spn-fanfic-reblog-writes

[spn-fanfic-reblog-writes]

2024 Year in Review

In the Year of Our SPN Obsession 2024, I once again wrote a lot of fic. I hope you enjoyed reading some of it, or that you will check out some of these works now that we're leaving the collective insanity of this year behind. I loved writing every single one of these stories and cherished the opportunity to collaborate with so many incredible artists. Here's to doing it all again in 2025!

Monsters and Men (50,783 words)

Summary: With Dad dead and Azazel out of the picture, Dean has been feeling depressed and directionless. Sam is pushing them from hunt to hunt, but Dean is starting to wonder what it’s all for.

When a shapeshifter case takes them to a small town in North Carolina, life takes a sudden turn for the better. The shapeshifter has been impersonating Castiel Novak, a handsome employee at the local science museum who has Dean thinking unusual thoughts about dating and settling down.

But Dean soon discovers that nothing about this case is straightforward. Getting to the truth will mean challenging his most deeply held assumptions — and discovering the true meaning of love.

With art by @seidenapfel

The Christmas Angel (7,534 words)

Summary: One lonely Christmas, Dean picks up an ornament: a small angel that reminds him of his mother. Over the years, the ornament becomes a fixture of his life, keeping him company through many difficult years.

For Castiel, the ornament takes on its own meaning - a reminder of the sort of life he wants and can never have.

Will the Christmas angel ever get a chance to take its rightful place at the top of a family tree?

With art by @witchy-worm

Code of Silence (56,842 words)

Summary: Hollywood, 1955: LAPD Officer Dean Winchester doesn’t mind throwing a punch or fudging the evidence if it means getting wife beaters and cold-blooded criminals behind bars. That approach doesn’t sit too well with his younger brother and colleague Sam, who’s been making enemies at the LAPD with his straight-laced, by-the-book philosophy.

Between trying to keep up with the job and looking out for his brother, Dean doesn’t have much time for happiness. Not until he meets Castiel, a handsome escort who is everything Dean never knew he wanted. Unfortunately, Castiel is also caught up in a criminal conspiracy that reaches far into the LAPD itself.

To expose the department’s corruption and save Castiel, Dean and Sam will have to put aside their differences — and reckon with a dark secret in their family’s past.

With art by @rezal-art

Taking Our Time (12,453 words)

Summary: It took getting into Heaven for Dean and Cas to finally express their feelings.

Or did it? When Jack frees all the deserving and penitent angels from the Empty, Uriel reveals that there’s a significant gap in Dean and Cas’ memory: the first time they found their way to each other. It happened all the way back in 2009, when Dean was fresh from Hell and Cas was just beginning to have doubts.

When Uriel returns those missing memories, Dean and Cas have some reckoning to do.

Based on art by @witchy-worm

This Impossible Happiness (50,548 words)

Summary: In one universe, Dean Winchester is pushing thirty. He’s just danced at his little brother’s wedding, he likes his job at the garage, and he goes on the occasional hunt with friends and family. He’s also desperately lonely for someone to share his life with. One day, he finds a mysterious package outside his door. It contains a news clipping about an urban legend that just might be real, and a book by Professor Castiel Novak, who happens to specialize in that same urban legend.

In another universe, Castiel Novak’s roadside motel is slowly dying, its business hollowed out by the interstate system. Dean Winchester, the man who asked him to run away together years ago, is only a painful regret these days. Until the day a mysterious letter Castiel doesn’t remember writing brings Dean back to his doorstep.

Out there in the multiverse, a man and an angel look for each other in all the wrong places. In the meantime, they might as well help a few other versions of themselves figure things out.

With art by @hawkland

Dean and Castiel vs. Evil (31,451 words)

Summary: Castiel is trying to survive a camping trip in the Appalachians with his annoying fraternity brothers. At a nearby cabin, Dean is trying to clean up the remains of his and Sam’s recent vamp hunt. Both Dean and Castiel wouldn’t mind exploring their mutual attraction.

But there’s a problem: due to a series of misunderstandings, Castiel’s friends are convinced that Dean and Sam are serial killers. The fact that Castiel's friends keep dying in increasingly grisly ways doesn't help matters. Is there really a killer on the loose? And will Dean and Cas ever manage to score some alone time?

Based on art by @xfancyfranart

The Dean Show (96,919 words)

Summary: Since birth, Dean Smith has been the star of a TV show, surrounded by actors pretending to be his friends and family — but he doesn’t know it. When actor Castiel Novak is cast as Dean’s new best friend, the two fall in love, and events quickly spiral out of control.

Desperate to free Dean, Castiel enters into an alliance with Dean's real family and a few other behind-the-scenes supporters. But will The Dean Show’s creator, Chuck Shurley, ever let his protagonist go?

The Nature of Light (28,271 words)

Summary: Castiel belongs to a brotherhood of monks that worships the Light, a powerful deity standing in opposition to the Darkness. All his life, Castiel has been taught that witches worship the Darkness and are therefore the brotherhood’s natural enemies. Never mind the fact that the only witch Castiel has ever met is Dean Winchester, who was kind to Castiel when he needed help and has been the subject of Castiel’s most carefully hidden dreams ever since.

One day, a foundling child turns up on the brotherhood’s doorstep and is entrusted to Castiel’s care. When the child, Jack, begins to display signs of magical powers, Castiel knows what he must do: leave the brotherhood behind and trust that Dean will help him once more.

With art by @hexentaenzerin

Cas in Toyland (8,738 words)

Summary: Castiel is the shield. He is the guardian. He’s a ten-inch crocheted doll living with the Creator (also known as “Becky” or “Mom” or “hot stuff” depending on who addresses her) and her family.

When Castiel’s owner, Becky Junior, claims that Castiel is lonely and asks her mother for a Dean doll to keep him company, Castiel can barely contain his excitement. He’s always wanted to meet the man who seems so intriguing in the Supernatural books.

But when Dean actually joins Becky Junior’s collection of toys, getting alone time with him proves quite difficult — thanks to Dean’s well-meaning brother Sam and a pair of Dalek dolls intent on causing constant havoc.

Based on crotchet dolls and with photography by @doctorprofessorsong

Corner House of Horror (6,444 words)

Summary: Dean is doing fine. Sure, the safety record at his place of employment, the Springfield Nuclear Power Plant, is pretty bad. Also, he’s starting to suspect his baby daughter is a homicidal maniac. But at least he’s got an amazing, sexy husband, a smart-as-a-whip kid brother and an older daughter whose pranks are pretty damn good. (That time she turned Cas’ hair blue while he slept was hilarious.)

But then people start hearing strange noises inside the corner house on Evergreen Terrace. Soon, it falls to Dean and his family to reveal a dastardly plot by evil power plant owner Dick Roman.

With art by @rezal-art

The Perfect Woman (5,448 words)

Summary: When Daphne Allen discovers that her vanished husband Emmanuel is in fact the angel Castiel and is happily dating a man named Dean Winchester, she decides to take revenge.

Step 1: Create a living replica of Carmen Porter, Dean Winchester’s perfect woman from a past djinn dream. Step 2: Watch Castiel’s relationship with Dean fall apart and dance on its ashes.

What Daphne didn’t consider is that Dean is immune to Carmen’s charms these days — and that Daphne herself is not.

Based on art by @kayliemalinza

The Long and Winding Road (13,230 words)

Summary: 1970: Sixteen years have passed since Dean and Castiel parted ways — separated after years of loving each other quietly and secretly at the boarding school they both attended.

Life took them along two very different paths, with Dean drifting across the country for years while Castiel launched a career in academia at Princeton. But now, a twist of fate is set to reunite them: as teachers at the same school where it all began.

Will they be able to find their way back to each other, or is it too late to start all over again?

With art by @thestarsmakemedream-art

Behind Enemy Lines (30,721 words)

Summary: 1936: Dean Winchester and Lord Castiel Milton have shared a quiet, contented life at Milton Hall ever since they met while flying covert missions together during the Great War.

But when Dean’s brother Sam, a scientist working for the American government, disappears during his honeymoon in Germany, Dean and Castiel take it upon themselves to rescue him and his wife Jess from the clutches of the German secret police.

