#(and maybe Sam throwing up in Dean's mouth)

[flowers-in-your-basement]

perhaps a slightly out there idea, but I want Dean to feed Sam like a baby bird so bad, it's insane. Like the mother-brother-lover ness of it all and how he wants to take care of Sam and the cuteness of it all and how it's not cute at all. I want it so bad omg.

It's gotten to the point where I found one (1) fic that contains that and reread it more than I want to admit.

Guys it's BAD. it needs to happen oh my god

[sammyluvr]

worship you — sam winchester ꒦꒷ kinktober day nine ; priest kink

cw : gn!afab!reader, smut, softdom!sam, oral (reader receiving), religious metaphors, pet names (baby, honey), 1.5K words. MDNI !!! 18+ ONLY.

sam won’t tell you this now—he’d barely admit it to himself at first—but as he put on that black suit and white collar this morning, he hoped it would turn you on. only, he didn’t really think that it would. he figured that, however hot it might be, that sort of thing tends to be overexaggerated in media or online platforms, so he pushed the thought aside in favor of focusing on the case.

then you’d stepped out of the bathroom after brushing your teeth and when your gaze snagged on his cleanly dressed form, you didn’t even attempt to hide the way your eyes raked over him. he had thought in the moment that he could get drunk off the way you looked at him alone, surprised and yeah, really damn turned on. 

but before either of you could get a word in, dean was rushing sam out the door, leaving you to research while they were off to interview witnesses.

the wait was absolutely worth it, because now he has you all to himself, pretty much desperate after several distracted hours of research, during which the only thing you could think of was how hot he looks in that suit.

when he walks through the motel door without dean in tow behind, sam indulges you when you practically throw yourself at him. he catches you easily in his arms, grasping your hips when you run your hands up his chest and kiss him hard. your hold, not gentle at all, smoothes up to the sides of his neck and he feels the stiff clerical collar pressing into his skin.

of course, he kisses back with just as much enthusiasm. he’s had that look on your face from this morning stuck in his head all day, and now he’s ready to see your features contorted with bliss. he’s been thinking far too much about all the ways he could drive you crazy to be considered focused on this case.

he pleases you by softly groaning into your mouth as you push your tongue past his lips, but he doesn’t let you take and take for all that long. instead, he pulls away and you’re already short of breath, chasing his lips with yours.

“wait a minute, baby,” he hushes softly, voice a little strained.

“don’t wanna wait,” you protest, trying not to sound whiny but failing a bit, “been waiting for you all day.” he holds back a grin at that, running his big hands up and down your sides.

“i know, i know,” he murmurs, “just… just slow down a second.” he tips his head into the crook of your neck, barely ghosting his lips over your skin. “dean’ll be gone a while. we’ve got time.” his hot breath tickles your skin and you move a hand to grip his shoulder. sam speaks all soft and reassuring, but you can hear that edge to his voice. you’re not sure why he’s trying to take it slow, and it takes him a minute to figure it out himself.

but when you tangle a hand in his hair and give an unconscious tug at the feeling of his lips pressing sweetly into your neck, he realizes.

“c’mon,” you urge, impatiently slipping a hand under his suit jacket and trying to push it off his shoulder. he stops you immediately, fingers wrapping around your forearm and pulling it away from his body.

he lifts his head to look at you, to take in your expression of sweet desperation. “not yet,” he scolds gently. sam debates explaining, but sometimes he likes to test your willingness to go along with him.

you want something, anything. there are times where you can be patient, where you’ll follow along without a single protest no matter how needy you are, but this is not one of those times. maybe it’s the outfit, the lack of sleep from last night, or the fact that you haven’t been able to have sam like this in too long because of hunts. most likely it’s everything working in tandem to make you so impatient.

so you put your all into testing his resolve, pushing his most sensitive buttons. you give his hair a little tug and you see the way it makes his upper lip twitch a bit, like he’s holding back a groan or soft growl. then you shift the arm in his hold to tangle your fingers through his and look at him all soft and sweet and loving. and because you need it so bad, you trail your hand down his torso as you begin to slowly sink to your knees. it feels like you have the right to tease him a little too now.

but he stops you, even when his eyes betray how much he wants this too. he slots a hand under your armpit and effortlessly pulls you right back up.

“nuh-uh,” he shakes his head, then reaches up to brush his thumb over your cheekbone. his voice is surprisingly still soft and sweet as he speaks. clearly, he wants something specific, and other days you might’ve really pushed his patience by now. “c’mon, honey. need you to listen to me right now, promise you’ll like it.” that pacifies you. he can’t help but smirk at how quickly he sees your body shift in reaction to his words. now, you’re perfectly pliable in his hands and he knows it instantly. “there we go,” he murmurs, dipping his head back into the curve of your neck.

slowly, he kisses down your neck all while he backs you into the bed. his hands roam, softly palming at your sides, slipping under your shirt and touching your skin like it’s holy. when he pulls your shirt fully off and lays you out on the bed for him, he kisses down your body and praises your beauty like he worships you.

so good for me. you’re so good for me. you’re so beautiful, you’re perfect. always so perfect for me. can’t get enough of you, baby.

and then it hits you. that’s exactly what he’s doing; he’s worshipping you, dressed like a holy man who’s supposed to be clean and pure in the eyes of god. but you’re his perverted deity and your body is the altar at which he kneels.

then he really is kneeling, just how he knows you’d want to see him, pulling you down to the edge of the bed by your ankles.

“sam,” you gasp, scrambling to sit up so you can see him there. “god,” you whisper, ready to start begging him to taste you now. you gulp and your chest heaves with breath; you’re sure that the sight of him kneeling between your legs in that crisp suit and white collar will be the last thing you see before you die, because it’s so filthy and clean and perfect all at once that you think it could end you. your thighs tense and your clothed pussy clenches around nothing.

his fingers slip under the waistband of your pants and underwear and he doesn’t have to even start tugging before you’re leaning back on your palms and lifting your hips. you know why he’s going so damn slow, with his fingers dragging along the length of your legs, and his eyes taking in the sweet sight of you like you’re the epitome of beauty. you just can’t help but squirm a little, absolutely desperate for something more.

“please, sam,” you pant, your voice a soft whine.

“i know,” he whispers, soothing you with his big, idolizing hands on your thighs.

then finally, he’s leaning forward, bumping your clit with his perfect nose before his flattened tongue swipes up your slit, intent on soaking up every bit of your sweet wetness that he can in just one movement. you moan lowly, desperately, and sam is high off your taste in less than seconds.

sam reveres you with his tongue. he’s agonizingly slow, perfectly dedicated, absolutely faithful to you and your utter pleasure. his moans and murmured praises into your warmth are prayers and the act is a devotion that sam will perform any day. every day, because just sundays would never be enough. every day is a holy day so long as he gets to put his mouth on your begging cunt.

despite how purposeful and slow he is today, he’s still as messy as ever. he slurps at your pussy and suckles on your clit and makes the lewdest sounds that you’ve ever heard. he drinks up your pleasured noises like he drinks up your wetness.

you were wrong before, because this is the sight that will kill you. now, his arms are hooked around your thighs to keep you in place as he makes you feels so good that you tremble. and he doesn’t look clean, not at all, not anymore. his hair is tousled and roughed up from your hand in his hair, half of his face, from the tip of his nose down to his chin, is covered in a shiny coating of your slick, and that damn collar. in all of his eagerness to eat you out like you’re the only god he’ll ever believe in, the collar has come loose, laying crooked against his neck, it’s purity ruined.

sam gives you that small death, your devotee brings you to heaven. when you cum into his mouth, almost embarrassingly fast, sam thinks he’ll have to keep the collar on when he fucks you.

TAGLIST

⟢ SPN; general (all supernatural fics, including nsfw so your age must be 18+ and visible on your blog) : @toadspondofwhimsy ; @mxltifxnd0m ; @bloodysammy ; @angelicjackles ; @ohsc ; @chevroletdean ; @prentissluvr .

⟢ kinktober : @this-is-me19 ; @ponygyatt ; @tranquilitybasegrunge ; @anu-piyakya97 ; @yeyrpp2 ; @maeve-24 ; @i-luvsang .

send an ask / dm to be added !

[kaleldobrev]

Just Right

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Feat. Character(s): Reader, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester

Summary: Dean hates when you’re sick. Not only can he not kiss his best girl without the possibility of getting sick himself. But you also can’t make one of his favorite things to start off his day: his morning coffee.

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: Cursing (2x)

Author's Note: Apologies for not tagging people | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

As much as you hated being sick, you knew that Dean hated when you were just as much, maybe a bit more. Whenever either of you were sick – which wasn’t often thankfully – you two had your own sick routine, a routine that Dean despised doing, but understood the reasoning behind it.

When you had found yourself sick, you would sequester yourself into another bedroom of the Bunker and curl up in your favorite blankets while wearing your designated sick pajamas. Your sick pajamas as you called them consisted of some of your favorite things that always tended to bring you comfort: a pair of Dean’s gray sweatpants, one of his band t-shirts that you borrowed with the promise of returning it but never did, one of Dean’s flannels, and a pair of fuzzy socks.

Over the course of your sick time, you had found yourself doing an assortment of different things: trying to find something to watch on Netflix that you and Dean weren’t currently watching together, attempting to read one of your favorite books, or just straight sleeping. Dean would either text or call you, sometimes even knocking on the door and talking through the door to you. If he was feeling extra cheesy, he would slip you a note underneath the door. He would always ask you the same question: Do you need anything? Your answer would always be the same, “My usual sick meal.” A meal that consisted of a hot cup of tea with lemon and honey, Dean’s version of chicken noodle soup, Ritz crackers, and a ginger ale. Whenever he made this meal for you, you would always tell him to leave the tray outside the door so you wouldn’t get him sick, but without fail, each and every time, he would come into the room with tray in hand, and either kiss you on the top of the head and forehead and say, “My gorgeous sick baby,” before you rolled your eyes and threatened to throw a pillow at him.

When Dean had found himself sick, you would still be the one to leave the bedroom – despite your beloved boyfriend being the one trying to get you to stay with him, because all he really wanted to do was cuddle with you; he was extra clingy sick. But you had to play bad guy, telling him that as much as you had wanted to cuddle with him more than anything, you didn’t want to get sick.

You would tell Dean that he needed to try his best to stay sequestered in his room as to not get you or Sam sick – Jack and Cas were the ones that you didn’t have to worry about thankfully; but without fail, Dean would always leave the bedroom, walking around the Bunker coughing and sneezing. You would be close behind him, with a couple rolls of disinfected wipes the moment he left the room, your shirt covering your mouth and nose as to not inhale the germs.

You would do the same thing that Dean would do for you, calling, texting, or slipping a note underneath the door asking him if he needed anything from you. Your usual answer would be your sickness meal, his usual answer would be: “I wanna cuddle with my Sweetheart.” When you would reject that, he would ask for the second best thing: “My usual sick meal.” A meal that consisted of a not one, but two grilled cheese sandwiches, a side of tomato soup with saltines on the side, a can of ginger ale and a tiny glass of whiskey. Although you would tell Dean not to come into the room when you were sick to drop the food off, you never listened to your own advice. You always walked into the room with the tray of food and promptly kissed him on the forehead or cheek and say, “My handsome sick boy.” Followed by him smacking your ass as you walked away.

Although Dean and you hated when either of you were sick because you couldn’t be intimate with each other, one of the biggest reasons Dean hated when you were sick in particular is because you couldn’t make him his morning coffee. Yes, Dean was more than capable of making his own coffee in the morning, or he could easily go to the café downtown to grab a cup; but ever since you moved into the Bunker, those two things just never tasted right again to him. Because once having a taste of the way you had made it, he couldn’t have it any other way.

It was one of those rare times in which you were sick, and you knew exactly how you had gotten sick too. About a few days ago, you, Sam, and Dean went on a case together in Topeka where each of you interviewed a different member of the family. Sam and Dean interviewed the parents while you interviewed their child – a child who happened to be insanely sick. While interviewing the child, she kept on sneezing and coughing and at one point had wiped her snot coated hand on your arm when trying to reach for the tissues behind you. As soon as the three of you had gotten to the Bunker, you knew that something wasn’t right, as you were starting to exhibit the same symptoms as the little girl was.

You were sequestered in your designated sick room, wearing your designated sick pajamas, completely under the covers; a combination of being hot and cold at the same time. Your phone was propped up on a pillow that was lying next to you; Dean was on Facetime with you in your shared bedroom. “I think this is the worst I’ve ever felt.” You said, your voice sounded super nasally, and weak.

“Well, you still look and sound hot to me.” Dean told you, a grin on his lips. You couldn’t help but shake your head at his comment, disagreeing with him. “What? I don’t give a rats ass if your nose is running like a faucet and you look like Rudolf. You’re still fucking hot to me.”

“Dean, I look like I haven’t slept in days and on the verge of death and I sound like a toddler. I honestly have no idea how any of this is remotely hot to you.” You sniffled, grabbing a tissue from next to you in bed and blowing into it.

“To be fair Sweetheart, I always look like I’m on the verge of death and you still think I’m hot.” Dean said, shrugging his shoulders.

“Dean, you manage to look hot no matter what you do. It’s an oddly weird talent that you have.” You sniffled again, tossing the tissue you just used into the trash can.

He shrugged his shoulders again, almost as if he was agreeing with you. “Do you need anything from the kitchen? I’m about to go make my own coffee cause somebody can’t do it.”

You rolled your eyes and coughed. “Well, I’m sorry that your barista is sick. She can always make it for you, but I can’t promise that there won’t be hints of mucus in it.”

Dean gave you a disgusted look, shivering at the thought of your comment. “Okay, okay. Please, don’t ruin coffee for me. Coffee is one of the few joys that I have in this life.”

Dean walked into the kitchen, and gave Sam a slight head nod in his direction who was already sitting at the kitchen table with a mug of coffee and his laptop. “There’s still some coffee in the pot if you want any.” Sam said, turning in his chair to face Dean who had started to make his way to the fridge. “I know it’s not how Y/N usually makes it but, I know you like the way I make it too.”

“Correction, I used to like the way you made it.” Opening the fridge Dean grabbed some milk and chocolate syrup and placed them on the counter in front of him. “Do you know how Y/N makes it? Cause she won’t tell me. And I feel like if anyone would know, it would be you.”

Sam gave Dean a questioning look. “Me? Why would Y/N tell me how she makes it?”

“Cause you’re her best friend. She tells you everything.” Dean knew for a fact that you had told Sam a lot; because more often than not, Sam would casually bring up something that Dean knew for a fact that him and you had talked about, and there would be no possible way for him to know that unless you were the one that told him.

“But you’re her boyfriend Dean. I feel like boyfriend trumps best friend in most cases.” Sam took a sip from his mug before closing his laptop and walked over to the counter, bringing his mug along with him.

“You know what they say Sammy, bros before well…hoes.” Dean gave Sam a grin, shrugging slightly.

“I think you might have insulted yourself with that one.” Sam said, finishing up his coffee. “So you really have no idea how she makes it uh?”

Dean shook his head. “No freaking clue. All I know is she puts milk and chocolate syrup in it.”

“I’ll let you in on a little secret Dean.” Sam began to say.

“What?” Dean asked.

“I…She told me to never tell you how she makes the coffee, but…she did tell me.” Sam finally confessed.

“Well? Would you like to share with the rest of the class?”

Sam grinned and walked over to the cabinet. He reached all the way into the back and took out a box of Keurig cups and placed the box onto the counter. Dean eyed the box for a moment before picking it up. “Dunkin’ Donuts?” Dean asked, sounding slightly confused.”

“Her special coffee she makes you? It’s just Dunkin’ Donuts Keurig cups with a dash of milk and a spoonful of Hershey’s chocolate syrup.”

“Son of a bitch…” Dean mumbled.

A Few Days Later…

With your sickness behind you, you were finally back to your old self; which meant that you can about your somewhat normal routine. You were excited to be able to hunt again, and you were excited to finally fall asleep to and wake up next to your beloved boyfriend. But despite the normalcy that you were excited to get back to, you knew that there was one thing that Dean was excited about – you being able to make his morning coffee again.

Quickly throwing the Dunkin’ Donuts Kuerig cup into the trash, you took Dean’s coffee cup and placed it onto the island counter in front of you; smiling as he walked in. “Morning Sicky,” Dean grinned, and you simply rolled your eyes.

Walking up to the counter, he looked at the mug and gestured toward it. “Is that?” And you nodded. He rubbed his hands together like an excited little kid before he took the mug from the counter, slowly blowing the contents to cool it down a bit. Taking a sip, he felt like he was in Heaven – not actual Heaven of course cause there were no dick angels around, but pretty close.

“Good?” You asked, and Dean nodded. As much as he wanted to tell you that he knew the secret to your coffee, he was never going to; because this was one secret that you deserved to have for yourself, even if Sam and Dean both knew.

[ohsc]

Maybe something with the reader being shaken-up about a case?

hi lovely! tysm for the ask <3 | sam winchester x fem!reader, 1.2k, hurt/comfort, implied trauma, brief implied gore, brief mentions of death, brief mentions of vomit, sam being so soft and gentle, mostly comfort

She didn’t realise that she was crying until she couldn’t see.

It was like she was looking through an obscure glass window. The bunker’s kitchen blurred out of view, lost behind the film of tears that was quickly leaking.

It was almost funny. She was only eating a sandwich, nothing more. Nothing had been said, nothing had happened. She wasn’t even thinking, not really. Her thoughts had sounded fuzzy and distorted since the case they’d worked two days ago.

She blinked, the film of tears broke and dripped down her cheeks, and the bite of sandwich in her mouth suddenly felt like chewing cotton, like it wouldn’t melt down. She had to swallow it in two lumps, by which point she couldn’t see again, the tears were building too rapidly.

With her impaired vision, the only reason she was able to tell that Sam had also realised she was crying, was when she felt his warm palm against her face.

“Hey,” his voice was so soft it made her chest hurt. “Hey, baby, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

She blinked rapidly to repair her vision, eyelashes tickled with the tears that dropped from them, and when she looked up at him all she could do was nod. She was scared of the sound that'd come out of her if she tried to talk. The pressure in her chest was building like a mentos and coke experiment. If she opened the lid, she’d burst.

Sam thumbed her tears away, delicate as always, and crouched in front of her. He looked so worried. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t his sadness.

“Easy, sweetheart,” he squeezed her knee, and rubbed at her thigh with his free hand. “Do you want some water?”

He didn’t wait for her nod to get up and retrieve it. The glass was cold when it was pushed into her hands, and it took four sips before it felt like the lump in her throat had dissolved only slightly. But it was helping.

Sam didn’t push her to talk. He sat beside her on the bench of the table and rubbed his palm along her spine as she sipped from the cool relief. He was so nice it made her want to cry more. How could someone be so loving? How did he fit all of the gentleness inside of him? His ribs must’ve been straining with the pressure.

“Sorry,” her voice felt too small, too weak. “I don’t know why I’m crying.”

Sam rubbed the heel of his palm between her shoulder blades. “Don’t be sorry,” he murmured in that gentle tone of his. “Do you think it could be… I mean, is it the case? Is that what’s bothering you?”

