#Castiel being a sweetheart

[glamlet69]

September Prompts Day 1

Hello! This is a based on the prompt "Coffee smell" from this wonderful post! I'm more or less writing these to warm myself up for Whumptober. This is a little thing about how Castiel likes the smell of coffee :)

Castiel loved the smell of coffee. He had never told anyone that before, not even Sam and Dean, but it was true. 

There was just something about it. The way it filled up whole rooms and enveloped them in its warm embrace. The way that it instantly put someone in a good mood when it was tasted. Of course, Castiel knew that it was technically considered a drug, and it was highly addictive, but it also didn’t seem to have any effects that were too harmful, other than the fact that if Sam drank too much he got jittery.

He had started to like it when he was human, working in the gas station. There were many things about that job that he truly loved. Talking to people, cleaning the machines, stocking the shelves. Making sure everything was in its proper place so that customers could pick up what they wanted without searching for it. He loved talking to the customers too. Humans had always fascinated Cas, and it gave him an excuse to learn their individual stories, and in turn learn how to be a little more human himself.

Old truckers would roll through at three in the morning and sigh in relief at the smell of coffee Cas had just refreshed in anticipation for them. They would fill up their travel mug, grab a bag of jerky or a muffin and make pleasant conversation with Cas while he rang them up. 

Sometimes he got mean customers, but Cas figured it was just because they hadn’t gotten their coffee yet. 

Ever since Sam and Dean had moved into the bunker, there was coffee made every morning. Sam would make it first, since he would wake up several hours before Dean. He would come into the industrial kitchen, completely dressed and ready for the day. He was never in any hurry. He would greet Cas (who had more or less claimed the kitchen as his place while the boys were sleeping) and ask if he wanted any. 

Cas would usually decline. As much as he loved the smell, he couldn’t really taste much of anything. He had once described food tasting like molecules to the boys, and it was still true. Only now it was worse because he knew what it had tasted like to them. 

It had taken him several weeks to get used to the bitter taste of coffee. But because he liked the smell so much, and because other people seemed to enjoy it so immensely, he kept trying it until one day he loved the taste of it. For the rest of his time working at the gas station it had been added to his routine to have a cup in the first hour of his shift while he turned everything on.

Sometimes, when he was feeling extra nostalgic, he would take Sam up on the offer. It tasted like ash every time, but if he basked in the smell enough, and thought hard enough about it, it almost tasted good again.

Dean would stumble in a few hours later, dead to the world. Sam would let him make his own pot because he would usually finish one himself, or put it in the fridge for iced coffee later. 

Sam had actually introduced Cas to iced coffee, which at the time had very much confused the angel.

Once Dean took his first sip, he was alive again. Unlike his brother, he would never offer any to Cas. Maybe it was because he always turned him down. Maybe it was because he remembered what it tasted like to Cas. Either way, Cas didn’t mind. 

Then they would all sit at the little table, Sam with his laptop and his fourth cup of coffee, Dean with his fresher, hotter cup and a newspaper, and Cas with nothing, sitting quietly.

Dean would often look across at Cas and ask him how his night had been, and Cas would respond with something along the lines of, “It was fine,” and they would fall back into comfortable silence again. 

It was those quiet moments, sitting around the little metal table, the smell of coffee wafting from Dean’s fresh cup, that Cas felt truly at ease. These moments were relatively rare, but they played out the same way every time. He wondered if Sam and Dean cherished these moments as much as he did, or if this was just another moment in time. The idle points between danger.

“What are you thinking, Cas?” Dean asked in one of these quiet moments, lowering his paper briefly and looking at him over it. Sam ignored them. He tended to get in a zone when researching cases.

“I like the smell of coffee.” Cas said simply, gazing back at Dean, who was holding a steaming mug of it in his hands.

“Do you want some? You know, just to hold? Or smell? Or whatever?” Dean asked. 

This was new. But it was welcome.

“Okay.” Cas said with a small smile.

[mlp-natural]

fuck of desitel ponies for tday

[ohsc]

₊˚⊹♡ mean | sam winchester x reader

requested - heyy could u make a sam x reader thing where he fucks rlly roughly but he’s really sweet during aftercare bc the idea that sam is rough during but sweet after makes me weak in the knees🫠🙏 (anon)

a/n - this is. probably the most filthy thing i’ve written. it’s just filthy smut. with a hint of sweetheart sam at the end. i need him so bad it’s not funny. still working on my longer plot fics but i wanted to get this out today to get back into writing!! hopefully you enjoy :) would very much appreciate feedback! <3

cws - fem!reader, 2.4k, nsfw 18+, meandom!sam turned soft!sam, oral f!recieving, praise, very mild choking, condescending words, p in v, mild overstimulation, tears, aftercare, fluff

other fics can be found on my masterlist

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

She was convinced that Sam’s mouth was a whole new kind of heaven.