Along the way, they meet danger, adventure, unexpected friends and an old enemy — all while grappling with the growing darkness of the Nazi regime.

Based on art by @artycee

Bullshit (35,468 words)

Summary: Cas is back from the Empty, and things are fine. Dean told Cas he loves him too, but also that he doesn’t want to be more than friends. (Which is a lie, but seems like the safer choice if he wants to keep Cas for the long haul this time.)

Since things are completely fine, it shouldn’t be an issue for Dean and Cas to investigate a mysterious death together. There’s just one problem: in the course of their investigation, they meet a woman who can tell truth from lies every single time. Will the woman’s apparently impeccable “bullshit detector” pick up on what Dean really wants? And will Dean and Cas be able to find the monster before it kills again?

Based on art by @hawkland

The Manuscript (4,994 words)

Summary: Castiel Novak has spent years trying to unlock the secrets of a manuscript that has baffled even the most accomplished code breakers. When he finally succeeds, he's surprised to find himself suddenly in the company of a very handsome (and very naked) man named Dean, who had been imprisoned in the manuscript for centuries. Now it's up to Castiel to secure Dean's permanent freedom - using some rather... unorthodox methods.

The Prodigal (19,370 words)

Summary: Dean Winchester travels the wide-open country, looking for bounties to collect and doing odd jobs to make ends meet. Usually, he rides with his brother Sam, but they’ve had a falling-out and now Dean’s all by himself — until he meets Cas Novak, a preacher’s son in search of his missing father.

Cas believes his notorious outlaw brother Luke knows something of their father’s disappearance, so he asks Dean’s help in tracking Luke down. Dean figures there’s no harm in helping out, and he might earn himself Luke Novak’s bounty into the bargain.

All Dean needs to do is keep a lid on his growing feelings for Cas.

(aka "Free to Be You and Me," rewritten as a Western)

With art by aggiedoll

Master of Spells (26,274 words)

Summary: 1955: Man of Letters Castiel Novak is assigned to discover what killed the agents previously stationed at a remote chapterhouse in Lebanon, Kansas. It feels like a punishment at first, but it doesn’t turn out that way when Castiel meets Dean Winchester, the other Man of Letters investigating the case.

As the two of them settle into the underground bunker to conduct their investigation, Castiel finds himself growing closer and closer to Dean. But he soon realizes there is something else in the chapterhouse with them... and it's out for blood.

With art by @spn-fanfic-reblog-writes

The Angel Next Door (and the Zombie Squirrel) (9,264 words)

Summary: Dean’s life is fine. He might get a little lonely sometimes, but that’s to be expected when you’re a single guy in your forties. But then a new neighbor moves in next door — an extremely hot, blue-eyed neighbor who seems to be some kind of magnet for bizarre and miraculous events. (Listen, that squirrel was dead. Dean’s sure of it.)

Will Dean solve the mystery of the man next door?

Based on art by @jollyrolls

Another Kind of Memory (45,173 words)

Summary: Since a traumatic incident six years ago, Castiel Novak’s face has been disfigured by a scar. He’s resigned himself to being someone people can barely stand to look at, let alone love.

Except his heart doesn’t seem to have gotten the message. When Dean Winchester takes over the convenience store down the street from Castiel’s bookshop, Castiel falls helplessly in love with his new neighbor.

To make matters worse, Castiel’s sister Anna is also interested in Dean. Believing that Dean could never love him, Castiel decides to help Anna win his heart instead.

With art by aggiedoll

I'll Follow You Into the Dark (15,008 words)

Summary: It’s been months since the Empty took Cas, and Dean is no closer to finding a way to get him back. Until he realizes something: humans can’t get into the Empty. But demons can.

Based on art by @hawkland

Fortunate Son (154,980 words)

(Yes, this was in last year's recap, but it finished posting in 2024, so I'm counting it again.)

Summary: The year is 1966, the place is Kansas, and Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak are falling in love. But with Castiel under the thumb of his conservative parents and Dean set to ship out to Vietnam, there is no possible future for them.

As Castiel’s life turns upside down and the hell of Vietnam threatens to swallow Dean’s soul, it will take everything they have to find their way back to each other. But some things are worth waiting — and fighting — for.

With art by @basketcasebetty

Baby (It's Cold Outside) (5,932 words)

Summary: Dean has asked Cas over for a homemade dinner, hoping the evening might turn into something more. Cas is concerned that if he spends the night, people will talk. But with a snowstorm raging outside, Dean might just be able to persuade him to linger.

[spn-fanfic-reblog-writes]

Broken Choices (john winchester)

Summary: Dean tries to convince you that you weren't the problem in yours and john's relationship.

Warnings: a break up, angst

WC: 935

Read on AO3!

--

The night had fallen heavy, the weight of it pressing down on you as you stared at the Impala from the shadows. Its black exterior gleamed in the moonlight, but it was the absence of one very important thing that caught your attention—the man who had once stood beside you, who had once been the one to make you feel like you had a place in this world.

John Winchester.

The air was thick with memories of him—the good ones, the bad ones, and everything in between. You had never imagined that it would end like this. That you would be standing here, alone, after everything you had been through together.

"I hope you're happy with your choices."

The words echoed in your mind, cutting through your thoughts like a blade. They had been John’s words, said to you in the heat of the argument that had changed everything. He had looked at you with a coldness that made your heart ache, his face etched with the strain of his own battles. But it wasn’t the anger that had struck you the hardest. It was the finality in his voice, the sense that he had made up his mind.

That he had made his choice.

You could still remember that night so clearly, the way his hands had balled into fists at his sides, the way his voice had cracked under the pressure.

"You’re not a part of this anymore, Y/N," he had said, each word punctuated by pain. "I can't keep you around while I’m doing this. You deserve more than this life."

You had begged him. Pleaded with him to reconsider. You had tried to make him see that you were willing to fight with him, stand by him, no matter how dangerous it got. But John was too stubborn, too caught up in his mission, and there was no room for anything else—certainly not for you.

You had loved him. You still did, even now, despite the way he had pushed you away, despite the distance that had grown between you.

But now, as you stood there in the stillness of the night, you weren’t sure what was left.

The words he had spoken to you had broken something inside you, something that you hadn’t even known was fragile until it cracked open.

You weren’t sure what hurt more: the fact that he had walked away from you, or the fact that you had walked away from him.

The sound of footsteps approaching pulled you from your thoughts, and you turned to see a familiar figure emerging from the shadows. Dean. His eyes were soft, but there was a hardness in his posture, a tension that had been there ever since you had left the Winchesters behind.

“Y/N…” Dean said softly, his voice carrying that ever-present concern. “You didn’t have to leave.”

You shook your head, not trusting yourself to speak. The words you had been choking on for weeks were lodged in your throat.

“I didn’t leave because I wanted to,” you finally whispered, voice trembling. “I left because I had to. John made his choice. And I couldn’t keep pretending that I wasn’t a part of the problem.”

Dean said nothing for a long moment, his gaze heavy, searching. It wasn’t the first time you’d had this conversation, but it was the first time you had spoken the truth so plainly.

“John… he’s just scared, Y/N,” Dean said quietly, his voice laced with a sadness you had never heard before. “He loves you. He just doesn’t know how to show it.”

You laughed bitterly, the sound like a foreign language to your own ears. “He doesn’t love me. Not the way I need him to.”

Dean looked away, his jaw tightening as if he was fighting against something, something he didn’t want to acknowledge. “Maybe he doesn’t know how,” he muttered, almost to himself. “But you’re not the problem here. You never were.”

You wiped away a tear that had escaped despite your best efforts. “I didn’t leave because of me, Dean,” you said, voice thick. “I left because I was hurting him. And I couldn’t do that anymore. I thought I could handle it. Thought I could stand by him and take it. But… in the end, I realized that maybe I wasn’t what he needed after all.”

Dean’s eyes softened, but there was a hint of frustration there too. “You’re wrong, Y/N. He needs you. He’s just too damn proud to admit it.”

You shook your head again, your heart aching. “Maybe. But pride doesn’t change the fact that I can’t keep fighting for a love that’s already slipped through my fingers. I have to let go, Dean.”

Dean took a step closer, his face unreadable for a moment, before he exhaled sharply. “Then I hope you’re happy with your choices.”