“I’m…” her breath wavered on her inhale. “I don’t-”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Sam took one of her hands with his free one, laced their fingers until all of their knuckles were kissing. “It’s alright, sweetheart. You’re safe.”

The lump in her throat bobbed, and she had to sip the water again.

The case they’d worked that past Wednesday was the first case that had made her physically throw up. The grass has been damp beneath her knees, dew from the green soaked into the denim of her jeans as she hunched over and emptied her stomach, the side panel of the Impala cold beneath her palm where she steadied herself. Sam’s hand had been warm against the back of her neck. Dean’s jacket had been a little heavy over her shoulders. The scene that played in her mind of what they had seen inside that house like a broken film reel had been disgusting. It had been downright evil.

It was the first case that she’d had to step back from and let the boys do their job. The first case she’d sat in the backseat of the Impala for whilst the boys buried what was left of the body.

It was the first case that had numbed her mind a little on the drive back home.

And it was the first case she’d cried about two days after.

The obscure glass was back in the role of contact lenses. Her hand squeezed Sam’s until hers shook, but he didn’t mind. He leaned over her until she was tucked against his side completely, like he’d held her on the drive home from the case.

“I don’t like our job sometimes.” Her voice broke, muffled by his collar. She inhaled deeply, tried to ground herself with his scent.

“I know.”

“I wish we’d never gone there.”

“I know, sweetheart.”

“She was already dead-” the words came out warped around a hiccup and she put her glass down to hug him instead, arms wrapped around his waist like she couldn’t bare to be any further from him.

Sam’s hand came up and stroked through her hair, something that he knew soothed her. Deft fingers pushed through the strands of her hair, nails scratched at her scalp so so lightly, until some of the tension had left her body, left her drained against him.

Her chest still ached.

“You know what I think about, after cases that we don’t win? Cases like that?” Sam’s voice was soft, she heard it through his chest, a deep rumble that had as much of an affect on her as a cat purring in her lap.

“Hm?”

“It’s cheesy, I know, but I think about all the people we’ve saved,” his fingers continued their ministrations as her tears soaked into his shirt. “And we’ve saved so many — you’ve saved so many.”

“But not her.” Her voice broke.

Sam took a breath. “No, not her,” he murmured. “Nobody said this life was easy. But if we wanted the easy life, think about how many people wouldn’t be here because we hadn’t saved them.”

It was a nice thought. That there were people around, living and loving and breathing because of them. But that girl…

“It’ll hurt for a while,” Sam murmured. “It’ll hurt for longer than a while. I can't say anything that’ll ease it. I wish I could, sweetheart,” he kissed her temple. “But… we do a lot of good, you know. You do.”

She nodded, but didn’t respond. She breathed through the rest of her tears in Sam’s arms, and only when the ache in her ribs had lessened did she lean back and looked up at him.

He smiled so softly that made her wonder how he was so perfect for her. It made her wonder how many lives they’d lived together before this one.

“What do you need, sweetheart?” Sam murmured as he lifted a hand and delicately wiped at her eyes, before he just held her jaw like he was holding light. “A bath? A nap? D’you wanna go for a drive?”

Her head rested in his palm like it was crafted for that purpose alone. “A nap sounds nice.”

“Yeah?” Sam smiled a little more, and leaned in to kiss her forehead. She wanted to cry again. “Then we’ll nap.”

Her eyes watered again when she murmured, “Thanks, Sammy.”

“Hey, ‘course,” Sam wiped at her tears once more, like he was trying to brush water from the pages of a book. Delicate, not wanting to ruin what was underneath. “I love you, okay?” He kissed her forehead once more. “We’ll get through this.”

We’ll. Maybe they would, if she had him.

[lucidlivi]

Fuck A Friendship

Warnings: Strong Language, Mature Theme (rough sex), Mentions of Alcohol

Requested: @suckitands33

Anything Jensen/Dean Tags: @jc-winchester @mrsjenniferwinchester

this will switch point of views, it will be indicated with italics

Reader

“what the fuck is wrong with you Dean? I had that!” I seethed.

Once again Dean had got in the way.

“yeah okay, you’re lucky I was there to save your ass…again!” He huffed throwing his bag down.

“hate to break it to you Dean but acting like a dick won’t make yours any bigger.”

I could see his eyes cloud over in rage.

“at least I’m not acting like an ungrateful bitch.” He jabbed.

“a bitch wow really? well then in that case I guess that means you’re not the only dog in the room.” I said rolling my eyes.

“maybe with all that eye rolling you’ll actually find a brain in that pretty little head of yours.” He smirked his words laced with anger.

“awe Dean I think you’re pretty too… pretty damn annoying.”

It was no secret Dean and I butted heads. I was sick of him treating me like a child. It was bad enough he treated Sam that way but now he was constantly looming over me too. I walked in to the study but of course he followed me. He always had to get the last word in any argument.

“how about we just skip right to the makeup sex.” Dean sneered.

“I’d rather set myself on fire.”

“oh please I know you think about me naked.” Dean said.

“why can’t you just drop things Dean?” I asked pulling a book out to research some lore.

I always calmed down faster when my mind was distracted.

“you didn’t deny it.” He smirked.

“please Dean feed your own ego, I’m busy”

“Oh come on just admit it, you want to have sex with me.”

“please, if anyone is having wet dreams it’s you about me.” I huffed flipping a page.

Dean smirked before ripping his shirt off.

“so then this doesn’t bother you at all?” He asked looking at me.

I huffed closing the book. I turned to Dean, he had a shit eating grin on his face that made me want to punch him.

I couldn’t deny though, his toned chest was gorgeous, especially the way it glistened with sweat after our rough hunt. My eyes traveled down to his abs, god they looked good too and… wait what am I saying?

“nope doesn’t bother me at all.” I said maybe a little too quickly.

“really cause it took you a minute.”

I quickly pulled my shirt over my head leaving me in just my bra. Dean looked shocked by my action.

“so this doesn’t bother you at all then?” I smirked.

I watched Dean’s pupils dilate as his eyes raked over my chest. He cleared his throat, forcing his eyes to meet mine again.

“nope doesn’t bother me at all.” He spoke.

“so it wouldn’t bother you if I did this?”

I quickly grabbed the waistband of my pants sliding them down my legs painfully slow. Dean watched me with a lustful stare. I could see his jeans getting tighter around the crotch area. I didn’t know what had gotten in to me. I just wanted Dean to see I wasn’t this helpless child he had to look after.

Dean looked at me before taking his own pants down. We were now both stood in the study in just our under garments. There was a pause of silence as our eyes devoured each others body.

Dean crossed the room in two quick strides, crashing his lips to mine. I immediately kissed him back my hands going to his toned chest starting to explore. His hands made their way to my ass, picking me up and forcing me to wrap my legs around him.

He backed us up so my back was pressed up against the bookshelf. His lips left mine and traveled to my neck and down my collarbone. I could feel him throbbing against my leg. In one swift action Dean unclasped my bra letting it fall to the floor.

“Fuck.” He whispered mouth traveling further down to my uncovered breasts.

I let out a moan as Dean took one of my nipples in his mouth, sucking gently. My hands ran across his broad shoulders and down his muscular arms.

“you want this?” Dean growled, his hands squeezing my ass.

Of course I thought about having sex with Dean. He was undeniably gorgeous, even after a hunt.

“Please Dean.”

His hands left my ass, pulling his boxers down. I gasped as his full length sprung out. I had seen Dean in his boxers once before but now he looked much bigger. Without warning he pulled my panties to the side slamming himself in to me. I choked back a loud moan as I stretched around him.

He started to thrust, pressing my back harder against the bookshelf. He brought his lips back to mine taking my bottom lip between his teeth. I whimpered as he bit down lightly, his thrusts getting more rough as he went.

“Fuck Dean.” I moaned.

I gripped the bookshelf trying to steady myself.

Dean growls thrusting harder. It was rough but tender at the same time.

“maybe next time you’ll listen to me.” He groans, thrusts becoming sloppy.

“not likely.” I pant.

Dean groaned as his legs started to shake. He was close, as was I.

“Dean I’m gonna.” I started but he cut me off.

“Fuck, let go for me sweetheart.” He groaned.

I came undone, his words mixed with the pleasure being too much to bare. As I clenched around him, it brought his release too. I could feel the bruising already forming as my back was slammed against the bookshelf repeatedly. Once we rode out our high, Dean gently placed me on my feet again.

I took me a second to get my footing, my legs feeling stiff.

“you’re fucking stubborn, you know that? He growled, cleaning himself off.

“and you’re an overprotective asshole so it kind of evens out.” I smirked.

I quickly grabbed my clothes throwing my shirt back on and pulling on my pants.

“I’m going to clean up .” I said walking out of the room.

“wait..” Dean said making me pause.

“this..” he pointed between me and him “we shouldn’t tell Sam.”

“there’s nothing to tell Dean, we fucked, that’s it.” I said walking out of the study.

Dean

I watched her walk away, quickly throwing on my clothes. I’ve had sex with a lot of women, but something about it this time felt different. I shook it off, hearing the door opening signifying Sam had made his way back to the bunker.

“why do you look all sweaty?” He asked giving me an awkward look.

“I uh was, I mean it was uh a rough hunt.”

What the fuck? Why was I fumbling over my words? I never do that?

“wow what happened to the bookshelf? Sam asked pushing past me.

The books from where I had her pushed up against the shelf were in complete disarray, falling out on to the floor.

“I was looking for something.” Her voice spoke up from the doorway.

“I’ll fix them.” She added walking over and picking a book off the floor.

“I’ll help.” I offered leaning down next to her.

I studied her face as she focused on putting some loose leaf pages back in a book.

Did she always have light freckles over her nose? Were her eyes always that color?

“Why are you staring at me?” She whisper yelled so Sam couldn’t hear.

I cleared my throat tearing my eyes away from her.

“I’m not.” I defended even though I totally was.

I picked up another book putting it in its place. I gulped as I stared at the bookshelf.

The sounds of her heavenly moans filled my head. I could still see her naked body pressed up against it. I could feel myself getting harder just thinking about it. I quickly walked out of the study not wanting to get caught by Sam.

What the hell was wrong with me?

“Dean where are you going, I have more information about a case?” Sam asked annoyed.

“Uh I’m starving I’m getting us some dinner and then I’ll be back.” I said hurrying away from her.

I stopped by my room, trying to control my breathing. I ran in to my bathroom, splashing some cold water on my face.

“get it together Dean.” I said to my image in the mirror.

Normally when I had sex with a girl, it was forgotten after I came. Why couldn’t I stop thinking about it now? I decided I needed to go for a drive, get some food and then maybe I’d be able to face her again.

Reader

“what’s his problem?” Sam asked as we watched Dean hurry out of the room.

I bit my lip shrugging my shoulders.

“did something happen on the hunt?” He asked scratching his head.

something definitely happened, but it wasn’t on the hunt.

“nope, hunt went perfect.” I lied as I finished arranging the books back to their original positions.

“I’m confused Dean said it was rough?”

Fuck.

“oh yeah, just a little, but nothing we couldn’t handle.”

It was amazing how easily I could lie to Sam.

“well are you okay?” Sam asked placing a hand on my back.

I flinched at the contact, my back sore from being slammed against the bookshelf by Dean. I bit my lip as the memory replayed in my head. I never realized how strong Dean truly was.

“I’m great.” I said giving him a thumbs up.

He looked like he didn’t believe me but thankfully he didn’t push any farther. I sat in the study looking over a book. My eyes were reading the words but my mind was too preoccupied.

Why did Dean leave so quickly? Why did I care?

It was around an hour later before Dean came strolling back in, food for all of us in his hand. He swallowed hard as he came closer to me handing me some food. He turned away from me quickly, taking the farthest seat away from me.

Sam started to tell us the information but I wasn’t really listening. My eyes traveled to Dean. His hands gripped the arms of the chair he sat on.

God have his hands always looked that nice? I imagined them wrapping around my throat making me bite back a moan.

Why am I thinking of Dean in this way?

I felt my cheeks flush as I tried to focus on what Sam was saying. I glanced at Dean as he spoke, I noticed the way his adams apple bobbed up and down with his deep voice. I could feel the heat pool between my legs. I needed to get away from Dean, I needed a drink.

“Is that all?” I asked, noticing both men had stopped talking.

“uh yeah I’m finished if that’s what you mean.” Sam said slightly offended by my outburst.

“Sorry Sammy rough day, I’m going to the bar for a drink.” I said standing up.

“I’ll go with you.” Dean spoke.

“NO” I spoke too quickly.

“I mean uh maybe I’m trying to meet someone.” I said mentally facepalming.

Why did I say that?

I could see Dean’s eyebrows lower as he stared me down. I quickly walked out of the room, throwing on my leather jacket. I couldn’t control my thoughts around Dean, I had to get away from him. I walked to the local bar having a seat and ordering a straight shot.

Why was Dean suddenly controlling my thoughts?

“excuse me, this seat taken?”

I turned around to see a handsome stranger staring down at me. He wasn’t Dean but, maybe a distraction would be nice.

“it is now.” I said pulling it out for him.

Dean

“I mean uh, maybe I’m trying to meet someone.” she spoke.

Meet someone?

I couldn’t help but feel the anger boiling up to the surface. It wasn’t even twenty four hours ago that she was wrapped around me and now she wants to meet someone?

Wait why did I even care if she met someone else. She said it herself, we fucked and that’s it.

“okay what the hell is up with you two?” Sam asked as she left the room.

“nothing, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I grumbled.

“you’re both being extra weird today, leaving in a haste, she’s flinching when I put my hand on her back..” he says but I cut him off.

“she flinched?” I asked in concern.

I knew I went rough, but I didn’t think I’d actually hurt her.

“did something happen to her?” Sam asked.

oh something definitely happened to her.

“nah, she’s tough.” I said standing up.

I don’t know why, but I needed to get to the bar. If she really was meeting someone, I had to make sure they weren’t some type of creature who was going to hurt her.

“come on Sammy, let’s go.” I said grabbing my jacket.

“where are we going?”

“to the bar.” I simply said.

“but she didn’t want you there.” He spoke crossing his arms across his chest and looking at me suspiciously.

“we’re going for you, you need to get laid, you’re way too uptight.” I said slapping a hand on his shoulder.

He shrugged following me to baby. It was a quick drive to the bar. Once inside my eyes scanned the room for her. She sat at the far end of the bar, a man sitting beside her. I glared at him as she laughed at whatever bullshit joke he was telling. I could feel my blood boil as he placed a hand on her knee traveling up to her thigh.

“yeah we’re definitely here for me.” Sam joked.

I flicked my eyes to his but instead he was looking down at my hands. I didn’t notice but they were clenched into fists as I watched her flirt with him.

What am I feeling?

“it’s called jealousy.” Sam spoke beside me.

How did he read my mind?

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I scowled ordering a beer.

I tried my best but I couldn’t keep my eyes off of her at the end of the bar. I noticed she removed his hand from her leg instead holding it with her own. He leaned down whispering something in to her ear making her laugh again.

“what do you think he’s saying?” I asked looking over to where I thought Sam sat.

Sam was instead sat a few feet away from me, a cute brunette all over him.

“I’ll be damned Sammy.” I laughed watching her kiss over his neck.

I looked down at my beer chugging the rest of it down. I felt a hand slide across my shoulders, I flinched looking up to see a blonde in barely any clothing.

“what’s a handsome guy like you doing all by himself?” she asked, her fingers grazing my neck.

I pulled away gently.

“I guess I was waiting for someone like you.” I flirted.

This was the type of girl I usually picked up at the bar. She was more than willing to throw herself at me. She put her hands around my shoulders, wasting no time in kissing my jaw line.

I glanced back over to the end of the bar but I didn’t see her anymore. My eyes furiously looked around the room, finally catching a glimpse of (y/n) leading him out of the door by his hand. I quickly stood up causing the blonde to fall on the floor.

“what the hell is your problem.” she whined fixing her skirt.

“sorry I gotta go.” I said rushing out the door.

I didn’t want her to go home with him. She couldn’t.

I ran outside whipping my head around to see where she went. My heart sunk as she was nowhere in sight.

Fuck I was too late. She was gone.

“Fuck.” I growled running a hand through my hair.

“are you looking for me?”

Reader

I laughed at another joke he told. It wasn’t actually that funny but I didn’t want to bruise his ego. Too quickly his hand was placed on my knee traveling up to my thigh. I glanced up, my eyes catching sight of Sam first due to his height. Dean stood right beside him glaring in my direction.

you’ve got to be kidding me.

“did you hear me?”

James asked, or was his name Jake, I couldn’t remember now.

“sorry no I missed that.” I admitted.

James/Jake started to tell his story again but my eyes were on Dean who now took a seat at the bar. James/Jake’s hand was still rubbing my thigh making me slightly uncomfortable now. I grabbed it off, holding it in my own hand.

“so yeah I’m kind of a big deal now.” He whispered in my ear.

I laughed at him again. I didn’t know if it was an appropriate reaction to what he said but it usually worked for these types of situations. I glanced up at the other side of the bar, seeing a brunette ferociously attacking Sam’s neck with her lips. I laughed to myself. I noticed a blonde with minimal clothing making her way over to Dean. I felt the jealousy creeping up as she ran a hand across his shoulders.

“you’re not in to this are you?”

I flicked my eyes back to James/Jake. He was staring at me with a slight smile.

“i’m sorry Jake.” I said guessing on his name.

“it’s uh James.” He laughed.

“fuck right, sorry again.” I muttered.

“it’s that guy isn’t it?” James asked nodding his head towards Dean.

I didn’t know what it was about Dean though. It’s as if I was starting to see him in a whole new light.

“something about him yeah.” I replied biting my lip.

“I should go then, and you should talk to him.” James said offering me a smile.

I glanced back over seeing Dean giving his attention to the blonde girl all over him.

“I’ll walk you out.” I offered.

James smiled gratefully and walked with me out of the bar.

“uh I’m really sorry again.” I said dropping his hand finally.

“it’s okay, really. I hope you can sort out whatever it is.” he said offering me a small wave before getting in his car and driving off.

I sighed moving to lean against the side of the building. I sighed running a hand through my hair.

Why was I feeling this way?

Suddenly the door flew open, Dean came running out. He was furiously looking around, his eyes widening as he looked around the parking lot.

Was he looking for me?

“Fuck.” He growled running a hand through his hair.

“are you looking for me?” I hesitantly asked coming off the wall.

relief flooded Dean’s features as he spotted me.

“you didn’t go home with him?” he asked unsure if he was actually seeing me now.

“he’s not really my type, plus I don’t have sex twice with two different people in the same day.” I joked taking a step towards Dean.

“oh yeah, what about twice with the same person? Dean asked.

I could feel my cheeks heat up as he stood in front of me, cupping my cheek with his hand. He looked down at my lips before meeting my eyes again.

“It depends on the person.” I smirked.

“Me?”

“I think I could make an exception for you.”

At my consent Dean attached his lips to mine. I didn’t realize just how much I missed this sensation. Dean picked me up bridal style not breaking the kiss. He walked over to his car, depositing me in the back seat before climbing on top of me.