He’d already made her cum once with his mouth alone, large hands pressed into the plush of her thighs to keep them spread, her hips stilled, which were twitching with every sweep of his tongue. He was skilled, drawing the pleasure out of her like it was nothing. Sam had easily spent fifteen minutes down there, eating her out like a starved man, like it was all he wanted.

And she didn’t know how she was still breathing. There was a relief that ran through her that Dean and Castiel weren’t in the bunker that night, because even though they were shut away in the privacy of their room, she was sure that she would’ve been heard. Sam had been pulling noises out of her all night, obscene lewd sounds that she would’ve been embarrassed about being heard if it wasn’t Sam with her.

He always made sure that as much as he made her feel, none of it was embarrassment.

His tongue flattened against her, licking a stripe up between her folds until he pressed against her clit and she shuddered, a horribly whiny sound pushed from her lungs when he closed his lips around the bead and sucked, like he was trying to pull the life out of her. Her hips jolted, unable to go anywhere as he had her pinned down, and she was practically seeing stars as Sam worked down there. She wondered if he was even breathing.

“Sam- oh my god—” She whimpered, hissed in a breath when he licked back down to her entrance and his nose nudged against her clit, stomach clenching as she reached her hands down to grasp onto his hair, fingers curled into the soft strands.

And then he pulled away.

His hands left her thighs as his mouth left her, but she didn’t have time to whine her complaints at the loss of sensation as his long fingers curled around her wrists, yanked her hands out of his hair. “What did I say, huh?” The tone of voice made her pussy clench around nothing. “Hands to yourself. You’re pretty bad at listening, baby.”

Sam shifted over her, his face over hers as he pushed her wrists down onto the pillows above her head, and she almost squirmed when she saw the look in his eyes, the way his lips were wet with her.

“Are you listening?” He squeezed her wrists as a reminder, and her eyes quickly flickered back up to his eyes. “Do I need to tie you up, or will you keep these here for me?” She knew he wouldn’t hesitate to do it. Sam could be such a soft lover — he’d kiss every inch of her skin, whisper praises and compliments, tell her he loved her a thousand times as he made love to her. But he could also be like this, mean and demanding as he fucked her silly over and over. She wasn’t sure which she liked more.

“I’ll keep them there.” She breathed out, her voice still a little too whiny. He’d gotten her so close to cumming again, the lack of stimulation was driving her crazy, her cunt throbbed as she stared up at him.

“Oh yeah?” Sam narrowed his eyes like he didn’t believe her, and let go of one of her wrists to take both into one of his large hands. Her eyes left his face to follow his second as it dipped down between them, fingering at the waistband of his boxers, until she heard a sharp, “eyes on me.”

Her gaze quickly flickered back up to his face. “See? You can be good sometimes, can’t you?” Sam cooed, boardering on condescending, as he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her mouth, allowing her to taste herself. “You just need some reminding, don’t you, sweetheart? Get so lost in that pretty little head of yours when I’m making you feel so good.”

She’d been so distracted by watching his face, head spinning with his words, that she didn’t realise that he’d freed himself from his boxers until she felt the head of his cock nudging between her folds, gliding easily against her with the slick and spit collected there, and she mewled at the feeling, eyes squeezed shut as he nudged at her clit.

“Eyes open,” his hands left her wrists — which she knew now to keep still — and his fingers splayed across her jaw, squeezing unkindly until she looked up again. “Don’t make me tell you again. You wanna be good for me, don’t you?”

She nodded dumbly, sucked in a sharp breath through her teeth as he rubbed her clit with his cock. Teasing her. “Mhm, I will.”

“You will?” Sam gave her jaw one more squeeze, just for good measure, before he wrapped his fingers around the bare skin of her throat. He didn’t squeeze, didn’t put any pressure, just held her, but the threat was there. The head of his cock rested up against her slickened entrance as his head dipped down, lips brushed her ear as he whispered, “what’s your colour?”

They had a pretty rigid safe word system set out — it was something he went over with her every time they had sex, especially like this, when he was mean and grabby and knew that she wouldn’t like it every time. If she so much whispered the word red he’d be up and off of her before she could blink.

But all that left her words was a whiny, “Green, please Sammy.”

She felt his lips curve up against her ear as he smirked. “Good girl.”

