intensity. Dean looked as though he was getting lost in a sexual haze as he crushed me against him again with one arm, having the decency to remain still for a few moments so I could adjust to his size as he eye-wateringly stretched out my insides - the sensation almost burning.

“Jesus- fuck-” his breath was slightly strained as he groaned into my neck, “now I’m mad that you decided to fuck lonely jerk-offs instead of me - with a pussy like this- shit- I would’ve been crawling back for more.”

He started to move slowly, pulling out gently before slipping back in - easing me into it with sexual expertise.

“Oh fuck- Dean- you don’t mean that-”

“(Y/n) you’d have to shoot me to stop me - you feel too fucking good.”

He started to up the tension - dropping every ounce of softness as he lost control of that part of him. He fucked the same way that he hunted monsters: raw, skilful and always in control - my mind racing with the knowledge of how dangerous this man actually was. He was Dean fucking Winchester, and here he was - fucking me over the breakfast table whilst I wore nothing but a band t-shirt. As he pounded into me and the intensity grew I was unable to stop the lewd noises tumbling from my lips. Such lewd noises however seemed to spur Dean on, the power of his thighs and hips inching the heavy wooden table across the floor.

“How are you still so fucking tight-” his words were almost slurred, his sexually inebriated mind seemingly becoming obsessed.

“Shit- Dean, I’m getting close already,” my eyes squeezed shut as I began to feel that familiar knot in the depths of my core. With every thrust he dragged over every over-sensitive nerve ending, unravelling me quicker than I’d even been unravelled before.

“Oh yeah? You wanna cum?”

I nodded my head vigorously, loose strands of hair falling around my face as tears started to well in my eyes. Dean glanced down at me without so much as a stutter in his hips, a slight grin playing on his lips even in a moment like this.

“Tears?”

“Fuck-fuck- you Dean, it's not my f-fault you're the first one to fuck me properly- oh God-”

“Well I'm glad it was me sweetheart,” he tried to keep up the slightly playful tone but I could see in his eyes that he was on the brink as well. Without another word he moved one hand to push lightly on my lower belly, his thumb dipping down to rub soft circles over that oh-so-sensitive bundle of nerves. I gasped at the contact, Dean taking the opportunity to plant uncharacteristically soft kisses on my parted lips before whispering:

“I need you to cum for me - I need you to let go. I've got you darlin’.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The circles drawn with his thumb increased in speed and as did the pounding of his hips against mine.

“Dean- Dean please-”

I could feel him winding that knot tighter, and tighter, and tighter; lifting the euphoria coursing through my veins to its highest peak before the white-hot heat of orgasmic bliss erupted inside me. Wave after wave after wave of pleasure cascaded down, drowning me in the most earth shattering climax I'd ever experienced. I could feel myself tightening repeatedly around Dean, his thrusts becoming frantic before his own release rolled through him.

“Oh Fuck- (Y/n)-”

His guttural groan into the crook of my neck sent a shiver down my spine and goosebumps across my skin, the sound of him cumming making me clench even tighter around him.

“You squeeze me any tighter darlin’ and you're gonna kill me,”

“I-I’m not- I mean- I'm sorry?”

He groaned again when I twitched slightly, this time he pulled back to look me in the eye, taking note of the drying tear-tracks and smudged mascara.

“You good?”

“Y-yeah, I'm good,” I huffed out a deep, contented sigh, "I am so, so good.”

He grinned, the assertiveness from earlier seeming to dissipate and the good ‘ol Dean was returning.

“Best you've ever had?” His green eyes twinkled mischievously.

I playfully slapped his shoulder, not impacting the smirk on his lips whatsoever.

“Easy there cowboy - if your ego gets any bigger there'll be no living with you.”

“You didn't answer my question.”

I chewed on my bottom lip slightly, making him wait a little for the answer before I replied with a grin of my own.

“Yeah, definitely the best I've ever had.”

————————————————————

Taglist: @roseblue373 @hobby27 @calibootsgirl @suckitands33 @jackles010378 @lyarr24 @autistic-gothic @wattpaduser200

[very-merry-birthday]

And Take 'em Off in Private

Summary: During a drunken night the boys find out your secret- you used to do porn. But how Dean reacts surprises you.

