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prentissluvr · 2 days

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something about being close — sam winchester

pairing : s.2!sam winchester x gn!reader, featuring platonic dean ➖⟢ genre : angst, fluff, ➖⟢ cw : sam and reader are lovingly mean to each other, bad insults (weird, stupid, lame), bad jokes, swearing, canon typical violence and ghosts, arguing, so much kissing, could be ooc but idc, edited but most likely still contains a few mistakes, single usage of y/n ➖⟢ wc : 9.5K summary : sam is acting weird, and when it puts people in danger, you can't let it slide (despite the fact that you're totally in love with him).

“hey, check this out,” sam calls to you and dean, not bothering to look up from his computer screen. “think we found our violent spirit.” you part from your own research without a single qualm, resting a hand on the back of sam’s chair as he leans back for you and dean to get a better look. “marissa hancock. she was a student at the college, died a violent death there, just like we thought. it’s thought that the janitor impaled her with his mop while he was working in her dorm hall, but he was never put away for lack of evidence.”

“explains the janitor kabob,” dean quips, already headed to shrug on his jacket.

“easy solve,” you admit. it only took a solid half hour of searching through records to find the right murder. “but why’s she killing now? she’s had, what?” you lean further over sam’s shoulder to inspect the record, “fifty some years to be killing janitors, why start now?”

“dunno,” sam shrugs, and you can feel his shoulder brush against you, reminding you how close he is. doing your best to stay casual and maybe not stare longingly at his pretty face from this close up, you straighten your back and go to grab your own jacket as sam types away on his keyboard. “looks like her original murderer died two weeks ago.”

“right when the killings started,” dean finishes. “alright, let’s go. you got where she’s buried, sam?”

“yep,” he stands, shutting his laptop. “saint mercy cemetery, not too far.”

“hm,” you laugh out, “second saint mercy cemetery this month. people need to get more creative,” you note as you exit the motel room and head down the short hallway to get to the impala.

“and what would you name a cemetery?” dean asks, ready to catch you off guard or tease you for anything he can get his hands on.

“i should have thought of a clever answer before saying that,” you admit, “but i do wish it were socially acceptable to call them dead people neighborhoods.”

“that’s lame,” sam grins, throwing his arm around your shoulders for just about two seconds before he has to let go to get through the small doorway and outside.

“c’mon,” you complain, “i know it’s kind of lame, and definitely insensitive, but imagine someone just asked you where you’re headed after work and you get to tell them you’re going to the dead people neighborhood. cemetery’s no fun, at least dead people neighborhood is accurate.” you close the back door of the car behind you as you settle in to punctuate your point.

“you’re weird,” sam teases in a matter-of-fact tone, not even looking back from the passenger's seat to see the sneer on your face.

“no, you’re weird,” you fire back.

“alright, kids,” dean interrupts, “enough bickering like we’re four, we’ve got a job to do,” he snickers as he backs the car up.

“okay, dean,” you and sam chime, voices full of mocking and almost totally in sync. dean rolls his eyes hard, because it’s just one of those days where the two of you can’t stop feeding into the antics of the other, regressing the combined mental age of the three of you by at least twenty years.

having known the brothers since you were kids through bobby, and starting to hunt with them about a year and a half ago, you’ve certainly grown close with the both of them. but a little closer in age, you and sam are nothing but two peas in a pod. and much to dean’s chagrin, that means it only takes a split second for the two of you to switch things up and turn against him when he tries to break up your banter. it’s pretty much all loving argumentation, of course, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t annoying as all hell for whoever has to witness it.

“and for the record, i like dead people neighborhood,” dean offers, ignoring your moment of synchronicity with sam.

“yes!” you celebrate, reaching around the seat in front of you to lightly hit sam’s shoulder. “you’re the lame one, you’re no fun.”

he scoffs, mumbling something to himself about how, “of course dean likes dead people neighborhood. it’s stupid.”

you resist the urge to tell him that he’s stupid, and instead follow dean’s direction to focus on the case.

“hold on, dean. you should drop me off on campus first, one of us should make sure another janitor doesn’t fall on his mop handle before we can burn the bones,” you suggest.

“no.”

your brow furrows at how fast sam shuts you down, his serious tone a harsh contrast to his practically whiny mumble moments before. you glance at dean to see that he’s got his own eyebrows raised in confusion.

“what’d’you mean, ‘no’?” you question.

“i mean,” he clears his throat as if he’s just realized his strong denial was awkward, “that that could be dangerous alone, so i’ll go and you can stick with dean.”

you send a bewildered look to dean, one he doesn’t catch trying to pay attention to the street name up ahead. “i’m sorry, are you suggesting i can’t handle a measly ghost?” mostly you’re confused by sam’s words, but you can’t help letting a bit of offense slip into your voice.

“n-no, no that’s not what i’m saying,” he fumbles, trying to fix what he said, “i meant– i meant it would be safer for anyone not to go alone. so– so i’ll go with you and dean can stick with burning the body.”

it’s a clumsy, bad save that’s entirely unconvincing.

“you’re seriously gonna stick me with grave digging duty?” dean grunts, “y/n’s right, it’s just one ghost, we don’t need two of us to deal with it. digging up a grave is arguably harder.”

“exactly,” you reason, “which is why i should go scope out the dorm hall, and you should go with dean to the dead people neighborhood.”

“she’s buried in a family mausoleum,” counters sam, “her grave doesn’t need to be dug up, which means it’s a one person job, and since there could be an actual violent ghost in the dorm, two people should go. and don’t try to make dead people neighborhood a thing, at the very least it’s too long, not to mention it’s not funny.”

despite the fact that he’s teasing you, you’re glad to hear something normal come out of his mouth. his hesitancy to let you take on the ghost is odd, especially considering the ghost might not show up at all. it’s not like he’s never been protective of you, it’s in both his and certainly dean’s nature. but he knows full well that you are completely capable of handling one violent ghost, and he’s been weird like this for the past two weeks.

you laugh when you admit, “it wasn’t quite as good in context as i thought it would be, but it wasn’t that bad, i’m just tryna to stick with my bit,” you defend, “and fine, two people at the dorms, one on dead person arson.”

“are you serious?” sam laughs, halfheartedly tossing his head back to give you a judgemental look through the corner of his eye.

“dead serious, pun absolutely intended,” you let out a full laugh at the strangled sigh he lets out. oh how you love to rile him up with bad jokes. “you’re too easy, sam. for that, i’m sticking you on grave duty. dean and i will handle the dorm.”

“you should be on grave duty, for all the bad jokes today,” he argues.

dean practically growls in annoyance, “how about i go on grave duty, so i can get away from your annoying asses.” it’s not a suggestion, and the both of you huff out a sigh, but don’t argue.

dean drops you off a little ways from the dorm hall for you to grab a shotgun and salt rounds with less of a chance of being seen. you leave the other shotgun for dean just in case, bothered that yours is still broken from the last hunt. there hadn’t been enough time to fix it yet. so, you grab an iron rod, hoping to use that before any guns on a college campus. it’d be a sticky situation to get out of, being caught with shotguns in a dorm, and at the very least incredibly inconvenient to scare the hell out of a bunch of college aged kids at eleven pm. sam sticks the shotgun under his jacket, generally hiding it from the view of anyone not looking too closely.

walking a few minutes, you find the right dorm hall and sam hands the gun off to you to pull out his lock pick. but, glancing behind you, you shove the gun back into his hands and yank him into you.

“the hell?” he resists for a split second before you quickly interrupt him.

“shut up! hide the gun and act like you’re piss drunk. someone’s coming,” you hiss. in a swift movement, he tucks the gun back under his jacket as you shimmy the iron rod into your sleeve, then he swings his free arm around you, practically dropping half of his weight on you. “dude,” you complain, before falling into character. “sammy, come on!” you whine loudly. “i can’t reach my id with you like this,” you pretend to feel around for something in your back pocket while keeping him standing, and he immediately picks up on what you’re trying to do. he stumbles forward so that you have to use both hands to keep him upright, and you curse at your false struggle. “help me out here, sammy, will you?” you try to make your voice sound overly desperate, maybe a little innocent too, “why don’t you lean against the wall so we can get inside,” you beg, trusting sam to play his part well.

“nooo,” he slurs, dragging the word out in a whiny pitch, “don’t wanna.” he turns into you and haphazardly wraps his lanky arm all the way around your form, tugging you to him and nearly knocking the both of you over. you feel heat rush to your cheeks at this and desperately remind yourself that he’s only pressing his face into your neck so that he can get a look at the person approaching and keep the shotgun well hidden from view.

you see the girl out of the corner of your eye, young and clearly a student headed for the dorm.

“oh, thank god!” you exclaim, “hey, i’m so sorry to bother you, but do you think you could open the door for us?” you ask as sweetly as you can, pulling your eyebrows together to gain sympathy, before adding on a humorous tone, “my boyfriend is stupid drunk and i can’t get us inside.” you can feel sam stiffen for a split second at your words, and you yourself wonder if you should have just gone the “friend” route for the sake of your own sanity. you’re going to want to keep calling sam your boyfriend, over and over again.

“oh my god, of course,” she laughs goodnaturedly, and you thank the lord she’s laid back, rather than some uptight rule follower ready to report you to administration. she swipes her id and holds the door open for you, and as you struggle into the building, you think that sam is making this harder for you than it has to be. but there’s absolutely no denying you love the way it feels to just have him all over you, even for the sake of illegally entering a building with a gun.

“thank you so much,” your voice is one big sigh of relief, slightly muffled by the fabric of sam’s jacket.

“yeah, don’t worry about it,” she smiles, “you two are super cute, by the way,” she compliments before turning towards the stairs and waving a kind goodbye.

you do your best to not stumble over your words as you thank her, heat once again rising to your face, and you’re sure that sam can feel the warmth of your neck. body stiff, you turn and head down the hallway in the opposite direction, sam still clinging to you until it’s clear.

“alright, get off, you big dork,” you snort, gently pushing him away and doing your best to regain your composure to proceed as if you don’t have a massive crush on him. “did ya have to make it so hard for me?”

he shrugs with a sly grin, “had to make it convincing, didn’t i? besides, it was your idea, you don’t get to complain.”

you stick your tongue out at him and he raises his eyebrows as if to say, “really?”

“she was really nice,” you note, voice almost wistful in a way that sam easily picks up on. about a year into hunting with the brothers and dean was off buying food, you and sam had collapsed onto a motel bed together as you had many times before by then, both exhausted after a long case. that night, as you spoke in tired, hushed tones, with no need for anyone but the other to hear your words, you had somehow ended up with your head resting on his biceps and one of his legs swung over yours.

that’s the night you told him you were jealous that he got to go to college, even if it wasn’t for long. you’d told him how you liked the idea of that life, even if you had to return to hunting after it was over. you wanted friends your age, to learn, go to stupid parties and have a college partner. you knew the experience wasn’t all rainbows and butterflies, but you wanted it anyway. he’d said, sure, it wasn’t perfect, but it was a hell of a lot better than hunting in his opinion. he wanted you to have that. once this was all over, and you both got justice for your families, he’d help you apply, make sure you got in somewhere, maybe even go with you. a hush fell over the room and he knew you weren’t convinced.

“yeah, she was,” he says, his own voice a touch more gentle than moments ago. “we were lucky.” he doesn’t want to tell you that most college kids would be at least cool enough to let you inside, maybe not as friendly as her, but that it’s true you’d like it here. he doesn’t want to remind you of what you can’t have.

a silence falls over the two of you, punctuated only by the shuffling of your feet or the rustle of clothes. it’s comfortable and easy because you’ve done it a million times before. you don’t have to say anything to agree that you’ll head to the basement where the original murder occured. the both of you stay quiet and light on your feet, sam always peering around corners before rounding them.

in the basement he stops you with a simple finger to his lips. he leans in close to whisper as quietly as he can, “janitor’s here.”

you resist the urge to call said janitor an idiot, because who the hell is going to be cleaning an area in which three of your coworkers have mysteriously died in the past two weeks, but you just nod instead, taking in the way that sam’s eyes look under the dim light.

“wanna wait around til dean calls or warn him?” you ask, equally as quiet. he turns his head to look back around the corner before continuing.

“well, we should warn him, but we can’t use the drunk ruse on an employee. he probably has a radio scanner on him, might even be connected to campus security,” he points out.

“fbi?”

“we look too much like college kids right now,” he reasons.

“right,” you agree, “well then, stupid college kids trying to see a murder scene? we’ll link arms and you can hide the gun behind your back. just so we’re near him til dean burns the bones. hopefully nothing’ll even happen.” it’s as if you jinxed it all in that moment, as the lights immediately begin to flicker, the buzz of electricity filling your ears and a sudden chill filling the air. “nevermind,” you curse, flicking the iron rod back into your hand and barging around the corner, only a hair behind sam.

“way to jinx it,” he grunts.

you just scoff and beg him, “just try not to use the gun.” this time neither of you attempt to hide your presence as your shoes pound against the tile floor.

“no promises,” sam says, the gun up and loaded in front of him.

“what the hell?” the janitor barely has the time to exclaim before he’s thrown against the wall.

“i got it,” you warn sam, eager to avoid gunshots and sprinting full speed towards the apparition, iron rod in front of you. you throw all your weight into reaching the ghost of the young girl before she can flicker out of reach. the iron in your hand makes contact, and she evaporates for the time being. unfortunately for you, your momentum keeps you going, through the space the ghost just occupied and straight into the section of the floor slick with soapy water. with no time to gain any semblance of your balance, you slip and come crashing to the ground. your back hits the floor and the wind gets knocked out of your lungs in the same moment that the iron skitters out of your hand.

you struggle a bit to sit up due to the wetness underneath you, gasping slightly and letting curses fall from your mouth the moment you can speak again.

in a split second reaction, sam shouts your name, his voice inappropriately taught and worried for such a silly accident. he’s by your side in an instant, strong hands pulling you up and his anxious voice asking if you’re alright. you wave him off easily, unconcerned for yourself.

“help him,” you urge, “i’m fine.” but he doesn’t back off nearly as easily as you’d think.

“are you sure, did you hit your head? you couldn’t breathe for a second there,” his hands stay glued to you as he rattles off his concerns, ones that you find utterly unnecessary and unhelpful considering the fact that you’re fine, and the ghost could reappear any second. his strong grip keeps you from bending down to scoop up the iron rod, but you have to wrench yourself away from him when you hear a strangled cry come from the janitor. he whirls around with you to see the ghost with her hands around the janitor’s neck, crushing him against the wall as his feet dangle just above the floor. the iron rod is back in your hand in an instant, but sam’s shotgun lays abandoned on the floor a few feet away.

he dives for the weapon, but with a flick of the ghost’s hand, he’s knocked against the wall with a noise so loud it hurts to hear. before she can pay you attention, you fling the iron towards her, vaporizing her once more. the iron clatters to the ground as the janitor collapses to his knees. you rush towards him, pulling him away from the wall before tugging a container of salt from your jacket’s inside pockets. apologetically, you haul the poor man to his feet, throwing a quick look over your shoulder at sam. he’s groaning painfully, but already moving to get back up.

knowing he’s easily survived worse, you turn your attention back to the janitor, who’s sputtering out confused and incoherent questions about what in the goddamn hell is happening.

“just stay there,” you urge him, too pressed for time to add adequate sympathy to your tone. “stay in the circle and she can’t get you.” with practiced ease, you shake the salt onto the ground with barely enough to make a small, solid ring around the man.

you scoop up the gun from the ground, then turn to help sam onto his feet. “we’re gonna have to tough this out til dean gets done,” is all you say when you place the weapon into his hands, despite the urge to ask what the hell is wrong with him and why he’s so off his game. you turn to grab your own weapon, but it seems the ghost is reappearing faster and faster. this time, you’re the one who gets tossed into the wall, but you stay pressed against the cold surface as a mop flies to meet you, the long handle pushing against your throat and cutting off your air supply. you take in a strangled gasp, hands clawing at the old wooden handle and giving yourself a few splinters that you couldn’t care less about in the moment. of course, it doesn’t budge.

the second you’re flattened against the wall, sam shouts your name again, this time with his gun in the air, swinging around to get a shot at the ghost. but before he can react, it flies out of his hand and she reappears right in front of him, pushing him against the wall across from you.

he struggles against her wildly, his hand itching to get free of her hold to reach the hidden iron knife in his pocket. but before he can get there, her grip weakens and she lets out a strangled scream as she bursts into flames. the flames climb up her old fashioned pencil skirt and swallow up the bloody wound in her abdomen. her grip on you and sam falters as she burns away, then dissolves completely as the last of her ashes fade out into the musty basement air.

you drop to your knees, coughing and gasping for breath as the sound of the mop clattering to the floor echoes through the hallway. sam’s saying your name, half through a cough and his voice still so worried as he stumbles towards you. then he’s on his knees too and his hands are sturdy on your shoulders.

“‘m fine,” you rasp out, hand reaching for his bicep to ground you to something solid and steady. he stays right there, completely ignoring the poor man who’s still practically frozen in fear in the tiny circle of salt and the ringing of his phone. one of his hands slips around you to rub soothing strokes up and down your back and it brings you even closer to him, your forehead dipping to rest on his shoulder. you feel silly for how much he’s fussing over you, but you can’t quite scold or question him until you’ve caught your breath. clearly something is bothering him (and you want him so bad), so you let him hold you close.