Without warning he pushed into her and she sucked in a sharp breath, her own fingers grabbed at each other in an attempt to keep her hands still, and she shoved a breath out of her throat. He’d worked her open with his fingers when he’d been settled down between her legs, but she still felt the stretch, the burn as he settled his cock deep inside of her, and for a moment she had to remember to breathe back in.

“Fuck honey,” he grunted in her ear, fingers gripped her throat just slightly tighter, still only enough for her to feel pressure. “So tight for me, baby. Can barely take it, huh?”

He pulled back before he rutted back inside and she whimpered, squeezing her own fingers together so tightly so she didn’t break his rule. Needing to hold onto him somehow, though, her thighs clamped harshly around his hips, already trembly from the first orgasm he’d pulled from her.

He thrust in again, and again, and again, and soon she saw stars, gasping and whimpering with every drag of his cock against her gummy walls, pleasure rippling through her in waves that made her stomach clench, her cunt clamped down so tightly around him it was a wonder he could move at all.

“So noisy baby,” he crooned on a particular harsh thrust that made her whine, fingers a little tighter around her throat. “Can’t help yourself, can you?” He huffed with another thrust. “Need me to do all the work, hm? Greedy—” he grunted, “greedy girl.”

It took an embarrassingly short time for her to get close again. Sam was fucking her with determination, grunted every time he pushed himself back in, the head of his cock nudged the soft spongey spot inside of her that made her shudder again and again and again until she was a mess beneath him, lewd wet sounds accompanying her whimpers with each shift of his hips, her pussy fluttering around the stretch of his girth.

He didn’t slow down, didn’t ease up, didn’t give her a breather. She was close to tears by the time she was almost there, already sensitive from her first orgasm.

She clenched around him and his fingers, in turn, tightened on the sides of her throat. She trusted him, she knew he wouldn’t push it too far. Just enough for her to feel a little dizzy, for the bliss to wash over her like a high.

“Sam- mm- Sammy—” She was practically blabbering as her eyes filled with tears, gasping with each thrust, each smack of his hips against hers.

“Oh honey,” he cooed, condescending, mean. “Too much, hm? Need something?”

His hand loosened on her throat and she inhaled a little shakily.

“Please—” she whined, blinking through tears up at him. She didn’t miss the flicker in his eyes as the tears dribbled down her cheeks, but she knew that he knew she’d tell him if it was too much. It had happened before, neither of them messed around when it came to their safe words.

“Please what, huh?” He thrust in harshly and she groaned, cunt fluttering, so close— “Ah-ah, not yet. Don’t you need to ask me something, dolly?” He squeezed her throat once. “You remember what happens if you cum without asking, don’t you?”

Of course she did. The week prior she’d cum too soon, and he spent the next what felt like hours edging her, too skilled with his fingers, words too filthy that they made her head spin. He’d made such a mess of her that she hadn’t been able to even get up off of the bed for a little while after he finally let her cum.

“Mhm, mm, yeah—” she inhaled shakily, whining, thighs clamped tighter around his hips. “Please- please can I- please let me—” she groaned.

“Let you what?” He was dragging it out, the fucker, grunting into her ear as he leaned down over her, pushed his cock so deep her vision almost whitened out. “Tell me, honey. Use those words for me, c’mon.”

The tears were bubbling over faster, rolling down her flushed cheeks. “Let me cum, baby, please.”

“Asking so nicely,” he grunted, pressed a kiss to the shell of her ear. “How can I say no to something so pretty, hm? ‘Course you can, baby, go ahead.”

It wasn’t his words that did it for her, but the hand that snuck between them and pressed down on her stomach, the press of his cock suddenly so much more delicious that she almost fucking fainted.

She came with a breathless whine, hips jerked as she finally gasped a breath and whined again, her cunt throbbed around his cock as he kept pumping, rode her through it entirely. Her head tipped back, his mouth on her neck as her eyes squeezed shut, colours danced on the inside of her eyelids, her own little fireworks display.

Sam came shortly after, groaned into her ear in a way that almost made her cum again, and he rutted into her a few more times before he stopped, warmth spreading through her as he panted against her shoulder.

“Fuck,” he huffed, his own chest heaved, brushing against her bare skin. “Oh sweetheart.” The shift in his demeanour was palpable, soft kisses immediately littered across her shoulder and collarbone, palms flattened to smooth over her sweat-dampened skin. He could be so mean in the moment, so dominating and controlling that he left her a fucking mess underneath him, but afterwards? He’d probably feed her grapes and fan her if she asked him to.

She was still gasping for breath, head spinning, and when she knew she wouldn’t be told off for it her hands lifted, immediately clung to his warm shoulders. She loved the way his shoulders felt underneath her touch, muscles rippling with every movement.