Warnings: Smut!

~~~

You poured the whiskey into the glass, spilling more than you managed to get in, as Sam let out a loud laugh.

"I think-" he laughed again, "- I think you might be drunk Y/N."

You looked around at the three men in front of you. Sam had been laughing for almost three minutes straight, Cas looked like he was about to fall asleep, and Dean had checked out of the conversation long ago.

"I think we're all drunk!"

It wasn't often that you were all able to sit around, multiple drinks deep with nothing else on your minds. One of you always had something going on, somewhere else to be, someone else to see. So when earlier in the day you had realized you'd all be in one place with no where else to go, you'd jumped at the opportunity.

Which is how you found yourselves in the bunker library, none of you able to hold yourselves straight on the uncomfortable upright chairs. Sam and Cas sat opposite one another at the table, both of them trying to keep the conversation flowing, while you'd been making sure everyone's drinks were topped up. Dean had his feet up, listening and watching. His eyes spent most of the time distracted by you, watching your smile, the way you laughed, the way you rolled your eyes whenever Cas started on a drunken ramble. He tried to resist the twang of jealousy every time you reached out to grab Sam's arm for stability, knowing you were only doing it because he was sat next to you. He pictured what it would be like if he was sitting where his younger brother was, your head on his own shoulder instead.

He broke his thought as you looked over to him, a soft smile on your face, holding up the bottle to question whether he wanted more. He pushed his glass forward for you to fill it.

"What I don't get-" you broke eye contact, looking over at Cas, "is how you can get drunk? Don't your- angel powers- stop that?"

"I don't have any powers, Y/N."

You rolled your eyes again, "Fine! Abilities! The cool shit you can do!"

"My abilities don't stop me from feeling the effects of alcohol." While he was definitely less sober than normal, Cas was holding it together remarkably well.

"What can you do then?" You asked. Dean liked that about you, that you were always asking questions. Never to pry, but just because you were interested. Not that he'd ever tell you that.

"He can read your mind." Dean spoke up, wanting to rejoin the conversation.

"No shot you can actually read minds." You laughed, grabbing his hand from across the table and pulling it up to your temple, "What color am I thinking of?"

He gave a cautionary glance around the room, "Green. Dark green."

You looked over to Dean's eyes momentarily, then back to Cas, "That's crazy cool!"

Sam leaned forward, "That's boring dude, tell us all her secrets!"

Your mind flooded as Cas began to speak before anyone could stop him, "Y/N has been in several pornographic films-"

You lept up, your chair going flying behind you. Your head spun as you mind sobered, sweaty palms, prickles at the back of your neck. You looked back at the three men, three sets of eyes now firmly placed on you. Cas looked confused, Sam looked guilty and Dean- you didn't want to even try and understand what his expression meant.

"I didn't think he'd-" Sam began to speak and you lifted up a finger to stop him as the gears in your head continued to spin.

After seconds that felt like hours you began to talk. "Cas, that wasn't your fault- he shouldn't have told you to do that."

Cas nodded slowly, the situation finally dawning on him.

"Sam, apologise to him."

"I'm sorry man, I should have been more clear I was joking."

"Dean-"

He looked up at you, and eyebrow cocked in confusion.

"-actually all of you... If you even think about trying to find one of those videos..."

You trailed off, all of them understanding the threat without you even having to make it. With that you went back to your room, collapsing on the bed and letting embarrassment and drunkenness swallow you up as you fell asleep.

---

The next morning you were woken abruptly by Dean, barging into your room as he had a hundred times before. You shushed him before he even started talking, your head still spinning, heartbeat pounding in your ears.

"We gotta-"

"Shhh!" You buried you head back down on the pillow, trying to block out all light.

He lowered his tone, gently speaking as he sat at the end of the bed. "We've got a case, day's drive or so, if we leave now we'll get there before midnight."

You wrapped the pillow around your head, trying to sink down lower as you mumbled a response, "Hungover- take one of the others."

"I would darlin', but they're even worse off than you. You leave with me now and I'll let you sleep the whole journey?"

---

And that's exactly what you'd done.

Hours rolled by as you slept in the passenger seat, your hangover slowly clearing as the road stretched on. You'd screwed up an old shirt as a pillow, the window down, letting the cool air hit you.

Dean watched you any chance he could get, his eyes flowing over you, allowing himself to stare in a way you'd never let him if you were awake. He looked away as you finally opened your eyes, blinking hard as you adjusted to the light.