“are you hurt anywhere?” he finally asks once he feels your breathing even out under his touch.

you pull away from him gently, shaking your head before verbally confirming, “no, i’m alright sam. nothing more than your typical bumps and bruises.” your voice is a touch raspy from the pressure on your throat, but it’s nothing that won’t go away with some water and rest, maybe some tea if really necessary.

his hands stay on you as he stands. “are you sure?” he asks, and you can’t figure out why on earth, heaven, or hell he’s so overly concerned about you. frankly, it’s starting to worry you. and definitely annoy you. all the sudden he’s acting like you’re fragile, like you can’t take care of yourself. things which he should know for a fact aren’t true.

he lets you slip away from his hold as you swoop down to pick up your lost weapons and face the poor janitor.

“sorry about that all. you can step out of the salt now.” he looks at you as if he can’t be sure, and your tone softens a bit. he’s young, probably just a college kid himself. “she’s really gone this time, i promise. you won’t ever have to worry about her again. though, i wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to look for a different job.”

he nods and thanks you, and you tell him to repay the favor by not mentioning you and sam. then, at a pace you certainly can’t blame him for, he scurries away.

“c’mon,” you nod to sam, “we should get out of here. you should also call dean back. he’s probably worried you didn’t answer.” with that, you turn back in the direction of the stairs without looking back at sam, rolling your eyes when your own cell ring. you pick up with a, “we’re fine, dean,” before he can even ask why the hell it took you so long to answer him. he lets out a sigh, half relieved, half annoyed.

“what took ya so long?” he asks anyway.

“had a few bumps in the road since little miss janitor-killer showed up, but we’re fine. neither of us are hurt. would’ya pick us up in the same spot you left us?”

“yeah, ‘course. already on my way, see you crazy kids in five.” with that, he hangs up and you don’t have to glance over your shoulder to feel sam following behind. it’s all just the familiarity of his footsteps, the sound they make, and the pace at which he walks. it’s the particular rustle of his favorite jacket, soft and scratchy sounding all at once. it’s the feeling of his tall figure, his broad chest so close behind you that he’d run right into you if you stopped even for a moment. you debate whether to ask him what the hell is up now or at the motel. for now, the priority is getting out unnoticed, so you clench your jaw a bit and continue in silence because you’re beginning to feel a little angry with him. you think he can feel it, so he stays quiet too, all the way out the dorm and down the street to wait for dean.

it’s not uncommon to be quieter after a hunt is finished because you’re all usually tired and more often than not achey from some toss around or another. but sam can tell there’s something else bothering you tonight. from the way you tilt your shoulder away from him, the distance so nearly imperceptible that only he would notice, he’s willing to bet that he’s that something. and though he doesn’t want to admit it, he thinks he knows why. he just won’t be the first one to say something about it because he’s stubborn, a little prideful, and most of all, too afraid to explain why he’s acting this way.

even so, he just can’t help himself. he hovers near, so near that once you’re settled by the side of the road, you can feel him without actually touching him. you’re tempted to nudge him away, just because of how overprotective he’s acting. you’re also tempted to lean back into his chest because somehow you know his hands wouldn’t waste a second in gathering you up and keeping you closer than ever before. it starts to rain a little bit, soft and almost unnoticable if it weren’t for the new chill in the air. for a moment, you can feel one hand hover over your waist, just for a second before there’s a light swish of fabric when it falls back to his side. you wonder if he’s worried about you getting too cold.

you hear dean before you see him, the rumble of the impala coming into earshot moments before its headlights appear around the corner. the car slows as it nears you, pulling to the side of the road with the front windows down and some classic rock guitar riff filtering into your ears. the music’s quieter than you know it was just moments ago from when dean was alone. he greets you two with a simple, “hey,” once he’s fully stopped and you place your hand out, palm up and wordlessly asking for sam to hand you the rifle to put in the trunk.

“i got it,” he says, not waiting for you to argue when he takes the iron from the loose grip of your fist and makes his way to the trunk. you slide into the back seat behind the passengers side and return dean’s greeting.

he twists in his seat to watch you as you close your eyes and massage your shoulder with a wince. it’s beginning to become more sore, just like all the rest of your body.

“you okay?” he asks, voice full of his normal gruffness that tells you cares enough to ask but knows not to be too worried.

you open your eyes back up to give him a nod. “‘m fine. just the usual ghost beat down. y’know, bumps and bruises.”

“mm, sure do,” he agrees, “so what? dearly departed marissa thought you were janitors?” he asks skeptically. you hear the slam of the trunk, and moments later sam’s settling into his seat in front of you.

“no,” you scoff, “some idiot kid was actually cleaning down there. told ‘im to get a new job,” you snort humorlessly.

“well, i’ll say,” dean raises his eyebrows in agreement before twisting back to face the wheel. he sneaks a look between you and sam before switching the car out of park and getting back on the road. for a few minutes, all you hear is the muted music, the constant roll of the engine, the light patter of rain on the metal roof, and the road under the tires. then dean switches off the music. “anything happen back there that i should know about?” he ventures.

“no,” sam answers casually, “nothing, just the usual.” you don’t even answer. you just can’t figure out if you should involve dean, tell him how sam was unthinking and almost entirely uncaring about the innocent civilian involved, all because he was so worried about you.

“alright,” dean concedes, glancing at you through the rearview mirror and sounding entirely unconvinced. he doesn’t turn the music back on, just lets the silence reign, so you close your tired eyes and lean your head against the cold glass of the window. you’ve fallen asleep in the back of the impala countless times before, but your drowsiness doesn’t take over this time in favor of letting your mind wander over what to say to sam. you can’t just let it be, and tonight is certainly the worst it’s gotten. plus, it’s an easy habit for you to wait for sleep when you’re already so close to the motel.

when dean pulls into the parking lot, he doesn’t turn off the engine. “gonna grab some grub. i’ll be back in a bit with the usual.”

“grab me something for dessert, will ya? ‘m craving something sweet,” you request, leaning towards the driver’s seat.

“sure thing,” he nods, and you slide out of the car and close the door after a thank you and tired smile. “anything for you, sammy?” you hear him ask.

“i’m good, just the regular,” sam responds as he exits the car. you unlock the motel door, and he’s inside the room just a moment later, closing and locking the entrance behind him. you stand facing away from him at the shitty table, your jacket already strewn across the back of a chair. you can hear him behind you, going through his routine movements. he’s taking off his jacket, setting it down on the edge of the bed. then he’s pulling comfier clothes out from his pack.

“you wanna shower first?” he offers, breaking the silence of the room. you can feel his gaze on your back.

“sure,” you swallow, “thanks,” you say without any sort of edge to your voice.

“‘f course,” he says, and he means that. his eyes follow you as you pull out your own change of clothes, just a tshirt and sweats, and make your way to the dingy bathroom. you’re tired, so you’re quick with it, but the water’s already lukewarm by the time you’re done. you dry off and dress quick, eager to lay in bed.

and yet, when sam takes your place in the bathroom and the sounds of the shower start up again, you sit at the table instead, picking out a few splinters in your hands before folding your arms and resting your head against them. you stay that way, even when you hear the water turn off, the bathroom door open, his heavy footfalls that are only heavy because he’s so tall and not for lack of gentleness, then the scraping of the chair across from you. he doesn’t even say a thing, just looks at the top of your head and the tip of your nose. the shape of your hands, the point of your elbows, and the curve of your back.

with a deep breath and some pain in your neck, you lift your head. you look back at him and slump your chin into your palm.

“i’m upset with you,” you state.

he frowns. even his frown is pretty. “i know,” he sighs.

“so? why are you acting like this?” your voice is tired, but you still manage to infuse accusation into your tone, “sam, why are you suddenly acting like i can’t take care of myself out there? you’ve been weird for nearly two weeks now, and i don’t like it. i don’t like this.”

sam doesn’t know how to respond. he’s used to being yelled at, shouted at, angry at. he’s used to yelling and shouting and getting angry back. and though he’s certainly fought with you before, he’s still not used to the level tone and the way you say each word so slow, like you’re not actually arguing. just upset and rightfully a little angry, like you just want to understand.

sure, he can hear the plain anger in your voice. you’re not trying to hide it. but you’re not yelling. how’s he supposed to use the heat of the moment to shout back, “i don’t know what you’re talking about,” or “i’m just trying to help,” when there is no heat in the moment? instead, he’s embarrassed and the only answer he can come up with, the only one that he can mean if he answers in that same, level tone you’re using is, one he’s having too much trouble saying aloud. any other answer would just be too wrong like that. or maybe if you were shouting, he’d tell you the truth, because he could yell it out, loud and rash without thinking about it. if he says it now, it’s not because he just let it slip. if he says it now, there’s no way to take it back, to get around everything threatening to bubble over the surface like forgotten water on a heated stove.

“i don’t think that you can’t take care of yourself. i know you can,” is all he says, because it’s true and it skirts around the real questions. his voice is rough, halfway between pleading and holding back from the anger he doesn’t yet know how to control. you heave a sigh.

“so why, sam? why?” you let the heavy question stew for a moment, then go on when he doesn’t even meet your gaze, “or, i don’t know, if you’re not gonna tell me, just promise me you’ll stop?”

he clenches his jaw because he knows he can’t. he just wishes you would shout. then, he’d tell you. he can imagine the words coming out of his mouth, but only if they’re loud, only if you’ve pressured him to do it. he realizes that’s probably fucked up. but the other way is too vulnerable, too vast of a leap to take to when he’s just not sure.

“sam,” you press, “you don’t have to worry about me, i swear. i don’t understand what’s got you like this, but it’s getting in the way of you being able to do your job right. that kid could have died because all you could do was worry about me,” that’s when you begin you raise your voice, just a little. because that’s what’s making you most upset about this. you hate it ‘cause you feel like he’s doubting your abilities as a hunter, but you hate it even more because it’s making him disregard the safety of others and of himself, for you. “sam, i only slipped. sure i got the wind knocked out of me, but you dropped your gun for that? frankly, that was stupid. and the poor kid was being choked, and if i hadn’t been lucky enough to throw the iron before she could react, he could have died. i need you to understand that. i need you to understand that i can do this job, that i’m strong enough, and that if you don’t trust me with that? people could die. and i’m not about to let that happen. so either you tell me what’s up and we figure it out, or you stop and i pay you the huge favor of just dropping the whole thing, okay?”

suddenly he looks all sad. “i do trust you,” he says, voice all sincerity and nothing more.

you close your eyes for a moment, half in frustration and half because you could really use some shut eye right about now. “that’s not– well, it is. it is part of the point. but i need an answer from you, i need you to tell me you won’t let whatever this is put somebody else in danger.”

he clenches his jaw. he’s still stuck. you still haven’t shouted.

“just spit it out. i can practically see something rolling around on the tip of your tongue. just say it, sam.”

there’s an edge to your voice, so maybe he can.

“i can’t lose you.”

there it is. it’s said with an edge, too, like he wanted to shout it but couldn’t. it’s said rough and a little bit angry and full of this undying faithfulness and yes, love.

but you still don't quite understand it, so it makes you sigh. it makes your eyes soften a bit and it makes you a little angrier than before. it makes you want him to mean that with all his chest and it makes you want to shake him hard until he comes to his senses.

“that’s always been a danger, ever since we met. you know that,” your voice is something so oddly gentle in its frustration, “sammy, you’re my best friend, and i can’t lose you either. hell, i don’t think the words “best friend” even begin to cover the depth of how much i care about you. but we’ll both be safer if we trust each other, if we trust in both of our abilities to keep ourselves and the other safe. tell me that you understand that.”

it takes him a minute to speak again, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he searches for what to say. “two weeks ago,” is all he manages at first. you try to think back to it, and it immediately dawns on you. “i couldn’t prote–”

“sammy, no,” you interrupt, “that wasn’t your fault, okay? i know this doesn’t help to say, but we can’t always protect each other perfectly, to the extent we really want. i’d do anything for you, sammy, you know that.” after that there’s supposed to be a “but” where you explain to him that you can’t let that get in the way of your thinking straight and keeping everyone safe. instead, those last words just hang, suspended and weighty in the air.

“but you could’ve been killed,” the way he says your name is almost desperate. “it was dean that saved you. i was there and i couldn’t even help. what if next time, dean isn’t there? what if–,” his voice breaks, and he effectively cuts himself off from finishing the sentence. you know what he was trying to say.

any answer you give to that, you know isn’t enough. “but i wasn’t killed, sam. i’m here. i’m right here and i’m alive and i’m well and i don’t want to spend all my time worrying about you worrying about me. not like this.” you let that sit for a moment or two, and though his eyebrows are still all sad and pinched together, you think you’re starting to get through to him.

“but i can’t lose you,” he repeats stubbornly.

“sam,” you’re practically begging at this point, frustration creeping back into your voice, “the best way for you to keep me safe from ghosts and monsters and everything else is to take care of the problem, efficiently and effectively, like we always do. if there’s no monster, it can’t hurt me. but if you drop your weapon just because i slipped on soapy floors and lost my breath for a second? then it’s not just you and whatever innocent bystander around who’s more vulnerable now, it’s me too. so if that’s what it’s gonna take for me to convince you to stop fussing over me, then, please, think about it like that.”

sam is smart. he loves logic and reason, and you’ve handed him just that. but even more than that, he loves you. in the end, that trumps all.

“but i love you.”

he says it like a plea. like he didn’t mean to say it at all but it was the only thing running through his mind, and therefore, the only thing running off his tongue.

“sammy,” you breathe out, and then it’s like there’s no more air for you to breathe back in. that sweet nickname of his coming out of your mouth, resting on your tongue before tumbling into the air, is half like a drug to him, half like a bitter wind to sober him up quick.

“i– i only meant that i–,” he meant just that and now it’s said and now he’s never going to take it back, even if you hate him for it. “i meant that,” he says it firm and true this time, “i love you, so i can’t lose you.”

the way he looks at you, right into your eyes like they’re the prettiest things he’s ever seen, like you’re the best thing he’s ever had, oh, it has you hooked like bait has a fish who bit down too hard. it has you praying he never looks at anybody else like that again. it has you rising out of your seat and it’s pulling you across the small, wobbly table. he’s wedged into the grooves of your heart, so deep it could kill you to pull him out, so you follow the tug and he leans in too so the line isn’t so taught, so that it’s easy and comfortable and beautiful to reach his lips.

his hands are like a net that catches you up in big, lovely swaths. they travel from your own hands, that lean against the table to keep your lips pressed to his, up to your elbows and then he knows he can never get enough. so he pushes up out of his own seat, drags his hands further up your arms until they can wrap around your biceps and push you up. not for a moment does he let his lips leave yours as he stands and pulls the both of you away from the table until he can bring you close, right into his wide, warm chest. then his hands can roam, gentle over your sensitive back, up to your neck then the back of your head to push your face into his. the other hand gets to go from your waist to your hips, or dip to the small of your back and press you flush to him.

you can only get away from him for a second, just enough time to whisper, “i love you, too,” before he swallows you back up. you melt right into him, and he loves it so much, but he feels how tired you are and he remembers he is too. so he only kisses you for a minute longer before letting your head rest on his shoulder. without any reservation, he presses a long kiss to your temple and you sigh a sweet sigh into his worn out tshirt.

unwilling to let go, he waddles with you, all bundled up into his arms, to the edge of the bed. without warning, he collapses into it, taking you right down with him and pulling out a little shriek from your mouth that he finds to be nothing short of endearing. he laughs, a belly laugh that you can feel the vibrations of as it moves up into his chest and out of those pretty lips of his. with some struggle to readjust yourself, you press a sweet peck to those lips. another easy i love you.

then you collapse back into his hold and the low quality plush of the motel bed. “now promise me you’ll pull yourself together next time we get a case?” this time your ask is so much more lighthearted, sweeter because it’s mumbled into the skin of his arm. you mean it just as much, but you can’t help the fact that you feel like you’re floating, “now i really, really can’t have you getting us in trouble. i’ll need to be able to kiss you at any given moment, so you have to promise me that you’ll trust me to take care of myself. because it works, and you know it. it’s the safest way. for both of us.”

the sigh he heaves can be felt through practically your whole body. it’s heavier than you wish it’d be, but he relaxes against you just a bit more. “i know,” he relents, “i’ll do my best, okay?”