I reconnected our lips, tugging at his shirt. He pulled it over his head, dipping down to kiss my neck.

“Dean, wait.” I said pushing him off.

I could see the hurt flash in his eyes.

“I don’t know if I can do this.” I said biting my lip.

He gave me a confused look.

“I don’t know if I can have sex with you and still maintain a friendship afterwards.” I explained biting my lip.

“fuck a friendship.” Dean said.

It was my turn to give him a confused glance.

“I don’t want a friendship, I want so much more than that, I want to be the one you laugh at, I want to be the only guy who gets to touch you. I want so much more.” He confesses.

I felt my heart burst at his words. As a hunter, love and relationships weren’t a luxury we were afforded.

“if I’m being honest, it scares me to death and I tried to stop it, I tried my best, but I can’t stop thinking about you.” Dean added looking in my eyes.

He was saying everything I was thinking.

“fuck a friendship.” I said pulling him down for a kiss.

love and relationships were a luxury, but so was Dean, and this was one luxury I’d let myself afford.

Author Note:

Ooh I hope you liked it! I appreciate the request! Sorry it took me so long I wanted to make it perfect for you! If you have some crazy ideas send them my way! xoxo

[rubyvhs]

remedy (vi) — sam winchester

> prev, masterlist

summary: just when you thought things were getting easy between you and sam — tags: underage!reader, 22 year old!sam, med student!fem!reader, cursing.

“Why do you have so many nicknames for me?” Sam looks up from his book with a frown, still comprehending your question, and you can’t blame him, it came out nowhere. 

It’s only been a few days but you’ve spent the night with each other, though to be fair you’re both mostly studying. You figured it’s a good way to keep him next to you instead of Lily and you’ve always loved study dates. But it hasn’t all been so easy— Jess doesn’t approve of freakin’ Sam Winchester, like, who else would you approve of if not this man? 

In other news, Sam has been shutting you down everytime you brought Dean up and you don’t want to push him so he’s been getting away with it even though you can clearly see how bad it’s eating at him. 

“What?”

“Nicknames. You use lots of them.”

“Such as? Sweetheart?” He has to know how sensual it is when he says it. He has to.

“You use lots of other ones too. Why?”

“I don’t know, I want to see what fits you and what you like, I guess. Do they bother you?” You raise an eyebrow at him and it might as well have been you calling him a fucking idiot. Hate them? You’ve never been so flustered in your life from one person but every single word out of his mouth makes you want to lean in and kiss him. Which you can technically do.

“Was just wondering.”

“Well, which one do you like best?” He questions with a smirk, he knows how unnerved you get. You’ve gotten plenty of nicknames from other people, but most of them are just your own name twisted around, this is something that’s reserved for… lovers, you guess. Couples? Whatever.

“All of ‘em. They all sound good coming from you.” He raises an eyebrow in question and you shrug, sitting down on the bed next to him, “maybe I like some more than the others. Just a little, though, but I want you to call me whatever you like.”

“Tell me which ones.” It’s the way he doesn’t hesitate that makes you speak up even when everything in your body is begging you not to. 

“You know which ones,” it’s a little bit teasing, mostly nerves, but you move closer to him. It seems to be the only position you’re willing to kiss him in, with you on his lap. You really should try to change it up. 

“If you don’t tell me which ones I’m gonna have to start calling you honey-pie.” You gasp, a hand on your chest in offense.

“You fucking wouldn’t! Sam, I think I’d actually throw you out.”

“Of my apartment?” You nod absolutely. “Sure you would, baby.” Okay, that’s the one. The one that makes your heart flutter and eyes fall to his lips and makes things jump inside of you. It’s sweet and hot and so so possessive. 

“Whatever.” It seemed to be your usual ‘conversation ender’ around Sam. “Anyway, I’m done with studying. Bored. And done.”

“Which one?”

“Bored.” He nods and puts his book on the nightstand, some old classic he’s reading for a literature class, not that you understand why on earth he would increase the work-load on himself, but he does. He loves it apparently, and this one was free, too, so. When he’s done you’re immediately straddling him, smiling down at him and enjoying the fact that this is the only time you’re taller than him.

“What are you doing?” He asks teasingly. You’re about to answer when it hits you all at once. Does he think this is sexual? Surely not, you’ve done it a thousand times (a couple) and you’ve only ever made out. But it is ten at night. Still, so what?

You’re about to shake your head when you feel his lips on yours, unrushed and perfect. The way he’s been doing every time you get in your own head. When he pulls away, you’re chasing after him, basically, “Never anything you don’t want, okay?”

“Okay,” you whisper, though it comes out a little like a whine, then push him against the headboard again, your lips on his. Sam sucks on your bottom lip, making you squeeze your eyes shut in a silent moan that he swallows.

And then. You’re grinding against Sam, involuntarily. You’ve never done it, never felt like this, never felt so—

“Sam— Sam, wait,” He lets out a small laugh as you push him away. You’re sure your hair’s not obedient at this point and you’re only slightly sweating and off balance, but that’s the least of your worries.

“You want me to wait? You’re the one moving.” He says fairly, lazy and relaxed. It’s a long way from how he panicked everytime you pulled away only a week ago, which is heartwarming considering you’ve also gotten better at holding yourself back. Everything is easier now, less strained. Okay maybe it’s just the making out, everything else is still new and unknown to you.

“I know, I know, just— I’m scared…” 

“Hey, come on, I wouldn’t do anything you don’t—”

“That’s not it. I just don’t wanna do it, you know, wrong.” He shakes his head swiftly, sitting up.

“We’ve been doing this for a week and you haven’t messed up once, what makes you think now’s any different. You’re perfect, sweetheart.” He steals the breath from your lungs— not enough to make your worries disappear though.

“Sam,” you pull away, a little breathless, “I didn’t mean, kissing or whatever, I meant. The whole way.”

His eyes widen dramatically, leaning down to whisper, sarcasm lacing his words, “you mean sex?” Like it’s a secret and you roll your eyes, slapping his shoulder.

“Asshole.” 

He uses your arm to bring you back in for a kiss, “we already said we’d wait.”

“I don’t know, Sam, there’s been lots of waiting happening, don’t you think?” Even if you’re right (which you are) Sam’s staying true to his word. He said it would happen when it was the right time, when you’re comfortable enough not to be insecure about it (though that’s probably never so…), and when you’re sure it’s something you want to give to him. 

Which— seriously? Longest list ever. 

He’s about to remind you of his boring list again when— yeah, that’s a window opening. The one in the living room. Okay. This is okay. No big deal, Sam’s here and he probably knows what to do in cases like these… right? 

When you look over at him, he’s already carrying you off his lap to get out of bed, shushing you with his finger over his lips silently before opening the door, looking outside. This is some movie—level type shit, right here, you’re not dying because he’s deciding to take it slow.

“Sam—” He shushes you, sternly this time, with the glare and everything. Which freakin’ terrifies you because up till now you were only overreacting in your head, but very calm on the outside, now you’re shaking on the outside too.

He departs the room so you’re alone with a possible killer in the— “Dean!” 

Oh thank God. 

You let out a breath you were very much holding for dear life before stashing your phone (your finger was on the emergency contact), and opening the door as wide as it goes to greet Dean. Except you get Sammy on the floor, a snappy remark from Dean you can’t hear, then they switch sides.

“Guys… should I leave?” You hesitate, frowning at the pair. Dean look up at you then fucking winks. Sam’s never scrambled off his brother so fast, you’d guess. They’re both off the floor quick, Sam helping Dean to his feet before he saunters to you, that same smirk from the first time glued to his (pretty) face.

“Hey, sweet—”

“Why are you here, Dean.” Sam asks loudly. States loudly? It’s not quiet, that’s for sure.

Dean clicks his tongue with a look that says, ‘I’ll come back to you’, before turning around. He does something, another expression Sam gets with no words and shakes his head, but ultimately nods. 

Great. Another silent conversation you’re not apart of. This is getting real good— “Hey,” Sam steps over to you, a hand on your lower back as he leads you back to his room.

Anyone else think this is getting real fucking repetitive?

“Sam, what’s going on?”

“I’m leaving. With Dean, tonight.” 

Sam’s room is the exact same from when you two were having your moment, lights turned down low the way you like it, and suddenly it doesn’t feel so romantic. Neither does his docile tone. 

“I don’t want to stop seeing you anymore.”

“Beautiful, every part of you.”

“I want to be with you.”

And the best liar’s award goes to… 

“Hey, baby,” You give him a look, one that screams ‘are you on fucking drugs right now’, and he shakes his head. “Not— just till next week. I’ll be back before next week, I promise.” Oh. 

“You said if you leave you wouldn’t come back.”

“I thought that would be the case but,” he leans closer, his dimples, oh-so-beautiful, with that smile, eyes glinting, “I have something to come back to.”

And you’d be deceiving yourself if you say that it doesn’t calm your heartbeat to hear it. You don’t want to be easy, you want to stand your ground, and tell him there’s no way— but wouldn’t you be as bad as Dean, then? Not letting him do what he craves? Whether it’s law, or being a good brother/son, who are you to dictate that for him? All you have is to be there for him through it.

“And— and we’ll keep in contact?” He agrees feverently, his hands landing on your hips to draw you in. 

“No way I’m going to stay for that long and not call you. You said you trust me, right?” 

“Right.”

“So trust me, okay?”

“Okay.” He pinched your hips and you let out a yelp, he made sure to capture the moment by stealing a kiss, deepening it immediately. Like he doesn’t want to keep telling you how he feels through words, they’re too little, too underwhelming, not enough to explain what he feels for you. 

And you hope, with everything that you fucking are, that that’s what that kiss meant.

When you disconnect, his eyes, if nothing else, serenade you. And you’re sitting on his bed watching him pack with such little disdain, it’s comforting. Even when him and Dean drive you home in the impala, even when you kiss one last perfect time with his promise of next week you’re still composed.

Even when you tell Jess.

“He— what?” She shrieks, her arms crossing in front of her chest. She’s not even angry at him for leaving you. “He didn’t even say goodbye.”

“He’s coming back, jess—”

“Yeah well I come back after every summer vacation, still tell everyone I love them before taking off.”

You shrug, partly agreeing with her but honestly? The fact that you got to kiss him seconds before he took off is enough for you to forgive anything else he’s ever done. Except Gen jumps into the conversation, holding up her phone, reading out loud his ‘hey, Gen, I’m out of town for a few days, love you.’

And Jess is freakin’ seething, it’s actually kind of funny. Gen is rapidly regretting her decision to share with the class and is soothing her girlfriend when you get another text. Thankfully your phone’s on silent so it doesn’t alert both girls, but you feel it vibrate and open the message.

Sam: hey.

Sam: Did you tell Gen and Jess?

You: yeah, why?

Sam: because I don’t wanna tell Jess.

Sam: I can imagine how funny she’s being right now that I said bye to the both of you but not her.

Sam: don’t want her to worry though.

You: asshole.

You: in an affectionate way.

Sam: I’ll text you later, baby.

Maybe he should leave more often if he’ll be this tender and caring with you. You take that back. Because you’d still be on his damn bed talking, kissing, maybe even going a little further if Dean fucking Winchester hadn’t interrupted you. 

You were talking about something really important, just for him to, what? Break in! Like a lunatic, no less. But you’ve gotten over it already, new problems, new overthinking material. 

You’re thankful for the nights with jess and gen, considering you haven’t been close with them these past few days, always with Sam, sleeping over at his, which is surprisingly easy considering you lock yourself in a room of your own after spending half the night on his bed talking or studying. 

But thankful, nonetheless. You needed some alone time. And when you wake up Sam sends you a text, just good morning and when you respond it doesn’t go further than that, you don’t mind. You’re glad to know he’s alive everyday till he decides to come back home. Which is why when he calls two days later, you on your stomach with some assignments in front of you, you answer like he’ll hang up in a second if you don’t. 

“Sam Winchester. Who would’ve thought, you do know how to use a phone!” It’s a tease, he’s honestly been incredible with keeping you updated, but it’s good to know he meant it when he said he’ll call.

“How’s our favorite doctor?”

“How’s our hotshot lawyer?”

“Good. Better now that I’m talking to you.” He says, exhaling like he just sat down on his bed and you let out a laugh.

“Stupidest thing you’ve ever said. Hands down.”

“Oh, shut up, you love it.” You do. “How’s school?”

“Fine. Jess said you’re missing important classes. How’s Lily taking it, her partner up and leaving?” He doesn’t answer, just groans like she’s been making his life miserable, though you wouldn’t know. Okay maybe you’re a little bitter about him leaving.

“She’s texting non stop, but I get it— just wish she’d believe that I’m out of town. She probably knocked on my apartment door I swear to God.”

“Gen would’ve known.”

“She’s staying at the apartment?” He questions, and you hear— Dean. Dean is in the background, shouting something about a… woman called Constance. And you’re muted. Great. “Sorry,” he says over the static after a long thirty seconds. “Gen, why’s she not over at yours?”

“I don’t know. Doesn’t wanna leave the apartment empty, I guess. Jess is over at yours more often than not, though, if that makes you feel any better.”

“So you’re alone.” You shrug, then remember the obvious, and mumble something about studying. This whole call has been dull the second he spoke. There’s something going on, and it has nothing to do with Gen or Jess or the apartment.

“What’s wrong, Sam?” Everytime sam takes a pause before he answers, or say ‘baby’ in that low voice, full of so much emotion, or shakes his head before he’s even spoke a word, your heart drops for a second. First it was age, then experience, then leaving and now— God, whatever this is. The only reason you’re not always assured with sam is because you have to hold your breath in anticipation when he open his mouth.

“It’s nothing, I’m just— this case is taking longer than I thought.” 

They’re called cases, now? What has America come to? “Okay, what’s wrong with that? Is it like… too infected?” 

He stutters and it forces you to shut your eyes in agony, just stop. Just stop and say what you mean or you might actually throw the phone.

“Yeah, something like that— I gotta stay for another week.” You huff out a breath, sitting up immediately, another week? 

“It’s only been two days! How could you possibly know you’ll need to stay another two weeks?” If your voice is slightly raised, it isn’t because you mean for it to be. In fact, you’re trying with everything in your soul to breathe before you speak but he’s making it so difficult. You feel like you’re being… played or— something is going on and it sucks. 

“Look it’s connected to another state and we’re—.”

“You’re what? The only exterminators in the country? Sam what the fuck kind of exterminators are that important, huh?” Suddenly, you're no longer concerned about the volume of your voice, “I swear to god, I just— just give me something, anything, sam! Tell me something I can believe. You promised it'll only be a week.”

He says your name like it’ll stop you from lashing out, and you can just imagine him with his head in his hands over the edge of the bed, or sprawled out on it, a palm pressing into his forehead. Either way he’s stressed and any other day you would’ve tried to be there for him, he’s your friend above all else, but he’s lying to you. “I can’t just— it’s a family thing, okay?”

You scoff, already feeling the tear running down your cheek. Whatever. Fine. You weren’t naive enough to think you’re close enough to be considered anything other than his girlfriend, if you were even that. You’ve never had sex, you’ve only been dating for a week, known each other for a month. You know what? Maybe this is going a little too fast. Maybe this is just—

“No, no, stop it. Please. This isn’t it, okay? We can have fights without ending it, right? Right?” 

Right. He’s right. He should be right.

Is he right?

“Tell me the truth.”

“I… am. Kind of. We’re not exterminators for the bugs type of thing— more like bears and other wild animals. Wolves.” So. Much. More. Believable. 

You’re in Med school for fucks sake, does he think you got there with your good looks? He can’t be for real. “That’s a lie.”

“It isn’t, I swear.”

“Your promise, your swearing, whatever, doesn’t mean that much right now, Sam.” Even with how mad you are, you know that’s not true, he’s always been true to his word, and you get that this was out of his hands, he can’t help it if there’s an extension of the ‘case’. But it’s as low as you can go. “Whatever. You hunt bears, where’s your dad?”

“He’s, I don’t know.” The way he says it, so heavy with exhaustion and worry, even you can tell it’s as truest raw as it can get. “Me and Dean are looking everywhere. He left us this thing, his journal—”

“Journal?”

“He’s old school. Wrote where he’d be next in it, we just want to find him, then I’ll come back, I have to finish the year.”

“Yeah. And your LSATS. They’re in one month starting tomorrow.” 

“Yeah… I know.” And for some reason, you feel like a dick for being so assertive. Sam doesn’t sound like himself at all, and sure a part of it was probably from him lying to you, but you can still sense there’s something else. You’re done asking for tonight, though, he doesn’t need questions, he needs comfort. You get that, more than anyone. But one last thing—

“Why the hell would you lie to me about something like that, Sam?” Your question isn't accusatory like most of the conversation was, it’s lighter, and seems to flow between you and Sam easier. 

“Didn’t want you to worry. What me and Dean do is dangerous, and we kind of seek out these things to hunt them down— only if they’ve hurt someone.” That’s sweet, no matter how moronic it is. His intentions never were malicious, with you or other people.

“Right. That’s petrifyingly risky.” 

“Petri—” He chuckles, “Yeah, Shakespeare, what else?”

You scoff affectionately, “Not the point. Just… honesty, okay? That’s all we have, it’s all I ask.” 

You can feel him nodding, and you can feel yourself mirror his actions. You’re not even— you’ve only known him for a month and somehow he’s the only man you’ve ever seen yourself have a future with. How? How does he do this to you? Hypnotize you and pull you in, while still being your safety net. It’s comfortable, it’s passionate and God you’re so into him. 

“Yeah, baby, honest. Tell me about your day.” If the grin on your face means anything it’s that you’ve never felt like this before, and you might never again with another man.

Sam: morning.

You: hey, how are you?

‘Mornings’ never usually open up to conversations, just a way of reassurance, but it’s been a couple of days since you’ve last called each other and you’re life’s pretty tame right now, why not initiate the conversation?

Sam: hey, i’m okay, what about you? 

You: I’m fine, just studying.

Sam: oh, want me to leave you for a bit?

You: no, no, I’m done already. 

You: I wanna talk to you.

You: when are you free?

He usually opts to call at night, between ten and twelve before he has to go to sleep and it’s usually just half an hour, maybe an hour if he’s not too tired. He doesn’t say much about Dean or his Dad but at least you get some of him.

Sam: I can call you tonight.

You: okay, stay safe.

Sam: you too.

But then ‘tonight’ comes and it’s as silent as it was the night before, except last night you didn’t have a promise of a call. And you’re not even mad, you’re just worried— not worried enough to throw your dignity to the floor and call or text him yourself— but still pretty worried. 

It’s only eleven, maybe he’ll call later? 

He won’t. He doesn’t. But he texts good morning. The next damn day there’s a ‘good morning’ text right under your previous texts making plans to call.

So, like the petty person you are, because that is one trait you are not afraid to let shine, you don’t text back. You have classes all day, anyways, and it’s the last day before the long weekend, so it’s busy enough as it is without having to talk to Sam. Which you don’t have to worry about because he doesn’t want to talk to you anyways.