The words were almost too similar to John’s, and they hit you like a punch to the gut. But as you looked into Dean’s eyes, the anger you might have felt softened into something else—something you couldn’t quite define.

“I am,” you whispered, more to yourself than to him. “I have to be.”

Dean didn’t say anything else. He just nodded, the weight of the situation settling in between you. There was no easy way to say goodbye to the past, to the love that had slipped through your fingers. But sometimes, letting go was the only thing left to do.

You turned away, taking a deep breath.

For once, the silence didn’t feel as suffocating.

And maybe, just maybe, you could finally start to heal.

[spn-fanfic-reblog-writes]

Across the Oceans (For You) (John Winchester)

Summary: you're tired of waiting for John.

Warnings: angst

WC: 1K

Read on ao3!

A/N: i know next to nobody reads for john, but i'm writing for him anyway lol.

--

The world outside was still, silent beneath the weight of an early evening fog. You sat on the porch of the old cabin, your hands wrapped around a warm mug of coffee, watching the mist roll over the woods. The fire crackled behind you, but it was the quiet that felt like a cold shadow you couldn’t shake.

You hadn’t seen John Winchester in months. After everything that had happened, after the demons and the dangers of hunting, he’d promised you he'd be back. He'd promised you he’d always come back—but the truth of it was that you were growing tired of waiting.

The memories of the good times, the laughter and warmth, had slowly faded into the noise of arguments and silences. You had tried, for years, to make a life with him. To build something. But the life of a hunter had a way of pulling everything apart.

Tonight was different. Tonight, your heart was heavy with the realization that you weren’t sure if you could keep waiting for him.

The sound of tires crunching over gravel broke through the silence, pulling you from your thoughts. You didn’t look up. You knew who it was—knew that once again, John was back.

But you didn’t know if you were ready to face him. Not yet. Not after everything.

The door creaked open, and there he was. John. His face was older now, rougher. His eyes were tired, shadowed by the weight of the life he led. He didn’t say anything at first. He just stood there, watching you as if unsure whether to approach or to let you come to him.

It had been a long time, and you had changed. You were stronger now, in a way he had never quite understood. You had lived your life without him for months, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to go back to how it used to be.

“I didn’t think you’d still be here,” John finally said, his voice low, and filled with something close to regret.

You didn’t answer right away. Your gaze was fixed on the fog rolling over the trees. But when you spoke, your voice was steady.

“I almost wasn’t,” you said quietly. “I almost gave up on waiting.”

John shifted, taking a step forward. He didn’t reach for you, didn’t touch you. He knew better than to do that when there was a wall between you, one he had put up himself.

“You don’t have to wait anymore,” he said, and the words were heavy. His hands clenched at his sides, like he was trying to hold onto something that was slipping away. “I’m here now. And I’m not going anywhere.”

You turned your head, your eyes meeting his, trying to read the truth in his worn features. You wanted to believe him. You really did. But you had heard those words too many times before. You had seen him walk out, time and time again, chasing the hunt, chasing his own guilt, his own demons.

“I don’t know if I can keep doing this, John,” you said, your voice quieter now, filled with the uncertainty that had been building for months. “I don’t know if I can keep waiting for you to choose me.”

John’s expression faltered. He opened his mouth to say something, but the words caught in his throat, as though he was realizing for the first time how much he had taken you for granted. He took a few steps forward, his voice tight when he spoke again.

“You’re everything to me,” he said, a rawness in his tone. “You’ve always been everything to me. I just... I’ve never been good at making promises I can keep.”

You closed your eyes, trying to swallow the lump in your throat. You wanted to believe him. You wanted to feel the comfort of his touch, to feel like maybe this time, it would be different. But the weight of his absence over the past few months had made you realize something. You weren’t going to wait forever.

“John,” you whispered, voice trembling. “You don’t get to keep doing this. You don’t get to just disappear and expect me to be here when you come back.”

He took a few more steps forward, closer now, his hand reaching for yours, but you pulled away before he could touch you.

“I will cross every ocean to be with you,” he said, his words filled with desperation, a promise he wasn’t sure he could keep, but one that he needed you to believe in. “I swear, I will do whatever it takes to make this right.”

You looked at him for a long moment, the fog now swirling around you both. The world felt vast, like a sea between you, and as much as you wanted to reach out, to fall into his arms, something inside you held back.

“I can’t keep living like this,” you said softly, but with finality. “I need more than promises, John. I need you. All of you. Or nothing.”

He stared at you, his expression changing as the weight of your words settled between you. There were no easy answers, no quick fixes. This wasn’t something you could just sweep under the rug. The years of him walking away, of him choosing the hunt over you, had taken its toll.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

It wasn’t enough. You didn’t need his apology. You needed him to choose you—not just now, but always. And for the first time, you realized you couldn’t keep waiting for him to realize that.

“I’m sorry too,” you said softly, your voice breaking as you turned away.

You walked back into the cabin, leaving the door open behind you, but not enough for him to follow. It was the hardest thing you had ever done—but sometimes, love meant letting go.

John stood there for a long while, staring at the space you had left behind, the words still hanging in the air. He had crossed every ocean to be with you, but somehow, he knew it might be too late.

For the first time, he wasn’t sure he could fix what he had broken.

--

this is your kind reminder to reblog!

[spn-fanfic-reblog-writes]

Give Me One Chance (Dean W.)

Summary: Dean returns to you, months after he left to defeat Michael and Lucifer.

Warnings: nothing?

Word Count: 224

A/N: this little thing was originally posted to an older tumblr i had deleted a few years ago. i have been hunting down older fics of mine and had found this! hope y'all enjoy!

Read on ao3!

--

You nearly closed the door on the person standing in front of you on the threshold of your apartment. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see you and maybe try and talk to you.” Dean suggested, looking so hurt and disheveled.

“Why now?” you grimaced, your hand itching to slam the door in his face. “Dean, it’s been months. You broke my heart, and you expect me to want to hear anything you have to say to me?” You would be foolish to allow this man back into your life.

“Let me explain myself and I promise, I will never bother you again.”

“Dean, there’s nothing to explain.” you scoffed. “You lied to me and told me you wouldn’t chase after Michael and Lucifer. You almost died and you expect me to act like nothing happened?”

“I defeated them for you.” he licked his lips. “I know I almost died in the process, but I had to protect the world, Y/N. I have a duty to protect it.”

You frowned and stepped back, hating yourself as you motioned for him to step inside. “You have a lot of groveling to do if you think I’m going to forgive you so goddamn easily.”

“I’ll do anything.” He pleaded.

--

i know this is on the shorter side, but please let this be a reminder for a reblog!

[spn-fanfic-reblog-writes]

Impala Drama (Dean W.)

Summary: you find out your best friend, Crowley, painted your boyfriend's beloved car.

Warnings: pranks and fluff, an angered dean, high school AU

WC: 555

Read on ao3!

--

The hallway buzzed with its usual high school energy—students spilling out of classrooms, lockers slamming, and chatter bouncing off the walls. You leaned against your own locker, spinning the combination dial lazily as you waited for your boyfriend, Dean Winchester, to show up.

You spotted him a mile away, storming down the corridor like a freight train. Jaw clenched, fists balled, and muttering under his breath, Dean looked ready to pop a gasket. Right behind him, strolling with the smugness of a cat that caught the canary, was Crowley Fergusson—resident troublemaker, prankster extraordinaire, and Dean’s archnemesis since kindergarten.

Dean stomped up to you, slamming his palm against the locker beside yours. “You will not believe what this jackass did,” he growled, jerking a thumb over his shoulder at Crowley.

You arched a brow, crossing your arms. “Do tell.”

Crowley leaned casually against the lockers, his devilish grin widening as Dean fumed. “Oh, don’t worry, love. I already told her what I did. Painted your precious Impala bright pink. Quite the improvement, if you ask me.”

You blinked, a snort escaping before you could stop it. “You—you painted Baby pink?”

Dean whipped his head around, glaring at you. “It’s not funny, Y/N! The car looks like a damn Barbie Dream Car!”

That was all it took. You burst into laughter, clutching your stomach as you doubled over. The image of Dean’s beloved black Chevy Impala rolling through town in eye-searing hot pink was just too much.