“thank you,” you breathe out, too relieved to care that he couldn’t quite promise. you know this all means he’ll just be more protective of you, but you can say the same for yourself. now that you’ve kissed him and he’s told you he loves you and you’ve said it back, right against his lips, you’ll worry about him extra. but the both of you know the best ways to keep each other alive, and that has to be enough for you. you allow yourself to snuggle closer into him before joking, “d’you think dean’s ever gonna come back?”

you feel sam’s quiet laugh more than you hear it. “yeah, he really did us a favor with that one, didn’t he?” you can hear the smile in his voice before he remembers himself, “do not tell him i said that.” having you in his arms like this has got him a little giddy, saying things aloud that he normally wouldn’t.

letting out a laugh of your own, you promise, “i won’t. but i’m starting to get hungry. maybe we should call him and tell him the coast is clear, we didn’t tear the room to shreds or anything like that.”

sam chuckles again, and you decide very quickly that you like the way it feels for him to laugh with you so close. neither of you move, not to get a phone to call dean or to stop yourselves from growing drowsy. not for anything.

you’re half asleep when you hear the familiar sound of the impala’s engine near the room. it turns off, then comes the sound of its front door being open and shut. just because you’re hungry and it spells the arrival of food, you force your eyes open and let out a groan when you wiggle your arms out of sam’s hold to stretch. the way his hands shift to your waist as you do so has you a bit flustered and you wonder if you’re supposed to pretend in front of dean that you haven’t spent the last half hour kissing and cuddling. but sam doesn't seem to care, because he just sits up when the door’s lock clicks, one hand by your head to hold him up, the other still settled decidedly on your waist. so you decide not to care either, and turn your head around to accidentally grin at dean when he peeks his head through the door. you had meant to look casual, but the second someone else becomes a witness to the fact that you’re laying together like this, you’re beaming.

dean visibly relaxes when he takes in the sight, pushing the door all the way open to walk in, then lock the door back up behind him.

“hey, there,” is all he says, shooting the both of you a look that says, really, you’re just gonna keep sitting there like that in front of me? it’s not that bad, but he’s allowed to tease because he just turned a twenty minute food trip into an hour purely for yours and sam’s sake. you clear your throat awkwardly, and only when you sit up does sam’s hand fall away from you.

you pad over to the table as dean places the paper bag of fast food on the surface. he drags over an extra mismatched chair and sam follows close behind you, pulling the remaining chair to sit beside you. as you begin to pull food out from the bag, now clearly gone cold to the touch, dean sits down, complaining that they didn’t have pie, so he bought you two cookies for dessert instead.

“well, thank you for the food anyways,” you smile, hoping he picks up on the fact that you’re thanking him for the other thing too, “damn shame there was no pie, though,” you say, more for his sake than yours. you wonder why he didn’t just pick some up from somewhere else since he was gone so long.

“mhmm, and don’t sweat about the pie. just got a slice somewhere else,” he shrugs, “ate it in the car, there was only one slice left and i didn’t want you to feel like you were missing out,” he explains with that familiar teasing edge which makes you think he indeed caught onto the double meaning of your thanks. you let out a small huff of laughter before tearing into the food, only now realizing just how hungry you are. you’d felt it creep up on you on the car ride back, smiled at the mention of food from dean, even stupidly thought about it during a quiet moment in the argument with sam. but the second your lips found his, that was the only hunger you’d felt. to keep kissing him, to keep him close, keep him loving you. only when you settled all the way into his arms, sure that you’d be able to satiate that hunger again, could your body remember you hadn’t eaten since early this afternoon.

the three of you eating like this, late at night and without much conversation, is common and comfortable. dean is on what you assume to be his second burger, because there’s no way he’d have just sat in the car, probably parked in a random lot and wondering how long he should be gone, and just waited to eat an extra-bacon burger until he came back. sam’s nearly the same as always, too, but tonight he sits so close that his forearm brushes against yours. you bump elbows or knees every so often, and the side of his socked foot is pressed against yours the entire time.

you sigh, content with the nearness of him that’s so much more complete and full than it was just hours ago. now, there’s no need to hover. now, you can just swoop in and land, take what you want, give what the other needs.

dean makes no teasing comments, but you can feel the way he’s been examining, reading the two of you. you’re not sure if you’re supposed to say something aloud, but you know that he knows the two of you so well that he understands almost exactly what must’ve happened while he was gone. maybe he’s not teasing because this is the outcome he wanted to come back to. he probably knows better than the both of you how you were crushing, pining even, over the other.

he takes his turn in the shower when he finishes his food, and you and sam begin to clean up a few minutes later. once all the trash is crumbled up and tossed away, you go around and turn off all the lights but a single bedside lamp. as you turn away from clicking off the lamp in the corner of the room, sam’s right there in front of you. you don’t have the time to be startled by him sneaking up on you, he’s so quick to cup your face with his hands and slot his lips against yours. he lingers a long moment before pulling apart just enough to rest his forehead on yours.

“gonna kiss you forever,” he whispers, and you realize you’ve turned this giant man into a complete and utter sap.

“you better.” your grin is wide and real and he can almost feel your lips moving, he’s so close. just as you’re ready to wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him hard, the steady white noise of the shower shuts off. you sigh and laugh a little, leaning in to steal one more chaste kiss before brushing past him. but he turns with you, hands still warm on your cheeks and not letting go until he’s kissed you once more.

when dean’s gone from the bathroom, sam follows you in to brush his teeth with you. you’ve done so plenty of times, but tonight, sam gets to loop his free arm around your waist and pull you into him, rather than stand shoulder to shoulder in the cramped space. he gets to make you giggle through toothpaste when he does so, and you get to switch your toothbrush to your other hand and wrap your own arm around his waist, too. he gets to make you laugh dangerously harder when he tightens his hold on you to prevent you from bending and spitting into the sink when you’re done. you try to hold back the laughter with your mouth full of toothpaste, then he’s the one laughing around his toothbrush because there’s white, foamy spit rolling down your chin from the corner of your mouth and threatening to drip to your dark-colored tshirt. of course, he lets you spit and rinse your mouth, relishing in the continued sound of your laughter.

“you asshole! almost ruined my shirt til the next time we make a laundry stop!” you take revenge as he rinses out his own mouth, splashing the running water onto his face as he swishes water around in his mouth.

he spits the water out in surprise and sputters an indignant, “hey!” before he bursts into laughter again.

you’re both giddy, high off of kissing each other, and silly from the exhaustion of a hunt, so he tugs you into him by your hips and keeps laughing into the crook of your neck. you wrap your arms around his neck and thread your fingers up through his soft, newly washed hair. you kiss the closest thing you can reach and he melts right into your arms.

it’s only when you yawn that he pulls away from you. “we should get to bed, huh?”

you nod and twist towards the door, peeking through it to see dean sleeping in his bed, his still form highlighted by the warm light of the cheap lamp. taking sam’s hand with a shy smile, you lead him to the other bed, turning off the last light and climbing under the covers with him not far behind. he loops his arm under your head, then the other over your waist to splay his hand flat across the small of your back. the way he does it is exactly the way you wished he would, as if he’s thought about holding you like this every night you share a bed, just as you had. with a final glance towards dean, he kisses your forehead, then your cheek, then your lips.

you try to stifle the giggle that the soft, ticklish contact of his lips wants to pull from your chest, praying that dean is really as asleep as he looks. the both of you stiffen a bit when you hear dean’s blankets rustling, but you let out another breathy, quiet laugh when it goes silent again.

sam’s about to kiss you all over again when dean’s voice rings out into the hush of the night, startling you both.

“no shenanigans while i’m asleep, lovebirds,” he grunts.

that brings more laughter out of your lips and a rush of heat to your face that you’re sure sam feels, too. he just groans in annoyance at his brother, because of course dean had to get in at least one borderline dirty comment. neither of you really answer as dean shifts around in his bed again, likely turning his back to you and mumbling something mostly unintelligible.

the only word you can catch is “finally.”

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roonyxx · 1 day

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Healing Love: part 1

Summary: You have a normal life as a nurse, and you are content with it. But then a storm called Dean Winchester rolls into it and you get swept away by his charms. But secrets linger and threaten to drown you both.

Pairing: Dean x Witch!nurse!reader

Word count: 2084

Chapter warnings: fluff, wounds and medical stuff (i am no professional and have no idea what the real treatments are)

A/N: This series is dedicated to @deans-spinster-witch she's always been very supportive of my work and I found that she deserved a little treat. She gave me an idea for a new series and i really liked it! so this one is for you @deans-spinster-witch! thank you so much for supporting me! I choose to go with Quinn, i hope that’s okay for you ;)

support me :)

Healing Love Masterlist

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Deviders made by @firefly-graphics, give her some love!

Y/n Pov

You knew you had to buy a new clips for his collar. You don��t have time for him to chase squirrels, you hurry after your dog. Who, usually, listens very well but decided that today he does not…

“Quinn! Get back here!” You jog after him in the street.

It’s the main street, god you hope he doesn’t run into oncoming traffic…

“Quinn!”

You see him running right up to a tall man eating a burger. Which contains Quinn’s biggest addiction, pickles..

You try to yell at the man to warn him but Quinn is faster and jumps up at him, hitting the man right into the thighs and making him loose his balance and fall backwards.

You run faster to get to them, and grab Quinn’s collar as soon as you can grip it and tug him off the man.

“Bad Quinn! oh god, I’m so so-” You look up at the man and are completely lost for words.

Before you is by far the most gorgeous specimen of men you have ever seen.

His green eyes captivate you and pull you in like a new point of gravity. You have never seen this colour of green before in someone’s eyes. They have the colour of forest lit up by sunbeams peeking through the foliage.

His face is dusted entirely with freckles who are more concentrated on his nose and cheeks. His jaw is strong and sharp. And his hair is a dark blond and wildly tossed around by Quinn’s nose currently buried deep within the strands.

“Quinn!” You tug him back to free this beautiful stranger of the assault.

You offer him your other free hand, “I am so sorry, Sir.”

He gives his hand and grabs yours tightly. You tug him to a standing position.

“Oh wow, you got quiet a grip there.” He smile and looks at you, his eyes scanning your face and then quickly going down your body.

“Are you hurt? I am so sorry… Quinn never is like this usually. Are you hurt?” You ask him.

“It’s okay, no really, I should have paid attention.” He glances at your dog and smiles, “He’s lucky he’s cute,” then looks back at you, “And that his owner is cute too.”

You don’t know what to say, your face goes red.

He holds out his hand, “I’m Dean.”

You take his hand and shake it, “Y/n, let me offer you a new burger, I insist.”

Dean looks down at where his burger fells and Quinn is trying to get it. You tug him back.

“It’s okay, I take it as a sign that maybe I should cut down on burgers a little.” He chuckles softly. “But I’m more than okay with taking you out for a coffee, Y/n.”

You like the way he says your name way too much…

“I-“ how can this gorgeous man be asking you out? He seems the type to date super models, your curves are a little more… accentuated than other females. But they help you with the heavy lifting in your job.

Your job that you are currently late for, you gasp and check your watch.

“Shit! I- I would love to but I’m already running late. I need to drop of Quinn before I go to the hospital.”

“Oh right.” He points to your uniform, “I will let you go then, but can I have your number? Perhaps we can do a raincheck?”

He gives me the most dazzling smile and you temporarily forget to breathe.

You make Quinn sit between your legs and clamp him in place. With your now free hand you grab his and grab a pen from one of your many pockets and scribble your number down on his palm.

“There, I’m down for a raincheck.” You smile and grab Quinn’s collar.

“I’ll wait for your call, Dean.” You say as you start walking away.

“I will!” he yells back.

It’s been 3 days and you still didn’t receive a call. You already gave up hope after two days.

Are you surprised? Not really, he’s way out of your league.

So when your phone lights up with an unknown number the third day at almost midnight you pick up thinking it is a spammer.

“Im not interested in what you’re selling.” You answer.

“I- uhm, is this Y/n? It’s me Dean.” He sounds a little out of breath?

“Dean! Oh shit sorry, I have a lot of spammers who call me. Are you alright?” Maybe he’s the workout type of guy?

“I-“ a low grunt that instantly puts you on alert makes you sit up from your couch.

“Dean?”

“I wanted to call you sooner but something got in between, I’m sorry for calling so late but I’m driving around and I might need your nurses skills…”

He sounds in pain… and he’s driving?

“What happened? On what street are you?” You ask in a hurry.

You jump up and put the phone between your cheek and shoulder while you get your first aid kit out and ready.

He gives you the street name and you direct him towards your place.

“Tell me what happened.”

“I have a cut on my shoulder, not very deep but I’m bleeding and will need stitches.” He answers while you hear his car roar in the background.

You note how he doesn’t tell you what happened. But the info he gave is exactly what you need. You start prepping your stitch kit and gauze.

“My house is the one with the green car in front.” You say, and you can hear his car turning into your street.

“I see it.”

You run outside, hanging up the phone as he parks up your driveway.

If he wasn’t bleeding, you would admire his beautiful car. But there are more important things happening now.

You grab the door handle of the driver side and pull open the door.

“Shit.” You say when you see his sleeve drenched in blood, “ You said it wasn’t that deep!”

“It looks worse than it is.” He grunts while turning off the car and grabbing the keys.

You carefully help him out of his car and into your house.

Your hands start tingling at the smell of the blood. The magic inside you is screaming to heal this man, to knit his skin back together and fight of any risk of infection. But you don’t let it surface. You can deal with this the normal way.

You sit him down in your kitchen chair and cut away his shirt.

“Shouldn’t you buy me a drink before ripping of my clothes?” he tries to joke but you can see him wincing and you nod towards the pill and glass with water on the table.

“Take the med, it will help with the pain.”

He takes it without hesitation.

You look closely at the wound while putting on gloves and begin to clean it out.

It is deeper than you thought but stitches will be enough to close it. You do wonder how it happened. It’s a very long, clean cut. Your best guess would be a sword cut.

“So you’re a knight or something? Deep breath, I will start stitching” you warn before you pinch the needle through his skin and begin to sew his skin back together.

“A knight?” he wonders.

“It looks like you got cut by a sword.” You say while focusing carefully. You notice he doesn’t even flinch when you thread the small string through his skin.

“A katana actually, how do you know?” You can feel the prickles on your face from his intense stare searching your face.

“I’ve seen a lot of wounds at work, after a while you start to recognize them.”

“Oh yeah, that makes sense, how long have you been a nurse?” He asks you.

“Seven years in November.”

“Do you like it?” He tilts his head in question.

“It’s hard, physically, emotionally,” you sigh and make a final knot and cut off the thread, then start to wrap up as much as you can, “but yes, I love it, helping people, it’s who I am.”

“There, all finished. No tugging, keep the bandage on for at least a day. Try to keep it dry. The stitches can come out in 10 days.” You explain to him.

“Oh wow, that was fast. Okay, no tugging, no water.” he smiles, “Thank you so much.”

“I guess it makes us even for Quinn attacking your burger.” You chuckle.

At the sound of his name his familiar tipper tapper feet come running towards you and gently nuzzle your thigh. You tug off your gloves and reach down to stroke his black and white head. He peeks up at you with slightly greying eyes. Damn cataracts. He’s a little old, but he’s still perfect. He’s a medium sized dog, a border collie corgie mix. Perfect for training, and he listens well, if… there are no burgers involved.

Dean smiles at Quinn and rubs his face, “He’s so cute. I can’t blame him for wanting a burger. I would take down someone for it too.” He chuckles.

Dean glances up at me, “So I have to wait 10 days to see you again?” He asks.

“You don’t have to wait, I could change the bandage tomorrow if you’d like.” You smile and start putting away all your things.

“I’d like that, but only if you come like that.” He gives you a knowing grin and points to your Viking pyjamas.

You turn red as a beet, with his urgent call you forgot all about the way you were dressed. Your pyjamas are simple, a t-shirt and shorts, an ode to your favorite TV series. You’ve had them for years, they’re all worn out and sit tightly on your body.

With no bra, you can assure there is little left to the imagination…

“Sorry- I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” Dean quickly says “You look beautiful, like really.”

You start smiling at the blush that makes his freckles stand out. Even his ears, that you now noticed are slightly pointy, turn red.

“Thank you, sorry for your shirt…” you tug at his cut of shoulder part.

He shrugs, “It was old.”

You two stare at each other as the tension rises. You glance at his lips, pink and plump, perfect for kisses and many other things.

When you look up you can see his eyes were wandering towards your chest, to your hardened nipples.

He clears his throat and stands up suddenly.

“Thank you, but I should get going. It’s already late and my brother will be worried.”

“Right, yes of course, I have an early shift tomorrow so I shouldn’t be up so late. Can you drive? I can give you a ride?” You offer.

“I can, it feels much better already.” He moves his arm to proof it.

“Here,” you hand him a box with a few meds “One a day for 3 days.”

He takes it and puts in his pocket, thanking you for it.

You guide him towards the door and open it for him to leave.

“So… I see you tomorrow? At seven?”

You smile, “At seven works for me.”

He’s lingering in your door, his eyes on your face.

You take a step closer but don’t move more.

You want to kiss him…

“I – uhm..” he starts.

Quinn takes that as his cue to jump and put his front paws on the back of your kneesw, making you stumble into Dean. You put your hands on his chest to catch yourself.

“Oh! I’m so so-“

Your sentence is cut off by a pair of perfect lips, slanting over yours. His hand cups the side of your face while his tongue brushes your bottom lip, asking for entrance.

Which you grant him. You can’t help the moan that escapes you when his tongue dances with yours.

This kiss feels like the first rays of sun after a long winter. It’s warm, soothing, and hints at hot evenings and sweltering nights.

And then a cloud passes over and the heat slowly disappears as he pulls back.

A low whine falls from your lips as you try to chase his lips.

A chuckle sounds in your ears and makes you look up in those incredible eyes.

“At seven. It’s late and you have an early shift.” He smiles.