"How much longer?" You murmured, taking note of the afternoon sun.

"Couple hours?" He replied, eyes firmly on the road.

You expected him to speak, to mention last night, but he didn't, the silence stretching on in the car. Eventually he riffled around in his cassettes, finding one he knew you wouldn't complain about, and pushing it in.

---

Even once you were in the motel, silence sat between you.

You relaxed back on the tiny bed, flicking through the TV channels as Dean sat on his own bed, cleaning his gun. Night had set in with barely ten words spoken between you all day, embarrassment hitting you whenever you remembered how you'd left last night.

"You okay?" Dean looked over at you, no longer able to deal with the stillness, "After yesterday I mean."

You swallowed hard, "Yeah, it's fine, I shouldn't have reacted like that."

"No, no, we didn't mean to freak you out, we should have come and spoken to you."

"Honestly, Dean, it's fine."

You both sat uncomfortable for a moment.

He clenched his jaw, "D' you wanna talk about it?"

"There's nothing else to say." You looked up at him, his forehead filled with questioning lines, "What do you want to know?"

And just like that, you'd broken the seal.

"I- You- Porn?"

You relaxed back onto the bed, sighing in exasperation, "Eloquent as always, Dean."

"I'm sorry- I don't know what I'm asking- did... did you enjoy it?"

You looked back over to him, a little surprised by his question, "Yeah, yeah I guess I did. I was young, I needed money, not everyone has a bunker to go back to-" you rolled your eyes, mock annoyance, "-but yeah, I enjoyed it."

"But you didn't tell us?"

"I can enjoy it and still not want you to know about it. Do you really think you wouldn't have treated me any different?"

"Course I wouldn't-"

"Yes you would."

You both paused, tension filling the air.

He stood up, walking over to your bed and laying next to you on it, both of you staring up at the ceiling. "What did you enjoy?"

You thought for a moment, "I looked fucking good."

You both let out a laugh, looking at each other, glad to have the tension broken, until Dean spoke again, "You look good now."

You were suddenly aware of how close your face was to his.

"Yeah but in those videos I looked hot- like really fucking hot."

He exhaled sharply, trying to keep his face set, "What did you do?"

"It was mainly just me, you know-"

He cocked an eyebrow, "-getting yourself off?"

You blushed, struggling to stay composed, "Yeah, getting myself off. There was a few videos with other guys- that's what made the most money."

"Did you enjoy them?"

"Yeah, they were always fun! But I enjoyed the ones with just me more. I could just relax, put on a show."

His lips were now dangerously close to yours, sharing each others breath, his eyes dark, "What kind of show?"

"I used to put on something hot, something I'd never wear in real life-"

"Yeah?"

"-Lace, leather, fishnets, silk.... And then I'd tease myself-"

"Hmm?" He inched closer to you.

"I'd play with my tits, my nipples-" all embarrassment had left you, his eyes only encouraging you on, "then my clit-"

"Yeah?"

"I'd push my fingers into myself, god the noises I'd make."

"Darlin'-" His breath was hot against you as he eyed up your lips.

"There's this one video, dressed all in red- people fucking loved that one... It was always between that one, where I used a vibrator, and one where I dressed all in black lace... That was just my fingers-"

"God that's-" His lips were only millimetres from yours, both your eyes beginning to shut.

"I always preferred the one in red..."

"I love the black lace." He leant forward, ready to kiss you.

You pulled back before he'd even realized what he said, confusion filling you, a pit in your stomach growing as you scrambled back off the bed, standing next to it, "What- what did you just say?"

"Look, I-"

"What the fuck did you just say, Dean?!"

"It's not what it sounds like I-"

"You couldn't even wait 24 fucking hours to look them up!" You felt sick, your embarrassment filling you once again, "I can't believe you!"

"I didn't-"

"The one thing I asked you not to do!"

"Seriously I-"

"Fuck you! I can't believe-"

"Can you just listen for one second?" He stood up in front of you, grabbing your shoulders to quiet you, "I found them six months ago."

You swallowed hard, not understanding what he was saying.

"I didn't find out last night, I've known for months."

"I- I don't-"

"I was looking a porn one night and- well I thought, damn that chick looks just like Y/N-"

You blinked hard.

"-And then I watched a couple, coz fuck I needed to see someone who looked like you- and I realized... it was you. I couldn't help myself-"

You tried to turn away but he stopped you.

"-You looked so fucking good, every video was hotter than the last... The things you'd do, the noises you'd make-"

"Dean I don't-"

"Jesus... I didn't want to tell you, I knew you'd be embarrassed- but I didn't think of you any different, sweetheart. I've always know how hot you are, but I've also known how fucking badass you are too."