Except when he decides to talk to you. Except when he decides to text you at ten at night two days later, after not getting a response from you;

Sam: can we talk?

part seven: all my habits came back around.

title: it’s ok, I’m ok by tate mcrae — (baby, don’t get it twisted)

can you tell I wouldn’t die in a horror movie with her finger on the emergency contact? one thing about me is I will not write a horror movie bitch no matter what the plot is, she will be calling the police/her mum the second there’s a sound‼️‼️

I’ll make a master list for remedy since I think there 2 chapters left maybe. this one is pretty cute to prepare you for the next one which is just angst at its finest. THEN THE LAST CHAPTER WHAT. okay I won’t get too excited since I’m not sure when I’ll be posting them yet but I hope you enjoyed this.

and I’ll fix the format for the rest of the chapters so that they’re like this one since this is the one I decided on. If u wanna be tagged comment or send me a message!!

tag list:

@angzls @chxrrybomb22 @pinkpantheris @ang3ldool @iloveragdollcats 

@oohjana18294 @user-2538484747490203746579403 @wattpaduser200 @s0urw00lf @ashlynyyyyy

@strabarrybat @anu-piyakya97 @tranquilitybasegrunge

[novamariestark]

Can I get a Dean Winchesterx reader using prompts 9 and 10 off list one and prompt 46 off list two, please?

Summary: A quiet date night with Dean gets interrupted.

Warnings: proofread but there's always a mistake after posting 🤣

Word count: 1229

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Prompts: “LITERALLY EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS IS ILLEGAL!” “Did you just... agree with me?” “I'm actually going to kill you”

[A/N] hope you like 😁

How did we even get here? Sometimes, life takes a strange turn, almost as if the universe decides to have a little fun with you—except you’re not laughing. The night had started so differently. It was supposed to be simple—normal even. Sam had dropped the two of you off at that tiny, run-down bar a few miles outside town, giving you some space for your long-awaited “date night.” You were supposed to have a quiet evening, maybe a few drinks, some laughs. No monsters. No hunts.

But, because some idiot stumbled into the bar, raving about a “monster” they’d seen outside town that meant date night was over. You’d barely finished your drink before you were dragged out, headed straight for where the alleged sighting had taken place. The kicker? Sam had taken the Impala to pick up some supplies, promising to come back later. So here you were, stranded without Baby, crouched behind a row of garbage bins like a couple of amateurs. This is not how you imagined your alone time with Dean would go. You had hoped for something more... normal.

Dean was in front of you, so at least you had something nice to look at. You’d be lying if you said he didn’t look good, but seriously? This was the worst idea he’d had all week—and that was saying something. At first you thought you had heard him wrong but oh no. You had heard him right.

You glanced at him, unable to believe what was coming out of his mouth. “Are you seriously suggesting we rob a cop car?” you asked, trying to keep your voice calm, even though you were two seconds away from smacking some sense into him.

Dean turned to you with that infuriatingly casual grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Borrow,” he corrected, like that made it better. “It’s not illegal if we give it back.”

You stared at him for a moment, your brain struggling to comprehend the sheer level of Dean Winchester logic you were dealing with right now. He had to be joking. But he wasn’t. He was dead serious.

“Okay,” you shot back, your voice dripping with so much sarcasm that it could be visible, “maybe next we can walk into the nearest bank and help ourselves to the entirety of the vault. You know, for funsies.” Dean’s only response was to roll his eyes, still not seeing the problem. You took a deep breath as you waved your hands around for emphasis. “LITERALLY EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS IS ILLEGAL!”

Honestly, you weren’t sure whether to laugh or scream. You were a hunter—a damn good one. You could handle ghosts, demons, and all manner of monsters that most people couldn’t even fathom. And yet, here you were, stuck with this idiot, debating grand theft auto like it was something minute like, who’s turn it was to wash the dishes.

You gave him the deadliest deadpan look you could muster, hoping he’d catch a hint of how ridiculous he sounded. “I’m actually going to kill you.”

Dean’s grin only widened, those green eyes glimmering in the dim light. “But you’ll look good doing it.”

You rolled your eyes, though you could feel the faint heat creeping up your neck. His charm was both your kryptonite and your fuel—it was hard to stay mad when he looked at you like that, but then again, it also made you want to throw something at him. Preferably something heavy.

Glancing back at the cop car, you sighed. This was ridiculous. Utterly insane. The rational part of your brain screamed at you to shut this down, to come up with a better plan. But the other part—the part that had been on countless hunts with Dean, the part that trusted him more than anyone else—knew you were probably going to go along with it anyway.

“Fine,” you sighed, the word leaving your lips before you even knew you thought it.

The second it slipped out, you mentally kicked yourself. Seriously? Fine? Fine? Really? That’s all it took? One look from him, and you were ready to throw common sense out the window? You weren’t fine. Yet somehow, here you were, agreeing to what had to be the stupidest plan Dean Winchester had ever come up with. And that was a long list.

Dean’s voice cut through your spiralling thoughts, pulling you back to the present. “Did you just... agree with me?” His tone was laced with mock disbelief, but that smirk—oh, that damn smirk—said it all. He was enjoying this way too much, and it didn’t help that the glint in his eyes practically sparkled.

You hated that look. The one that always made your stomach do flips, like a rollercoaster you swore you’d never ride again, but kept getting back on anyway. It wasn’t just the smirk. It was Dean. He had this magnetic pull, and no matter how much your brain screamed No!, your heart—and apparently your mouth—tended to betray you in his presence.

“Don’t get used to it,” you muttered, crossing your arms, trying to regain some control over the situation. You weren’t completely rolling over here. You’d follow him into the fire, sure—but you’d still give him hell for it.

Dean winked, already turning his attention back to the car, pulling out his lock-picking tools and started to unlock the car, “Don’t worry, I’ll make it up to you,” he whispered, shooting you another wink and that cheeky smirk of his that sometimes you wanted to smack and others, kiss until you both looked like smurfs.

Your heart fluttered in spite of itself as you tried to ignore the way he seemed so damn... charming while committing a felony. His words floated around your head. “Don’t worry, I’ll make it up to you.” Oh, you knew exactly what he was implying. Your lips twitched involuntarily. Damn him.

You crossed your arms, glaring at the back of his head, “What? My criminal record?”

Dean finally got the lock to pop, a click breaking the silence. He stood up, turning back to you with that grin, “See? Easy as pie.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah, but you love it,” he said, with the cocky tone in his voice because he knew he wasn’t wrong. You hated how much he knew it, how much he knew you.

You took a step closer to him, eyes narrowing as you shot him a pointed look. “Just get in the damn car, Winchester.”

Dean chuckled as he pulled the door open, “After you, sweetheart,” he said, gesturing to the passenger seat.

You climbed into the car, the faint smell of cheap air freshener and coffee mixing with the cool air of the night. Dean slid in beside you, looking far too pleased with himself. The engine roared to life, and as the tires crunched over gravel, you couldn’t help but shoot him another sideways glance.

“So, what’s the plan, genius?” you asked, crossing your arms as if that might protect you.

Dean shrugged, “Find the monster, kill the monster, return the car—no harm, no foul.”

“If we end up in jail, you’re explaining this to Sam.” You said, leaning back into the seat, propping your elbow on the door, and resting your chin on your palm.

[lila-lou]

✨High School Sweetheart - Pt 2✨

Summary: You come face-to-face with a ghost from your past—Dean Winchester. Five years after he vanished from your life without a word, and now he´s here. But neither you nor he are teenagers anymore.

-Listen to "Chance with you"-

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: Language, ANGST, Fluff, poor fucking dean

Word Count: 6231

A/N: English isn’t my first language, please be lenient. 💙

It barely took ten minutes of sitting beside Dean in the Impala before Sam, watching his brother’s slightly dazed expression, finally broke the silence. Sam’s eyes sparkled with amusement as he noticed the faint blush still lingering on Dean’s cheeks, his older brother biting his lip, lost somewhere deep in thought, the edges of a grin tugging at his mouth.

“Still really pretty, huh?”, Sam mumbled, a slight smirk pulling at his own lips.

Dean blinked, as if snapped out of a daydream, glancing at Sam with a mixture of irritation and sheepishness. “Shut up, Sammy”, he muttered, though the flush on his face deepened as he tried to focus back on the road.

But Sam wasn’t about to let it go that easily. “Oh, come on, Dean. The look on your face says it all. You’re practically glowing”. He leaned back in his seat, watching his brother with a look that was both curious and amused. “I mean, I knew she was special, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this”.

Dean let out a breath, shaking his head, though he couldn’t hide the small smile still playing at his lips. “Yeah, well…”. He trailed off, running a hand over the steering wheel as if it could ground him, as if the familiar leather beneath his fingers could keep him from spiraling into the memories of you. “She’s… I don’t know, Sammy. She’s always been different”.

Sam nodded, a knowing look in his eyes. “She got to you, huh? Even back then”.

Dean let out a rough chuckle, rolling his eyes at Sam’s all-too-knowing expression, but he couldn’t shake the warmth spreading in his chest, even if he tried to hide it behind his usual bravado.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t get all mushy on me”, he shot back, giving Sam a light punch on the arm. “Just ‘cause I’ve got a soft spot doesn’t mean you need to turn into Dr. Phil over here”.

Sam grinned, rubbing his arm dramatically. “Hey, I’m just saying, it’s kinda nice to see you like this. Kinda reminds me you’re human after all”.

Dean scoffed, his cheeks darkening a bit more as he focused on the road, though a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Alright, smartass. Keep it up, and I’ll throw you out of this car faster than you can say ‘college boy’”.

But Sam wasn’t about to let up, not when his brother was in rare form, and he leaned back with a smirk. “Right. Go ahead, toss me out. Maybe I’ll find my way back to that little bookstore she’s got. Tell her all about how you kept looking at that card she gave you when you thought I wasn’t looking”.

Dean’s head whipped toward Sam, his expression caught between shock and embarrassment, and he quickly cleared his throat, shifting in his seat as he tried to play it cool. “Pfft, the card? Didn’t even realize I had it”. He shrugged, feigning nonchalance, though his fingers instinctively brushed against the pocket of his jacket, where he’d tucked it safely away.

Sam chuckled, shaking his head. “Right. Like you’re not gonna call her first chance you get”.

Dean cleared his throat, trying to shake off the knowing look Sam was throwing his way. “I’ve got bigger things to worry about than a card, Sammy”, he muttered, eyes fixed on the road.

Sam smirked, crossing his arms as he settled back in his seat. “Uh-huh. Bigger things like… calling her? Or just figuring out how you’re gonna manage to stay away?”.

Dean shot him a quick glare. “You know, you’re real mouthy for someone who’s got a free ride”.

But Sam wasn’t letting up. “Look, Dean, all I’m saying is… we’re still in town, at least until we figure out what’s going on with this case. Not like you’d be going out of your way”. He raised his eyebrows, his tone both teasing and genuine. “Maybe it’s a sign, you know?“.

Dean scoffed again, rolling his eyes as he tried to keep his focus on the road ahead, though the twitch of a grin betrayed him. “A sign? Really? What’s next, Sammy, you pulling tarot cards out of the glove box?”.

Sam shrugged, a smirk still lingering on his face. “I don’t know, Dean. You’ve always been the one to follow your instincts. And I think we both know this isn’t just another hunt”.

Dean let out an exaggerated sigh, shaking his head. “You really are going for that Dr. Phil gig, aren’t you?”. But the usual bite in his tone wasn’t there. “Look, it’s not like I’m dying to make her life any more complicated than it needs to be. You saw her—she’s doing fine. Better than fine, actually. So, maybe it’s better if we just leave her out of all this”.

“Right, sure”, Sam replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Because you looked real ‘fine’ back there when you were about to drive off again. Totally ready to let her go”.

Dean shot him a glare, but it didn’t have much heat behind it. “Just because I want her to be okay doesn’t mean I need to go barging back into her life, alright? She’s got her shop, her routine. She deserves someone… better. Not someone who has to leave town at a moment’s notice”.

Sam leaned forward, his expression softening, but his eyes remained steady on his brother. “Or maybe she deserves the truth. You know, the Dean who sticks around long enough to let her decide for herself if she wants you in her life”.

Dean clenched his jaw, trying to shrug off Sam’s words, but something about them hit too close to home. He kept his gaze fixed ahead, but his grip on the wheel tightened, his shoulders tense. “I don’t know, man”, he murmured, voice softer now, almost hesitant. “I left her once. Not exactly the best track record”.

“And yet, she still gave you her number, didn’t she?”, Sam countered, his voice gentler now, but unyielding. “Seems like she’s already made part of that decision. Maybe all you have to do is follow through”.

Dean stayed silent, his gaze distant as he considered Sam’s words. The road stretched out ahead of them, but the weight of what Sam was saying hung thick in the air. He knew his brother was right—that he’d only be lying to himself if he tried to brush this off as a coincidence or some passing feeling.

Finally, he let out a low chuckle, a half-smile tugging at his lips. “You know, you’re getting a little too wise for your own good, college boy”.

Sam shrugged, leaning back with a satisfied grin. “Just looking out for you, big brother”.

-Flashback-

It was a crisp autumn afternoon, a few days into the new school year, and Sam had already noticed the way Dean’s gaze lingered on you whenever you crossed paths in the hall. Dean would lean against his locker or sit on the edge of a bench outside, looking casual, pretending he was just minding his own business. But Sam saw the way his brother’s eyes tracked your every move, the subtle shift in his posture whenever you were near, as if he was debating making a move but could never quite bring himself to.

Sam knew Dean well enough to know his brother wasn’t one to hold back, not usually. Dean had always been confident, sometimes cocky, and had no trouble talking to girls when he wanted to. But with you, it was different. Sam saw something softer in the way Dean looked at you—a rare uncertainty, almost like he was afraid to ruin something he hadn’t even started yet.

So Sam, always the quiet observer, decided to give his brother a little nudge. With a smirk, he took matters into his own hands, slipping a note into each of your bags. He kept it simple, setting up a “chance meeting” during lunch.

Neither of you ever found out who had orchestrated it, and Sam never breathed a word about it afterward, but he remembered watching from a distance as it all played out.

The lunch bell rang, and you wandered over to the spot Sam had mentioned in the note—an empty table under a big oak tree at the far edge of the school grounds. As you approached, your gaze landed on Dean, already sitting there, idly picking at the sandwich in front of him. When he looked up and saw you, a flicker of surprise crossed his face, quickly replaced by a crooked grin, though you could see a faint blush on his cheeks.

“Oh, hey”, he said, a bit too casually, his voice carrying a hint of nervousness you hadn’t expected. “Didn’t think anyone else knew about this spot”.

You smiled, feeling the same odd flutter in your chest that had been there since the first time you’d noticed him in the halls. “Yeah, me neither”, you replied, sitting down across from him. Your hands fidgeted as you unwrapped your sandwich, and you risked a glance up, catching his eyes on you.

The two of you settled into a quiet, awkward rhythm, stealing glances and giving each other shy smiles. It was strange—usually, you could hold a conversation with anyone, but something about him, about this moment, left you a little breathless, as if words would somehow ruin it. So instead, you both sat there, eating in silence, lost in the simplicity of each other’s presence.

After a few bites, Dean cleared his throat, his voice low and a little rough. “So… you’re (Y/N), right?”.

You nodded, trying to ignore the way your cheeks heated up as he said your name. “Yeah. And you’re Dean?”.

He chuckled softly, nodding. “Yeah. Dean Winchester”.

Silence settled between you again, but this time it was comfortable, both of you just taking in each other’s presence. The occasional breeze rustled the leaves overhead, casting dappled shadows across the table, and the scent of autumn filled the air—fresh, crisp, with a hint of warmth from the fading afternoon sun.

Every so often, your eyes would meet, and you’d exchange a shy smile, like you were both trying to figure out why this moment felt so special. For a while, neither of you felt the need to say anything. You just sat there, grinning like two kids with a secret, your sandwiches forgotten.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of glances and soft smiles, Dean let out a breath, shaking his head with a small, almost bashful smile. “So… you come here often?”, he asked, his tone teasing, though there was a hint of sincerity underneath.

You laughed, the sound breaking the quiet around you. “Guess I do now”, you replied, meeting his eyes with a smile.

And in that moment, something unspoken passed between you—a silent understanding that you both felt something real, something new.

As the lunch bell rang again, neither of you wanted to leave, but you both stood, reluctantly gathering your things. Dean gave you one last look, his gaze warm, a quiet promise lingering there. You exchanged a small wave, parting with barely a handful of words spoken, but it didn’t matter. The connection was there, something simple and pure that you’d remember for years to come.

And as you walked back to class, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed—that, somehow, in that quiet moment under the old oak tree, you’d found someone who might just mean something.

-End of the flashback-

The memory faded, but a faint smile lingered on Dean’s face as he drove, lost in thought, his fingers still brushing the edge of your card in his pocket once more. That first lunch under the oak tree—so simple, barely a conversation at all, really. But it was one of those memories that had stuck with him all these years. He hadn’t known then how much it would mean to him, how that day would be the start of something he’d never really shake. He could still picture the way you’d smiled at him, shy but genuine, the way your laughter had slipped out, breaking the quiet like sunlight streaming through a crack in the clouds.

“You’re remembering it, aren’t you?”, Sam asked, his voice quiet, softer now, like he knew he was treading on something sacred.

Dean blinked, pulled back to the present, his hand dropping from his pocket as he cleared his throat. “What are you talking about?”, he muttered, but his face betrayed him, that faint, far-off look still in his eyes.

Sam chuckled, shaking his head. “Come on, Dean. Your first meeting. I know you remember it as well as I do. You were looking at her like she was something you’d been searching for”.

Dean rolled his eyes, but there was no real bite to it. “Alright, Nostradamus, dial it down a notch”. He hesitated, glancing at his brother, a half-smile tugging at his lips. “Wait… you were watching?”.

Sam shrugged, feigning innocence but failing miserably. “Maybe. I mean, someone had to play matchmaker. You weren’t exactly making any moves on your own”.

Dean’s jaw dropped slightly, a look of realization dawning over him as he put the pieces together. “Wait a minute. That note… You’re telling me you set that up?”.

Sam grinned, unapologetic, as he raised his hands in mock surrender. “What can I say? I knew you needed a little push”.

Dean shook his head, a mixture of disbelief and grudging appreciation crossing his face. “You were fifteen, Sam. Already sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong”.

Sam just laughed. “Hey, don’t knock it. Without me, you two would probably still be stealing glances from across the hallway”.

Dean rolled his eyes, a low chuckle slipping out despite himself. “Guess I owe you one, then”, he muttered, his voice a little softer, his gaze drifting back to the road. The thought of that quiet lunch, the way you’d both sat there smiling like idiots, felt as fresh as if it had happened yesterday.

He fell silent, the weight of the past settling over him again, that strange mix of regret and nostalgia twisting in his chest. Sam watched him for a moment, his expression softening, sensing his brother’s quiet struggle.

“You know”, Sam said, his voice gentle, “maybe this is your chance, Dean. To do things differently. You’ve got the card. You’re still here. It’s not like you’re running out of reasons to reach out to her”.

Dean’s grip on the wheel tightened, his jaw working as he wrestled with the decision that had been simmering under the surface since they’d left the bar. The logic was simple enough, and he knew Sam was right. But the thought of opening that door again, of letting you back in, was equal parts terrifying and thrilling.