You don’t mind the heat crawling over your face and nod as he steps back to his car.

“At seven, drive safe, Dean.” You say when he gets inside.

You stay in your door opening until his car turns out of the street, you turn, close your door and look at Quinn.

“You sneaky little match maker.” You chuckle and bend down to pet him.

His tail is wagging excitedly.

“Thank you, Quinn.”

Forever Tags 2024: @jay-and-dean @flamencodiva @snowlovespie @awkward-and-indecisive @hobby27

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redroses07 · 3 days

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Promise//Sam Winchester

Sam Winchester x Fem!Reader

Summary: Sam is having doubts about reader going on hunts with him and Dean, but they finally decide to come to an agreement that will make them both happy.

Warnings: Swearing, kissing, oral (fem! receiving), fingering, subby Sam, angsty Sam, death, violence (the basics lol), mention of Jess.

WC: 1.5k

A/N: Hey guys!!!! Sam is my baby so I wanted to write something for him! Anyways I really like this fic and plot so I hope y’all enjoy it too! love y’all ♡

Sam was always hesitant to take you on hunts, after all you only knew about the business because of him.

Sure there were parts of his job that were rewarding, which made it worthwhile; but there were also parts that he resented. Such as the constant danger, the danger that he tried his best to keep you away from. His worst fear was you ending up like Jess…and that it would all be his fault.

At first you were content with staying behind while Sam and Dean did their thing. But as you learned more about what they did, you grew tired of the lonely hotel rooms. You became restless every time they left, unable to sit back while your boyfriend subjected himself to such horrors.

This is what prompted the argument the two of you were currently having.

“Sam, please let me come just this once!” you retorted.

“I want to be there, I understood at first, but I know what I’m getting myself into now!”

“I’m prepared, you and Dean have taught me everything you know.”

Sam pressed his fingers to his furrowed brow, frustrated.

You could see you were upsetting him, but did he really think you would never have to have this conversation?

“Jesus, Sammy! Let her go, we need an extra pair of hands anyways.” Dean argued, rolling his eyes at his brother.

“I said No!” Sam snapped.

Sam turned around and sat on the edge of the bed, letting his head fall into his hands.

You gave Dean a look, as if to say ‘get out, we need some privacy’.

Surprisingly, he understood.

“I’ll be in the Impala, y’all let me know when you’re ready so we can get to work.”

Dean gave you a nod as he walked out the door, swiftly shutting it behind him.

You took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts.

This was a sensitive subject for Sam, you had to remember, and one that came from a place of love.

“Sammy, love, I know you’re worried, but think of everything you and Dean have survived. Why would I be any different?” You spoke softly, almost as if you were afraid someone might hear.

Sam looked up, his eyes tinged with red, and tears forming around the rim. It was a look of loneliness, of longing, and you knew he needed you the most in this moment.

You walked over to him. You remained standing while he continued to sit.

Sam leaned his head against your stomach.

You could feel his short breaths through your thin shirt, and you knew he was fighting tears. Vulnerability was hard for Sam, and you wanted to do everything possible to make him comfortable.

You wrapped your arms around his head, pulling him even closer. You traced your fingers through his messy, yet soft, brown locks.

Sam sniffled, and you knew by the wet spots you felt on your shirt that he has finally let the tears fall.

You finally decided to sit down, bringing Sam's head up to your shoulder as you did.

"I love you, you know that's why this is so hard for me right?" Sam said finally.

He lifted his head off of you in order to look you in the eye. His bangs hung loosely in front of his face, almost as if they were trying to hide his sad eyes.

"Baby, I know, but you can't let fear control our lives." You moved his hair out of his eyes, and cupped his face with your hands.

Sam nodded as he sank into your touch.

"I know...but I guess, I guess I don't know how."

"How about I promise you this."

Sam looked at you in curiosity.

"You let me come along, but when something becomes too dangerous, you say the word and I'll step to the side."

Sam thought about it for a moment, running a hand through his hair as he did.

"Okay, but you can't let your stubbornness get in the way."

You gasped playfully.

"Sam Winchester I can't believe you're calling me stubborn!"

The two of you shared a moment of laughter before the heavy reality settled in.

"I promise." You pressed your forehead to Sam's as a way to seal the promise, your personal spin on a pinky swear.

Only then did you notice the tension between the two of you, and the urge to feel his lips on yours.

Sam pressed a finger to your lips, his warmth seeping into the soft flesh. You took it in your mouth, running tongue and teeth over it, tasting him.

Sam was the one to break the invisible barrier between the two of you, smashing his lips against yours.

It was a hungry, fiery, passionate kiss. You couldn’t remember the last time you two had shared one like it.

Sam pushed you back, your head hitting the crappy motel mattress. You didn’t care. You needed him, to feel him everywhere all at once.

You gasped as Sam finally removed his lips from yours, but only to move down to your neck and collarbone.

Sam’s hands snaked down your body, reaching your hips and eventually the rim of your jeans.

“Wanna make you feel good, baby.” Sam said breathlessly as he began to fool with the button.

“Aww you don’t have to, you’ve already made me feel so good.” You replied softly.

“Well then I wanna make you feel better than good.” Sam mumbled as he pulled your jeans off your hips. Now there was no way to hide how soaked you were.

Sam gave you a knowing look before removing your panties.

He wasted no time getting to work, shoving two of his fingers deep inside you. He always knew exactly where to put them, hitting that spot that made you roll your hips into him.

“Jesus.” You gasped, the sudden wave of pleasure was almost unbearable.

Sam pumped his fingers in and out of you, and you were surprised by how fast you were reaching your high.

Sure, it had been a while, especially since Sam had been so busy recently; but you didn’t realize how much you had missed this until now.

Sam pulled his fingers out, licking the remnants off.

That must have made him want more because he immediately shoved his face into your pussy.

Sam licked up your wetness before moving to circle his tongue around your clit.

You moaned loudly and reached your hands out to tangle them in his. You pulled softly, giving you something else to focus on other than the fact that you wanted to scream out in pleasure.

“You’re doing so good baby.” You mumbled, making sure he received some much earned praise.

You were so close to your climax when you heard the door swing open.

You knew it was Dean before you even saw him, and you rolled over quickly shoving Sam off of you.

“Jesus Christ. Put your Goddamn clothes on and get your asses in the car.” Dean shouted before slamming the door.

You stopped scrambling to get dressed and let your heads fall into your hands with embarrassment.

“Don’t be embarrassed, I’ve walked in on him in much worse positions.” Sam laughed.

“One time when-“

You cut him off.

“I’m gonna stop you right there because I would prefer not to learn about your brothers extra curricular activities.”

You shared a moment of laughter before you stood up and finished putting your clothes on.

“I’m glad we had this talk.” Sam pulled you into his chest and kissed you on the forehead.

“Are you sure it was the talking part you liked?” You looked up at him.

He eyed you suspiciously as if to say “you know what I meant.”

You responded by giving him a quick peck on the lips, deciding not to think about the fact that you could still taste yourself on him.

“Let’s go before Dean kills us.”

You grabbed Sam’s hand and dragged him behind you, still ever intent upon keeping your promise.

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misguidedasgardian · 3 days

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From the Ashes (PROLOGUE)

MASTERLIST

Summary: You were found amongst the ashes

Warnings: Supernatural (and all that comes with it), monsters of all kinds, pyrokinesis, murder, child endangerment, impersonating a law enforcer, guns, might miss some warnings

Wordcount: 4,4 k

Notes: Look, of all my fics, I want them to be as “realistic” and faithful to the story as I can… BUT… this will be different, there are 15 seasons of SPN, and I get so stressed with the devils and angels and all. So… this will be, some chill scooby-doo monster hunting shenanigans, this will not be faithful (much) to the story, this will be about cases and solving them, and about John as well… slow burn

1987, Jackson Hole, Wyoming

John Winchester was at an impasse, he had never seen everything like it.

He had come here in this lost town in the middle of Wyoming because of a lead, given to him by his friend, the local Sheriff, people were starting to go missing, and then found dead, that sort of thing. Bear attacks, officially…. unofficially? Vampires, new ones, because of the mess they were leaving behind.

It didn’t took him long to find the vamp either

Nothing out of the ordinary so far, though, he thought vampires were gone, almost extinct according to his friend, so he was pleased to help with that. to make it official

But everything really started turning strange when he was trailing that Vamp back to his nest, he would have taken them all down right then and there, he only had to wait until morning and wipe them out, but they didn’t stay put, they were on the move, a very quick move, not only one, all of them. A single man leading them drew his attention, he was wearing an expensive looking suit, he drove a mercedes. He had to be a vampire, because of how he moved easily amongst them.

They moved out of town and the all-you-can-eat buffé midtown represented. He followed them right along a road that left the city, and then another dirt road across a forest, and beyond.

There, in the middle of a clearing, stood a big farmhouse.

He called for backup for his friend, but it was going to take a while, he was busy with official stuff. That put John in another bind, he couldn’t face them all alone, not without Sheriff Jeffersons, or Daniel Elkins and his special gun. He stood there, waiting, in the woods, with the lights and the motor still turned off.

He would never admit it, he was ashamed, and to this day, it would be one of the things he regretted the most, he snoozed on the job. The sounds from the woods lulled him to sleep, and the House, even though had been boarded with a group of vampires, was quiet.

The rumble of the cars woke him up, not even an hour later.

He looked at the house some more, but everything was quiet, and in the dark, so he grabbed his gun with silver bullets, and his knife with a bottle of dead man’s blood, and he ventured towards the property.

It was a nice house, which surprised him, no gates or big fences around it though… it was all out in the open…

…So was the door, opened for everyone who wanted to go inside. He entered slowly, everything was in silence, quiet… except… from a horrible smell that lingered. He walked through the foyer and into the house, his gun up, the living room to his left was empty, so was the dining room to the right, and the kitchen in the far left… he ended up in a study, the smell was stronger there because… there it was…

A half charred body of a woman. Her face was still… untouched, which allowed him to go near, and check, she wasn’t a vampire, he noticed as he lifted her top lip. But she was dead… very dead…a human woman, gone. A sense of dread and guilt was settling inside of him, but there was no time for that now, his senses were still much activated in hunter mode.

He looked around and found pictures hanging on the wall of the cozy room, of her and a man, and a baby, and some others of a little girl, the same child, who had clearly grown up… he looked for the rest of the rooms, the second floor, there was nobody there, the house was empty, he found the little girl’s room, but… not little girl anywhere.

The vamps didn’t take anyone with them, so he could just assume… he couldn’t assume anything

If she was simply a victim why didn’t they just… fed off of her? Why leave her like this?, why go to the trouble of burning her? This seemed personal.

He came back to the study, to see if he had missed something, thinking about calling the police… his friend.

He looked back at the woman, sadly. But this time, what also drew his attention is that only her body was burned… not the floor, not the carpet, nor did he see any accelerants around, it looked like a supernatural affair, aside from the vampire part… but what he did see, is that when he moved the carpet to look at it more closely… There were marks on the wooden floor.

He looked up to the big bookcase above him, and figure it out

He moved it with difficulty… but it yielded… and behind it, he found an iron door…

This wasn’t a good sign… Iron was known to stop a plethora of monsters and creatures

He opened the steel doors with a grunt and all of his force, wondering how that frail looking woman could have moved this on her own. He expected to find some sort of weapon, or beast, or an undiscovered creature ready to jump him, but instead, he gasped, opening his eyes wide and shaking with surprise… when he found that he least expected.

His legs shook with uncertainty and his eyes shined with unshed tears when he saw a little girl curled up in the corner of the safe space, she looked up at him with eyes filled with tears, she couldn’t have been older than 7, she was the one from the pictures, doe eyes and chubby cheeks, lips in the form of a wobbly pout

“Where's my mommy?” she cried

“Sweetheart, are you ok?” he asked, and she just nodded. He didn’t know what to do, she… this… little girl, was inside an Iron box, this was no coincidence, she could be this supernatural being, she could be…

“My mommy” she cried again, but John didn’t have the heart to tell her her mother was gone, but wise beyond her years, the girl seemed to notice his sadness. “Oh” she whined, dropping some more tears down her chubby cheeks. Against everything he knew, against everything he believed in… he lowered his guard

“C´mere” he called, opening his arms and without even thinking, she jumped in between them, hugging him tightly, curling up against his chest. His body seemed to be working of his own accord, because he could have never done that under different circumstances, this little girl… was something else…

“M’scared” she whined. He shushed her, caressing her hair

“It’s ok little one” , he hushed softly, “i’m going to get you out of here, alright?”

He didn’t know why, or how, knowing the context in which he found her he could bet that she was also a supernatural being, but even against his hunter nature, he hugged that kid against his chest, drawn to her like he had ever been drawn to anything else. With his fingers crossed, at least metaphorically, he exited the iron room, and the girl only seemed to hang onto him more tightly. He made sure to hide the little one’s face against his chest, so she wouldn’t look at the scene in the study.

“Where’s your daddy?”, he asked softly

“He went away”, she said, “mommy said he went to heaven”. she said so innocently, it broke his heart

Well, fuck

He couldn’t leave her, not here, but he didn’t know what to do… he could call the police… but… they would ask questions, and leaving her here was out of the question, she was just a child.

If she was a supernatural being, he didn’t know what she was, there was still a small chance she was a normal kid There was a bigger chance her family knew about the supernatural, judging by the Iron box, it would have made sense if her mother was, and this turned out to be personal for the vampires to come after her.

There were so many theories working in John’s mind right now.

“Do you have any family, darling?”, he asked, as he took her out of the house. She shook her head. But now, that wasn’t much to go on, she could not know, she was still little.

He walked back to the Impala, and buckled her in in the copilot seat. Then, he called the Sheriff back, asking him to send people to the house, and asking him about information on the family. He was asked to keep the girl with him until the next morning, from this time to tomorrow, so they could gather information, if there was any, about her family.

John, after hanging up with Henry, he climbed to the pilot seat. He didn’t even realize, but he was shaking, his hands trembling as he grabbed the steering wheel, and started the car. He looked to the side, to the little girl, and then to the other side, to the door, and then back at the road.

He had stashed in his car holy water, salt, copper, anything, all sorts of weapons for all sorts of monsters, he eyed her back, carefully.

She was just trying to look at the road over the tall board of the car. She was still sniffing, her eyes big with tears, he made his heart sink. The little girl just lost her mom, she probably didn’t have anyone else.

“How old are you?”, he asked, the girl just looked at him

“Six”, she answered simply, and then she just kept looking at the road in the dark, lighted up by the yellow lights of the Impala.

He stopped by the local diner, and bought her dinner. Also, he bought a couple of burgers for his sons, who were waiting for him back at the motel. He insisted she stayed in the car, and before he gave her the food, he sneaked holy water in her strawberry milkshake.

John watched her eat a burger, fries and sip on the strawberry milkshake, no reaction. So, demonic creatures were discarded.

He needed to get back to his sons. His mind was saying that this was a mistake, taking this girl with him, however… he couldn’t leave her. He didn’t even understand it himself, he couldn’t bring himself to abandon the girl to the authorities… At least until tomorrow

He came back to the motel were his sons were waiting for him, the trembling girl holding onto his hand

“Who are you?”, asked Dean, frowning at the little girl

“I’m (y/n)”, she said softly, Dean seemed to… be content by now… going back to watch TV, and Sam was… didn’t understand much of what was going on. He was only four. The girl looked back at him.

“Those are my sons, Dean, and Sam”, he introduced, and the little girl just smiled and nodded

Was he just going to… keep this kid?

Dean seemed pleased as he let her give them the burgers and fries, and he watched them from the corner, sipping a beer as they talked and then curled up together and falling asleep on the bed. She seemed.. normal… she didn’t flinch when he slipped holy water into her milkshake, she ate normally, she looked normal… was she a hunter’s kid? there was a still very real chance she was just a child.

The very next day, he was called into the Sheriff office, with not very happy news. There was no record of family, her grandparents on both sides were gone, her parents didn’t have any siblings, so, no uncles or aunts…

“I received a call nonetheless”, he said shortly, “some relatives asking about the girl”

“Can you corroborate?”, he asked then

“It’s hard, they are her mother’s cousins or something, but hey… this is good news, she is just a little girl, that poor woman was just… in the wrong place at the wrong time”, he said simply

“At her house?”, he said, he should be relieved, the case was closed, but he wasn’t, “the vamps wanted the girl, the mother hid her, she… is different, she has to be…”

“I don’t know what to tell you, there is a birth certificate of her”, he said, sliding it over the table, “a very real and corroborated birth certificate, from Wyoming”, he said, “the story of her parents check out too”

“What about the relatives?”, he asked, checking the document, a normal name, a normal date, nothing out of the ordinary.

“They are on their way, should be here in a couple of hours”, he said simply. Not knowing what his friend was truly thinking. “Why don’t you take the kids for a while until this family can come and pick her up?”, he offered with a shy smile. John grunted, not liking where this was going. But he returned to his kids.

Three kids ate more than a group of piranhas, John thought as he took them for pizza. Wyoming was a nice place, he thought, looking at the beautiful snowy mountains, the green pastures all around, the beautiful valley, then he looked at his kids, eating happily. The girl had this sad look on her face, but she seemed content.