Sam kissed up her throat and jaw before he landed on her mouth, and he kissed her slowly, huffed breaths into each other's mouths as he licked between her lips, sweeped behind her top teeth, their lips both wet with spit.

By the time he had pulled away, he’d so thoroughly kissed her that she almost had her breath back.

“You okay?” His voice was so soft it was like there was an entirely different person on top of her compared to five minutes prior. His hand left her throat, smoothed upwards and cupped her jaw. She felt him thumb away tears that had fallen, some clung to her eyelashes, somewhat cool against her hot and flushed skin.

She nodded as she stroked her fingertips along his shoulders with her fingertips, like she’d committed him to memory. She had.

“Hey,” he lightly tapped her cheekbone with his thumb. “Need words, honey.”

She couldn’t help her smile. He was so caring she sometimes wanted to cry. “M’okay,” she whispered, voice soft like she’d shared a secret. “Really good. You’re so good, Sammy.” She praised, tilted her head to kiss his wrist, and he smiled and blushed like he hadn’t just been the one to fuck the life out of her.

“Says you,” Sam leaned down and kissed her forehead. “You’re perfect. Love you,” another kiss. “Love you so much.”

She smiled so much her cheeks hurt. “Love you too.”

Sam smiled too, that soft smile that made his dimples peek out, eyes crinkled at the corners, and he stroked her cheekbone again. “M’gonna pull out, okay?”

Only when she nodded did he shift, slowly pulled his hips back until she was empty, until all she could feel was the wetness coated between her thighs.

“Christ, made a mess of you,” he murmured, not in the condescending tone from before, instead something closer to admiration. “You’re so pretty when you cum, y’know that?”

She blushed, hard, and shrugged as her cheek dipped to meet her shoulder.

Sam laughed, rolled his eyes as he leaned in and kissed her again. “Don’t get all shy on me now.”

She was still blushing when he helped her sit up, fingers delicately curled around her elbows to pull her upright, her back also damp with sweat. They’d need to change the sheets.

“Two options,” Sam murmured as he gently stroked hair away that was stuck to her forehead, baby hairs that clung to her temples. “We take a shower and let me wash your hair and then go get food, or you let me run you a bath and you wait there looking all pretty for me while I get you something we can eat in there so I can dote on you.”

“You just wanna wash my hair huh?”

Sam smiled. “Guilty.”

Her fingers found his, intertwined with a squeeze. “Bath sounds nice,” she eventually settled on. “As long as you don’t take too long in the kitchen. I’ll miss you.”

He was laughing when he pressed another kiss to her mouth. “Of course. Promise to not take too long, okay?”

She giggled and nodded, smiled against his mouth when he kissed her again. “Okay.”

[take-it-on-the-run]

Not A Lot, Just Forever

Dean Winchester x Pregnant!Reader

After throwing up morning after morning, the reader discovers her illness isn't what she initially thought.

Word Count: 4.1k

Tags: Pregnancy, unexpected pregnancy, brief description of motel bathrooms, vomiting (repeated), self-blame, mention of reader's mother dying in childbirth, mention of childbirth related deaths, anxiety, brief loss of consciousness, Dean is a sweetheart and will make a great father.

Characters: Dean Winchester, Pregnant!Reader, Sam Winchester, Castiel

@ghostlyaccurate requested: "Hii! I'm not sure if I already sent you this request, or if I sent it to someone else (oops🤭) but could I request a Sam Winchester and/or Dean Winchester x reader (your choice which one of them, if not both sepperately) where he helps reader deal with morning sickness, though he only finds out she's pregnant on the third day in a row that he's with her while she throws up. Ty!!"

Read it on AO3!

A/N: Adrianne Lenker title. I really really loved this request! I feel like writing the pregnancy trope is a sort of hard task to do, so I hope I brought it justice. I love love loved writing this, and I hope you enjoy reading it! Thank you for the request @ghostlyaccurate, and I promise I'm trying my damnedest to work through my inbox <3. Every mistake here is completely and 100% my own and of my own doing. (P.S. can you guess how hard it was to find "aesthetic" pictures of a bathroom and pregnancy tests for the pictures for this fic?? I think the ones I found actually work pretty well! Another thing, what happened to the yellow text color? I use it to tag fluff fics, and it's gone :( ).

Dean Winchester Masterlist | Supernatural Masterlist | Main Page Masterlist

Your head hung over the foul toilet bowl of whatever motel you, Dean, and Sam were holed up in, and a rancid smell invaded your nose. In earnest, you didn’t have the slightest idea where you were. The past couple of hours had been filled with a slight fever and the constant need to use Dean as a pillow. Halfway through the drive between towns, you convinced him to switch out driving with Sam so he could join you in the back seat.