You let out a small exhaled laugh, the situation finally sinking in. "I can't believe you didn't tell me."

"I'm sorry. I really am. What can I do to make it up to you?"

You eyed him up carefully, the room falling deathly quiet once again.

"Take off your clothes."

His cheeks flushed, "I don't think-"

"You've seen me naked, right? It's the only way to make it fair."

There was a pause between you, both of you watching each other, neither of you saying anything. You'd never seen Dean naked before. Of course you'd seen the odd part of him: his abdomen whenever he'd wipe his face with his shirt, his back whenever you'd have to get changed in the same motel. But never all of him.

And then in one swift motion he pulled his shirt off, revealing his upper half to you proudly with a smile. You took a moment to admire him, your eyes seeking out his body. You looked for the subtle tan lines on his arms, where the sun had beaten down on him; the small scars across his chest, a life of hunting; his strong, solid core. You didn't care he was watching you stare, both of you knew what this was, so you took your time.

You nodded slowly, a way of telling him you were impressed, and looked down to his jeans. He understood what you meant, slowly undoing his belt and pulling down the fly of his pants. You sucked in a breath in anticipation as he leant down to pull them off, kicking them off from around his ankles and standing back up straight to look at you, hands on his hips.

You teased your own eyes, starting at the bottom of his legs, taking him in slowly as you worked your way up. Strong calves, stronger thighs, his gorgeous bow legs. Then you finally allowed yourself to look at what you really wanted, biting your lip as you looked at his black boxers, the clear bulge almost taking your breath away. It was large, and seemed to only be hardening. Dean watched your expression carefully, a grin poking at the corner of his mouth.

You nodded again, looking back up at him to continue.

Doubt shot over his face momentarily at he looked at his own state and then back to you, fully clothed, "Sweetheart, I don't think that's fair."

"Did you see me in my underwear, or did you see me fully naked?"

His tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip as he remembered the videos, what you'd worn in them, what you hadn't. He knew he couldn't answer honestly and keep his dignity, "How about this? How about I take these off, and I get to ask you one more question?"

You pretended to weigh up the decision, knowing you'd do anything at this point to get his boxers off, "Yeah, yeah I think I can agree to that."

With that he leant down, pulling his boxers down his legs in one swift motion, before standing back up straight and showing himself to you proudly. Finally you could see his whole body, perfect in every way, his gorgeous cock standing semi-erect as he combed one hand through his hair, looking down at himself and back up at you.

You could barely get your words out, your eyes fixed firmly on his hardness, "W-What was your question?"

He walked up to you, so close you could reach out and touch him as you looked back up to his face, "There's this one video: this guy has you bent over a desk-"

You knew exactly the one he meant, nodding only slightly.

"-and he's going at you from behind and- god you look fucking good, your ass bouncing, taking him so well-"

You could barely think, your mind filling with his words.

"-and you're making these noises- Jesus you don't know how many times I watched that video- these noises that are so fucking hot I don't think I'll ever recover. You tell me, sweetheart, are those noises real?"

You looked back down at him, his cock now fully erect, his hand slowly wrapping around the base of it, stroking it only slightly, and then back up to his face, "Why don't you find out for yourself?"

He smiled for only a second before leaning forward, grabbing your face in his hands. He kissed you desperately, ferociously, his tongue instantly exploring you, his fingers reaching around to the back of your head, your neck, the bottom of your top, tugging at it to pull it off you. You broke apart for only a moment so you could remove your top, and then you were back on each other, hands, lips, tongues.

You let your hands flow over his chest, feeling his muscles as his own hands began working on the fly of your pants, needy to get you in the same unclothed state as him. You helped him pull them down and kicked them off your ankles, both of your bodies pressed against each other, his mouth finding it's way to your neck.

He stepped back to hungrily eye you over, his tongue darting out as he looked at your bra and panties, "You're wearing far too many clothes, darlin'."

You carefully unhooked your bra, sliding it off your arms and dropping it down next to you. Now it was his turn to stare, taking you in. You hooked your thumbs into your underwear, slowly dragging it down, giving him a show you knew he'd like. He sucked in a small breath, stunned by your body.

"Turn around, let me see that ass."