Time went by quickly, and soon, he was back at the police station, when he parked the car, he saw a mini-van parked outside, a pretty picture, he thought. His friend was speaking to a couple, then he gestured to the car where they were.

John excited the car, his sons stood inside, only taking the little girl

“Who are they?”. She asked, looking at the couple, grabbing onto his hand tightly.

“You don’t know them sweety?”, John asked, she shook her head

“There you are!”, shrieked the extremely happy woman, she looked nice enough. But (y/n) hid behind John.

“I don’t know you!”, she accused

“I’m your aunt sweety”, she said through gritted teeth. John looked back at the car, where Sam and Dean were waiting, they did not seem impressed, their hands on the window of the impala, watching the scene.

John turned to meet the couple, who were trying to coax the little girl from going with them

“Leave me alone!”, she screamed

“Don’t be a brat now, we are taking you to your new home”, said the man, again, this couple looks like a picture perfect pair, like they are just coming out of a Benetton catalog… but something was off about them. “we have your things from your house, your favorite blanket, your clothes”, but she only shrieked in response

Sheriff Jefferson tried to calm them down, both parties, hands in the air and a soft smile on his face

“Now now, Petersons, why don’t we go inside and start some paperwork?”, he said, trying to invite the couple in

“Who are you? Why do you have our niece?”, the unknown man started attacking John this time.

“She is a collaborator”, explained the Sheriff, “please”, he said standing between the couple and John and the girl, pointing towards the building, the little girl was invited to follow, but she didn’t want to go.

He felt (y/n) grab onto his jeans tightly, with too much strength for a little girl.

“I don’t want to go with them”, she said shakily

“Sweety, they are your family”, he said gently, but she shook her head

“I don’t have a family!”, they might be estranged, but he couldn’t take her word for it, could he?

It took him a while, but he finally convinced her, he even had to go inside with her, but after he made her enter the office with the “Petersons”, he managed to sneak away, out of the office, and out of the station.

He should be relieved, he though, as he walked back to his car, he couldn’t keep her like she was some sort of puppy, he already had two kids, he couldn't possibly handle one more, he was on a path of revenge, and he was just started, getting good at it… only four years on the road… he couldn’t take on one more, he just couldn’t… he got into his car, and with a last look at the station, he turned around on his car and started to drive away

His boys said nothing, they only looked at him.

“Are we leaving (y/n)?”, Dean asked

“She is with her family now”, he said simply, but not convinced.

He tried to get his mind on the road ahead of him, he already had a lead on a new case, but he felt the intense gaze of his children on him, and when he looked at the rearview mirror, the station seemed to be staring back at him, the van… it was so weird…

“God dammit”, he muttered under his breath, turning the car around. That seemed to please them. The Impala brake in front of the building, and he got out of the car in a jump

He couldn’t just leave.

And he was going to be so glad he didn’t.

He heard a commotion inside the station, shouting, people screaming.

They were not a Benetton catalog couple after all

Fangs were drawn.

Vampires

There were only two, against John, a Sheriff and his apprentice. (y/n) was curled up against a corner in the office, screaming, scared out of her life, John had a bitter flashback from when he first found her, inside that Iron safe space.

They finished the vamps without much effort, and soon (y/n) had her small arms around John’s neck, not wanting to let go.

“Take the girl and go”, Sheriff Jefferson said, “don’t lose her”, John nodded, grabbed the bag “Petersons” had made her, and he also grabbed her documents the sheriff had gathered, put it in the impala next to his small arsenal, and then… he grabbed her and his kids and left right then and there, never looking back.

As he drove back to Bobby’s, and despite everything that happened, he realized that he had no answers, only more questions. The alarm between hunters had been raised and some were going to show up to slay the vampires, but he couldn’t be the one to do the work

He had a more important job at the moment. He thought, looking back at (y/n) chatting with Sam about their favorite animal they saw in a book.

He had no answers about her, only more questions

“So Vampires gathered to slaughter a woman” resumed Bobby, as he met with John and his other good friend.

“It's like that woman was their common enemy” he told them, looking out the window how the mysterious girl played with his sons, “They didn’t eat her or mangled her, they… I didn’t get to see but when I reached the house I saw her body cremated, like she had been burn up in flames”

“So she is another kind of monster” Bobby’s best friend chipped in

“But why would they team up like that?” Asked Bobby, but John didn’t listen as he kept looking at the kids. Dean and Sam looked at the little girl and she seemed excited, her body language told him she wanted to show them something, they walked towards an old wooden pallet. And he gasped in surprise when the little girl drew a small flame off her hand and set the pallet on fire

“SHIT!” John screamed, jumping from his chair and running towards the backyard door

Bobby followed him close by to find the kids surprised at their new friend’s trick

“How do you do that?” asked Sam, but John grabbed him and put him behind him to protect him just as he grabbed Dean. The little girl looked at them confused, like she did nothing wrong nor weird

“What are you?” asked John. She just looked back at them with her doe eyes

“I'm sorry!”, she said quickly, tears falling down her eyes

“What are you?”, he asked again, more calmly

“I don’t know!”, she said, but he could tell she didn’t know what to answer.

“Dad? what are you doing?”, asked Dean, releasing himself from his father’s hold. John’s eyes were towards the girl who looked back at him crying

Could he have been so mistaken? Was she a dangerous monster?

“I’m sorry for doing that”, she said simply, “I didn’t know that was important”, she explained, thinking this whole ordeal was because she set fire to a pile of useless wood

“Have you always been able to do that?”, he asked gently, more calmed, since she didn’t seemed to present any danger.

“Set things on fire?”, she asked softly, “yes”, was she the one that… no… that woman was her mother, how could she possibly have done that to her mother and then locked herself up in that box?

“You can’t do that anymore”, he said softly

“Alright”, she said softly, “I’m sorry”

He watched wide-eyed how the kids just went back inside Bobby’s house

He followed them back inside to an amazed Bobby and his friend. Was he insane for letting the girl near his sons? he was, but somehow, he wasn’t able to separate him

“What monsters do we know that are harmless but can set things on fire?”, he asked out loud

They raided the entirety of Bobby’s library, he even called some people, but nothing seemed too believable.

“Does she… feed? like other monsters?”, asked Bobby, already tired

“She eats with the boys”, John said, “and since the three days we have been with her she hasn’t shown signs of wanting to… feed on something else, nor to be hungry for souls or human flesh”, he said, looking back at the living room where his kids… Dean, Sam and the girl were curled up together like three cute kittens on the couch watching TV, “she sleeps normally, I have watched them, there is nothing strange about that…”

“I see”, they both looked at the children again, what surprised John the most is that even Dean had taken to her, he, who didn’t like anyone, nobody, was hugging her protectively against him. “She is so… precious…”, even Bobby, it only took one look from the little girl for him to go to town to get the three of them ice cream, “what if she is like… a siren?”

“A Siren”, John muttered, unconvinced, they looked at her again, “she doesn’t look like a Siren to me, Bobby, neither has she tried to convince us to do suicidal or homicidal things, just get her ice cream”, he said, “and sirens can’t set things on fire”

“Another type of monster then”, he said. “a witch”

“Witches aren’t born, they are made”, he said simply, “she is too young”. They kept reading, until Jim Murphy called them a couple of hours later, when the kids were asleep and they were deep in their fifth beer

“A phoenix”, muttered Bobby to John after he hang up, he didn’t believe it himself

“Apparently Phoenixes are hated by other monsters, they are very special creatures, immortals, they grow up like a normal beings and then when they reach a mature age they stay like that” Bobby read a book he didn’t even realized he had, on mythical lore, he himself believed to be bullshit

“I thought they were mythical creatures, legends” John said unconvinced, “How is she…?”, they looked at the kids, now sleeping on the ouch

“I don’t know man” he answered, looking at the same scene as his friend, “But, I believe that with iron…” John turned to see Bobby with an iron knife in his hand. He grabbed his wrist and shook his head as a no

“We shouldn't kill her, she is just a kid”, he said softly

“A kid that could turn into a monster” responded Bobby.

“She doesn't eat human flesh, she doesn’t eat souls or haunt people…”

“He could set you, or the boys on fire”, he said severely

“I’m not wasting an innocent child who just lost her family”, he said severely

“John, what are you doing?”, he asked

“I can’t do it Bobby”, he said, his friend only nodded, and they kept reading, but no matter how much they read, they couldn’t find a chapter on its book that spoke about how or if phoenixes could control their victims, they were no victims, except those who angered them and ended up burned

A few paragraphs, that is all there was. John didn’t know if finally knowing what she was was any better, he only got more questions. But the fact that monsters hated phoenixes made a bit more sense about the vampires.

So life needed to go on, if John wasn't going to… “get rid” of the girl, there was only one thing left to do.

John had another lead, another case, he needed to go on the road again, so the very next day, over breakfast with the kids, he broke the news.

“We are leaving”, he said gently, to see their reactions, the girl’s… wasn’t good

“Are you leaving me too?” she asked, about to broke into tears

“I have to work” he explained softly, Bobby grumbled something on the sort of “she is not staying here”

“Please don’t leave me!”, she screeched, standing up, running around the table, hugging into his legs, “is it because I set that thing on fire? Please, I won’t do it again! I’m sorry!” John’s jeans got wet with her tears, and he exchanged looks with Bobby

“I can’t take her with me Bobby” he explained, they both looked at the little girl, looking back at them with wide eyes

“She can’t stay…” Bobby said but not much convinced

“Bobby, it’s just going to be for a little while, I can't take her with me and leaving her alone with the boys it's just… too risky”

“And leaving her with me?”

“Just don’t upset her…or she is going to burn your house down” he smiled apologetically. He then turned to the little girl, “Sweetheart” he greeted the little one, leaning in and kissing her forehead. “it’s just for a little while”

“But I married Sammy, you can’t take him,” she said, frowning. John chuckled

“What do you mean?”, he asked softly

“I married them because they asked me”, said Dean, not impressed by the scene, eating his cereal

“Darling, I can’t leave you alone with the children if I don’t know you are not going to burn anything”, he said

“My mommy used to put me gloves”, she offered, “I won’t burn anything, I promise”

John and Bobby shared looks again. She was with them now, they couldn’t abandon her, the only thing they could do… was to embrace her into their world…. and pray it didn’t went poorly

#misguidedspn #john winchester #dean winchester #sam winchester #supernatural #spn #spn fanfic #spnfandom #john winchester x reader #john winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural au

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thefaeriemagic3 · 17 days

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i hope wherever daisyisawriter91 (author of 23 of 40 garth/benny fics on ao3) is they are having a good day

#supernatural #garthbenny #dj qualls #ty olsson #spn fanfic #spn

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winchester-reload · 3 months

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Art for the lovely fic “And Now We Live” by WhatWeDoInTheDark (aka @pattywinchester). Head over to Ao3 and show the author some love!!

Thanks for letting me make some art for it, my friend. And thank you for your lovely words 💓

#destiel #destiel art #destiel fic #my art #dean winchester #castiel #fanart #spn fanfic #spn fanart

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crushedbyhyperbole · 3 months

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Whiskey on the Tongue

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: You are the forbidden fruit Dean had always wanted to taste, and when you steal his whiskey the way you do, he is powerless to resist.

Words: 2.2k

A/N: This is my first ever Supernatural fic after having started watching the show just before Christmas. I know I'm late to the game but is it ever really too late to start loving a fandom? I've tried to make the reader generic in every way other than being cis-female, and Dean finding her hot.

It's been an absolute age since I wrote anything and probably longer since I posted anything here on Tumblr but I'm getting back into it now. Hopefully this finds its way to people in the Supernatural fandom who love a bit of Dean smut.

I hope you enjoy and, as always, I value your comments and feedback.

Warnings: Smut, explicit smut, alcohol consumption, mentions of people who have passed away, profanity as standard with pretty much everything I write.

*** Minors do not read or interact - 18+ content ***

Dean let his head fall back against the headboard, clenching his fists to try to distract himself from the deep ache in his left leg. It had been falling asleep for well over an hour now, but he didn’t want to move and disturb you.

The door to his room in the bunker was closed. Locked, in fact, though he did not remember doing it. You didn’t comment or so much as move when Sam brayed on the door and tried the handle, calling out for Dean to return his book. The very book that was in your hands right now.

“I need that book back, Dean.” Sam grumbled.

“Not now, Sammy!” Dean called back, hoping his little brother would just go away.

“I’m researching Nephilim to help Cas with the Kelly situation, Dean. It’s important.” Sam became more insistent.

“I said NOT NOW, SAM!” Dean hollered with a kind of finality that even Sam wouldn’t argue with.

Outside the door, Sam huffed and stalked away. Dean looked down to see you looking up at him from your position, lay on his bed. Your head was resting on his left calf, his leg bent with his foot tucked under his right knee. You had your knees up with your foot tapping along to his banging playlist, your jeans tight around your thighs and with your head tilted back he could see all the way down the deep V of your t-shirt.

He was going to hell. Straight there. Do not pass go. Do not collect two hundred dollars. And he probably deserved it.

He snapped his eyes up towards the ceiling but it was too late, he could feel himself stirring uncomfortably in his jeans. If Bobby was alive he would have skinned him raw just for having you in his room. Bobby was always protective of you, his niece. You were only a couple of years younger than Sam but Bobby had made himself very clear that you were off limits.

“If you touch one single hair on her body, I’ll make you regret the day your balls dropped. Do you hear me, boy?”

Bobby Singer. That man did not mince his words. And to this day, Dean had taken that threat as gospel. Even now that Bobby was up there with the Angels, that son of a bitch would find a way to keep his word.

You shifted, causing a painful twang to shoot up his leg. The reflexive grunt he failed to stifle made you look back up at him, giving him that glorious view again.

Dean decided he could die like this. If having a dead leg was a legitimate threat to his life, he would go out happy with the view of your rack in that lacy black bra he could see within the V-shaped window of that too-tight t-shirt.

He raised his eyes, once again to heaven, asking Bobby to forgive him or give him strength or something because – god help him – he wanted to take you right then and there.

It wasn’t unusual for you to seek him out after a case when you didn’t want to be alone, but you didn’t want to talk. You would just sit while he drank, reading or working on spells. You said he quieted the noise in your head. Hell, he wasn’t going to argue, you were a sight for sore eyes every time he came home. You were wicked hot and sexy in a non-slutty way. Not that slutty was bad. Dean liked slutty. But that wasn’t you, you were different.

A drink. That’s what was missing. Dean needed a damn drink, especially if you were going to torture him by laying on him all evening.

He reached over to his bedside unit, for the bottle he kept in there for special occasions. A bottle of twenty-five-year-old Speyside single malt that he liberated from the British Men of Letters on his last interaction with Ketch.

The pour made you stir again but it wasn’t until he raised the cut crystal tumbler to his lips did you move. Your hand came up and claimed the glass from underneath, twisting it as you sat up so as not to spill any.

“Where’s yours?”

The cheeky glint in your eye had him pursing his lips in mild annoyance.

“Don’t pout.” You lifted the glass, turning it until the mark left by his lips touched yours and you sipped, looking him straight in the eye.

Dean’s jaw went slack. The glisten of the whiskey on your lips and the satisfied hum you made when you swallowed – he swallowed unconsciously when you did – made his mouth go dry. He had never seen you like this.

You moved to kneel on the bed and walked your way slowly closer, giving his leg a tap; an instruction to move it aside. He did, causing pins and needles to infest his nerves like ants swarming on a log to escape a flood.

Knelt between his spread legs, you brought the glass to your lips again, sipping at the amber liquid. You leaned in.

Dean watched you, breathing shallow, attention rapt. You hadn’t so much as touched him, yet every nerve in his body felt like it was on fire in the best possible way. The closer you got the shallower he breathed until he was almost holding his breath, looking down his nose at how close your lips were. His eyelashes looked to flutter against his cheeks just as yours did when you brushed your whiskey dappled lips against his.

He refused to lick where you had been. He couldn’t. As soon as he tasted, he would pounce, and…

“Don’t.” He croaked out when you moved to lay your lips on him once more.

You looked confused but at least you didn’t look hurt. He couldn’t bear it if you looked hurt because of him.

“Bobby…” Was all he could say through his constricting throat.

You smiled then, full of amusement, lips brushing against his, you whispered “he’ll understand.”

Dean tried not to respond to you but you coaxed his lips apart and teased your tongue to meet his, short circuiting his brain. The taste of the scotch and the sweetness of your mouth made him groan. He had fantasised about having you for years, but never did he think it would be you seducing him.

His hands on your hips guided you roughly to straddle him, the bulge in his jeans pushing up against you as you settled. He took the glass from your hands and downed the contents, his eyes on yours as he dropped the glass carelessly on the bedside unit.

Your lips met his again but this time you devoured each other, tongues stroking together, moans stifled by each other’s mouths. He trailed his hands up your body, dragging your t-shirt along with them. Finally, he could see what he had been having glimpses of this whole evening. Plush breasts cupped in scant lace that was completely impractical for a hunt, Dean realised, like you had meant to come here like this. You had intended this from the beginning.

He tore at the lace, dragging it under your breasts to free them, shoulder straps slipped down. Pawing at them like he had never touched a tittie before, all he wanted to do was suck and nip and nibble.