After a long stretch of silence, Dean let out a breath, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “Maybe”, he said quietly, his tone carrying a touch of hope he didn’t often let himself feel.

The evening settled around the small, dimly lit motel room, the hum of traffic from the nearby road blending with the low rumble of the TV in the background. Sam was already fast asleep, sprawled across one of the twin beds, his breaths steady and even. But Dean lay awake, staring at the ceiling, his thoughts drifting back to you—back to those lunch breaks you’d shared, the quiet moments that had managed to etch themselves so deeply into his mind that they felt like yesterday.

-Flashback-

It had been a week since that first lunch together under the oak tree, and somehow, it had become an unspoken routine. Every day, you’d find him waiting for you in the same spot, and each time you’d sit across from him, settling into the easy rhythm that had formed between you. Each day, it was a little less awkward, the smiles a little brighter, the silences a little more comfortable. And each day, Dean felt something in him relax, as if the weight he carried had lightened, if only for those few minutes with you.

On this particular day, you’d shown up with two hot chocolates, handing him one with a shy smile. He took it, surprised but grateful, the warmth of the cup seeping into his cold hands.

“I thought you might need it”, you said, your voice soft, almost teasing as you sat across from him, watching his reaction.

Dean took a long sip, his eyes twinkling with a familiar mischief as he set the cup down, looking at you over the rim. “You know, you keep bringing me stuff, and people might start thinking we’re a thing”, he teased, his voice carrying that trademark Dean charm, but with a warmth you hadn’t quite heard before.

You rolled your eyes, chuckling as you pulled your own cup closer. “Oh, please. They probably already think that”. You tried to keep your voice light, but there was an unmistakable blush creeping up your cheeks, which only seemed to amuse him more.

“Guess I’ll just have to get used to all the rumors then, huh?”, he replied, a faint blush of his own coloring his cheeks, though he played it off with a casual shrug. “Could be worse. There’s no one else I’d rather get a hot chocolate from”.

You bit your lip, feeling your heart stutter in your chest as you looked at him, his grin still lingering, his gaze holding steady on you. Dean had this way about him, this mix of cockiness and mystery that set him apart from everyone else. He was older, and though you didn’t know much about his life, there was something in his eyes—something quiet, something that hinted at secrets, like he’d lived more than anyone you’d ever met.

And somehow, all of it—his smirk, his laugh, that intense, guarded gaze—it made you feel giddy and nervous all at once, like you were balancing on the edge of something you couldn’t quite name.

You cleared your throat, trying to shake the feeling, but your voice still came out softer, a little breathless. “Well, guess I’ll just have to keep up the hot chocolate supply then, huh?”.

Dean could feel his own heartbeat pick up, thudding against his ribcage as he looked at you, but he kept his expression casual. He wasn’t about to let on that just sitting here, watching you smile and laugh, was enough to make him feel… well, a little unsteady. This wasn’t supposed to be part of the plan. He was just here for a few weeks, maybe less, keeping his head down, blending in, not getting too attached. And yet, here he was, heartbeat racing, feeling like he was balancing on the edge of something he hadn’t prepared for.

“Guess I’ll just have to keep showing up, then”, he replied, his voice light, though there was an unmistakable warmth in his eyes as he looked at you. “I mean, can’t say no to free hot chocolate”.

You laughed, shaking your head, and the sound sent a warmth through him he couldn’t quite explain. He glanced down at the cup in his hands, trying to hide the slight blush creeping up his neck, but he couldn’t resist looking back up at you, his gaze softening despite himself.

“Not just here for the hot chocolate, though”, he added, the words slipping out before he could stop them. He cleared his throat, trying to play it off with a shrug, but he knew he’d already given himself away. “I mean, the company’s not too bad either”.

Your cheeks flushed more, and you bit your lip, a small smile tugging at the corner of your mouth as you looked down, trying to hide your own reaction. That small gesture, that shy, quiet smile—it made Dean’s chest tighten, and for a moment, he let himself just watch you, forgetting the rules he’d set for himself.

In those simple lunch breaks, in the way you’d look at him with such unfiltered warmth and kindness, Dean had found something he hadn’t expected: a chance to feel… normal. He hadn’t thought that was even possible anymore. Not with the life he led, not with the weight of everything he knew he’d have to leave behind.

But with you, it was different. You made him want things he’d never thought he could have—a life that wasn’t always on the road, days filled with easy moments and quiet laughter instead of danger and uncertainty. And that scared him, more than he’d admit. Because he knew he wasn’t supposed to want this, wasn’t supposed to get attached. But here he was, feeling his pulse race every time you so much as looked at him.

You glanced up, catching his gaze, and for a second, the two of you just held each other’s stare, the air thick with something unspoken, something fragile but real.

-End of the flashback-

The memory faded, but the feeling lingered, a quiet ache settling in Dean’s chest as he lay in the dark, staring at the motel ceiling. He let out a long breath, his hand rubbing over his face, trying to scrub away the emotions that had crept up on him, emotions he’d buried for so long he’d almost convinced himself they were gone.

But being back in town, seeing you again, had peeled back every layer he’d built to keep those memories at bay. He could still see you as clearly as if no time had passed, that shy smile tugging at the corner of your lips, your gaze soft and sincere in a way that had always made him feel like he was something more than the kid his dad had dragged from town to town, always moving, never staying. And those lunches—just a few stolen moments under that oak tree—had been the closest thing he’d ever had to a taste of normal. They’d left him wanting a life he’d known he could never keep.

Dean let out a low, humorless chuckle, running a hand through his hair. “Should’ve known better”, he muttered to himself, voice barely a whisper in the stillness of the room. But there was no denying it: he’d never really stopped wanting that life with you.

He rolled onto his side, trying to settle into sleep, but his hand drifted unconsciously to the pocket of his jacket, where the small card you’d given him rested, a reminder of the day’s events, of the quiet invitation you’d made him.

For a moment, he debated it, running a thumb over the edge of the card, letting the idea linger. But he knew the risks, the life he’d bring crashing down into yours, the way his path never seemed to lead anywhere that didn’t end in heartbreak or goodbye. He didn’t know if he could pull you into that world, not after how hard he’d tried to keep you away from it back then.

But he also knew that maybe, just maybe, he couldn’t keep himself away any longer.

With a sigh, he closed his eyes, the faintest smile tugging at his lips as he whispered to himself, “Guess we’ll see”, before finally drifting into a restless sleep, the image of you still lingering in his mind like a quiet promise.

-Flashback-

Days later, on a quiet night, the kind of evening that felt wrapped in stillness, only broken by the rustle of leaves in the soft breeze and the occasional bark from your dog as he sniffed at everything in sight. You hadn’t expected to see anyone in the park this late, let alone Dean Winchester, slumped on a bench, face bloodied, bruised, and staring into the distance like he was barely holding himself together.

Your heart dropped, the sight of him so raw and shocking that for a moment, you thought you were imagining it. His clothes were torn and stained, dark patches of blood spreading across his shirt and jacket, and his arm was cradled awkwardly, held close to his side in a way that made you realize something was seriously wrong.

He looked up, eyes widening slightly as he registered you standing there, but his expression quickly turned guarded, his gaze flickering away as if he could somehow hide the damage from you by simply looking somewhere else.

“Dean… what happened?”, you whispered, approaching him slowly, the weight of concern heavy in your chest. You felt your dog pull at his leash, sensing your worry, but you held him back, focused on the broken figure in front of you.

Dean forced a smirk, though it came out more like a grimace, his face paling with the effort. “You know, just a rough night”, he muttered, trying to sound casual, like he was brushing off a scraped knee rather than the blood seeping through his shirt. “Thought I’d get in a little brawl. Keeps things interesting”.

You frowned, not buying his attempt at humor for a second. His arm was cradled protectively, and the tension in his face told you he was barely holding it together. He looked exhausted, broken in a way that went beyond the physical injuries, as though something much deeper had been hurt tonight.

“Dean, you’re hurt”. You knelt down beside him, reaching out carefully, but he flinched, pulling back instinctively before realizing it was just you. His defenses dropped, just for a moment, as he looked at you with something raw, almost vulnerable, in his eyes.

He let out a heavy sigh, glancing down at the blood staining his hands. “It’s… it’s nothing. Got into a fight, bit off more than I could chew. Happens”. His voice was rough, edged with the kind of pain he’d clearly been trying to ignore, but there was something else there too—a flicker of shame, as though he didn’t want you to see him like this.

But you could see the weight he was carrying, and the thought of him out here, alone and hurt, made your heart ache. “Come on, we need to get you to a hospital”, you insisted, your voice gentle but firm, reaching out again, this time more determined.

Dean shook his head, a grimace of pain tightening his features. “Can’t”, he said, his voice low. “Too many questions. I’ll… I’ll figure it out”. He tried to push himself up, only to falter, his breath catching as he slumped back onto the bench.

“Dean…”. You felt a surge of frustration and worry, torn between wanting to respect his stubborn independence and the overwhelming need to help him. “If you’re not going to the hospital, then at least let me help. My place isn’t far from here. I’ve got first aid stuff, and… you can clean up. Please”.

He looked at you, and for a moment, he seemed to consider it, his resolve wavering. Finally, he nodded, letting out a breath that seemed to carry the weight of his pride with it. “Alright. Just… just don’t tell anyone, yeah? I don’t need anyone knowing I can’t handle a stupid fight”.

You nodded, a soft smile breaking through your worry. “I won’t say a word”.

With a careful hand, you helped him stand, his weight leaning against you as he took a shaky breath. The walk back was slow, every step a reminder of just how much he’d been trying to mask his pain, but he didn’t complain, didn’t try to pull away.

As you reached your front door, you turned to Dean, pressing a finger to your lips and whispering, “We’ve got to be quiet. My parents are asleep”. He nodded, gritting his teeth against the pain as you helped him navigate the steps, each creak of the floorboards feeling impossibly loud in the stillness of the night. Your dog trotted quietly behind, sensing the need for calm as you led Dean through the dimly lit hallway, past closed doors, and up to your room.

You cracked your bedroom door open and guided him inside, holding your breath as he took in his surroundings. It was a simple room, but every inch of it was distinctly yours—a world apart from the barren motel rooms and grim hunting spots he’d known all his life. Posters lined the walls, a mix of bands and books you loved, and there was a soft, warm glow from the string lights draped along the headboard of your bed. The bedspread was a gentle shade of blue, soft and clean, with a few cozy throw pillows tucked neatly on top. A bookshelf stood by the window, crammed with novels and notebooks, a few favorite titles spilling onto the floor in stacks.

Dean’s eyes widened slightly as he took it all in, his gaze wandering over the posters, the string lights, the soft details. He looked almost out of place, like he’d stumbled into another world—a place where the harshness of his life didn’t belong. He shifted his weight awkwardly, cradling his injured arm, and you could see a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes as he took in the details of your room, details that, to him, seemed to capture pieces of you he hadn’t known yet.

“Nice place”, he muttered, trying to keep his tone light, but you could tell he was genuinely taken aback. It was like he was seeing a different side of the world—one he hadn’t been allowed to experience.

You gave him a small, reassuring smile, whispering, “Thanks”. You motioned for him to sit on the edge of your bed as you quietly opened a drawer, pulling out the first-aid kit and some supplies.

He lowered himself onto the bed slowly, grimacing as he tried to keep his sprained arm steady. The mattress sank slightly under his weight, soft in a way that made him blink in surprise. Everything in your room seemed to have a softness to it—the kind of comfort he wasn’t used to but found himself instinctively leaning into.

Dean watched as you moved around your room with quiet familiarity, pulling out bandages, antiseptic, and a towel. You flicked on the lamp by your bedside, casting a warm glow that softened the edges of the room, and as you sat beside him, his gaze lingered on you, a hint of awe in his eyes.

“Feels… nice in here”, he murmured, almost like he was embarrassed to admit it.

You settled beside him on the bed, the first-aid kit open between you as you prepared a damp cloth, dipping it into a bowl of warm water you’d brought up from the bathroom. Every movement was gentle, careful, your focus fully on him as you began to dab away the dried blood from his face, wiping it away in soft strokes.

Dean watched you, his eyes tracing your expression as you worked. He seemed almost hesitant, like he didn’t quite believe he deserved this kind of care. There was a rawness in his gaze, a hint of vulnerability that made your heart ache as you gently brushed a thumb over his cheek, wiping away a streak of dried blood.

“Does it hurt?”, you asked softly, looking up at him, your eyes filled with quiet concern.

He shook his head, though you knew he was lying. “Not much”, he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper, his gaze fixed on you as if he was trying to memorize every detail. “Guess I’m tougher than I look”.

You gave him a small smile, continuing your work with gentle hands. “I don’t doubt it”, you murmured. “But even tough guys need someone to patch them up sometimes”. Your voice was tender, carrying a softness that felt like a balm on wounds that went deeper than the bruises and cuts on his face.

Dean’s gaze softened, a flicker of something vulnerable slipping through the usual guardedness he wore like armor. He didn’t say anything, just watched as you worked, his eyes following the movement of your hands, the way you handled him with such care, as if he were something fragile.

As you moved closer to clean a cut near his eyebrow, your faces were just inches apart, and you could feel his breath, slow and steady, warm against your skin. He was still, so still that you could almost hear his heartbeat, the air thickening between you as he held your gaze, his expression open in a way he rarely allowed himself to be.

“You’re always this soft?”, he asked, his voice so low it was almost a murmur, his eyes never leaving yours.

You felt your cheeks warm, but you didn’t look away. “Only for people who deserve it”, you replied, your voice equally quiet, the words carrying a meaning that hung in the air between you, heavy and unspoken.

Dean’s jaw tightened slightly, his gaze flickering downward as if he didn’t believe he was worthy of that softness, of that quiet care you were offering him so freely. He swallowed, a faint smirk pulling at his lips as he tried to brush it off. “Not sure I fall into that category, sweetheart”, he muttered, his voice laced with a self-deprecating humor that barely hid the vulnerability underneath.

You rolled your eyes at his words, but there was a smile tugging at your lips, soft and genuine. “Well, you don’t get to decide that”, you murmured, still focused on the cut above his brow, carefully dabbing at it as though he might break under too much pressure.

Dean’s smirk faded, replaced by something softer, almost disbelieving, as he looked at you. “Guess not”, he whispered, his tone lacking its usual bite, as if he was letting himself accept your care, even if just for a few moments.

You finished tending to his cuts and bruises, then sat back a little, finally taking in the full picture—Dean Winchester, bruised and broken, but with that familiar, guarded warmth in his eyes, one that was aimed solely at you. Despite his injuries, he managed a small, crooked grin that sent your heart racing all over again. You didn’t realize it then, but this was a moment he’d remember, the memory of your touch lingering with him like a promise.

-End of the flashback-

You lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, thoughts drifting back to Dean—the boy he’d been, the man he’d become. So much time had passed, and yet, seeing him again felt like slipping into something familiar, like picking up a story that had been left unfinished.

He’d stood in front of you, years later, carrying the weight of battles fought and scars earned, a look in his eyes that told you he’d seen more than he’d ever wanted to. Yet somehow, despite the rough edges time had given him, there was something unmistakable in his gaze, something that brought you right back to those early days—the same quiet warmth, that flicker of mischief, that vulnerability he tried so hard to hide.

It was almost surreal, how he looked so much older, and yet, to you, he was still somehow that eighteen-year-old boy who’d made you feel like the center of his world in those stolen moments.

You rolled onto your side, pulling the covers closer as your heart beat faster, memories rushing back to fill the silence of your bedroom. You thought of how he’d looked at you back then, like he was trying to memorize you, and how he’d looked at you now, like he couldn’t believe you were real. And in that moment, you felt the weight of those lost years, the ache of missed moments and the wonder of seeing him again, as if fate had brought him back to you.

But even now, as a grown man, standing in front of you with a lifetime of stories written on his face, he still looked at you with that same spark, that same fondness. It was as if, in his eyes, you hadn’t changed at all.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰 Right now, early-seasons-dean gives me all the vibes... I just.. CAN´T. HELP

-

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[delulu4dean]

“A Game Of Angels & Devils”

Warnings: Smut, it’s smut, pure smut. Swearing and maybe some violence but mainly smut

Pairings: Demon!Dean x female angel!reader

Summary: Dean is a demon, and he’s loose in the bunker with Castiel’s angels sister.

Word Count: 1,781

Castiel always had a rough relationship with the other angels, you were the only one he really saw as a sibling. You always stood by him no matter what, so when he asked you to help with Dean, his best friend, you jumped at the chance. But Dean was also a legend, to heaven and hell. And now that he’s a demon, you couldn’t wait. You couldn’t wait to meet him, you couldn’t wait to see what he was capable of.

Castiel and Sam were out of the bunker while Dean was trapped in a chair, the same one previously used to hold Crowley. You were left alone with Dean. Castiel had other things to deal, and Sam went off to get groceries. Nobody anticipated that the attempt to cure Dean would turn out this way.

The cure of course, is human blood. But unfortunately Dean had just enough human in him to escape, and enough demon in him to come for your ass. And when you saw he’d escape, you were terrified. After everything that happened with the angels and heaven, you knew you couldn’t stand a chance against Dean Winchester.

So here you are now, walking down the halls, as Dean’s voice booms through the bunker, “Y/N! I’m coming for you!” Your steps are quiet as to not draw any attention while you look for a place to hide. The only place you can think of is under a bed, and the bed happens to be in Dean’s room. You try to quiet your breathing down, covering your mouth. You know you’d have to keep Dean from escaping but right now he’s after one thing: you. Dean didn’t like angels much before, except for Cas. All other angels were dicks. Dean being a demon means all that hatred is on another level.

“Come on Y/N, I just want to have some fun. Let’s play a game!” his voice sends shivers down your spine. You know he’s going to hunt you down and he’s not quitting any time soon. Of course you wanted to see what he was capable of but not with him roaming

The clicking of his boots on the bunker floor get louder as he gets closer. You see him entering the room, walking closer to his bed. You hold your breath, scared to what he would do. And then he crouches, and you see him looking right into your eyes.

“Fuck,” you breathe out, as he grabs your shoulders and pulls you out from under the bed.

“There you are, princess. I was beginning to think you were hiding from me,” he taunts you. His smirk is playful but his eyes are determined.

“You got me, what now, Dean?” you look up at your brother’s best friend. You keep your voice steady and refuse to let Dean see the fear in your eyes.

“I can torture you, use you to get what I want out of Sammy and Cas,” he explains. But what did he want, other than to kill all three of you?

“Yeah except you’ve got more human blood in you now. You’re not as strong,” you spit. You can’t tell if you’re being brave or stupid, talking to Dean like this.

He glares at you, grabbing you by the shirt. He may not be so strong for a demon, but he’s Dean Winchester, so he’s strong enough. And so you are scared, of course you are scared. But a small part of you is excited too.

“I’d be careful if I were you, princess. Watch your mouth.”

You don’t wait for him to do anything, as your knee goes straight for between his legs. He lets go of you and hunches over in pain.

“You’re going to regret that,” he growls.