You did as he said, turning around, looking back at him over your shoulder. His eyes dropped, looking you up and down.

You watched him walk up behind you and turned away from him again, facing forward as you felt his naked body press against you, his hard cock firmly against your ass. He kissed your neck gently, sucking lightly at your skin as you leant into him, his finger tracing a line over your shoulders and down your back. Once his hand reached the middle he pushed you forward, guiding you to the end of the bed where you bent over.

He groaned as you got into a steady position for him, your ass sticking out, perfect and ready. He pushed his tip through your soaked folds, and you gripped the bedsheets infront of you, holding back a moan. His hand came down to grab your ass, another groan on his lips at the feeling of your pussy around his cockhead.

He pushed himself into you slowly, stretching you out as you finally let yourself moan. Your noises coaxed him on as he began to thrust into you, his hands wrapping around your hips to give him better control.

You moaned out loudly as he pounded into you, his cock hitting your g-spot, sending your body melting. You buried your face into the mattress, muffling your gasps as he continued to move, gripping your body tighter.

"Louder for me, darlin, let me hear you."

You did as he said, turning your head and letting out another loud moan. You felt your core tightening, desperate for release as he sped up his movements, slamming into you, pushing you to the brink.

You came, hard and fast, loudly gasping. Your hands gripped the sheets, and Dean felt as your pussy tightened around him, watching your back arch in pleasure. Your legs felt weak as he continued to push into you, letting you ride out your orgasm.

As soon as he felt your body relax slightly he pulled out, and you felt as he came on your back, letting out a loud groan, his fingers embedded into your skin.

Both of you stayed still for a moment, panting hard, the pleasure rolling through both of your bodies. You looked back up at him over your shoulder, making eye contact.

"Fuck, sweetheart." He looked down at your arched back, your ass in the air, his cum on your back. He walked away to grab a towel from the motel bathroom and then back to you, lazily running it down your back, giving your ass one last look before you rolled onto your back, allowing yourself to relax into the sheets.

He lay down next to you, both of you breathing hard, his fingers running down your body, sending sparks through you. You looked at him, his forehead creasing as he began to speak, "There's this other video where you're on top- I think I have a question about that one too..."

[moonlightspencie]

ahh hi, i just read through your master list youre so talented!

wondering if dean winchester and enemies to lovers? with angst but also a happy ending but also like shouting confessions and stuff but also like dean is like patching up reader or maybe not shouting but like stuff? protective? abuhwfc idek what im saying but yes tysm <3 have a good day

awww thanks so much! this was fun to write, i looooove writing dean

pairing: dean winchester x gn!reader

warnings: mentions of injuries!

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“What the hell were you thinking?” Dean snapped at you for the fifth time since you’d gotten in the car with him.

You huffed a sigh, still holding onto your leg in what was most definitely not a small amount of pain.

“I get it, Winchester, you’re pissed. Are you done bitching at me yet?”

“No, I’m not!” He let out a breath in annoyance, glancing sideways at you as he drove. “Running in without me was… was freaking stupid. You could’ve gotten killed.”

“I didn’t.”

“But you could have, damn it! I should’ve never agreed to bring you along.”

“I got the job done.”

“Barely.”

“Screw you.”

He opened his mouth to speak again, his chest heaving in anger as he glared at you again. He decided on a simple shake of the head as he tore through town to get to the motel.

As soon as he pulled in, he practically dragged you out of the car, carrying you into his room and setting you on the bed. You winced.

“Watch it. Kind of got a bullet wound here.”

You half expected Dean to snap something snarky back at you, but all he did was glance at you with his brows furrowed as he hurried around the room.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “I’m trying to get said bullet out of that hole in your leg.”

You sighed softly, then started trying to gingerly pull your jeans off without further irritating your thigh.

“Damn it,” you cursed under your breath.

Dean turned quickly at that. “What?”

You merely shook your head, continuing to try and pull off your pants.

“Usually someone will at least try to flirt before they strip for me.”

“Shut up,” you grumble back, trying to hide a small smile.

He sat on the bed next to you, setting down his first aid supplies to help you get your pants the rest of the way off.

“Usually a guy will at least buy me dinner before taking off my pants,” you quip back at him.