Your breathy sigh was divine, and the moan that followed was filthy. You cupped the back of his head as he took your nipple into his mouth and sucked hard, pressing him further, asking for more.

While he worked on your breasts you undid his belt and fly, reaching into the front of his shorts to release him from the awkward angle at which he was trapped. You stroked him, firm but slow, feeling him for the first time. You had always wondered what he had going on down there that every woman he had ever been with would come back for more at the drop of a hat. You weren’t disappointed.

Dean lifted his hips, you thought to allow you to push his jeans down but instead he flipped you, making you squeal. Once under him, he ravished your breasts anew, pinching one nipple hard while licking and sucking the other. Soon you were a mewling mess, hips writhing, begging for something he hadn’t given you yet. Excited that he had taken control away from you, you watched him sit up and yank your jeans down, lifting your legs until they were bare. Your knickers followed and he spread your legs without preamble, lowering himself between your thighs until his hair and eyes were all you could see above your mound.

“Jesus Christ of Nazareth!”

You groaned as he suckled against your sensitive spot. Fuck, he was good with his tongue. Everything about him was good except his image. Bad boy Dean Winchester. He was every woman’s wet dream. He had been your wet dream since you were seventeen. But now you were plenty old enough and finally getting what you wanted.

Bobby had told you to stay away from him when you were a kid. Dean had a reputation as a ladies man even then, but he respected your uncle Bobby enough to keep his distance… until now.

Dean dipped two fingers inside, creating pressure in exactly the right spot. You gasped and gripped his hair as your pleasure began to crest, tugging on it for dear life. He looked up at you then, to see your eyes closed against the intensity of it, neck and face flushed red with your oncoming orgasm. When it came, the pulsing of your core was his sign to slow down. He left off his suckling and stroked you through the pleasure, watching you all the while. You were a beautiful mess.

“That’s my girl.” He praised you in that deep rough tone you adored, helping prolong your climax until you took his hand away yourself. “Are you ready for me?”

You nodded, allowing him to lift your knees up and stroke the weeping tip of his cock over your swollen clit.

From the front pocket of the jeans he still wore, he pulled a foil packet with Trojan embossed on it. He was swift with its application, aiming his tip just so.

When he slid home, your eyes rolled back and you reached to grip his forearms. It was something Dean would never get tired of seeing but it felt that much different with you. You were the forbidden thing he had always wanted but could never have. Even now he didn’t know whether he would come to regret this. God, he hoped not.

Balls deep in you, he leaned forward to kiss you, wrapping your legs around his hips. His instinct was to fold you in half and pound the living shit out of you, but you were already overwhelmed and he wanted to make this soft for you.

“Tell me what you need.” He spoke softly as he nuzzled your neck.

“Just you, like this.” You sighed. Who knew Dean Winchester was a considerate lover.

His slow, measured thrusts brought you closer to the edge, your core fluttering each time, he could feel it. It surprised him how quickly is climax built at this pace, but the added connection you both shared seemed to turn him on. He would never give up Busty Asian Babe porn but he could get used to this with you.

You didn’t close your eyes against the pleasure this time, you watched him come undone above you, gasping as his orgasm made his legs and arms shake, muscles clenched tight to keep his weight from collapsing on you. When he swelled you dug your fingers into his hips to pull him deeper with each stroke, and when he spilled you also came, eyes fluttering shut finally.

Dean knelt up, slipping the rubber off as soon as he was clear of you and, tying a knot in the end, tossed it in the direction of the trash can.

“Shot.” You said with a smile as the sticky bundle went straight in the can.

He quirked and eyebrow and give you a slightly smug lopsided smirk that said: What can I say? I don’t miss.

When you moved to sit, he stopped you.

“Here, lemme get that.”

“Thanks.”

He stripped his t-shirt off and used it to clean up the wetness between your legs. Though none of it was his, it would still dribble when you moved. Afterwards he tucked it under your ass and flopped down on the bed at your side, moving his arm behind your head so you could rest it on his chest. You were both content. Both had goofy grins on your faces. Both disbelieving that you had finally gotten what you wanted.

A loud knock at the door started you.

“Are you done?” Sam said. “I need that book.”

“NO!” You and Dean shouted back in unison, laughing afterwards.

“Bobby’s gonna kill you.” Sam called back through the door.

“I KNOW!” Dean yelled gruffly, pulling you closer.

There might be a time in the future where the ghost of Bobby Singer came to make him regret the day his balls dropped and, if it happened, Dean would be happy to see him again. In the meantime, you and he could work on a whole bunch of reasons to make the cranky old bastard come down from up high for a visit.

Dean pulled the sheets over both of your heads, nibbling at your neck until you moaned his name. Aside from the roar of Baby’s engine, he had found his new favourite sound.

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fanfiction #spn #supernatural fic #spn fanfic #dean winchester fic #cloudy's writing #my first spn fic

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fluffsnake · 7 months

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Suptober Day 3 - Inspired

#the way I had the sketch laying around for the whole month #but hey #it's still October :^)#suptober23 #suptober #destiel #deancas #spn fanart #supernatural #chuck shurley #supernatural fanart #spn fanfic #my art #carver edlund #rob benedict

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alexsoenomel · 4 months

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POV: Texts between You and Dean Winchester

Bonus if you like Pedro Pascal:

This is what happens when I can't sleep

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the-avengers-not-the-nazis · 3 days

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Strange human emotions

Summary: Castiel has been experiencing some rather strange emotions, especially ones that revolve around you.

Word count: 1.7k

A/n: No one really writes about Cas, and it’s a shame because him, Sam and Dean are my absolute favorite. But I hope you enjoy ;)

༺═────────────═༻

He could feel it coming up again, that same burning feeling in his chest that keeps him up deep into the night. Not that he can sleep to begin with, but still the feeling invaded his every thought as he waited for you and the brothers to wake up.

Cas didn’t know how to explain it, these strange human emotions that he had learned over the years, he didn’t understand them. He knew the ones that you and the boys had taught him, how it helped him learn to express how he felt to others. And he was truly grateful for it.

But, the ones that he was never taught always worried him. Like when he could feel when someone is staring at him, even though nobody is in the room with him. Or even worse when you are near, or when you touch his shoulder when you walk past him, or how about when you speak to him so beautifully that he feels his stomach churning into a weird fluttery feeling.

There must be something wrong, Cas would conclude, pacing the bunker’s library in the dead of night. Maybe you had been taken over by a shapeshifter and this was the universes way of warning him.

Yeah, that had to be it, but how would he tell Sam and Dean that? For Chucks sake you are one of their closest friends, how could he tell them that they would need to kill you?

No. No, he couldn’t kill you. He just needs to figure it out a bit more by morning, he couldn’t just go on a killing spree. It wouldn’t be right.

But if you were in danger or you are the danger then he would need to speak to the brothers about this. But, how?

Cas sat across from you and Dean, Sam to his right of the booth as he stared out the fogged window. The falling snow momentarily capturing his attention, the way each flake was built uniquely different from the other.

It amazed him how something so beautiful could end up in a world like this.

“Hey, Happy meal.” Dean suddenly spoke up, dragging Cas away from the window. “You gonna focus, or are we gonna have to tell you while we fight the sons of a bitches?”

“I’m focused.” Cas told the older man, his hands coming to rest in his lap.

“Mhm, yeah sure.”

Sam cleared his throat, turning his computer to face the others as he began to explain the current case to them. “So, Sophia Cocklen had reported her husband missing, nearly a month ago. And as of three days ago both her brother and eldest son have disappeared as well.”

“Has to have something to do with the men,” you spoke up, dipping a French fry in your ketchup before popping it in your mouth. “Because Sophia’s sister, mother and two daughters hadn’t been touched at all over the past month.”

Sam nodded, clicking on another tab as some police reports popped on screen. “That’s what I thought as well, but the thing is that none of them have any bad records on there name. And…”

Sams voice seemed to drift off, running farther and farther from his ears as the same burning feeling began to arise from his chest. He glanced at you for a quick second, the way you looked at your work and took it seriously. The way your eyes seemed to have a small sparkle in them when you spoke.

And especially the way your hair slightly fell in front of your eyes, hiding that sparkle that made his stomach erupt. It made him want to reach over the table and push it out of your way, just so he could catch another glimpse of…

You pushed your hair out of your face, halting Cas’s thoughts completely. Why was he thinking that? What were you and the boys talking about? Why did his body’s vessel feel so warm and sweaty? Was it getting hotter? What if you had turned evil? What if this was your way to slowly kill him off?

Him. Castiel, an angel of the Lord. Struck down by a woman that was more than likely possessed by a monster.

“Cas?” You questioned, facing the angelic being who seemed to be almost in a trance. “You alright? You look like your sweaty.”

Cas pulled at the collar of his trench coat, the feeling of sweat sliding down his neck. Boy, did he hate how the human body can physically act when you don’t need it to.

“Yes,” He told you rubbing his hands against his pants legs. “Yes I’m fine it’s just a little warm in here is all.”

“Really?” Dean asked, taking a quick sip from his lukewarm coffee. “It’s pretty cold in here to me, what about you Sam? Y/n?”

“Dean.”

“I’m just saying, you gotta focus in, Cas. You’ve been acting real edgy for the last couple of weeks.”

“I’m fine,” Cas told him, trying not to drag the situation down the rabbit hole. “It’s probably just… allergies.”

The boys and you shred a quick look with one another, knowing well enough that angels don’t have allergies. “Cassie?” You questioned leaning forward onto the table. “You don’t get allergies.”

Cas felt his face warm up, “That was just the first thing that came to mind.” He told you, his fingers fiddling with one another. “That’s what you all do.”

Dean smacked his lips, letting out a quick ok before continuing with his conversation. “As I was saying we need to go and search every place that these men where last seen at. And normally I would say go by ourselves to save them, but I’m not so sure what we are up against just yet. So Sam and I will head down to the bar the brother was last seen and Cas, you and Y/n can go and search the junkyard.”

Everyone agreed to Deans order, quickly finishing up their lunch before they need to head back out. Well almost everyone agreed. Cas sat there in his seat, pondering if he should pull Dean or Sam aside and ask if these feelings he is getting about you is bad or good. Because he does not want to harm others but at the same time he didn’t want to hurt you either.

He wanted to beat his head against the table, the thoughts that raced through his mind aggravated him. But what could he do about it? Wait… you and him were going to the junkyard to search for clues of the missing family members, he himself could interrogate you there. But, how?

༺═────────────═༻

At the junkyard, you and Cas kept you voices low, barley speaking a word to one another as you inspected the place. Your flashlight shined about the place, scoping out any and all items that could appear useful for the case.

“So, Sam said that the dad and son used to work here. Almost like a father-son business, you know?” You told him, shining the light in the angels direction, mindful not to blind him in the eye.

He nodded, unable to stop the fluttery filling the further he walked with you. It was killing him, he wanted to ask you what you were doing, because he knew for a fact it was neither of the boys. But, at the same time he didn’t know how to bring it up.

On one hand he could slowly bring up the topic, have a simple conversation before he would ask you. Though, on the other hand, he could just flat out ask you if you were trying to kill him. Because, that’s what it surely felt like. That you were killing him slowly and purposefully.

Cas came to a quick decision, he would hold a conversation with you then ask you. Simple as that, no harm no foul.

“Cassie?” You asked, that soft voice of yours causing his chest to burn and his stomach to twist into knots. What the hell were you doing to him? “Are you alright-“

“Are you trying to kill me?”

You were shocked by his sudden question, his straightforward tone and seriousness catching you off guard completely. “… No?”

“It sure doesn’t seem that way.” He continued to accuse, folding his arms over his chest like he’d seen Dean do plenty of times before. “Would you care tell why you are trying to kill me?”

“But, I’m not?” You told him, voice uncertain and slightly laced with worthy. “Why would you think that?”

Cas glanced around the junkyard, almost as if the answer was somewhere written in the piles upon piles of junk. “My chest has been burning every time you come close to me, or how about when my stomach make me feel like my vessel is going to induce vomiting. When I know for a fact that I don’t eat anything to make it do so.”

You stood silently, letting the words sink deep into your skin. His chest burned? His stomach felt like he was going to throw up? Why the hell would he have thought that you were trying to kill him? It honestly just sounded like his vessel was sick, or maybe he—

You cut your thoughts short, and it suddenly clicked in your mind. A sly smile gracing your lips as you walked towards the angel. “Oh, Cassie~” You sang out, free hand coming to play with the sleeve of his trench coat. “Do you have a crush on me?”

Cas furrowed his brows, eyes dancing across your face as you came closer. “…No? At least I don’t think so.”

A chuckle left your lips, standing up on your tip toes you gave the angel a quick kiss on his check. Watching as a light blush crept upon his cheeks. “I like you too, Cassie.” You turned back to the junkyard, flashing your light at an empty bathtub and broken mattress, leaving the poor angel stuck in his spot.

Cas lifted a hand to where you had kissed him, the ghost of your lips making his heart stutter in his chest. Damn you, he thought to himself. Damn you and these strange human emotions.

#dean winchester #dean x y/n #dean winchester x reader #dean x you #dean x reader #sam x y/n #sam x you #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester #crowley x reader #castiel x reader #castiel #crowley #spn #supernatural #lucifer spn #spn fanfic #spn rewatch #lucifer supernatural

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 1 month

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Imagine...Dean and You Getting Hurt On A Hunt

Pairing: Dean x reader

You could hear Dean asking a paramedic a million questions, not a single one concerned about himself. You opened your eyes to find yourself in the back of an ambulance, Dean lying on a stretcher beside you. He could tell you were awake and struggled to reach over to you but couldn’t. Instead he thrashed his head back against his pillow in defeat, straining against the straps that held him down.

“Sir, I need you to calm down,” said the paramedic as you blinked slowly at Dean. You knew something was wrong with you, with both of you, but you weren’t quite sure what that was yet. You struggled when you saw Dean upset. You wanted him to feel better. “You need to relax, she’s seeing you panic and that’s making her do the same.”

Dean stopped as he took in how your heart rate had skyrocketed, how scared you looked. He sighed and forced himself to stay calm. You saw him relax and heard him say it was okay. Neither of you enjoyed the feeling of being tied down, especially when the both of you were in plain view of one another and couldn’t reach each other. You tried to speak but couldn’t as you felt how raw your throat was.

“We’ll be at Mercy West in just a few minutes,” said the paramedic to Dean as you half-listened.

“No, take us somewhere else!” yelled Dean suddenly, fighting again. The paramedic sighed as you both started struggling once more. You didn’t have much of an idea of what was going on but if Dean didn’t want to go there, it wasn’t safe.

“I’m going to give each of you a sedative and by the time you wake up, you’ll be in your hospital beds feeling a lot better,” he said gently.

“No, don’t you touch her,” said Dean as you started to get very sleepy. The last thing you saw was Dean shutting his eyes as you finally remembered what had happened.

If Sam didn’t get to you soon, you were screwed.

___________

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queen-of-deans-booty · 5 months

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Across Every Universe

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.1k

Warnings: fluff

Request by anon: Hey Jordan, can i request something where Dean Winchester always have a crush on the reader but never said something to her until one day Sam and Dean are transported (based on the episode French Mistake) and Dean actor Jensen and is married to the reader of the universe and she pass the whole day giving Dean hug and kisses because for everyone is Jensen. When Dean and Sam came back to their universe him and the reader start dating? Fluff

Summary: Sam and Dean are taken back to the same place where Dean is known as Jensen Ackles and Sam as Jared Padalecki. This little trip makes Dean realize his feelings for you.

Square Filled: "god, if only you knew what you did to me" (2023) for @spnaubingo

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

No matter the position you’re in, you’re not comfortable. It doesn’t matter if you lie down on your side, your back, or your stomach. Not to mention the heater isn’t working in the Bunker so it’s very cold. You have three blankets over you while wearing long sleeves and pajama pants. The broken heater doesn’t help your running cold either. You’re not sure where you caught it from but you’ve been trying to stay away from the brothers to not get them sick.

That doesn’t keep Dean away, though.

He’s a complete sweetheart to you since he always brings you soup, makes sure you’re comfortable, and spends time with you even if you tell him not to go near you. You don’t know what you’d do without Dean in your life.

Speaking of, he knocks on your door and enters wearing his usual hunting attire.

“Going on a hunt?” you ask and sit up slightly.

“Yeah. I wish I could stay here and take care of you.”

“Other people need you,” you smile. “I’ll be fine. I’m going to stay in bed, watch movies, and make some soup later. Did you fix the heater, yet?”

“I have someone coming in a few days. He’s also on a hunt.”

“Right, no non-hunters here,” you chuckle.

“I’ll call you later and check up on you, okay?”

“My hero.”

You cuddle with your blankets more and Dean leaves your room with a slight blush on his cheeks. Before he closes the door, he looks back at you in thought. God, if only you knew what you did to me.

He closes your door and meets his brother in the library. As soon as they are packed and ready to go, they start the long drive to the next state over. When Dean gets onto the highway, Sam turns to Dean with a knowing smile.

“So, did you tell her how you feel?”

“Stay out of it, Sammy,” Dean rolls his eyes.