Dean groaned, throwing his hands up in the air. “Unbelievable. My own girlfriend thinks this is hilarious.”

“Well, it is!” you managed between giggles. “I mean, come on, Dean. It’s not like he totaled it. It’s just...pink!”

“Oh, it’s not just pink, darling,” Crowley cut in, smug as ever. “It’s neon pink. With sparkles. You should see it in the sunlight. Truly a masterpiece.”

Dean rounded on Crowley, pointing a finger at him. “You’re gonna fix this, Fergusson. I don’t care if I have to chain you to the hood until you do.”

Crowley merely shrugged, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “You know, I think pink suits you, Dean-o. Adds a bit of flair. Maybe a Hello Kitty decal next?”

You lost it all over again, doubling over as Dean turned back to you with a look of sheer betrayal.

“I can’t believe you’re on his side!” he exclaimed, though the corners of his mouth twitched like he was fighting back a grin.

“I’m not,” you said, wiping a tear from your eye. “But you’ve got to admit, Dean—this is a classic Crowley move.”

Dean sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, well, classic or not, it’s not staying. You,” he jabbed a finger at Crowley, “better start scrubbing. Now.”

Crowley raised his hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. I’ll fix it. But admit it, Dean—just for a moment, Baby looked fabulous.”

Dean groaned, turning back to you as Crowley sauntered away. “I swear, one day, I’m gonna kill him.”

You grinned, threading your arm through his. “Sure, you will. But until then...think about how funny it’ll be when people see that car and think it’s yours.”

Dean groaned again, but this time, he pulled you closer, planting a quick kiss on your forehead. “You’re lucky I like you, smartass.”

[spn-fanfic-reblog-writes]

Brooklyn Vice

Summary: you finally catch the famed mafia king, Dean Winchester, in Brooklyn, NY. You won't let him get away from your sights this time.

Warnings: mafia au, was originally written for Bucky Barnes, never posted it, so i changed names & such to Dean instead, sue me lol.

WC:1.2K

Read on ao3!

--

The rain poured steadily onto the cracked pavement, its rhythm echoing through the dimly lit streets of Brooklyn. You tugged your trench coat tighter around you, cursing your luck for getting stuck on a stakeout in weather like this. Your partner was late, leaving you to surveil a suspicious dive bar alone.

You adjusted your radio, keeping your eyes trained on the bar’s entrance. It wasn’t just any bar—it was the rumored headquarters for Dean Winchester, the most notorious gangster in the borough. Rumors about him were as plentiful as the rain: smooth-talking, ruthless, and apparently, annoyingly good-looking. You shook your head. The last thing you needed was to let his reputation distract you.

Suddenly, the door to the bar creaked open, and out stepped the man himself. Dean Winchester. His leather jacket glistened in the rain, a cigarette dangling from his lips. Even from your distance, you could see the sharpness in his green eyes as he scanned the street like a predator sizing up its prey.

Your heart rate quickened. This was your chance. You took a deep breath, stepping out of the shadows.

“Winchester,” you called, your voice steady despite the hammering rain.

He turned toward you, a slow, cocky grin spreading across his face. “Well, well. Officer. To what do I owe the pleasure?” His voice was a lazy drawl, but his stance was anything but—alert, ready, dangerous.

You pulled out your badge, keeping your other hand near your weapon. “You’re wanted for questioning in connection to a string of robberies.”

Dean chuckled, the sound rich and infuriating. “Robberies, huh? You think I’m some petty thief?” He took a step closer, and you instinctively backed up, your boots splashing in a puddle.

“You’re a lot of things, Winchester, and none of them good,” you shot back, trying to ignore how your pulse sped up under his intense gaze.

He tilted his head, studying you like you were some kind of puzzle. “And here I thought the NYPD was supposed to serve and protect. Instead, they’re out here hassling a hard-working guy like me.”

“Hard-working? Is that what you call running a crime ring?” You kept your voice firm, though the way he looked at you—sharp, amused—made it hard to stay focused.

Dean stepped closer again, and this time, you held your ground. He was so close now that you could smell the faint scent of whiskey and gunpowder on him. His grin widened, as if he found your defiance entertaining.

“You’ve got guts, Officer,” he murmured, his voice low. “I like that. But let me give you some advice—stick to traffic tickets. You don’t want to get involved with someone like me.”

“Oh, I think I do,” you shot back. “Because someone like you? You’re exactly who I’m taking down.”

For a moment, silence hung between you, broken only by the rain. Then, to your surprise, Dean laughed—a genuine, full-bodied laugh that made your stomach flip for reasons you refused to acknowledge.

“Well, sweetheart,” he said, taking a step back, “you’re welcome to try. But fair warning—I don’t go down easy.”

With that, he turned and disappeared into the shadows, leaving you standing there, heart pounding, rain soaking through your coat.

As much as you hated to admit it, you knew this wouldn’t be your last run-in with Dean Winchester. And deep down, part of you didn’t mind.

The rain kept falling as you stood there, staring after Dean Winchester’s retreating form. Your fingers itched to reach for your radio, to call it in. Backup could box him in. But something in the way he walked—calm, unhurried, and entirely unbothered—made you hesitate. He knew you wouldn’t. Not tonight.

Your gut twisted. You weren’t just dealing with some dime-a-dozen street thug. Winchester had a reputation for staying two steps ahead. Every time the precinct got close, the evidence either vanished, or witnesses suddenly forgot what they’d seen. Some called him a ghost. You called him a problem.

The next day, you walked into the precinct with a lingering frustration tugging at your thoughts. Your partner, Charlie Bradbury, glanced up from her desk as you sat down, shaking rain from your coat.

“Late-night stakeout?” she asked, smirking. “Let me guess—still no luck catching your boyfriend?”

“Don’t start,” you muttered, shooting her a glare. Bradbury had been teasing you about Winchester ever since you’d been assigned his case. Apparently, your determination to bring him in made good fodder for precinct gossip.

“Hey, I get it,” she said, raising her hands defensively. “You’ve got a vendetta. Just don’t let him get in your head.”

“Too late,” you mumbled under your breath, rubbing your temples.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of paperwork and half-hearted leads. By the time your shift ended, you were ready to collapse. But as you stepped out into the cool evening air, a sleek black car pulled up to the curb, its engine purring like a predator.

The window rolled down, and there he was—Dean Winchester, smirking at you from behind the wheel.

“Need a ride, Officer?” he drawled, leaning casually against the window frame.

Your jaw tightened. “Are you out of your mind? You think I’m getting in a car with you?”

“Come on,” he said, tilting his head. “What’s the harm in a little chat? No cuffs, no guns. Just two professionals having a conversation.”

You folded your arms, fighting the flicker of curiosity rising in your chest. “You want to talk? Fine. But whatever this is, it’s off the record.”

Dean grinned, opening the passenger door in invitation. Against your better judgment, you slid into the seat, the faint smell of leather and old cologne enveloping you.

“Smart choice,” he said, pulling away from the curb.

“You’ve got five minutes,” you shot back. “Say whatever it is you’re dying to say.”

Dean chuckled, his fingers tapping the steering wheel. “Relax, sweetheart. I’m not here to confess my sins. Just wanted to clear the air. You’re wasting your time chasing me.”

“Funny,” you said, glaring at him. “I don’t feel like I’m wasting anything.”

He glanced at you, his green eyes sharper than you’d ever seen them. “You’re good at your job. I’ll give you that. But this? This thing you’ve got with me? It’s personal. And personal gets people killed.”

You clenched your fists, anger bubbling beneath the surface. “You think you know me, Winchester? You think you’ve got me figured out?”

“I don’t need to know you,” he said quietly. “I just need you to know this: you’re playing in my world now. And my world doesn’t play fair.”

The car came to a stop outside a diner, its neon sign flickering in the rain. Dean leaned back, his smirk returning. “Five minutes are up. Unless you’re hungry.”

You scoffed, reaching for the door handle. “I’ll see you around, Winchester. Next time, it won’t be a conversation.”

Dean’s voice stopped you before you could step out. “Careful, Officer. You keep chasing me, you might not like what you find.”

You slammed the door without looking back, his words echoing in your mind as you walked into the night.

This wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

[spn-fanfic-reblog-writes]

Beginnings (Castiel)

Summary: you're terrified to tell Castiel you're pregnant with his child.

Warnings: fluff

WC: 870

Read on ao3!

--

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

You had imagined a hundred different ways to tell him, to break the news to Castiel in the gentlest way possible. You had practiced what to say, how to say it, but now that the moment was here, the words seemed to fail you.

You stood in the doorway of the room, heart pounding in your chest as you watched Castiel, his back turned to you as he sifted through some old books on the desk. His usual focus was there, but there was something different today—a shift in the air, a tension you couldn’t quite place.

You had tried to talk yourself out of it, tried to reason with your nerves. But there was no denying it anymore. The signs were too strong, the change inside you too profound.

"Cas," you said softly, your voice tentative as you stepped further into the room.

He turned toward you at the sound of your voice, his expression unreadable but softening at the sight of you. His eyes—those deep blue eyes that held centuries of wisdom, yet somehow, always a softness when it came to you—flickered with a faint trace of concern.

"What’s wrong?" His voice was gentle, laced with the same care that had always made you feel safe around him.

You swallowed hard, stepping closer. "There’s something I need to tell you," you started, your voice barely above a whisper. "Something important."

Castiel set the book down on the table, his full attention now on you. His head tilted slightly, the familiar, comforting gaze never leaving your face. His posture was relaxed, but you could tell by the quiet strength in his movements that he was prepared for anything.

Your heart was hammering in your chest, but you couldn’t stop now. This was it. "I’m... I’m pregnant, Cas."

The words were out before you could fully process them, but as soon as they left your lips, a profound silence settled over the room. Castiel blinked, and for a moment, you feared you had lost him—feared that he didn’t know what to say. But then, his gaze softened, and for the first time, you saw something that made your breath catch: awe.

"You’re... carrying our child?" His voice was quiet, reverent, as though he could hardly believe it. His eyes flickered to your stomach, and a strange look passed over his face—a mix of wonder, uncertainty, and something deeper, something you couldn’t quite place.

You nodded, trying to calm the wild emotions swirling inside you. "I know this is... unexpected. I didn’t know how to tell you. I wasn’t sure how you’d react."

Castiel took a slow step toward you, his face unreadable but his eyes never leaving yours. "Why would you doubt that I would be anything but... happy?"

You blinked, surprised by the sudden depth of his words. "I just... wasn’t sure," you admitted softly. "You’re an angel, Cas. You’ve got your duties, your obligations. I didn’t want to complicate things for you."

He shook his head, taking another step closer, until there was barely any space between you. "You have never been a complication to me," he said, his voice low, full of conviction. "I... I never thought this would happen. But now that I know, I realize that I wouldn’t want it any other way."

You stared at him, the enormity of his words crashing over you. "Really?" you whispered, almost afraid to believe it.

His hand gently cupped your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek in that familiar, tender way. "Yes. Really." His voice was steady, calm, but his eyes held a vulnerability you hadn’t seen in him before. "I may not understand everything about the human experience, but I know this... I care for you deeply. And this child... will be a part of both of us."

Your heart swelled, a tear slipping down your cheek as you placed your hand over his, grounding yourself in his presence. "You’re not upset?"

He smiled softly, the expression warmer than you had ever seen it. "No. I’m not upset. I’m... I’m honored, actually." He paused, his smile growing just a bit. "A little scared, maybe. But I will do everything I can to be a good father."

The words hit you like a gentle breeze, a warmth spreading from the tips of your fingers to the depths of your heart. In that moment, everything fell into place.

You reached up, cupping his face in your hands, and you kissed him—a soft, tender kiss, full of promises and hope. When you pulled away, you both remained close, your foreheads resting against each other as you breathed in the quiet comfort of the moment.

"I’m glad you’re not afraid of this," you whispered. "I’m afraid too."

"I will be here," Castiel said softly. "For you, and for our child. We will face this together, Y/N. I’m not going anywhere."

And with that simple promise, everything you had feared, everything you had worried about, seemed to fade away. In that moment, you realized that this was just the beginning of something new—something wonderful. And with Castiel by your side, you had no doubt that you could face whatever challenges lay ahead, together.

[spn-fanfic-reblog-writes]

Sleigh Ride

Pairing: Soldier Boy (Ben) x F. Reader

Summary: Yet again, you convince Ben to indulge you in a new Christmas tradition.

AN: This little drabble can be general Soldier Boy x Reader, but in my mind it’s set in the Break Me Down-verse, sometime during Strong as Blood. It’s for @justagirlinafandomworld’s Flash Fiction Challenge – Winter/Christmas edition!

Song Prompt: “Sleigh Ride” by Ella Fitzgerald

Word Count: 100(ish) lol

Tags/Warnings: Fluff, somewhat Grumpy Ben

Ben grabbed you fast before you slid off the shiny wooden seat.

You giggled and clung to his arm when he hauled you up. He rolled his eyes. He still couldn’t believe you’d talked him into this.

“This is fucking ridiculous,” he said. “You shouldn’t be—”

“Babe, I’m fine.” You snuggled close to your husband’s side, and his arm wrapped snugly around your waist. You watched the snow-laden streets of New York City pass by with the clomping of horse hooves.

“Next time, we’ll officially have another little passenger for the ride,” you said.

At that, Ben glanced down at you with a small smile. He laid his free hand over yours, resting comfortably over your pregnant belly.

AN: 😘💚❤️

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[spn-fanfic-reblog-writes]

The Price of Love (Deanmon)

Summary: you never knew how far-gone Dean had become.

Warnings: angst, deanmon

WC: 935

Read on AO3!

--

The world felt as though it had been shattered.

You stood frozen, staring at Dean’s face—Dean’s demon face, with his blackened, heartless eyes—and it was as though the ground had dropped out from under you. You could barely comprehend the words that had just left his mouth.

The man you loved—the man you had spent years by the side of, fighting, loving, struggling with—was gone.

He wasn’t the same anymore.

Dean Winchester, the man you thought you knew, was now something twisted, something corrupted, something else.

You had seen it in his eyes the moment the change happened. The coldness, the dark glimmer, the sudden absence of the warmth that had once been there. It had started small at first—just a flicker of something wrong—but now, it was undeniable. The demon that had taken him wasn’t just in his body. It had consumed every part of him, every ounce of the man you had loved so deeply.

And you? You had let yourself believe that he still loved you. That he still cared for you, no matter what. After all, you were his family.

But now, standing in front of you, was a monster wearing his face. His voice but twisted with something foreign. “You thought I was in love with you?”

You didn’t want to believe it. You couldn’t.

Dean—your Dean—would never say that.

But the demon inside him had no such qualms.

The demon laughed, a deep, mocking chuckle that made your stomach churn. It was cold, calculated, and it tore through you like a knife.

“You’re pathetic,” the demon spat, voice dripping with disdain. “I never cared about you, not like you think I did. I was just using you, sweetheart. You were convenient. You thought I was your hero, but I was just a warm body to keep you occupied.”

The words cut through you like a blade, each syllable slicing deeper. Your heart thudded painfully in your chest, but you couldn’t tear your gaze away from him.

“You—you lied,” you gasped, your voice trembling, barely able to hold back the tears. “You—you promised me.”

The demon’s smirk grew, and the sight made your blood run cold. “Promises? You’re as naive as he was. I don’t owe you anything. Not a single damn thing.”

His words were venom, and yet they felt like a slap to your very soul. You could feel the truth of them sinking in, the unbearable weight of everything you had believed being ripped away. The love you thought was real, the trust you had placed in him, the future you had imagined with him—all of it was a lie.

A lie that had been hidden behind that perfect smile, behind that gentle laugh. Behind the man who had held you close and made you feel safe.

But it was all gone now.

You stepped back, as if the physical distance might somehow create a space between you and the crushing reality. You tried to steady yourself, but your legs felt like they could no longer support you. The pain was suffocating, a heavy weight that pressed on your chest, stealing the breath from your lungs.

“You’re not him,” you whispered, more to yourself than to the demon.

“No, I’m not,” the demon agreed smoothly, its eyes gleaming with something dark and cruel. “And I never will be again.”