You attempt to run off but he grabs your arm and pulls you back, before throwing you on his bed. You lay on your back, looking at him, as he walks closer to you. His eyes burn with anger, but there’s another feeling mixed in there that you can’t quite place.

“You know, we never got along,” Dean starts, as he gets on top of you. “It’s a shame, your Cas’ sister, I’m his best friend, we should get along.”

“Yeah I’m going to get along with the guy who toys around with my brother, he ruined his reputation with heaven, he was a good soldier of heaven, and then you happened,” you lecture Dean. You’ve always felt like Dean ruined Cas.

“And yet here you are, helping him,” Dean smirks. Dean climbs onto his bed, crawling on top of you.

“He was my mentor, I’ve been by his side for years and years. He’s my family.”

“And he’s my best friend. Or was, before all this happened.”

You sigh, looking up at the demon on top of you. Your breathing is heavy, as you stare into his eyes. He smirks at you, leaning down. You don’t know what to say or do, as he gets closer to your ear.

“I think I have another idea on what I want to do with you,” he whispers in your ear, causing you to tense up.

You look down at his hand, unzipping your jeans. You gently gasp as his hand goes in your panties and his middle finger finds your clit. You bite your lip, feeling your body relax under his touch. His lips brush against the skin of your neck, before he starts kissing it.

“We may not get along but you have no idea how much I’ve wanted to do this with you, Y/N. Way before all this happened actually. And now, as a demon, ruining your angelic innocence,” you feel his breath on your neck.

“Oh, honey, I may be an angel but I’m not innocent,” you look back up into his eyes.

His eyes are dark with lust, as he sits up, pulling your pants off, and then your panties. As he does, you throw off your shirt and quickly undo your bra and toss it to the side. Dean’s hands roam up and down your body, before he takes off his own clothes, and positioning himself to enter you.

“I’m going to make you my bitch,” he tells you.

“I’d like to see you try.”

And with that, he pushes himself inside you, and you let out a moan. He pounds into you, holding your hands above your head, pinning them to his bed. With his other hand, he grabs your thigh, wrapping your leg around his waist, allowing him to go in deeper. He’s hitting your sweet spot, over and over, but you can’t let him just win like this.

You break free from his grasp, and roll over, using both of your hands to pin his to the bed, while you take control. Up and down you bounce, causing him to grunt, as he glares at you. You continue to work your magic, and Dean let’s you. No way were you going to let Dean make you his bitch.

“Yeah you like this?” you tease Dean. “I bet you do. You have this tough boy act but really you’re just a little bitch.” Wrong move.

In a second, he’s back on top of you, thrusting fast and hard, hand around your throat. You gasp, moaning. But you still refuse to lose. If this is the game Dean wants to play, you’re playing too.

“Look at you,” Dean says, putting his thumb on your lips. “Be a good little angel and open.”

You comply, and he puts his thumb in your mouth for you to suck, so you do.

“Good angel, taking orders like you should.”

You smirk, his finger still in your mouth, as you get an idea. You bite his thumb, and he pulls it out, growling. He grabs your face, and makes you look into his eyes.

“Did you just fucking bite me?”

“Yes,” you simply answer.

Instead of saying anything, he decides two can play that game. He leans down and bites your neck, gently. Instead of pain you feel bliss, with the mix of the love bites and his length in you sliding in and out.

You’re not going to lie, there always been a sort of attraction to Dean, but in your mind he was always off limits. You didn’t know how your brother felt about Dean, you just knew he was his best friend. But you definitely are not complaining about having sex with Dean.

You wrap your legs around Dean, wanting some sense of control. You want a chance of winning but as you and Dean look into each others eyes, you realize this might end in a draw. And neither of you are complaining.

As your walls tighten around him, he grunts, his lips crashing into yours. You kiss back, holding his face in your hands. He continues fucking you with passion, as you both come closer to your orgasms. His skin hits your clit over and over as he fucks you, pushing you closer to the edge. His finger goes to your clit, rubbing it, bringing you to your orgasm.

He follows shortly after, pulling out and finishing off on your chest, his eyes going black. He knew better than to finish in you. If a half demon/half human kid is dangerous, and a half angel/half human kid is dangerous, you couldn’t only imagine what would happen if there was an offspring of a human and a demon. Dean was smarter than risking releasing something like that upon the world, even as a demon.

You’re both panting, as he lays down next to you. His arm wraps around you, pulling you close. It’s a warm feeling that you didn’t expect from a demon. Maybe enough of Dean was in there, especially with the human blood Sam has been injecting in him. You really don’t know, and you don’t need to know. You just really enjoy being in his arms like this.

“Guess we both lost,” Dean breaks the silence.

“Yeah, and I’m glad we did,” you tell him, turning your body to face him. “Cas is so going to kill you if he finds out.”

“Like he can,” Dean rolls his eyes.

You smile, enjoying the moment. Right now, it doesn’t matter if Cas wouldn’t approve, if Dean is a demon or if you didn’t like him before you met him. It doesn’t matter that you are an angel and all angels were dicks in Dean’s eyes, because you aren’t. In Dean’s eyes, you’re this angel, and as a demon he can see you for what you are. And he is mesmerized.

[anundyingfidelity]

YES, MA’AM — Sam Winchester/Sam Wesson ft. Dean Winchester/Dean Smith (Chapter II)

Summary: Sam is the new tech support guy at Sandover Bridge & Iron Inc., and he thinks you, his supervisor, are related to him in ways more than professional. He not only dreams of ghosts and Dean Smith, the sales and marketing director, but you, the pretty boss who seems very fond of him, maybe a little too much.

Word count: 2.1k.

Pairing: Sam W./Sam Wesson x female reader (main), Dean W./Dean Smith x female reader. Situated in 4x17 - It's a Terrible Life.

Warnings for this series: smut with plot, sexual tension, sub!Sam, dom!reader, switch!Dean, co-workers with benefits with Dean, boss/employee dynamics, canon violence and stuff.

Warnings for this chapter: late night office rough sex with Dean, unprotected sex, guilty feelings for Sam, death as following the storyline of this episode but with slight changes.

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GEN MASTERLIST!

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Chapter II: A Second Life

The elevators closed and your eyes were locked on Sam’s gaze the whole time, until he disappeared from your sight. A strange feeling washed over you, seeing him like that, but Dean’s lips back on your neck, leaving wet kisses along your skin brought you back to reality.

Quickly, you forced yourself to take in the sweet sensation of his fingers undoing the buttons of your blouse and his mouth ghosting over your covered breasts. He sucked on your tits, after pushing the bra up, his long, thick fingers squeezing your flesh.

“Dean,” you moaned, throwing your head back slightly.

The sound of the elevator caused him to separate from your flesh and you tried your best to cover your body as he dragged you to his office. Everything was quiet, no soul could be seen but you. This wasn’t the first time you had the pleasure of having him between your legs, but work had been busy and you were craving for release for such a long time.

He felt the same, judging by the way he pushed you against the wall once inside his office. How his lips kissed yours in a heated, needy gesture, his tongue finding its place inside your mouth, earning breathy moans from you. His hands withdrew your blouse, and he exposed your breasts again. Soon, he pulled up your skirt and your panties were discarded on the floor. With a gasp, you were between the wall and his body holding you, and he grinded his hips against your cunt. Dean hissed, feeling your legs wrapping around his waist and your hand unzipping his trousers to free his cock, hard and ready for you.

“Rough or gentle?” he asked, voice full of lust as he looked at you with half hooded eyes and that smirk of his.

“I’m stressed today, so you’d say,” you teased, stroking his hard length, feeling the pre cum already leaking.

“Of fucking course,” Dean hissed before pressing his lips on yours once again, one of his hands going between your legs to rub your folds, coating your clit with your own juices and stretching you out slowly with his digits for a moment. He smirked when a breathy moan passed your lips. “Rough it’ll be.”

You bit your lip, feeling the tip of his cock rubbing on your wet slit. “You know me so well.”

Your throbbing pussy welcomed him, as he slid inside you with a smooth movement of his hips. Dean started to pound into you against the wall, holding your thighs firmly with his hands. There was always something so beautiful and hot he found on you each time you were like this, with your eyes shut and mouth open, moaning and whimpering sweetly, while he fucked you. He loved how messy you were, how stupidly dirty you could get when the two of you were together.

The tight walls of your cunt fluttered around his cock as Dean began to leave harsh and wet kisses on your breasts, playing with your nipple with his mouth, one of his hands working on the other. You squirmed under his touch, your legs around his waist started to feel strained, but you don’t care as much as he keeps fucking you into oblivion. You moaned particularly loud when his cock reached the deepest spot inside you, and you felt so damn close.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he growled, giving a particularly harsh thrust and making you moan again.

You covered your mouth with your hand to suppress the noises coming out, but it only caused Dean to rut even harder, until you came first. He increased the rhythm of his hips, twitching inside your convulsing walls, and finally got himself spilling inside you. Dean bucked his hips the last couple of times before carrying you with him until he sat down on the nearest chair in front of his desk, you on his lap trying to catch your breath and recover from your amazing high. Still buried deep inside your pussy, he caressed softly your thighs as you hid your face on the crook of his neck.

Despite all the rough fuck you just had, Dean always took good care of you, waiting until you be better to get up and leave. With you, he had been open to explore more than just a quick fuck sometimes. Whether it be his dominant side on you, or the overwhelming control you had on him, Dean just knew he was completely lost in your body and how well you’d work on his wishes and longings, despite this being an arrangement you both had settled for sex and sex only. Still lost in thoughts after a few minutes in a pleasant silence, you leaned back and pulled his softening cock out of you and made yourself comfortable on his laps, your skirt still rolled up and your panties pushed to the side that you didn’t bother to fix.

“Thank you,” you softly beamed at him, kissing the corner of his lips. “You’ve always been awesome at this.”

He chuckled, taking in the messy and disheveled look you had on. “You’re not so bad yourself, baby.”

You took your hand and caressed his cheek. “Maybe next time I could make a couple of moves on you… Fuck you my way perhaps.”

“Oh, yeah? Can’t wait for you to show me.”

The next day you were better than ever as you strolled on your floor. Employees were gathering around already, but there was a fuss in the back, specifically coming from the break room. You made your way through the people, and you saw the body of one of your eldest employees being carried out by the authorities. Without noticing exactly, you stood up by Sam’s side.

“What happened?” you asked in disbelief.

“They think Paul got here pretty early, and, uhm, killed himself with the microwave,” Sam replied, looking away in the direction they took the corpse.

He was avoiding your eyes, but you didn’t care that much at that moment, considering the situation. And you did your best to keep it cool, thinking about what he had witnessed in that stupid elevator. It was so silly; you just started speaking to Sam three weeks ago since he began working there and now, it suddenly was as if you were cheating on him.

But you were forced to remind yourself it was not the moment, nor the place to wander on that. An employee of yours had supposedly committed suicide and you just remembered what he had been waiting for since a couple of months ago.

“Oh god, he was just about to retire,” you mumbled, crossing your arms on your chest. “How could it be? He seemed perfectly fine, but I guess you don’t know in the end.”

“Yeah, I guess so…” Sam answered and he looked directly at you for just a couple of seconds. “Sorry, I need to go. Haven’t punched for my shift,” he said before going away with long strides, and you were left all by yourself.

Dean, who was witnessing your small conversation a few feet away, approached you immediately. The rest of the employees leaving the door frame as well.

“Hey,” Dean started, keeping his face stern and with a professional tone of voice.

“Hey…”

“I’m so sorry,” he continued as you started the way back to your office.

“Yeah, uhm, thank you,” you stuttered. “Actually, I don't know how to feel.”

“It’s pretty normal. It’s not like a situation we encounter everyday, so I understand it.”

Dean stopped once you did outside your office. You gave him a nod and a half smile that disappeared quickly.

“I guess so… I will have to write and prepare something for his family, sorry if anything we came up with is not on my plans anymore…”

“Absolutely no need to apologize to me, I get it. You’re gonna be fine,” he insisted, squeezing your shoulder in a friendly manner.

You knew your relationship was just physical, but this time you really needed to get it sorted out. He would always show you he understands.

“Thanks, Dean,” you smiled before leaving him in the hall.

When you locked yourself inside your office, he sighed deeply. Something was wrong, he thought while walking away. He got a quick glance of Sam, the guy who he had seen outside the elevator the day before and the one who spoke to you just moments ago. There was something weird about him too, and Dean remembered him asking if they knew each other when, in reality, Dean was sure he had never seen Sam through all his life. Maybe there was a chance? A hunch? Something that probably could connect them after all? Or maybe he was going insane. To sort out the curiosity he suddenly felt about the whole situation, Dean decided to look up Paul's file in the archives by himself.

Once the day was over, you just wanted to head home. Mr. Adler, your boss and Dean’s superior, was putting a huge pressure on you to deliver the remaining files you still had on your email, not really showing a shred of sympathy at the sudden events going on in your teams’ floor. When the headache stopped being tolerable, you decided it was enough and that you should leave.

Closing the office door behind you, you saw Sam getting ready to leave as well. He had been staying late, without you knowing. He noticed you stopping by his cubicle and smiled awkwardly; you sensed the same shame you felt last night.

“Staying late I see,” you started.

“Yeah, I got some other things to do,” Sam answered, brushing his hair softly.

You took that in as a sign of lying, but said nothing as you both started to leave the empty office.

“Right,” you nodded.

A silence envolveded you and he dared to speak again. “I didn’t notice you coming around today.”

“I had things to do as well,” you replied with a soft smile on your lips, spreading the gesture on him too.

“Tough day, huh?”

“It really has been tough,” you tried to laugh it off.

There was a small hesitation building up inside you, wondering if you should leave or wait for him when Sam got his stuff from the locker. But in the end, you felt like staying and facing whatever it was you were feeling. Too many things were happening at the same time, with Dean and you hooking up, the sudden death, and now this weird tension with Sam and how he was avoiding you the whole day. So you waited for Sam to get out, and you walked together inside the elevator. It was just the two of you there.

“I’m sorry you had to see that yesterday,” you began, looking at him with brows furrowed. He had a blank face and you breathed deeply. “I’m not like that, I swear, I just, I don’t know, it felt like it, and—”

“Did we know each other before this?” he asked abruptly, interrupting your words. His eyes were locked on yours for the first time through the day.

“Excuse me?”

“I came here like three weeks ago, but I feel like I’ve known you more than that,” he explained with a serious expression.

Confused, you shook your head in slow motion. “No, I don’t think so… I don’t know.”

“But there’s something, right?”

“Sam, you’re scaring me—”

“Just think about it,” he insisted, taking a step forward to get close to you. “Why do you feel like this?”

Sam leaned more and more towards you, and honestly, you had a vague idea of what he was talking about. The mixed, weird feelings you experienced with him were so different from Dean. Not like you were in a relationship, however it certainly felt as if you had done something really, really wrong to Sam. But that didn’t hit you until morning.

“Like what?”

“Like if we shared more than just a professional relationship? Maybe in another life?”

There was a shared heat as the elevator went down. You didn’t have time to think further than that, but what if this wasn’t what you really were? Could be an option as to how that weird sensation had been scratching you every time you saw his beautiful face.

What if it was a dream? A very weird one that you’ve been trapped in with both of them being the center of everything. You were not sure. What you were sure of was how you loved Dean’s touch every time you were out of work, the way Sam would get nervous when you approached his desk to chat for a bit… The way they both looked at you with love and desire, just as how Sam was watching you right at that moment.

This time, you didn’t stop him from kissing you.

taglist: @nix-rose

[i-already-know-im-going-2-hell]

Tags: teenchesters, eventual underage, wound licking kink Words: 645

It starts of all things with a simple paper cut. Sam shuffles through his papers, having finished all his homework for the weekend, when Dean comes in the kitchen. Looking up he jostles the papers quicker than he meant to and hisses as it cuts across the webbing between his thumb and pointer finger.

"Shit!" he cries out, dropping the papers haphazardly on the table again.

The words barely out of his mouth before his brother is grabbing his wrist and turning the cut towards him to see. It's shallow enough that it's already stopped bleeding, and reassured that nothing's truly wrong, Dean kisses it automatically, licking the single drop of blood up, before letting Sam's wrist go and looking up at him with his patented older brother smirk.

"All better Sammy," he says teasingly, ruffling Sam's hair as he continues past towards his original destination of the fridge.

Sam stands where he is and looks down at his hand, his mind concerning blank beyond the feel of Dean's tongue dipping out for half a second across his cut playing on loop.

Suddenly he feels Dean smack him on the back of the head as he goes past with a newly procured beer.

"Jesus Samantha, you'd think you'd been mortally wounded man."

It comes out with the same sort of friendly offhand insult Sam's used to hearing from his brother when he does something "particularly girly", but Dean's eyes follow him a touch too serious for the joke to land in the same way it always does.

Shaking his head to rid himself of the sensation of Dean's tongue touching his skin he dutifully scoffs, even if a little too late for it to come across naturally.

"One of these days, you're going to grow out of the childish insults and have to come up with something requiring just a bit of intelligence Dean."

"Sure thing," he says. "Just let me know when you need me to pick you up some of those pads from the store for my bitchy sister."

Sam immediately scowls causing Dean to smile even wider, absurdly proud of himself, before he turns around to swagger back towards the bedroom they share, beer in hand.

Sighing at his brother's antics Sam looks back down at the stack of papers he has to once again sort before glancing back towards his hand and the almost now imperceptible paper cut. He thinks of Dean's lips grazing it and flushes. Maybe Dean's right and I am turning into a girl he thinks as he shoves his papers in his bag, unorganized and chaotic.

Sam wakes with a gasp for the third night in a row, after images of warm wetness pressing against a stinging wound still playing behind his eyes. Squeezing his hands tightly he can feel where his boxers stick uncomfortably wet on him. Half asleep still he reaches his hand under the sheets towards his still entirely too hard dick before a pillow crashes into his unassuming face.

Sputtering he looks up and sees Dean grinning down at him.

"We really need to find you a girl Sammy," he says with too much glee before walking off towards the bathroom.

Fully awake now Sam stares at the ceiling as he connects the details of his dream to the still overly uncomfortable state between his legs. He considers continuing what Dean stopped but decides he doesn't want to risk another blue balling pillow to the face.

Sighing he lays there, reciting states and capitals until his dick has gone fully soft again.

Getting up finally he wipes himself down with the dry parts of his boxers. Vindictively he then throws them towards Dean's side of the room instead of the pile he keeps as neat as he can of his dirty clothes.

This is all his fault anyways, Dean can deal with it.

Part 1 | 2 | x

[horrorshow]

a season 4(ish) fic rec list focusing on the emotional aftermath of dean going to hell and coming back, and what could have been, for @spnficrecfest

WALLS COME TUMBLING by destina sam/dean, 3.2k, rated E Sam was stupid last time, when Uriel snatched Dean away without warning. Stupid, and unprepared. He won't make that mistake again.

NO ONE IS ASKING (SO LEAVE IT ALONE) by xzombiexkittenx sam/dean, 9.4k, rated E Everyone has their coping mechanisms. Sam’s getting everything under control, one step at a time.