“How long have you had a thing for her? Years? When are you going to tell her how you feel?”

“I mean it, Sam. Stay out of it. I can handle it on my own.”

“Apparently not, or else she’d be yours.”

Dean punches his brother not gently in the arm and Sam laughs. Dean kept the music high so he could avoid talking about his feelings for you. They get to the town that has its residents sacrificing themselves in the name of God. If anything, it warrants some kind of visit from the Winchesters.

The town looks like a normal town with normal people just trying to live their normal lives. They have no suspicions that something is happening but they only just arrived. They get there late at night so they will have to do their work tomorrow morning. Dean takes out his phone when his brother goes into the bathroom to shower and calls you.

“Hey, how are you feeling?”

“I’m doing alright but not any better.”

“Did you take your medicine?”

“Yes, I did.” He can hear the smile in your voice and that makes him smile. “And I ate my soup and drank water.”

“Don’t forget to tell her goodnight,” Sam says loudly from the bathroom.

Dean grabs a pillow and chucks it at his brother. “Go take a shower. You stink.”

“Goodnight, Dean,” you chuckle, having heard Sam.

“Night sweetheart.” He hangs up and turns to his brother with a scowl. “I hate you.”

Sam and Dean actually get more than four hours of sleep that night but when Dean wakes up, he doesn’t recognize his surroundings. The motel is gone, the shutty beds and blankets are gone, and the peeling wallpaper is gone. What replaces it is a nice trailer, a comfortable bed, a big aquarium, and other nice shit that Dean has never had.

“Sammy?” he calls out. He gets up and leaves the small trailer only to run into Sam. “What the hell is going on? Where are we?”

“I don’t know.” Sam looks around and spots a name on the side of the trailer that’s behind Dean. “Oh, no. Look.”

Dean turns and sees the name ‘Jensen Ackles’ on the side. He turns back around and sees ‘Jared Padalecki’ on the trailer opposite his.

“You’ve got to be kidding me? We’re back in actor land? What happened last time?”

“Gabriel sent us here to avoid Raphael and his minions. I have no idea how we ended up here.”

“I bet it has something to do with the fact that people were sacrificing themselves in the name of God. My guess is that angels are involved.”

“There you two are.” Sam and Dean turn to see Castiel--Misha--walking toward them. “They’re looking for you two.”

“Yeah, we’re coming.”

If Sam and Dean didn’t do a good job trying to act last time, then they certainly aren’t going to do a good job now. It’s funny in hindsight but it makes for a very long day of filming. After the twentieth time messing up, Dean is ready to get the hell out of there to figure out how to get back to his world.

He looks to the right and sees you at the snack bar. He immediately calls for a time-out and leaves the set.

“Time out?” the director frowns and looks at him. “Everyone, take ten!��

“Y/N?”

“Come here, you have to try this. Gen made it,” you grin at Dean. You take a scoopful of food and present it to him. He opens his mouth and accepts the food, pleasantly surprised by the taste. “Oh, you have something on your mouth.” You wipe his bottom lip with your thumb and lick the food off. Dean is so confused about your behavior but doesn’t have time to figure it out. Your phone rings and you check who is messaging you. “I gotta go. Gen is here.”

You lean up and kiss him quickly before walking off. Dean can’t move after that quick kiss. You did it so casually like you’ve done it a thousand times. He is forced to go back to acting but he can’t do a good job because all he’s thinking about is your lips on his.

They aren’t getting enough filming done so the director calls it for the rest of the day. Sam and Dean convene outside to make it look like they’re busy so no one else talks to them.

“She kissed me, dude.”

“What?”

“Y/N or the woman who she’s supposed to be. She kissed me like we’re together or something.”

“Look, I’m glad you’re going through the five stages of teenage excitement but can we focus here? How are we going to get out of here?”

Dean looks around and spots you entering his trailer.

“Eh, you’ll figure it out. I’ll be back.”

Dean leaves to his trailer and Sam rolls his eyes in annoyance.

“Dean!” he hisses but receives no answer.

Dean enters his counterpart’s trailer and sees you where the bed is. You’re grabbing some night clothes out of the drawers since you’re not going to be leaving the trailer for the rest of the night.

“Hey, I talked to Gen about the cabin and she got it all set up for us this weekend. I’m so excited to spend some time away from all this for two days.”

“Are we dating?” The comment makes you laugh. “What?”

“Are you okay?” He looks kind of nervous so you walk over to him and wrap your arms around his neck. “I don’t know what’s going on with you but I do know how to make you feel better.”

“How?” he whispers.

You run your hands down his chest and take his hands. You take him to the bed and toss your night clothes onto a nearby chair. You fall onto the bed while pulling him so he lands on top of you but he stops himself with his hands so he doesn’t completely crush you.

You pull him down to kiss you and that’s enough to bring Dean into the delusion that you’re Y/N and you’re his. Your lips are softer than what he thought and your body fits so perfectly against his. He slips his tongue into your mouth to get familiar with you. You tug on his hair to get some traction so he pulls away from your mouth and kisses down your neck.

Your neck has always been a sensitive spot for you and he really knows how to work you up. He licks up and down your neck before latching onto the side of it. You gasp, tilt your head back, and moan something that brings Dean back down to reality.

“Jensen.” You’re not his. You’re not you. You’re Jensen’s. You’re not supposed to be with him. He pulls away and pants above you. “What’s wrong?”

“Can we just lay here instead?”

“Yeah, of course. Let me get changed.”

You slip out from underneath him and grab the pajamas you set aside earlier. You strip down naked and Dean has a hard time not looking at you. He can’t help but think you’re a complete stranger. The pajamas you’re wearing are revealing but he feels better at looking at you with clothes on. You climb into bed with him and cuddle into his side, and he tucks a strand of your hair behind your head.

“How did I get so lucky?”

“I’m the lucky one.”

“Tell me the story of how we met.” You look at him in confusion. “I want to hear it from you.”

“Okay, I got tickets to a red carpet event that my ex-friend invited me to. We were going to see the movie My Bloody Valentine because we thought it was going to be the next big movie. The entire cast was there, including you, meeting fans and taking pictures with them. When we locked eyes, it was like something was pulling you to me.

“You came over to me, complimented me on my dress, signed my poster with your number on it which I still have, and the rest is history. I never got together with you because you were a big celebrity. You were genuine, kind, funny, charming, and very sexy. It was hard not to fall in love with you.”

Dean notices the big ring on your finger and puts the pieces together.

“We’re married?”

“Yes, we are,” you laugh. “Are you okay?”

“I’m just… really happy.”

You lean over and kiss him. The next morning, Dean leaves his trailer before you get up. He doesn’t want to wake you even though he wants to. He finds Sam outside his own trailer with a book in his hands.

“Hey,” Dean sighs.

“I might have found a way out of here, no thanks to you.”

“What if we didn’t leave?”

“Are you kidding me?”

“The love of my life is my wife here.”

“That’s not your wife, Dean. She’s Jensen’s wife. She thinks you’re him. Why would you take that away from him? You have a girl waiting for you at home, a girl with whom you’re too scared to do anything about. Don’t take her away from him because you want what they have.”

Dean knows he’s right. He can’t stay here. He’s using this world as an escape from his own.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Dean sighs. “What do you have?”

“I found this book in the prop section. This might be a TV show but it does have some useful books to make it look real. There’s a ritual we can do.”

And a ritual it is. Once they get the stuff needed and perform it, they are brought back to the town they arrived in a couple of days ago. In order to properly tackle this town, they’re going to need some angelic help. Maybe Castiel can meet them back at the Bunker and figure something out then.

The first thing Dean does when he gets home is go looking for you. You’re still stuck in bed watching your favorite movies on Disney+. You pause your movie when your bedroom door opens.

“Hey, how was the hunt?” Dean doesn’t say anything as he kicks off his shoes. He climbs into bed with you and pulls you close to him. “Dean?”

“I love you,” he blurts. “I should have told you this years ago but I can’t seem to think straight when I’m with you. You make everything better for me, and you’re a better hunter than I ever was. God, I love you so much.”

“I’d kiss you but I don’t want to get you sick,” you smile.

“I don’t care,” he whispers and kisses you.

This is where he belongs. Right next to you.

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

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thesilmarillionblog · 2 months

Text

yeah i don't care..

#the boys series #jensen ackles #soldier boy x reader #spn fanfic #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfiction #castiel #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #soldier boy fanfiction #castiel x reader #supernatural x reader #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #ao3 feed

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zepskies · 27 days

Text

Rest

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean is your rock, but you’ve become his place of rest.

AN: Surprise! Just something short and sweet for Dean. 💜

Word Count: 600

Tags/Warnings: Established relationship; fluff, hurt/comfort, tinge of angst

On nights like these, the urge hits you the most.

You’re already in bed, wearing one of his old shirts and little else. You’re waiting for Dean, watching him finish brushing his teeth. He wraps it up by splashing some water on his face.

He stops for a moment, with his hands on the edges of the sink. He looks at his reflection and rubs a hand over the thick stubble on his face.

It’s halfway to beard territory. He needs a trim, he’s probably thinking.

(You don’t mind a little extra scruff.)

He hesitates, looking deeper at his own reflection. You notice the lines around his tired eyes, the weight of the last hunt still heavy on his shoulders. It's weighing on yours too, having carved out another small notch in your heart.

But you also know how many more layers this man carries, including the ones he adds himself.

“Dean,” you prompt quietly.

His head turns in your direction, and you give him a smile, beckoning him over.

Again, he hesitates. But he goes to you. After dipping his side of the bed with his weight, he smoothes a hand over your hair in affection. He takes off his father’s watch; the last piece of the hunter’s armor before he lays down on his back beside you. The old metal and leather watch clunks on the nightstand.

He then opens an arm to welcome you over, where you routinely find a place against his side.

“Come ‘ere,” he murmurs, his voice low and gravel. Your lips curve, but you gently push his arm back down to his side.

“Turn over,” you say, making a rolling gesture with your finger. Dean’s brows knit together in confusion, but he’s just curious enough to heed the encouragement of your hands on his arm and his back. He turns onto his side, facing away from you.

You settle yourself higher on your pillows, and you guide him backwards, until he’s resting against your soft upper body. You wrap your arms over his broad shoulders, and your hand moves, soothing across his chest. Even now, you feel the tension in his frame.

“Relax,” you say in a near whisper. You press a lingering kiss to his cheek. “I’ve always wanted to be the big spoon.”

A smile raises the corners of Dean’s lips. He even chuckles, shaking both of you.

“Yeah? Feels kinda weird,” he admits. He doesn’t think he’s been held like this since he was a kid.

“Well, give it a minute,” you say, with a bit of cheekiness.

Then you sigh and settle into this yourself. When your arms cross over his chest, Dean grabs your wrist, holding you there. He lets out another deep breath of his own.

Okay, he agrees, if only in his mind. Not bad.

He does relax against you, inhaling the floral scent of your body wash, feeling the tickle of your hair on his shoulder, and the gentle rise and fall of your breath. It's all familiar, and reminds him that he's home.

Dean leans over to turn off the light on his nightstand, but he returns to your embrace. He reaches back, just to stroke your cheek in a silent thanks. Smiling in the dark, you lay another kiss on the side of his head, and you close your eyes.

Dean does the same. He lets your warmth seep into his body, releasing the tension of a shitty hunt. He tries to let go of the faces he couldn’t save.

And he actually rests.��

AN: Just one of my little daydreams that I finally got a chance to write down. 💜

Ko-Fi Me ☕

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Dean W. Tag List:

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms

@foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @roseblue373

@this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma

@iprobablyshipit91 @melancholictearz @nic-kolas @sanscas @sleepyqueerenergy

@wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons

@anticxrrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk

@midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19 @agalliasi @venicesem

@chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @deansbbyx

@candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @deanfreakingwinchester

@chernayawidow @mimaria420 @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @waywardxwords @waynes-multiverse

#Rest #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x female reader #supernatural #spn #dean x reader #dean x you #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester fanfiction #jensen ackles #jensen ackles characters #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfic #zepskies writes

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wraithlafitte · 26 days

Text

even it up

pairing: dean winchester x f!reader

CONTENT: violence (hunting), graphic descriptions of injuries and repairing them, SMUT, unprotected piv, dean might have a pain kink (or a competency kink), praise (m!receiving), blowjob, riding, (reckless) choking, edging (m!receiving), begging, biting, overstimulation

word count: 4.7k

a/n: part 2 to bitchin'. sorry it took so long! i got busy with schoolwork, but the semester's almost up so we'll be back to our regularly scheduled programming soon. thanks for your patience!

Silence filled the rental car as you and Dean drove to the location you'd tracked the missing vampires to. You had woken up tangled together, naked, dried bodily fluids a stark reminder of how far you'd fallen. You hadn't said a word to him all morning, and even Dean was devoid of his usual quips. At least you seemed to agree: last night was a mistake, and shouldn't happen again.

You parked the car in an unmarked, cracked parking lot a few blocks away from the abandoned house. Dean was out the door before you pulled the key from the ignition, rushing to the trunk to grab his weapons. You sighed and went after him, slamming the door behind you.

You stopped to the side of the trunk. "Dean."

"What," came his gruff reply from under the trunk lid. The sparse weeds growing through the pavement were suddenly very interesting.

"We should talk-"

Dean slammed the lid of the trunk, causing you to jump, and tossed you a machete, which you caught easily despite being startled.

"Let's just get the job done," he said, his face hard and unyielding as he made eye contact with you.

You looked away quickly, avoiding his stony gaze. "Fine," you mumbled. Those weeds sure were growing. Kind of how Dean had started to grow on you... persistent, despite the unforgiving terrain.

Shaking your head, you fell into step behind Dean as he started walking down the uneven sidewalk.

Your hands were deft as you picked the lock of the back door to the old, peeling green house. All the windows were boarded up, so you had no idea what was waiting for you directly behind this door, but if there was one thing you could count on, it's that if something did charge you, Dean would chop its head off. Not necessarily because he wanted to save you, but because he liked killing monsters. And you had a feeling that he had some anger he might want to take out on something deserving.

The lock finally clicked and you pushed the door open cautiously. It opened into a dirty mudroom, scattered with shoes and coats of all sizes and styles. Your stomach turned as you realized they must have belonged to victims.

Dean noticed it too. "Let's go," he said grimly and pushed past you into the building, machete held high.

You picked up your own machete from the ground where you had set it to pick the lock and followed Dean. He was quick, peeking past corners before whipping around and advancing down the hallways, pressed flat against the wall. You were less... dramatic about your caution, choosing to let him clear the way.

Dean stopped suddenly and threw an arm back, stopping you in place. For a second, you were distracted by the way his hand pressed back against you, fingers almost curling around your shirt, touching but not quite. A breeze through a broken window sent a wave of his Old Spice scent in your direction that almost overtook you. Then you came to your senses and slapped his hand away.

You peered past him to see what it was. You had come across a bedroom, in which three vampires were snoring away unwittingly. You recognized them from the warehouse.

Dean looked back at you and nodded, creeping into the room. You each went to a side of the bed and made eye contact over the sleeping monsters in front of you.

One, Dean mouthed, raising his blade.

Two, and you followed suit.

Three, and both of you swung. The blood of two vampires splattered the white sheets, and the third leapt up immediately, fangs descending. She stood on the bed, ready to pounce on Dean, when you pulled her legs out from under her. The vamp fell to the mattress, where you unceremoniously chopped off its head.

"Nice move," Dean muttered, wiping his blade and already walking towards the door. "Let's clear the rest of the house."

You checked the remaining rooms on the ground floor, while Dean hurried upstairs. You found nothing in the dilapidated rooms except some mice and rotting wood floors.

A loud pounding and scuffling sounded on the ceiling above you, accompanied by the unmistakable sound of metal hitting the floor. You turned and ran up the stairs two at a time.

Dean was locked in hand-to-hand combat with a vamp on the landing, his machete lying some distance away. Blood trickled down his temple. The ornate bronze candlestick the vampire wielded had a matching red stain.

The vampire hooked his beefy arm around Dean's neck and slammed him face first into the wall, shattering the glass on a picture frame that hung there. You seized the opportunity of having his back to you and rushed up behind him, hacking at his neck. Only his neck was so thick and muscular that your blade barely went through a third of it.

The vamp dropped Dean on the ground and slowly turned on you, your machete still stuck in its neck. Your eyes darted to where Dean's machete had fallen, and you scrambled backwards to pick it up, almost tripping on a rug in the process, but successfully retrieving it anyway. You brandished in front of you as you got backed into a corner, your last line of defense.

It had the audacity to laugh at you. "You think that's gonna work?" he taunted, bearing down on you and shadowing you from the meager sunlight coming through a window in an adjacent room.

In your periphery, you saw Dean rising from the ground, eyes fixed on the weapon stuck in the vampire's neck. You suppressed the urge to glance at him fully as he crept up behind the monster. He took hold of the machete handle and yanked.

It was no good. The vamp whirled on him, socking him in the jaw. You saw your chance. Dean was down for the count and the vampire had its back turned again. You ran up and swung with all your might in the opposite direction. The vamp's head rolled.

Dean looked up at you from the ground where he had fallen, panting hard. “You’re welcome,” he breathed heavily.