“Please… please, just let me go.”

The words spilled out in desperation, your voice breaking on the last word. You wanted to run. You wanted to escape the hellish reality in front of you, to wake up from this nightmare where the love of your life was gone, replaced by something evil.

But the demon just smirked again, its eyes narrowing.

“Where are you going to go, sweetheart? No one’s coming to save you.”

You flinched as his words dug deep, but you couldn’t look away. The emotional toll was unbearable, but a part of you still longed for him—the man who used to be Dean. The part of you that clung to the hope that somewhere, deep down, the real Dean was still in there, fighting to break free from the demon’s grasp.

But it was all just a fantasy now.

Dean had been gone for so long, and all that remained was this… thing in his place.

Without thinking, you stepped forward, your voice trembling with what was left of your courage. “I loved you. I would have done anything for you.”

The demon’s eyes flickered with something you couldn’t quite place, a brief flash of something familiar before it was gone again. For a moment, there was an almost human-like hesitation in his gaze, as though he was remembering something.

But then, it was gone, and the demon’s expression hardened once more.

“And I never asked you to,” it said coldly.

You closed your eyes, swallowing the sob that was threatening to break free. You wanted to scream, to beg for Dean back, but there was no one left to hear you.

The demon gave you a final look, a smirk still playing on his lips. “You were never important. Just another casualty. Get used to it.”

And then, before you could even react, he was gone.

You stood alone in the empty room, the silence deafening. The weight of his words crushed you, and with it, the realization that you had been nothing more than a tool, a distraction.

You thought you were loved. You thought you mattered.

But it was all a lie.

And now, all you could do was pick up the pieces of your shattered heart and figure out how to survive in a world where the man you had loved—Dean Winchester—was lost to you forever.

--

please be kind and leave feedback & a reblog!

[spn-fanfic-reblog-writes]

Breaking My Heart (Castiel)

Summary: Castiel never loved you

Warnings: heartbreak, angst

WC: 920ish

Read on ao3!

--

You never expected to be standing here, on the edge of everything you thought you understood. But here you were, in the quiet of the empty room, staring at Castiel—your Castiel—watching him stand there like a stranger.

It had always been so easy to love him. To love him through his moments of doubt, through his struggles with humanity, through the times when he felt lost and uncertain. You had always believed in him, in his good heart, in his strength and his vulnerability.

But now, you couldn’t recognize him.

“How could you pretend to love me?” you whispered, the words barely escaping your lips.

The sound of your voice was distant, as though you were hearing yourself from a place far away, disconnected from everything. You barely recognized the trembling in your own words, the hurt that was seeping into every syllable.

Castiel looked at you, his eyes soft but unreadable. His silence was deafening. He hadn’t said a word since you’d confronted him, since you’d demanded to know the truth. The truth about the distance that had grown between you two. The truth about the lies that were suffocating you, about the promises he had made and broken.

You had known something was wrong for a while now. The late nights, the distant glances, the moments where he seemed like he was a million miles away. But when you confronted him—when you finally forced the conversation—it was like he had been waiting for it.

He hadn’t fought you. He hadn’t tried to make excuses. He had simply nodded, a sad acceptance in his eyes, as if he knew that what was coming would destroy you.

“I never meant to hurt you,” Castiel said softly, his voice low, almost a whisper. “But I think I always knew that it would. I am not capable of the kind of love you deserve.”

The words hit you like a physical blow. It was as if someone had reached into your chest, ripped out your heart, and then crushed it in their hand.

“Don’t say that,” you managed, your voice shaking with the weight of your pain. “I know you, Castiel. I’ve seen all of you. I’ve loved you through everything. I’ve been there when you needed me most, when you were torn between heaven and humanity. I know you.”

His gaze dropped to the floor, his jaw tightening. “I know you have. And that’s why this is so hard for me.”

You took a step forward, your chest tightening with each passing second. You wanted him to look at you, to show you that he still cared, that there was something left between you. But instead, he stood there, like an immovable force, like someone who had already given up on both of you.

“Why?” The question came out of you before you could stop it. “Why are you doing this, Castiel? Why pretend to love me when you know it’s not real? Why do this to both of us?”

His eyes flickered up to meet yours, and for a brief moment, you saw the man you loved—the angel who had fought so hard for humanity, the one who had embraced you when you needed him most. But it was gone too quickly. Replaced by something darker, something resigned.

“I never wanted to hurt you,” he repeated, almost pleading. “But I don’t know how to love the way you want me to. I’ve tried, but it’s not enough. I’m not... I’m not capable of the kind of love you deserve. I will always be bound by my duty to Heaven, by the things I’ve seen and done. I don’t have the ability to give you what you need.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. You couldn’t break down, not in front of him, not like this. The pain was suffocating, but you forced yourself to remain upright, to hold on to the last piece of your dignity.

“You’re wrong,” you whispered, though the words were thin and fragile, barely able to make it past the lump in your throat. “You’re wrong about all of this. I never needed you to be perfect. I never needed you to be something you’re not. I just needed you to be here, with me. I needed you to love me the way I love you.”

Castiel’s face softened, but his eyes were filled with regret and sorrow. “I never wanted to disappoint you,” he said quietly. “But I always knew that this... this was inevitable. You deserve someone who can give you what you need. Someone who can love you the way you deserve to be loved.”

“And you can’t?” You barely recognized the voice that asked that question. It was almost pleading, desperate for the answer to be something other than the one you feared.

His silence was answer enough.

You stepped back, the tears finally spilling over as the weight of everything crashed down on you. The dreams you had built in your mind, the future you had imagined, had all been based on a lie. Castiel had never truly loved you the way you thought.

He loved you in his own way—maybe—but it was never enough.

And that was something you couldn’t accept.

“I thought... I thought you cared about me,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, barely able to hold the pain inside.

His expression faltered, but he said nothing.

And in that silence, the love you thought you had was buried.

[spn-fanfic-reblog-writes]

Quit Playin' Games (Dean Winchester)

Summary: Dean leaves because he loves you too much and doesn't want to hold you back from yourself any longer.

Warnings: angst :)

WC: 860

Read on Ao3!

--

The moonlight filtered through the windows, casting a soft glow over the room, but it only accentuated the cold emptiness that had settled between you and Dean. You could barely remember how it had started—how it had all gone so wrong. All you knew was that the man who had once held you in his arms, who had promised he’d never leave you, was standing there now, distant and untouchable.

You had always known Dean Winchester carried a weight—one so heavy that it often felt as though it might break him. But you had never been afraid to stand by his side. You had seen his darkness, his flaws, his brokenness. You had loved him because of them, not in spite of them.

But now?

Now, everything felt like it was slipping through your fingers. The moments of tenderness were fewer and farther between. The quiet nights spent talking about your hopes and dreams had turned into silences that stretched on for what felt like eternity. And the love you thought was invincible now seemed fragile, ready to shatter with just a single word.

And tonight, that word had come.

"I don't need you."

You still couldn't fully comprehend how it had been said. Dean had been standing at the door, his jacket in hand, ready to leave. He had that look in his eyes—the one he always got when he was running, when he was about to push everyone away. But this time, it had felt different. This time, the words stung in a way they never had before.

"I don’t need you," he repeated, his voice cold, final.

Your heart had frozen in your chest. “What do you mean, Dean? We’ve been through hell together. You need me.”

“I don't. I don’t need anyone. Not like this.” His voice cracked, but only just, like he was trying so hard to remain indifferent.

You swallowed hard, taking a step toward him. “You’re not thinking straight. Please... what’s going on?”

But he wasn’t listening. His eyes were glassy, but you couldn’t tell if it was from pain or something else—something you weren’t ready to confront.

"I thought you cared about me," you said softly, your voice trembling with the weight of your own heartbreak.

His expression shifted for a moment—just a flicker of something that resembled regret—but it was gone before you could even grasp it. “I do care about you. I just... don’t want you to get hurt because of me.”

You wanted to believe him, but the words didn’t match the actions. They never did.

"You said you loved me," you whispered, voice barely audible. "You promised."

Dean's face hardened. His jaw clenched, and for a second, he looked like he might say something—something that could fix this, something that could put all the pieces of your broken heart back together. But instead, he just shook his head, a sad, resigned smile tugging at his lips.