THE EVERLASTING GAZE by fleshflutter cas & dean, 1k It's a strange thing to hate your saviour. Dean doesn't remember Hell, not really. He doesn't remember Castiel putting his hand on him, drawing him up through the fire and blood. But there's a huge, frozen horror hidden in the back of his head. It creeps into his other thoughts.

SLEEPING BEAUTY by deadlybride sam/dean, rated M, 1.3k March 12, 2009. Sam rescues Dean from Alastair.

MORALITY ENDS WHERE A GUN BEGINS by lazy_daze sam/dean, 3.1k, rated E Sam hates the handprint and stares at it when Dean comes out of the shower in just a towel. It hardly even makes him feel better to see the stark lines of Dean's tattoo still on his skin, the same mark over Sam's own heart.

HIT THE GROUND CRAWLING by jonny_vrm sam/dean, 28k, rated E After Sam pulls Dean out of Hell, Dean stops talking. It takes a week for Sam to convince Dean to open his mouth so Sam can check that his tongue hasn't been cut out. It takes two weeks for Sam to accept that Dean really isn't talking. Then it takes a week of silence, the two of them sitting in the Impala like ventriloquist dummies, sitting in motel rooms like human taxidermy, before Sam decides to start talking for the both of them.

DEVIL'S TRAP by ratherastory alastair/dean, 3.8k There is water dripping slowly onto the Devil's Trap, and Dean doesn't care. AU where Sam is unable to kill Alastair in 4x16, exploring Alastair's relationship with Dean further.

PASSION by deadlybride sam/dean, 2.5k, rated M Hell reflects its ruler. Hell is, always, essentially Hell.

YOU TAKE IT WITH YOU by lazy_daze sam/dean, 30k, rated E Sam saves the world, and he brings Dean back from a month in Hell, but that's when things start to get complicated. Dean's cheated death before, but this time, it's different – Dean's spirit is unable to re-enter his body. Can Sam and Bobby work out how to reunite Dean's body and spirit? And how will Dean cope if they can't? From hunts in the Chicago lakes to visits to the Grand Canyon, with dreams, handjobs and hookers along the way, Sam and Dean ride it out and learn all over again how to live this life and live it together.

EMPTY SPACES by mariahlee dean, dean & sam, gen, 4.3k Hell? Consistent. He knew what to expect. Now, topside, everything is different. The world he used to know forty years ago is almost completely unfamiliar.

HANGMAN IS COMING DOWN FROM THE GALLOWS by withdiamonds sam/dean, 28k, rated E Today is the last day of Dean Winchester's life. Today is the last day of Dean Winchester's life. Today is the last day…

I ONLY DREAM OF YOU, MY BEAUTIFUL by sophie_448 sam/dean, 1.2k, rated M The last hours of the year are ticking by, and Sam realizes that there's no way to save Dean.

THE FIRESTARTER by jaimeykay dean & alastair, gen, 13k Set during On the Head of a Pin. While he waits for Dean, Alastair reminisces on what brought them together. Those forty years? Were delicious.

LIKE ROCK SALT WITHOUT A SHOTGUN by lazy_daze sam/dean, 2.8k, rated M Sam thought maybe, when it was all over, when he'd used his powers to their limit and stuffed all the demons back into hell and vaporized Lilith and nearly killed himself in the process -- he'd thought maybe they'd go.

THE DEVIL'S WATER IT AIN'T SO SWEET by xxamlaxx alastair/dean + cas/dean, nc-17 Dean comes back from hell with something extra.

HUNGRY AND HALLOW by hathfrozen sam/dean, 14k, rated E "Sorry," Dean gasps, going to tug the gun away, throw it to the floor, probably. It’s different—it was never okay, and this is—it’s different, what the fuck is he doing. Sam says, “Don’t," as he stretches his neck out and to the side slightly, opening it up to the cool press of the metal barrel.

HOWL VERSE by paxlux sam/dean, 85k, rated E In Hell, people change. Or they stay the same.

I FEEL FLAMES AGAIN by fleshflutter sam/dean, 12k, rated R Following a failed apocalypse, Dean nurses Sam through his addiction to demon's blood, which has driven Sam to horrific things.

FAITH WITHOUT WORKS IS DEAD by deadlybride sam/dean, 2.4k, rated E Sam does what he has to do.

SO FAR FROM YOUR WEAPON/DIG, LAZARUS, DIG by maypoles sam & dean, gen S4, Dean has an especially effed up relationship with pain now, Sam finds out/realises / After "On The Head Of A Pin," Dean has a bit of a breakdown.

[winchestersisterimaginessss]

Imagine: Charlie was your best friend, but she gets killed by the Stynes

Sam and Dean x Sister!Reader

Warnings: death, violence, angst

A/N: I wanted to go deeper into this and show the different stages of grief/the effects of the trauma/ how deans words would end up effecting the reader as well so maybe it calls for a part 2?? I don’t know so lmk if you like this and also please request!!! I’ll write about anything:)))

“Who’s gone?” Sam asked, panicked. His face scrunched with worry and his jaw dropped with fear.

“Sam, who’s gone?” You asked scared of the expression on his face.

He looked at Dean with fear before looking back to you, “Charlie.” He whispered as he brought his hand over his mouth. Your heart dropped.

“I don’t friggin believe it! You got Charlie involved with this again and now she’s missing?!?” He screamed. Your heart was pounding and you were frozen in fear, breathing heavily. You heard Sam’s phone vibrating and he picked it up.

“Charlie where are you?!” He asked frantic waiting for a response back. You jumped up, looking at Sam. Your whole body shaking in fear. There was a pit in your stomach telling you something just didn’t feel right.

“If you have the book give it to them!” He shouted to her over the phone.

“Charlie has the damn Book Of The Damned!?” Dean yelled, angrily. Sam was distraught, shushing Dean.

“Then give them your notes Charlie! Give them the code— whatever they want!” He yelled into the phone.

You were breathing heavily unsure of what was happening on the other end, but Sam’s panic made you extremely nervous. Dean yanked the phone from his hands and started walking towards the door.

“Charlie I don’t know what the hell is going on, but you need to listen to me. Give whoever that is whatever they want. You understand?” He asked as he ran up the steps. You ran behind, flinching when you heard him shout, “Charlie?!”

——-

Dean spun around the corner into the parking lot of the Blackbird Motel. You opened the car door before Dean even stopped it and leaped out of it. You fell onto the hard, wet asphalt and scrambled back up. Your whole body was trembling and felt like jelly when you tried to move. With every step it felt like your legs were going to collapse under you from the rush of adrenaline. The immense fear you felt was like no other and you just had the worst gut feeling ever.

“Y/N!” You heard Dean yell.

You knew it wasn’t a good idea to run into the room blind with no weapon on you, but it was like your body moved without telling it to. You only had one thing on your mind and it was getting to Charlie. Sam and Dean charged after you with their guns raised. The door to her room was already open and you bolted in. You looked around confused, not seeing her until you heard Sam. He was looking into the bathroom.

“Oh God,” he gagged and covered his mouth. Dean rushed over immediately and then stopped in his tracks. His face fell.

“Charlie?” Dean said, weakly.

Your heart dropped and you ran towards them. Sam immediately turned around grabbing you by the waist and held you back from seeing the scene that was in front of them. No, you refused to believe it.

“Charlie?” You yelled, feeling sick to your stomach.

Dean turned around with tears in his eyes to look at you. Your body trembled viscously.

“NOOO, NOOOOO!” You screamed, fighting against Sam.

“LET ME SEE!” You shouted pounding against him, but he wasn’t letting up.

“LET ME SEE! LET ME SEE HER!” You shrieked, trying to scratch and claw your way out of his arms to see your best friend, someone who became a big sister to you.

“CHARLIE?!?” You screamed, needing to hear her voice. Instead, it was met with complete silence.

“CHARLIE?” You sobbed, giving into Sam and collapsing into his embrace. You knew she was dead. Dean’s face gave it away as he stood there in shock and you saw Sam bite back throw up before he turned to grab you to prevent you from seeing the massacre of your best friend.

“She’s gone,” Sam whispered, confirming her death

“NO!” You screamed, feeling the veins popping out of your neck.

“No, no, no, no, no,” you sobbed into Sam’s chest, gripping onto his jacket.

He held you close to him as you cried hysterically. You felt his chest rumble as he let out a few sobs as well. You looked up to Dean and saw him leaned against the door frame with his head pointed upwards. His eyes were squeezed shut, but tears were pouring down his cheeks. Sam turned to Dean, “we’ve gotta get out of here,” he said hoarsely. The Stynes were still out there and out to kill the rest of you.

“I’ll go put some of this stuff away in the car.” He said softly, motioning to Charlie’s things all over the room. You nodded and sat down. Sam left to the car and you sat there in shock. It felt like time stopped and you couldn’t picture a world without Charlie in it. You had to see her. You knew you shouldn’t, but you had to see her. You rushed to the bathroom door but rammed right into Dean’s chest as he blocked your view to her. He grabbed you and pushed your face into his chest. “You don’t want to see her,” he mumbled.

“Dean please let me go, I need to.” You cried.

“That’s not how you’re going to want to remember her. I’m telling you right now kid, this is your warning.” He said, clenching his jaw. He knew it was for the best if you didn’t see her, but he knew it wasn’t right to withhold you from it. He’s grieved more than enough people so he knew how it felt to feel like you had to see someone like that. He wasn’t going to interrupt your grieving process, but he also knew it never helped.

“Please Dean,” you whimpered.

He sighed, released his hold on you and stepped to the side. You stood back for a moment, pausing, unsure of what your next move should be. Dean hung his head low as you walked into the bathroom.

You gasped when you saw her. She was laying in the bathtub with blood everywhere. You fell to your knees as the sobs wracked through your body once more. Dean squatted down behind you and pulled your back into his chest.

“Charlie,” you sobbed, “I’m so sorry Charlie.” You cried, looking at her.

You were going to be sick. You pushed out of Dean’s arms and crawled to the toilet. As soon as you picked up the lid, you started projectile vomiting. You felt Dean hold your hair from your face and start rubbing your back. Sam walked in and pinched the bridge of his nose seeing your state. You finished throwing up and wiped your mouth. You turned your body and sat back against the wall, exhausted.

“I had to see her Sammy,” you whispered.

His expression softened, “I understand sweetheart.” He knew all too well, but his heart broke knowing his baby sister was at her point in life where she had to experience it as well.

You stood up with tears streaming down your face, glancing back at Charlie one more time before walking out.

——-

Your face was puffy, your eyes were bloodshot and you had bags under them. Tears continued to flow down your cheeks no matter how hard you tried to stop them. You were setting up the wood for Charlie’s funeral. Sam and Dean came into your view carrying her body and you felt a crushing blow to your chest. You just couldn’t believe that it was the end of your intelligent, brave, and courageous best friend.

They put her body on top of the wood and you watched the fire ignite. You stood in between Sam and Dean as Sam spoke.

“Charlie we’re going to miss you, you were the best. And I’m so sorry-“ Dean cut off Sam.

“Shut up.” He said. You looked up at your brother in shock before he continued, “you got her killed.“

He shook his head, “you both did.”

You felt like you couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t handle him saying that to you. You were already thinking it, but him absolutely confirming it for you made you feel like the worst human being alive. You burst into tears, covering your mouth with your shaking hands.

“Dean!” Sam said, appalled that he would say that to his sister who was clearly in so much pain already. He could handle whatever Dean had to say, but you didn’t deserve it. Not a single bit.

You felt like you were going to die at any second and you could hardly catch your breath. Sam immediately took you into his arms, trying to comfort you.

“We were trying to help you Dean.” You sobbed in between your breaths.

“I didn’t need help! I told you to leave it alone. But you didn’t. And look where that got your best friend.” He stated coldly.

“And I would trade places with her in a second!” You cried out. “Do you think I DONT hate myself for what happened to her?” You bit your lip trying to not let a sob escape you.

“I’ll nev- I’ll never forgive myself, Dean. This is going to weigh on me for-“ you gulped, tears still streaming down your face, “for the rest of my life.” You whimpered.

“What were we supposed to do? Just watch you die?”Sam asked.

“The mark isn’t going to kill me.” Dean stated.

“Dean you’re all we’ve got, of course we were going to fight for you because that’s what we do.” Your voice broke.

Sam started, “listen, we had a shot-“ Dean cut Sam off.

“Yeah, you had a shot. Charlie’s dead.” He said, looking between the both of you “Nice shot.” He scoffed.

You bit the inside of your cheek and looked away as more tears threatened to spill over.

“You think I…” Sam started but paused trying to collect his emotions. “You think I’m ever gonna forgive myself for that?” He questioned Dean.

“You know what I think? I think it should be you or Y/N up there— not her.” Dean said harshly. You closed your eyes and bit the inside of your cheek harder, tasting all of the blood as you gently nodded. You agreed with him. You should have been the one who died instead of Charlie. She never deserved this, but you did. You should be in her place.

“And I’m going to find the person who did this and I’m going to rip apart everything and everyone they’ve ever loved and then I’m going to tear out their heart.” Dean said.

“Is that you talking or the mark?” Sam asked.

“Does it matter?” He responded and walked away.

Once you knew he was gone, you collapsed onto the ground. Dean said you didn’t have the right to apologize or say anything to Charlie, but you needed to. She was your best friend. She was your sister. She was family. You crawled as close to her as possible until you felt the fire burn your skin.

“I’m so sorry Charlie!” You cried. “You didn’t deserve this.” You choked back. “You were my best friend, you were the sister I never had. Thank you so much for always being there for me.“ You said, tasting the tears in your mouth. “I’ll miss your nerdy dorky self too much, but I’ll go to every convention for you and I know you’ll be there, right next to me because there’s no way in hell you’d ever miss one.” You chuckled through your tears. “I’ll forever love and miss you so much.” You whispered, before standing up. You turned to Sam and he reached out to you. You relaxed into his hug while he rubbed your back.

“We’ll get through this bug, you’ll always have me.” He whispered.

[deanwinchestersbabygirll]

Needed you Pt 2 ~ Castiel’s version

-warnings// lots of smut, angst and fluff

Needed you pt 1

Castiel x reader ( slight dean x reader)

-word count// 2202

(gif from Pinterest)

It was the next morning and you woke up to the bed empty and cold, you let out a low sigh disappointed you didn't wake up to the handsome angel, you pulled the thin blanket to cover your chest, grabbing your phone you see a notification from Dean 

'Hey sweetheart, listen I'm really sorry for how much of an ass I was to you before leaving, I didn't mean any of it, I know that's no excuse, I think we should have a talk when Sammy and I come back, just us, I want to talk to you about some things.' 

This made your heart race, is Dean going to kick you out of the bunker? yeah sure he apologised but maybe he's only apologising because Sam made him? You let out a shaky breath as your anxiety got the best of you you replied with a quick okay and shut your phone off 

You wondered  if you should pray to Castiel and see where he is, before you can even say his name he's there "you called?" He asked standing at the edge of the bed staring at your nude form that's hid behind the flimsy motel sheet 

you bit your lip as your cheeks turned a red tint under the angles strong gaze "I was about too actually, what time did you leave" you asked pulling the sheet tighter to you, Castiel moved to sit next to you "six this morning there was trouble in heaven I had to see too" he said taking your small hand in his bigger one "I was worried you regretted what happened last night" you confessed 

Castiel shook his head "I would never regret being with you Y/N" Cas replied making you blush as you tried to hide your growing smile "I'd never regret being with you either Cas" you told him as you leaned over to grasp his lips gently in a kiss, he deepened the kiss as he held your jaw softly in his hand

The kiss soon grew heated as the angel slid his tongue in past your swollen lips as you let out a wordless moan, you felt him gently push you to lay back down on the bed and the sheet gently fell around your sides revealing your breasts to the cool air of the motel.

Castiel gently pulled away from the kiss making you whine and chase after his lips, you rushed to take off his blazer and unbuttoned his shirt, he  threw them to the ground revealing his toned chest, staring up at him with a sultry smile you dragged your fingers down his chest before undoing his belt buckle and zipper, you gently pulled his boxers down revealing his hard cock to you,

You gently wrapped your hand around his shaft and placed a small kiss to this tip making him let out a small groan, you slowly started to move your hand up and down his cock causing him to throw his head back and shut his eyes tight in pleasure "Y/N please" he begged making you smirk

You then took his hard cock into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as you began bobbing your head up and down in a slow and steady pace 

He wrapped big hand around your hair to encourage you to take him deeper down your throat causing you to gag slightly on his length "are you alright?" Cas asked worried, you gave him a thumbs up and got back to work with his cock,  milking him for everything the angel could possibly offer

"Y/N!" He moaned loudly as he came in hot spurts hot cum down your throat, you gently pulled away from him as you swallowed

The angel kicked his pants all the way off before laying you down on the bed, kissing his way down your breasts making you moan his name as he continued his venture down your body, stopping at your hot  core "please angel" you said slightly breathless

Cas smirked as he gently spread your legs wider, revealing you completely to him, you let out a low moan as you felt the cool air hot core, Cas licked a stripe from your entrance to your clit, you shuddered at the pleasure and begged him for more "please Cas I need you"

The Angel complied as sucked your attention deprived clit into his mouth, he coated his fingers in your juices as he entered them both inside of you, you let out squeal and arched your back off the bed, Cas curled his fingers and thrusted them upwards hitting your G- spot as he sucked you clit "oh god Cas I'm gonna come!" You screamed, you hand running through his hair pushing him closer to you as sped up his actions, you continued to let out small moans of his name as the knot in your stomach burst and you came hard on Castiel's tongue

The angel groaned kept thrusting his fingers until you orgasm had washed over you, once your legs began to shake Cas pulled away from you and kissed your lips, you moaned as you tasted yourself on his tongue when he deepened the kiss, you wrapped your shaky legs around his waist and pulled him closer to you "I need you so bad cas" you begged 

The angel complied as he placed his hard cock at your entrance, pushing inside you slowly, inch by inch, you moaned against Cas's lips and he slipped his tongue in your mouth, wrestling with you own as he thrusted deep inside of you, hitting your G-spot with his tip every thrust "faster please baby" you cried out, Cas obeyed, gripping your hips tightly in his hands as he pounded inside of you "oh god! Yes Castiel!" You screamed dragging your finger nails down his back leaving deep red lines that would soon fade into the angels skin 

"You feel incredible Y/N!" Cas groaned as he watched your eyes roll to the back of your head in pleasure and your breasts bounced at the force of every one of his thrusts "i won't last long" you struggled to say "neither will I" Cas said and continued his movements and you soon felt your orgasm come crashing down on you "Cas oh god yes!" You squealed his name on pleasure, Cas groaned and started thrusting faster, triggering his own orgasm, his came inside of you, hot spurts of cum coating your walls as he moaned your name over and over again

Cas pulled out of you after a few more calculated thrusts, he lay down beside you and pulled your tired body right against his "you know for last night being your first time having sex, your pretty fucking good at it" you told him, Cas smiled and kissed your forehead "I learned a lot from the pizza man" the angel said completely serious making you burst into laughter "oh sweetie… that's why you're so adorable" you smiled up at him.