“For what? I saved your ass,” you reminded him, holding out a hand to help him up.

“If I hadn’t distracted it, you wouldn’t have been able to get it,” he said while standing, obviously trying to repair his ego.

You rolled your eyes and dropped his hand roughly. “Oh please.” You started down the stairs to head back to the car.

“At least we got them all now,” Dean commented, stomping down the stairs behind you.

You ignored him all the way back to the car and all the way back to the hotel as he continued to try to convince you that you hadn’t done all the work.

The sun was setting by the time you got back to the hotel, all shades of red and orange that reminded you of the blood you had spilled today. It reflected off the Impala, parked in front of the side door of the hotel. And it bathed Dean in a warm golden light that bounced off his freckled skin and made him look like he was glowing.

Ew, what am I thinking, you scolded yourself. He's just sweaty. He's a gross, sweaty man who you hate and never want to be intimate with again. He doesn't look sexy at all right now.

You were brought back to earth as Dean winced heavily while hauling his bag out of your trunk to transfer it to his car. His hand went to his ribs, tenderly feeling around for cracks.

"You should come inside so I can check you out," you said without thinking.

Dean looked at you incredulously. "Yeah, I bet you'd love to check me out, but I gotta go."

You rolled your eyes, feeling a blush creep up your neck. "Not what I meant. You're obviously hurt, let me take a look. I can patch you up better than you can yourself."

He threw his bag into the trunk of the Impala and slammed it shut. "Fine. If you'll let me leave after."

You prepared your first aid kit while Dean stripped off his top layers. You could have just gotten what you needed as you went, but you were preparing yourself for seeing him shirtless again... in the same environment that you'd fucked in last night.

You turned around, heart rate picking up. You were just making yourself nervous more than anything. You'd seen him shirtless thousands of times before. It's fine, it's normal.

And there he was.

Half-naked.

Sweaty.

Groaning.

Dean sat down gingerly on the edge of the bed, trying to look down his side, where deep red bruises were already formed. They were accompanied by a gash on his chest, presumably where the vampire's claws had cut into his skin as it tossed him around.

You kneeled in front of him and began examining his ribs, making sure to be gentle as you ran your fingers over each bone. Goosebumps rose on his flesh in the path of your hands. "Well, good news, nothing's broken."

Dean gave a pained sort of grimace-smile. "Great. So I can leave." He made to get up off the bed, but you held down his thighs.

"Not so fast," you said. "Let me fix up that cut."

"It's fine, really, I can do it myself," he protested. He met your determined gaze and slumped back.

"Fine. Make it quick."

You poured some antiseptic on a gauze pad. "This is gonna sting."

"I know, sweetheart, this ain't my first rodeo," Dean griped.

You gave him an expressionless look like I-am-so-done-with-you and pressed the soaked gauze to the cut. Dean hissed through his teeth, fingers tightening into the blanket beneath him. You wiped away the blood and the grime, revealing how deep the cut was.

"I'm gonna have to close this up," you told him. "It's deeper than I thought." You begin rummaging through the first-aid kit for the suture needle you knew was around somewhere. A hunter's first-aid kit was a little more elaborate than most.

You carefully threaded the needle, tongue poking through your lips, then looked up at him. "Ready?"

Dean's expression hardened and he grabbed the t-shirt he had been wearing, wadded up one end, and shoved it in his mouth.

Your brow furrowed in concentration as you wove the needle through his delicate skin, meticulously joining the two sides. You worked as quickly and as steadily as you could, painstakingly making sure to sew him up in a way that wouldn't scar too much. Dean did his best to keep quiet, occasionally grunting in pain, his face scrunching up around the shirt in his mouth.

You reached the end of the cut and adeptly tied off the thread, snipping the loose end off. Dean spat the chunk of t-shirt out of his mouth and tossed it to the side.

You made eye contact for a moment as you covered the wound site with a bandage, then Dean shifted his eyes to the side. "Thanks," he said after a minute.

"You sure you want to go? Why don't you rest one more night before getting on the road?" you asked softly, placing your hand on his knee soothingly. His leg twitched under your hand.

"I should go...." Dean protested half-heartedly, not making any move to get up. Did he want to stay?

"Got somewhere to be, Winchester?" you teased. Testing your theory, you rubbed his thigh a couple times. His eyes fluttered half-closed and he looked at you darkly through his lashes.

"Don't," he murmured, uncharacteristically non-combative. His hand crept around your wrist, holding your hand on his leg.

You looked up at him from your place between his legs. "You say one thing, but do another," you said softly. "What do you want, Dean?"

Dean bit his lip and let go of your hand, clasping his together in his lap and dropping his gaze to them. You waited a beat, then grabbed his hands, pulling them to your chest.

"Look at me, Dean," you commanded. His eyes flew up in surprise. "Tell me what you want."

His expression changed from surprised to irritated to aroused. He grabbed you by the shoulders.

"You."

You grinned and stood up to clamber onto him, leaning down to capture his lips in a kiss, Dean's hands ghosting across your back and legs, helping you into his lap. You wrapped your arms around his neck, holding him as close as possible as you made out and rolled your hips down onto his hardening cock.

Dean groaned and broke away. "Let me fuck you," he rasped, pupils blown.

A lovely mischievous idea occurred to you. You pouted. "You'll hurt yourself. Let me take care of you." You slid off his lap onto the floor and turned away, pulling your own shirt over your head. "Get comfortable on the bed."

In the fake gold plated mirror on the wall, you saw Dean look you up and down hungrily. Then he quickly stripped the rest of his clothes off and sat against the headboard. You slowly lowered your jeans, then your panties, being as teasing as possible, knowing he was watching.

"Come here," he barked finally. You turned to face him, bra still covering your breasts.

"So demanding," you breathed, but went to him anyway. You sat down on his thighs and looped your arms around his neck again, pulling him in for a kiss, which he swerved in favor of mouthing kisses into your neck and jaw. You moaned a little as he paid attention to a sensitive vein. Your hips almost involuntarily rolled forward, meeting his lower stomach.

His hands, which had just been resting on your thighs, squeezed harshly into the supple flesh of your hips. You yelped as he dug his fingers into the bruises he had left the day before.

"You said you would take care of me," Dean said snarkily, staring pointedly at his cock between you. You smirked and wrapped your hand around its base, admiring the reddening tip. You slowly squeezed your hand up from the base to the tip, and were rewarded with a thick drop of precum leaking out and dripping down the side. Dean huffed, a dark flush spreading across his neck and chest.

You scooted down his legs until your face was level with his crotch. Making teasing eye contact with him, you slowly stuck out your tongue and licked his cock from his balls up, flicking off the tip. Dean growled, his skin and gaze fiery.

"Quit'cher teasing," he slurred, tilting his head back to knock against the headboard.

You found significant pleasure in weakening him, and although you'd have liked to keep teasing him, you wanted to make him come undone. So you took his cock into your mouth, sucking gently on the fat head, savoring the salty taste of him.

"Fuck," Dean whispered, head still back, eyes closed. You swirled your tongue around a few times, then started lowering your head, taking him further and further into your mouth. He reached for your head but you caught his hand and held it down to the bed.

You raised your head, letting his cock fall from your mouth, a string of drool still connecting the two. "Trust me," you said, raising your eyebrow.

"I don't trust you as far as I can throw you," he groaned.

"Don't make me tie you down," you warned. "I will."

"I'd like to see you try- ngh!" You squeezed the base of his cock tightly and watched as it turned red and Dean squirmed beneath you, mouth agape and panting. He truly was a beautiful, lewd sight.

"Mind your stitches," you reminded him gently. "Lie still." You loosened your hold on his cock and began sliding your hand along it languidly.

Dean visibly relaxed, eyes fluttering open. You lowered your mouth back onto his cock, taking him all the way to the back of your throat and swallowing around him. Your eyes watered and stung, but the groan he let out was worth it. You repeated the process a couple more times, then pulled off and looked up at him. He regarded you darkly and lustfully as you grabbed his hand and brought it to the side of your face, allowing him to lace his fingers through your hair and grab a handful.

A handhold.

You nodded slightly and dropped your jaw, mouth waiting above his heavy cock. Dean's mouth slowly grew into a grin.

"Want me to fuck your face, huh? Guess that's one way you can help me out." He shoved your head down onto him. You gagged as his tip hit the back of your throat. "Fucking slut, letting a guy fuck your mouth just 'cuz you feel sorry for him." He began bobbing your head up and down. His grip on your hair made your scalp tingle.

You made a little moan of protest. It turned into the most obscene gurgling, gagging sound as he continued to use you like a human fleshlight.

You gripped his wrist and tugged his hand out of your hair so you could pull off of his cock. You looked at him through narrowed eyes. "I will stop."

"Yeah, right," Dean scoffed, out of breath. "You practically threw yourself on me."

You smirked, moving up to straddle him, and pinned his hand to the headboard. "I think you'll find that, both times, it was the other way around."

Before Dean knew what was happening, you ambushed him with a handcuff snapping around his wrist, the other side looped haphazardly on the bedpost. It didn't matter that it wasn't secure. He didn't have enough leverage to lift it over the tall post and free himself.

While he snarled, distracted, you trapped his other wrist in the same way. You smiled down at him sweetly when his angry face turned to you.

"I did warn you," you said, grinding down on his lap. "But I guess I should've known better than to give you any control. It was always going to come to this, wasn't it?"

"You bitch," Dean said through gritted teeth, straining forward against his restraints.

You leaned forward and pressed your lips to his neck, his jaw, his earlobe. "Just say the word if it's too much."

You felt him relax underneath you, then he nipped at your ear. "How weak do you think I am? Do your worst," he sneered.

You rose above him, triumphant. "Oh, I will, baby." You ground your wet core against his cock, still slick with your spit. He ground his teeth more, trying not to react. You threaded your fingers through his hair and tugged gently.

And oh, how beautiful it was that he let his head loll back, giving himself into your control, eyes fluttering shut. Then he seemed to snap to his senses and he opened his eyes, muttering, "Just ride me already."

"Patience," you whispered, and began kissing him. You kissed down his neck, across his chest (avoiding the stitches), down his stomach through the soft hairs that led back down to his pretty cock, laying on his stomach and leaving droplets of precum like dew in the hairs.

You blew softly across his length as you considered the best way to make him unravel for you. He let out a low groan, quiet and strained. You smiled to yourself and lowered your mouth back onto his cock, running your tongue lightly along the thick vein that ran up its underside, tracing the life-force that pulsated beneath his skin. He huffed softly in quick succession.

"Breathe," you murmured against his dick, and licked the tip gently, slo-o-owly. Dean made a pretty noise that was halfway a grunt and halfway a breathy sigh, and your pussy fluttered between your legs.

You clambered back up his body, your knees framing his waist as you hovered over him. His eyes were completely clouded by lust, an eager expression taking over his face. You took hold of his cock and lined it up with your body. His breath hitched in anticipation.

You cocked your head, smiling. "What do you say?"

Dean scowled. "Fuck you, I'm not begging."

"Oh, but you already have, Dean." You stroke his cock gently where it waits between your legs. "What's one more word?"

His eyes threatened to close against his will. He gritted his teeth, opened his mouth, closed it, sighed, and spoke. "Please," he whispered.

"Good boy," you praised, sinking down onto his cock slowly. You moaned loudly as you felt him fill you up again. It almost felt better now that you were taking your time with him. Dean moaned softly, arms finally relaxing in his bonds.

Your head dipped down and you kissed him. His mouth was soft and pliant against yours, not fighting, not working to dominate, and you had the fleeting thought that you had tamed him. You didn't know how, but in this moment, he was completely submissive. And you liked it.

You raised yourself up and drew off his cock until just the head remained inside, then slid back down slowly, like you had at first. Dean leaned forward, held back somewhat by the cuffs, to suck and press kisses to your breasts. You ground down on him, pressing his cock as far in as it would go until it ached, and your chest vibrated with Dean's responding groan.

"Please move," he begged hoarsely, hips twitching underneath you.

"Since you asked nicely," you breathed. You began rolling your hips against his steadily, watching as his pleasure flickered through his rugged features. It was a stark contrast to last night, when he had been scowling and making quips the entire time as he fucked you into the mattress. This was almost... loving. Or perhaps you were simply providing him a service. You did agree to take care of him, and maybe that's what he needed.

You reached up and unclasped the handcuff on Dean's left hand, somehow trusting that he would not go anywhere. His eyes flew open and his hand was on you like it was a magnet and your hip was the opposite charge. His hand massaged into the flesh of your hip, making a dull ache arise from the bruises of the previous night.

You looked into his eyes as both your moans filled the air. They were wide and asking, and since his hand was gentle on your body, and he had been on such good behavior, you released his other hand as well.

It was like a switch flipped. His right hand darted to your waist and dug in, the hand on your hip tightening as well as he took control of your movement. You yelped and he began pushing you faster, your thighs screaming with effort as you tried to regain control.

"Dean," you gasped, clawing at his shoulders.

He grinned, slamming your hips down on him until you were forced to fall against his shoulder. "You were too slow," he gasped between heavy breaths, the wind rushing from his lungs each time your hips met his.

You managed to push yourself back up, bracing your forearm against his throat. His gasps turned ragged as you cut off his air. His thrusts slowed as you regained control of him.

"Be good," you said harshly, catching your breath and narrowing your gaze. "Only good boys get what they want." Dean scowled as he realized you were parroting his words from the night before.

"Fuck you," he spat hoarsely, voice barely audible from the pressure on his vocal cords. You cocked an eyebrow and leaned a little heavier on his throat. His cock twitched inside you.

Letting up on his throat just enough that he could breathe, you picked yourself up and began fucking yourself on his cock again, this time fully in control as his hands just clutched at your hips. You swear he went bug-eyed at the renewed friction combined with his light-headedness.

You felt pressure build in your core as you watched Dean's face, red and straining, mouth hanging open as he gasped in a desperate bid for a full breath. All that came from his mouth were raspy moans and heaves. He seemed determined not to beg still. You supposed he had been faking before. That wouldn't do.

"Tell me when you're close, baby," you purred in his ear as you began rubbing your clit, the sensation causing you to clench around him tightly. You readjusted the arm on his throat so he could speak.

"I'm close," you continued. "If I come on your cock, can you take it? Or will it be too much?" You pouted in mock pity. Dean was barely listening, eyes rolled back in his head, mouth moving in something that might have been words, if he wasn't so pussy-drunk and oxygen-deprived.

The look on his face finally pushed you over the edge, and you fell on his mouth hungrily as your pussy spasmed around him, eating up his desperate whines and moans as they fell from his lips.

You didn't stop your pace, overstimulating yourself and building another orgasm while Dean... finally broke.

"Please," he gasped hoarsely into your mouth, teeth clashing against yours as he jerked forward, drawn towards you, needing to be closer and closer and closer. "I'm so close."

You smirked down at him and slowed drastically. He was going to feel everything you were subjected to last night. He whined and buried his face in your chest, hips wiggling in an attempt to thrust into you again. "What do you say?"

"I just did," he growled, scraping his teeth over your skin.

"You didn't," you said cheerily. "You know what you need to tell me."

He let out a drawn-out groan followed by what could be considered somewhat of a sob. "Fuck."

"That's not it," you chastised.

Dean gritted his teeth and looked up at you, meeting your gaze. But he couldn't hold it. "I need to come," he whispered, eyes dropping. "Please make me come."

You resumed your last pace, touching yourself and clenching down on him as your body reacted to the feelings. Dean let out a broken moan as you leaned on his throat again. "Fuck- fuck-" he gasped against your skin, more his mouth just forming the words than speaking, hot and wet and open. His entire body tensed and he stopped breathing for just a moment-

And then he came inside you, shuddering and digging his nails into your hips so tightly you thought you might bleed. You didn't slow until you were following him, wringing every drop from his spent cock as he begged you to slow down in half-human sounds. You didn't slow until you were overstimulating yourself too, and he was straining against your arm, all but crying as his face contorted, all gritted teeth and tense muscles and red cheeks.

At last, you seated yourself fully on him and just stayed there, finally un-obstructing his airway. Dean's hands fell limply to your sides as his chest heaved, panting heavily and looking at you with a glazed expression as his cock jerked weakly inside you.

You made a quick scan of his injuries. Nothing had burst or ripped. He was catching his breath. Satisfied that he was physically okay, you smirked down at him.

"Now we're even," you told him slyly, dragging yourself off of him and laying down beside him.

"Fuck you," he croaked.

You smiled and nipped at his jaw. "Think you better just stay the night, wouldn't want you to drive like this."

Dean hesitated, then decided to take the bait. "Like what?"

"All weak and worn out," you said sympathetically. "Driving tired from a good fucking is the same as driving drunk, you know."

He let out a sharp chuckle. "I don't think that's how the saying goes."

"Really?" you asked sweetly, propping yourself on one elbow to look at him. "Could've sworn it was something like that...." You pretended to think.

"I'll stay," Dean sighed, snaking his arm around you and pulling you into his side. "If you promise we can do this again before checkout."

"I don't know," you said. "We might sleep too long. We might have to take it out to the car."

Dean shivered at the thought of fucking you in his Impala. "I guess that wouldn't be so bad."

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