“Shut up,” he smirked a little. Then he cleared his face. “You’re an idiot. You could’ve been killed tonight.”

“So you’ve said.”

“I’m serious,” he said, finally freeing you from your jeans with minimal jostling. “You acted like… like…”

“Yeah, yeah. I was stupid. I get it.”

He huffed again, shaking his head as he started prodding softly at your leg.

“Ouch,” you muttered softly, face scrunched in pain.

“I know. Sorry.”

“S’fine. Just pull it out.”

“I’ve been known to be pretty good at that,” he said noncommittally, slowly pulling the bullet out with a pair of thin tweezers.

You winced softly, but stayed mostly quiet as he worked.

“Attagirl,” he patted your knee gently. “Alright, we’re gonna have to stitch this up.”

“Damn it,” you groan, head falling back against his pillow.

“That’s why you don’t run off without me.”

“Shut it.”

“Just saying.”

“Well, don’t. I won’t hesitate to kick your ass.”

He snorted once, a tiny smirk on his face. You frowned, looking at him.

“What?”

He shrugged. “You sound like Bobby sometimes. I always forget you lived with him for a couple years as a kid.”

You hummed once. “Yeah. He acted like he hated it, but he was a pretty great foster dad for the time.”

“He was a great… well, everything.” He cleaned around the wound, handing you a bottle of some dark colored liquor. “Drink.”

You complied immediately, knowing you’d need a little something to take the edge off that inevitable pain. He took the bottle back, pouring a little on the wound to make sure it was sterilized on the outside.

“Ow!”

“It’s only gonna get worse.”

You scoff. “Not exactly comforting, Dean.”

“Not meant to be.”

You braced yourself as he started stitching you up, trying to focus on literally anything else until he finally finished. You let out a heavy breath.

“Good. You’re fine, see?” Dean said, looking at you expectantly.

You sighed, opening your eyes and glancing at your leg. It wasn’t half bad for some hunter stitches. You’d definitely had worse. You nodded a little at his work.

“Yeah. Good.”

“Good,” he repeated again, then placed the bandage on it. “You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?”

“I know.”

He looked at you for a moment. “I’m serious. I wish I hadn’t brought you.”

“I get it. But…”

“No buts about it. If we ever work together on anything again, and I mean ever, you’ll do as I say. Got it?”

You rolled your eyes. “Please. You’re not my dad or my boyfriend, and even if you were, I still wouldn’t take orders from you. Get a grip.”

“You almost got killed,” he repeated.

“I heard that the first fifty times, Winchester. But you almost get— you know what? No. You have gotten killed. More than once! You can’t say that shit to me!”

“I—” he started, but obviously didn’t really know what to say to that. He hummed once in thought. “Well… well, that’s different.”

“No it isn’t.”

“I don’t have to deal with losing me if I get killed!”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I just… it’s different. If it’s you, then,” he sighed, running a hand over his face. “If it’s you, or if it’s Sam, or anyone else, I’m left here to know that it’s probably my fault it happened. I have to deal with it if you die and I can’t deal with it!”

“Oh, come on, you’ve always hated me. You’d live.”

“I don’t hate you.”

“You think I’m annoying at the very least!”

“Yeah, cause you are! But I don’t want you to die!”

“How sweet,” you deadpan.

“Oh, shut up. You know what I mean. I don’t… I couldn’t…”

“What?”

“I like you! Alright?! Is that what you want to hear?”

“No you don’t. You hardly tolerate me.”

“Because you’re too damn independent and it freaks me the hell out!” he snaps again. “I don’t want to like you because that means I’ll fall for you and that means if you die, I’ll… I’ll…”

You groan in irritation.

“Cut it out. I’m trying to tell you I want you!”

You scoff. “Excuse me?”

“I want you! Always have! You got any clue how many times Bobby smacked me when he caught me checking you out?”

You stared at him for a moment in shock, then burst out laughing. He scrunched up his face in confusion, staring at you. He swallowed.

“Quit— quit laughing.”

“You’re serious?!”

“Yes, I’m serious. You don’t have to be a dick about it.”

You laughed again. “Oh my god! You’re being a bitch because you have a crush on me? What, are you 13?”

He rolled his eyes. “This is why I can’t stand you.”

“Apparently you can’t stand me because you like me too much,” you laugh.

“You— You know…” he tried, but was obviously too flustered to speak properly.

He ran through options in his head, but one sounded way more fun than the others. He suddenly leaned in, pressing his lips to yours. That shut you up quick.

“Mm,” you mumbled against his lips, kissing him back.

He could be a douche, but he was also super hot. Not to mention, he was a total sweetheart when he wasn’t determined to be an asshole. Like now. He pulled away, breathing heavier.

“Don’t laugh at me again. It’s mean,” he muttered softly.

“Don’t confess to a little crush like that again and I won’t. Next time you wanna confess, just kiss me instead. Much more effective.”

“Will do,” he breathed out, leaning in again.