“I do love you. But not enough. Not enough to hold you back, to drag you through this crap.”

The words hit you like a punch to the stomach. You had always known the dangers that came with loving someone like him, someone as broken and haunted as Dean, but you had never imagined this—never imagined him walking away from you.

“You don’t get it, do you?” Dean’s voice was quieter now, but the edge of finality was still there, sharp and cutting. “I’m no good for you. I never was. And I’m not gonna drag you down with me. You deserve better than this.”

The pain in his voice—the pain he was trying so hard to mask—made your chest ache, but the realization settled in.

Dean was pushing you away because he thought you deserved better. Because he thought he wasn’t enough for you.

But all you could think about was how you were enough for him. You always had been.

“I thought you cared about me,” you said again, your voice thick with emotion, a tear slipping down your cheek.

Dean’s eyes softened, his lips trembling, but he didn’t step forward. He didn’t reach for you like you had expected him to.

“I do care about you,” he whispered, his voice cracking with pain. “But sometimes... caring means letting go.”

It was the hardest thing you’d ever heard him say.

You took a step back, shaking your head. “No, Dean. I don’t believe that. I won’t believe that.”

He didn’t reply. Instead, he turned, his shoulders slumping as he walked toward the door. He didn’t look back.

You wanted to run to him, to pull him back, to make him stay. But something in your chest—something broken, something deep—held you back.

You wanted to believe he would come back, that this was just a moment of weakness, a misstep. But deep down, you knew the truth. He was already gone.

The door clicked shut behind him, and the sound was deafening.

And you were left standing there, in the silence of your own shattered heart, wondering how something so fragile—something so beautiful—could fall apart so easily.

[spn-fanfic-reblog-writes]

Nobody Cares (Sam Winchester)

Summary: Sam tells you you're not important to him anymore, not when there's a war coming.

Warnings: angst

WC: 886

Read on Ao3!

--

The silence in the bunker was suffocating.

You stood in the middle of the war room, your hands trembling at your sides as the weight of Sam’s words crushed you. You had hoped—no, desperately wished—that they were wrong. That somehow, everything would be okay. But now, standing in front of Sam, your hope was being suffocated by his indifference.

"Nobody���s coming after you," Sam had said, his voice thick with something you couldn’t quite place—anger? Disappointment? Fear?

But none of it mattered. The words were final, a cutting blow that left you gasping for air. You couldn’t understand how he could stand there, so calm, so composed, and deliver them with such a cold, dismissive tone.

You had always thought that, no matter what happened, Sam would never be the one to abandon you.

But here you were, standing in the aftermath of that brutal truth.

"Sam," you whispered, barely able to get the word out as your chest tightened, suffocating under the weight of your broken heart. "What are you talking about?"

His face was unreadable, his expression a mask you had never seen before. "You don’t get it, Y/N. You never have."

You shook your head, the confusion building inside you. "What are you saying? Sam, I’m not some… some stranger to you. I’m your partner. I’ve been by your side through everything."

"I know you have." He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose like this conversation was some sort of tedious chore. "And that’s why it’s so hard to say this."

The words had been building, you could feel them hanging in the air between you, but you didn’t want to believe it. Not from him. Not from Sam.

"Say what?" you croaked, your voice cracking with the weight of your fear.

His eyes softened for just a moment, and for a heartbeat, you thought maybe, just maybe, this conversation would go a different direction. But that fleeting softness was replaced by something else—something colder, something more distant.

"You’re not the priority anymore," Sam said, and the words were like a knife to your chest. "Not for me. Not for Dean. We’re in this fight, and you’re in the way."

You took a step back, your heart shattering with each syllable. "Sam, what are you talking about? We’ve always fought together. We’ve always had each other’s backs."

He shook his head, his jaw clenching tightly as if the words were physically painful for him to say. "Not anymore, Y/N. Dean and I… we’re past the point of worrying about anything but the fight. You’re not part of that anymore. You’re not part of us."

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, the world spun around you. This couldn’t be real.

Sam Winchester, your best friend, the man who had stood beside you through everything, was telling you that you no longer mattered.

The air in the room felt thick with tension as your mind tried to process what had just happened. It was too much.

You tried to swallow the lump in your throat, but it felt impossible. The emotions bubbled to the surface, and the tears that you had been holding back for so long began to fall.

"Sam, you can’t—"

"I can," he interrupted, his voice low and rough. "You don’t get it. You don’t understand what we’re dealing with right now. Dean and I are fighting a war that’s bigger than anything you’ve ever known, and we can’t afford to have any distractions."

You shook your head in disbelief, a desperate laugh escaping your lips as you tried to grasp at the wreckage of your heart. "Distractions? You’re calling me a distraction?"

Sam’s face tightened, his eyes glinting with something you couldn’t place. "You’re in danger, Y/N. You always have been. And I can’t keep worrying about you when there’s a war to fight. You’re not my responsibility anymore."

You felt the words hit you like a punch to the stomach, knocking the wind out of you. Sam—the same Sam who had always put family first, who had always fought for those he loved—was standing here, telling you that you didn’t matter.

The pain in your chest was overwhelming. You had always known that the life you led with the Winchesters was dangerous, but you had never imagined it would end like this. Alone.

You swallowed hard, fighting against the tears that threatened to consume you. "I never thought I’d hear those words from you, Sam. You… you’re not the person I thought you were."

His expression softened, just for a moment, but it was too late. The damage was already done.

"I’m sorry," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "But this is the way it has to be. I can’t keep doing this."

You nodded slowly, blinking away the tears that blurred your vision. "Yeah. I guess this is goodbye then."

Sam didn’t say anything. He just turned and walked away.

And as the sound of his footsteps faded into the distance, the world around you felt emptier than it ever had before.

Because Sam Winchester—the man you had trusted with your life—had just told you that nobody was coming after you.

And that was something you could never come back from.

[spn-fanfic-reblog-writes]

To Make the Devil Behave (Crowley)

Summary: You needed to find a way to release your brother from the grips of the mafia lord himself.

Warnings: angst, a devils bargain

WC: 583

Read on ao3!

--

The chandelier in the centre of the grand dining hall cast a golden glow over the polished marble floors. You adjusted your gloves nervously, the faint hum of the gathered guests doing little to settle your nerves. You weren’t supposed to be here. This wasn’t your world—this was his.

And yet, here you were, standing on the devil’s doorstep.

“Darling, if you keep fidgeting like that, someone might think you’re nervous.”

The smooth, unmistakable voice sent a shiver down your spine. You turned slowly, and there he was, Crowley.

Dressed in a tailored black suit that fit him like a second skin, he exuded power and danger in equal measure. His dark eyes sparkled with mischief as he offered you a glass of wine, the corners of his mouth curling into a smirk.

“I didn’t think you’d actually come,” he continued, taking a sip from his own glass.

You lifted your chin, refusing to let him see the crack in your armour. “You left me no choice.”

“Ah, yes.” Crowley gestured to a table in the corner, away from the prying eyes of his associates. “Let’s discuss this little… misunderstanding.”

The way he said it as if holding your brother’s life over your head was a minor inconvenience, made your blood boil. But you followed him, your heels clicking against the floor as you moved to the secluded spot.

Once seated, he leaned back in his chair, entirely at ease. “So, what is it you propose, darling? A trade? A plea? Or perhaps something more… creative?”

Your jaw tightened. “I’m here to make a deal.”

Crowley chuckled, the sound low and dangerous. “Of course you are. But the question is—what do you have that I could possibly want?”

You reached into your clutch and pulled out a slim envelope, sliding it across the table. He raised an eyebrow, taking it with a languid movement. As he opened it, his expression shifted, the smirk faltering for just a moment.

“Well, well.” He leaned forward, his gaze sharpening. “You’ve been busy, haven’t you?”

The envelope contained incriminating photos and documents, evidence that could unravel parts of his empire. It was a dangerous gambit, but it was all you had.

“You let my brother go,” you said, your voice steady despite the hammering of your heart, “and this stays between us.”

For a moment, Crowley was silent, studying you like a predator sizing up its prey. Then, slowly, he set the envelope down and steepled his fingers.