For the next few days while you waited for the boys to get back  you and Castiel wandered around the quaint town, taking in the small scenery however you could only enjoy so much of your time together when you were waiting to talk to Dean... what could he possibly want to talk about?

It was 10m and you and Cas were sat in the motel room waiting for the boys, Sam called a while ago to say they'd be back in an hour. You tapped your fingers along the styrofoam cup of your coffee as you waited your doom "why are you anxious?" The angel asked his head tilted to the side and his eyes narrowed as he observed your fidgeting "I'm fine Cas, Dean just wants to talk to me about something so I'm a little worried about what" you told him and he nodded "I hope it's to apologise for how he hurt you" you shook your head swallowing a sip of your bitter coffee "he already did actually on the text… it's something else he wants to-" 

Your sentence was cut off by the sound of the creaky motel door opening "hey we're back" Sam said sporting some new wounds on his face, you let out a sigh you didn't even know you were holding and ran to hug the giant hunter "I'm so glad you guys are okay" you mumbled into Sam's shoulder" he wrapped his arms around you tightly "yeah me too it was a rough one, really could have done with back up on it" Sam confessed 

“I promise I’ll be there to help next time Sammy” you pulled back from the big hug Turning to a sheepish looking Dean who was sporting a gash across his cheek and a busted lip “…hey” he said his gaze focused on his feet, your face grew hot as your felt the anger bubble in you chest “hey? Are you serious right now! First you basically tell me I’m worthless to you, that you don’t care if I live or die oh and then you send me a text apologising, which by the way doesn’t count as a real apology, and now all you have to say is hey? Are you fucking kidding me dean!” You yelled making all three boys stare at you in shock

“no I- I have a lot more to say, I just I don’t know how to do it. Look can we go somewhere and just talk in private?” dean asked his cheeks turning redder by the second “alright fine by me, let’s go” you grumbled out and stomped past him toward the impala dean following close behind.

“So what did you want to tell me Dean?” You asked with venom laced in your voice “Y/N, I’m so sorry for what I said to you, I didn’t mean it… I just-I- son of a bitch I don’t know how to say this” dean stuttered, hitting the steering wheel in frustration 

you sighed, placing your hand on his to calm him down, Dean turned to look at you “just talk to me dean” you told him softly rubbing your thumb along his rough hand. He let out a deep sigh before leaning forward capturing your lips with his in a fierce kiss, you kissed him back wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer to you, Dean slipped his tongue passed your lips, you pulled back suddenly “wait Dean, I can’t” you told him 

“I’m sorry I just I didn’t know how to tell you I liked you I just thought I could show you, son of a- I’m an idiot” dean chocked out moving back against the drivers door, you leaned toward him “no dean your not an idiot, it’s just Cas and I are together now” you confessed and he nodded in understanding “dean I used to really like you, Sam used to try and get me to tell you but I was scared, and you didn’t seem interested, especially with how mean you could be to me.. I honestly thought you hated me so I started talking to Cas and we’ve gotten really close over the past couple years he became my best friend and I started to have feelings for him and it turns out he liked me too” you told Dean as tears streamed down your face

Dean smiled at you “I get it, I hope you guys are really happy together,  you deserve to be happy” he said quickly before scrambling out of the car

You jumped out after him trying to talk to him as he headed towards town “Dean wait, please don’t walk away from me” you cried out but he didn’t stop.

You took a deep breath trying to calm yourself down as your headed toward Sam and your boyfriend, Sam was on his feet as soon as you walked in the room “hey what happened? Where’s Dean?” He questioned when he seen the tears streaming down your face “we talked about some things and he headed towards town, I think you should check on him” Sam nodded and headed out to find his brother 

“What did dean wish to speak to you about” the angel asked as he sat next to you on the bed you sighed and wiped the tears from your face “dean and I had a lot to unfold and secrets came out into the opening  and he walked off upse- god this is horrible I never wanted to hurt him like that… I haven’t seen him so upset in a long time” you cried and Cas pulled you into him “It’ll be okay, I’ve got you” he said placing a kiss on the top of your head “thanks Cas that means a lot to me” you said placing a kiss on his scruffy jaw

The angel turned to gaze into your eyes with a loving stare, he placed his lips on yours in a small kiss “I’m falling in love with you Y/N Y/LN” he confessed to you making your heart swell in your chest “I’m falling in love with you too Castiel”.

___________________________________________

ALL MY OWN WORK I DO NOT GIVE CONSENT TO COPY OR PUBLISH ON OTHER SITES , I.E WATTPAD, ETC, WITHOUT MESSAGING TO ASK FIRST

Finally the long awaited part 2 of my Castiel imagine, hope you all like it… and incase anyone was wondering I couldn’t help myself but make a Dean version too ;) that’ll be out very soon, for my Castiel girlies please enjoy

to the guys that wanted tagged in part 2 I promise I didn’t forget about you :))

@sluttysammyy

@nescavaneck

@star-yawnznn

[holylulusworld]

Broken Promise (2)

Summary: Sam didn’t keep his promise.

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Girlfriend!Reader

Warnings: angst, redemption, face riding, light oral (fem rec), fluff, making up

Written for @spnkinkevents : Kinky Sam Week 2024 – Day 5: Face Riding/Fucking

SPN Kinky Sam Week Masterlist

Catch up here: Broken Promise

Three months. For three long and painful months, you are gone. Sam is missing you like hell, and it drives him crazy that you don’t answer his calls.

“Sammy, you need to stop doing this,” Dean huffs. “You reek, and your face—” He grins while poking his brother’s bearded cheek with his index finger, “a tragedy.”

“Leave me alone,” Sam snaps back. “If you didn’t get me drunk, she’d be still around. It’s all your fault. You had to brag about your girlfriend and call Y/N a mouse.”

Dean crosses his arms over his chest and huffs. “It’s not my fault you talked about your sex life. I didn’t ask you questions about Y/N and her preference in the bedroom. Too much information, dude.”

“I lost her—” Sam wipes his face. “How can I move on if I just lost the love of my life.”

Dean opens his mouth and closes it. He never thought Sam would anyone call the love of his life but Jess, or maybe Amelia.

“What if we visit her at her friend’s place? I explain that it was my fault and that I got you drunk,” Dean offers his help without hesitation. “Come on, Sammy. It’s your birthday and I want to help you get your girl back.”

Sam shakes his head. “She won’t see me, Dean.”

“Did you already try?” quirking a brow Dean looks at his brother. Sam shakes his head again. “Coward.”

“What?”

“You’re a coward,” Dean grunts. “If you love that woman so much you will shower, dress in fresh clothes and get your shit together. Do whatever is needed to get her back. Go on your knees, beg and plead if you must!”

“Dean…”

“Don’t come up with more excuses,” the elder brother hisses. “You will do as I say. I’m still your elder brother. Now, move your ass or I’ll punch you for being a coward.”

“No,” you refuse to talk to Dean. “I don’t want to see you ever again, Winchester”

“Good,” Dean grins. “If you don’t want to see me,” he steps aside and pushes Sam toward you, “you can talk to this guy.”

“HEY! WAIT!” You grunt. “That’s not what I mean, Dean Winchester. Get back here.” You yell while Dean walks toward his car.

“You wanted me gone, sweetheart,” Dean snickers before he gets into his car. “You can’t change your mind all the time.”

“DEAN!” 

“Uh-hi,” Sam shuffles on his feet. “Look I know you are still mad and hurt.” He sniffs and tries to find the right words. “I just wanted you to know that you are the best girlfriend in the world and the love of my life. I messed up because I wanted to brag for once too.”

“Sam,” you drop your gaze and shake your head. 

“Do you…hate me now?” 

You lift your head to get a good look at your boyfriend. He looks tired. A thick bear frames his face for the first time since you met Sam.

“You’ve got a beard now.”

He hums, unsure if you are mad at him for not shaving before coming here. “I should’ve shaved,” he ruefully says. “Dean didn’t give me more time.”

“Hmm…” you glance at his beard, hands twitching while Sam tries to find a way to win you over. “It looks soft.”

Sam blinks a few times. He wonders if he got you wrong. “I don’t know. I haven’t touched it.”

You suddenly grab his face to feel his beard. “Soft but scratchy,” you murmur. “Not bad…not at all.”

“Y/N, can we talk,” Sam tries to get your attention, but you are busy feeling his beard up. “Baby?”

“I know it’s your birthday today,” you drop your hands and grab his wrist, “but I want you to make things up to me before you’ll get your gift.”

“How?” 

You smirk. Sam is one of the smartest people you ever met, but sometimes he’s just dull when it comes to understanding a hint. 

“You know how,” you tug at his wrist and guide him inside your friend’s house. “My friend is out of town for the rest of the week…”

“Fuck, that’s it,” you grip the headboard tighter and throw your head back as Sam works your thrumming clit with his skilled tongue. 

Sam finally caught up with the meaning of your words and decided to worship you the best way possible – offering his face as a throne to you.

“Shit…I’m gonna,” you gasp loudly feeling the pressure get too much. You soak Sam’s face and his beard, earning a deep growl from him. “Sorry…that was…”

You get off your throne, worriedly looking down at Sam. 

“Fuck, you squired for me, kitten,” he grins dopily. “Wow! I never made a woman squirt before. That was…amazing, baby. Never apologize for being amazing and goddamn sexy.”

“If,” you grab his face to press a kiss on his lips, “you tell Dean about this, tell him it tasted like heaven.” You smirk against his lips. 

“I won’t…I swear.”

“You better not or you won’t get your birthday gift, Samuel Winchester…”

Tags in reblog.

[scoobydoodean]

I was wondering if you, as a Dean fan have opinions about the different writers? Mostly because I see a lot of Dean fans really strongly dislike Dabb for some reason and I don’t really understand why. I’ve never seen a concrete explanation beyond “he can’t write Dean/doesn’t understand Dean/actively hates Dean” but with no examples as to what he does that’s so bad. And I see this in every shipping lane. I don’t have a strong opinion about him as a writer one way or the other.

I'm exploring this more as I rewatch the show (currently on season 6) so I'll speak mainly from that perspective on my most recent thoughts. I am not a big fan of Dabb or Loflin, but have tried to be fair about things so far when talking through each episode. I am a fan of "Alpha and Omega"—it's my favorite finale (it's also... a finale for a season Carver started as showrunner? So I don't know what the implications are there as far as storyboarding). Also points for having demon Dean stab a guy through in 10.02.

I'll focus on the negatives you asked about in this post, but in the links you'll find me moving the narrative this way and that toward much more charitable readings... I think. (I do have a tag #dabb disk horse which you can either peruse or blacklist at your leisure). What I can tell you is something almost always strikes me as a off about Dabb/Loflin episodes so far in this rewatch in terms of character work.

Dabb/Loflin's first ever episode was 4.06 "Yellow Fever". In the aftermath, Kripke felt the need to release a definitive interpretation of their episode to the public, stating, "Dean is not a dick... he's a hero." The whole episode toyed with, to an extent, the idea that all the victims of the MotW were bullies. You can take this other directions—for example, queer meta, or meta about Sam as the real bully. However, the story a lot of fandom latched onto was that "Dean is a jerk and deserves to be humiliated and punished for that" which obviously didn't make Dean fans watching live in season 4 happy—and this theme of Jerk!Dean continues into their next episode, "After School Special", where they once again parallel Dean with a bully literally nicknamed "Dirk the Jerk" by Sam, and throw what I think is transparent shade at Kripke's issued statement from before the Christmas break (post here)... or maybe they mean to throw shade at the Dean fans who got angry. In this episode, they also make illusions to Dean wanting to have sex with barely legal high school cheerleaders, which also did not ingratiate them to Deanfans at the time. I said on my last rewatch, "In After School Special, Dean seems more unlike himself than any episode ever in the history of Supernatural up to this point" (post explaining that here). I carry similar sentiments about portions of 5.06 "I Believe The Children Are Our Future". Yes—I am aware of performing Dean meta. I just... feel like they try a little too hard. It feels hamfisted—desperate. To the point it doesn't feel like Dean anymore sometimes. In 5.06, they also have Dean (guy who is generally very protective of kids) suggest to Jesse that he'd be good to have in a fight???? I can see how they got there, but again—it just feels... off. The last episode I rewatched that they authored, 6.04 "Weekend At Bobby's", also leaves a bad taste in my mouth—not in what it's trying to do with Bobby or what it's trying to do on a meta level—but once again, with dialogue from Dean that just makes me think "he would not fucking say that" (post here). I think looking at all of these, you can probably see deangirl ire toward Dabb has a long history. It's been around as long as he's been around, whether he deserves as much ire as he gets or not.

I haven't circled back yet on this rewatch, but Dabb and Loflin also penned season 7's "The Girl Next Door"... do I need to say anything specific? Maybe I'll just link my entire #amy tag. What narrative did they want you to get from that episode? Who the fuck knows. And that's often the problem:

When you watch various episodes I've mentioned, you can work around to a meta that tells you something different than you might at first think the page conveys—something hidden and maybe contradictory. The thing is... you could also... not do that? And that wouldn't be so bad, except that sometimes the two narratives you can most easily grasp completely contradict each other. "After School Special" can be an episode that points to Sam's envy of Dean and John deep down and foreshadows Sam becoming a bully, but on a meta level, it also just as easily says Sam becoming a bully is somehow Dean's fault, and Sam is some poor captive baby. Dean is a creep and a bully and a cheater but we should all coddle him because he saw his mom die when he was a child and he's sooo sad. "Yellow Fever" can be a queer meta story and might also foreshadow approaching Bully!Sam in 4.14, but it also very much does call Dean a jerk (should we take that seriously? should we not?) and implies Dean should be punished for the outcome of three decades of reality-bending torture. Even if it's a queer meta underneath... it's just as easily one about how closeted men should be humiliated for cowardice or how being closeted turns you into an asshole.

Jumping way ahead, I have to mention 15.10 "The Hero's Journey" just because. Yes, it is full of jokes and Garth goodness, but also tries to sell you the story that nothing about Sam and Dean is real, to a degree that feels like you are being flipped the bird for ever watching this show. And again—you can make meta that it's all a ruse! But is it? Or is Dabb actually just telling you to go fuck yourself? Like he totally wasn't when, after the SPN finale when fans were Not Happy™️, he tweeted a sign reading, "Don't feed the baboons"? Yet again—we play into the motif of the "hero" who isn't a hero at all but some pathetic loser who deserves to be publicly humiliated, bookended with Dabb's opening episode in his opening season. I'm not saying that's what it is on purpose—but I am saying you can make these arguments easily, and that leaves me consistently annoyed with Dabb for being fucking sloppy and leaving me to deal with some of the most insufferable meta imaginable that carries little support outside of episodes written by Dabb or the Dabb/Loflin writing team.... Yes—I am in fact saying that Dabb and Loflin's hamfisted episodes (regardless of their intentions) are largely responsible for some of the most insufferable, loathesome fandom metas about Sam and Dean's relationship around.

Look at 5.16 "Dark Side Of The Moon", and 7.08 "Time for A Wedding!" and 8.14 "Trial and Error", 11.17 "Red Meat", and 15.20 "Carry On". Along with 4.13, while they might or might not say something deeper or contradictory on a meta level, on a surface level, every single one of these episodes sows the narrative that Dean is needy and clingy and needs Sam more than Sam needs him—something I intensely disagree with for a multitude of reasons... but I'll just link this. Many of these episodes also follow a surface level narrative of "normal life obsessed Sam" (and here I'll link my entire #sam the hunter tag and #in which sam is not a helpless little waif with his hands cast over his eyes being carried along by the tides of the immutable sea). When I look at this episode list, I also don't find it at all difficult to believe that Dabb wanted Dean to die in the finale. There is nothing at all shocking about that. And yes—you can argue he's pointing to the opposite—that this fate should be subverted and that's what makes 15.20 the dark ending, but I think you can just as easily argue that yes it's a dark ending and yes Dabb has always dreamed of this ending. A "tragic" ending where Dean dies and Sam goes on to have a white picket fence... while also leaving you little hints along the way that maybe it's all a big ruse because how could he not? He never has to explain anything. Someone else will pick up the story and make it make sense. He's already fucked off to piss all over fans of Resident Evil.

That said, when I mention what I feel is off character work, I mainly mention Dabb/Loflin episodes from my recent rewatch, which suffer from the two of them being newer to the series (coming onto the writing team in season 4) and also leave questions about whether, perhaps, they had conflicting ideas about characterization. Was Dabb the one penning these lines? Was it Loflin? Was it both? Did they trade out who took the lead? I didn't really say anything negative about "Sam, Interrupted" or "Jump the Shark"... (though "Sam, Interrupted" also calls Dean "codependent") who wrote those? Is it possible that the messiness of the meta comes down to two writers at war? I have to imagine though, that they got along, or else they wouldn't have written together for four fucking years. If they didn't get along...? My mind always comes back to their first solo episodes, right after splitting up in season 8. Dabb's first solo episode is "Hunteri Heroici"—the only episode to lend any perspective to season 8 Sam's reasons for abandoning everyone—paralleling him checking out with Fred's catatonia, which Sam has to save Fred from. It is the only episode that lends Sam sympathy in the early part of the season. He follows it up with "Trial and Error"—where Sam promises to save Dean from suicidal thoughts. Loflin's first solo episode is what I would regard as the most scathing solo episode commentary on Sam in the entire series—"Citizen Fang". Then he writes again right after Dabb's "Trial and Error"—penning "Remember The Titans" where Sam tells Dean to get over the promise Sam so passionately made in Dabb's episode and face reality.

This is why we're exploring this rewatch.

DISCLAIMER: Now I just devolve into bitching because I'm writing at 3AM. Proceed at your own risk.

It seems like these days, everyone demands an explanation for disliking Dabb (something about some sort of destiel battle... I don't know what that flamewar is and I don't give a damn tbqh.) I guess I've just been wondering what's actually so great about him. Because it feels like people have overcorrected to basically acting like he's god's greatest gift to mankind. People point to how meta his episodes can be, but I think other writers easily best him on that front on multiple occasions (particularly enjoyed by me so far on this rewatch: 3.10 "Dream A Little Dream Of Me", 4.04 "Monster Movie", 4.12 "Criss Angel Is A Douchebag"), and without leaving their meaning so up in the air that you don't even know what the hell they were actually trying to tell you because there are two different completely incongruous narratives you could just as justifiably claim were the intended one. Some people may find that duality praise-worthy. I don't. I find it sloppy—and when I add in mediocre character work, I just land on the side of him being, at the very best, mid.

Add him in as showrunner, you have... at least two of my least favorite seasons (13 and 15). Add that he's a one-trick pony in terms of the Sam and Dean conflicts mentioned above that he continuously rehashes rather than come up with anything new or fresh, and the same conflicts between Dean and Cas being played out until they both die (shut UP I'm not talking about canon destiel as the alternative—I am literally just asking for more diverse conflicts). I can't say I understand what I''m supposed to find so impressive.

(Before anyone so much as breathes this near me, Berens also sucks and I am going to tear off your nose hairs if you start bringing him up as if disliking Dabb for some reason means wearing rose colored glasses about Berens. Berens can eat a whole cactus raw over "The Trap" alone.)