“You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that,” he said, his tone almost admiring. “But you’ve made one critical mistake.”

You stiffened, your stomach twisting. “What mistake?”

Crowley leaned in, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “You think you can make the devil behave.”

The air between you crackled with tension. But then, to your surprise, he leaned back, a grin spreading across his face.

“Lucky for you, I find that kind of audacity… intriguing.”

“What does that mean?” you asked warily.

“It means,” Crowley said, standing and buttoning his jacket, “I’ll release your brother. Consider it a gesture of goodwill. But don’t think this means you’re off my radar, darling. You’ve caught my attention now, and that’s not something easily undone.”

As he walked away, leaving the envelope untouched on the table, you exhaled shakily, unsure whether you’d won or simply delayed the inevitable.

Because making the devil behave was one thing. But keeping him interested? That was a game you weren’t sure you could win.

--

this is your kind reminder that reblogs give me life.

[spn-fanfic-reblog-writes]

I want to write a story about this. Just not sure if it’ll be original or spn.

[spn-fanfic-reblog-writes]

This

Mutuals can DM. Mutuals can ask for Discord. Mutuals can rip open my corpse and huddle inside it for warmth.

[spn-fanfic-reblog-writes]

Breaking My Heart (Castiel)

Summary: Castiel never loved you

Warnings: heartbreak, angst

WC: 920ish

Read on ao3!

--

You never expected to be standing here, on the edge of everything you thought you understood. But here you were, in the quiet of the empty room, staring at Castiel—your Castiel—watching him stand there like a stranger.

It had always been so easy to love him. To love him through his moments of doubt, through his struggles with humanity, through the times when he felt lost and uncertain. You had always believed in him, in his good heart, in his strength and his vulnerability.

But now, you couldn’t recognize him.

“How could you pretend to love me?” you whispered, the words barely escaping your lips.

The sound of your voice was distant, as though you were hearing yourself from a place far away, disconnected from everything. You barely recognized the trembling in your own words, the hurt that was seeping into every syllable.

Castiel looked at you, his eyes soft but unreadable. His silence was deafening. He hadn’t said a word since you’d confronted him, since you’d demanded to know the truth. The truth about the distance that had grown between you two. The truth about the lies that were suffocating you, about the promises he had made and broken.

You had known something was wrong for a while now. The late nights, the distant glances, the moments where he seemed like he was a million miles away. But when you confronted him—when you finally forced the conversation—it was like he had been waiting for it.

He hadn’t fought you. He hadn’t tried to make excuses. He had simply nodded, a sad acceptance in his eyes, as if he knew that what was coming would destroy you.

“I never meant to hurt you,” Castiel said softly, his voice low, almost a whisper. “But I think I always knew that it would. I am not capable of the kind of love you deserve.”

The words hit you like a physical blow. It was as if someone had reached into your chest, ripped out your heart, and then crushed it in their hand.

“Don’t say that,” you managed, your voice shaking with the weight of your pain. “I know you, Castiel. I’ve seen all of you. I’ve loved you through everything. I’ve been there when you needed me most, when you were torn between heaven and humanity. I know you.”

His gaze dropped to the floor, his jaw tightening. “I know you have. And that’s why this is so hard for me.”

You took a step forward, your chest tightening with each passing second. You wanted him to look at you, to show you that he still cared, that there was something left between you. But instead, he stood there, like an immovable force, like someone who had already given up on both of you.

“Why?” The question came out of you before you could stop it. “Why are you doing this, Castiel? Why pretend to love me when you know it’s not real? Why do this to both of us?”

His eyes flickered up to meet yours, and for a brief moment, you saw the man you loved—the angel who had fought so hard for humanity, the one who had embraced you when you needed him most. But it was gone too quickly. Replaced by something darker, something resigned.

“I never wanted to hurt you,” he repeated, almost pleading. “But I don’t know how to love the way you want me to. I’ve tried, but it’s not enough. I’m not... I’m not capable of the kind of love you deserve. I will always be bound by my duty to Heaven, by the things I’ve seen and done. I don’t have the ability to give you what you need.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. You couldn’t break down, not in front of him, not like this. The pain was suffocating, but you forced yourself to remain upright, to hold on to the last piece of your dignity.

“You’re wrong,” you whispered, though the words were thin and fragile, barely able to make it past the lump in your throat. “You’re wrong about all of this. I never needed you to be perfect. I never needed you to be something you’re not. I just needed you to be here, with me. I needed you to love me the way I love you.”

Castiel’s face softened, but his eyes were filled with regret and sorrow. “I never wanted to disappoint you,” he said quietly. “But I always knew that this... this was inevitable. You deserve someone who can give you what you need. Someone who can love you the way you deserve to be loved.”

“And you can’t?” You barely recognized the voice that asked that question. It was almost pleading, desperate for the answer to be something other than the one you feared.

His silence was answer enough.

You stepped back, the tears finally spilling over as the weight of everything crashed down on you. The dreams you had built in your mind, the future you had imagined, had all been based on a lie. Castiel had never truly loved you the way you thought.

He loved you in his own way—maybe—but it was never enough.

And that was something you couldn’t accept.

“I thought... I thought you cared about me,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, barely able to hold the pain inside.

His expression faltered, but he said nothing.

And in that silence, the love you thought you had was buried.

[spn-fanfic-reblog-writes]

Can't Be You (Deanmon)

Summary: you discover Dean isn't human any longer.

Warnings: angst, demon dean

WC: 570ish

Read on Ao3!

--

The bunker was eerily quiet as you descended the metal stairs, the weight of unease pressing heavily on your chest. You’d heard whispers—Sam had been dodging your questions all week, his answers clipped and vague. Something was wrong.

It wasn’t until you found Dean in the dungeon, sitting in the corner with his back to the wall, that the pieces began to fall into place.

He looked up as you entered, and for a split second, relief flooded your chest. He was alive. He was okay. But then you saw his eyes.

Black. Endless. Wrong.

Your breath hitched, your hand tightening instinctively around the blade you always kept at your side.

“Dean?” you whispered, your voice shaky, like saying his name would somehow undo what you were seeing.

He smirked, pushing himself to his feet with an ease that sent chills down your spine. “Well, hey there, sweetheart,” he drawled, his voice the same, but not.

“Tell me this is some kind of trick,” you said, stepping back as he moved closer. “Please tell me this isn’t real.”

“‘Fraid not,” he said casually, shrugging. “This is as real as it gets.”

Your heart shattered at the confirmation, tears pricking at your eyes as you tried to reconcile the man you loved with the monster standing before you. “What happened to you?”

“Me? I’ve never been better,” he said with a grin that didn’t reach his eyes. “No guilt, no baggage. Just freedom. It’s... liberating, really.”

“This isn’t you,” you said, shaking your head. “Dean, the real you wouldn’t—”

“Wouldn’t what? Kill? Torture? Hurt people?” His smirk widened, but there was no humor in it. “Hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but that’s exactly who I’ve always been. Demon or not.”

“No,” you said firmly, the blade trembling in your hand. “You’re not the person I thought you were.”

He tilted his head, as if considering your words, then stepped closer, forcing you back until your shoulders hit the wall. “Maybe you never really knew me,” he said, his voice low and dangerous.

“I know you better than anyone,” you said, glaring up at him despite the fear twisting in your gut. “And I know this isn’t you. The real you would fight this.”

“The real me?” His laugh was sharp, cold. “The real me is tired, (Y/N). Tired of fighting, of losing, of pretending any of it matters. You should give it a try. It’s... peaceful.”

Your hand trembled as you raised the blade between you, the weight of the moment crushing down on you. “I don’t want to do this, Dean. Please don’t make me do this.”

For a moment, his gaze softened, something familiar flickering behind the darkness in his eyes. But just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by the smirk you’d come to hate.

“You can’t kill me,” he said, leaning closer until his breath ghosted against your cheek. “Not because you don’t have it in you—but because you don’t want to.”

Tears spilled down your cheeks as the truth of his words cut through you. You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t kill him, even like this.

He pulled back, his smirk turning almost... sad. “See? You’re just as weak as I am.”

Before you could respond, he turned and walked out of the room, leaving you crumpled against the wall, clutching the blade like it was the only thing holding you together.

And maybe it was.