The worn tile of the bathroom floor offered you minimal comfort, and the fact you’re supposed to be up for a case in two hours made your stomach churn over again. Ditching your normal avoidance of motel bathrooms, you gripped the edge of the toilet and emptied your stomach again.

“Y/N?” Dean’s groggy voice called out from behind the door, “Are you okay in there sweetheart?”

You squeezed your eyes together, cursing yourself for being loud enough to wake him up. Sneaking out from his arms was a feat enough already, trying to suppress the sound of you losing your guts at four in the morning wasn’t going to happen; even in a perfect world.

“No,” you groaned as he softly opened the door, “I feel like shit De, and you know how much I hate throwing up. And how much I hate motel bathrooms.” You whined. Your hair was falling to the front of your face and you were cursing whoever decided a bathroom didn’t need a working air vent.

Dean hummed softly, pulling the hair back from your face and holding it with one hand as he sat behind you on the floor. He pressed his lips to the back of your head softly, and gently traced shapes on your collarbone as you laid back on him.

“Just breathe, I’ve got you if you need to go at it again.” He said softly, cradling you in his lap as you tried to breathe. He ran his hand through your hair as your breathing started to hiccup less, and eventually, he sat you on the closed toilet lid to get you water.

You felt ashamed to be keeping him up at this hour. Your phone clock read 5:13 AM, almost an hour past when you’d originally gotten up. He already doesn’t get enough sleep as is, and here you are sitting, waiting for him to get back like you aren’t able to take care of yourself.

“Here you go, drink slowly. Did you use the mouthwash I gave you?” He asked as he handed you his water bottle. He stood across from you, tucking his hands into the pockets of his pajama pants. You nodded softly, gratefully gulping down the contents of the bottle.

The bags under his eyes were already enough to make you feel guilty. Hunters were used to running on minimal sleep, but with you around, he’d just gotten into the six-hour range. He rubbed his face, inhaling like he normally did when he was trying to make a decision. You didn’t want to go out for the case. You barely wanted to move your body to get back in bed and salvage what little sleep you could before life kicked you back into gear.

“Do you want to stay here while Sam and I talk to the family?” Dean asked as if he could read your mind.

I love you so damn much. You thought, bowing your head with a sigh of relief. You didn’t want to be the one to bring up staying in; neither of you ever wanted to admit you needed breaks, but if the other one was to bring it up, it made the process easier.

You nodded, pushing yourself to your feet as he opened the door for the two of you, “yeah, I think that’s best for all of us. Don’t need me puking in the victim’s bathroom as you guys ask your questions.” You tried to joke as you and Dean crawled back into bed, tucking yourself into his arms, and splaying your legs haphazardly on top of his.

The next morning wasn’t any better.

Sam and Dean had come home late from questioning the family, and you were barely aware of them unloading the Chinese food they brought for you. Dean sat with you against his chest, still half-dressed as an FBI agent, as you wolfed down the egg rolls he got. You found yourself starving when they offered you food, but now you regretted eating anything at all.

You found yourself hung over the toilet again, but thankfully only had to put up with one round of saying goodbye to your lunch. You were able to get yourself up and over to the sink, where you repeated Dean’s routine from the morning before.

You leaned against the counter in the small kitchen, Dean’s water bottle filled with tap water in your hand. You turned to dump the rest in the sink when the creak of a floorboard behind you had you spinning on your heel in record time.

“Jesus Christ, Dean. Why are you up?” You asked in a hushed tone, placing your hand over your racing chest.

“I could ask you the same thing,” He crossed the small room and came over to embrace you in his arms, “did you get sick again?” He asked innocently, but the combination of those words, and the pitiful shift of his eyes was enough to make you feel like a child. You were a grown woman, you knew damn well how to take care of yourself much before the Winchesters were in your life.

You huffed in annoyance, pulling back from Dean’s chest. You felt your face begin to heat up, and it felt like anything Dean could say had the chance to send you over the edge.

“Yes, I did. Right now, I feel like my body is too hot and too tight for my bones, and I also feel like anything you say is going to make me hit the roof. Even if it’s nice, I just don’t think my brain can take in any more words without wanting to jump ship.” You said you rubbed your temples. Things like this had happened occasionally in the past, and before Dean, you figured it was just because you were a rigid person. One night a particularly bad migraine had led to you yelling at him because he offered to get you some medicine. Instead of just leaving you to stew, like every other partner did, he simply asked you to explain what you were feeling. No judgment, no interruptions, and he’d do whatever you said would make you feel better in that moment.

Now, whenever you felt overwhelmed, he did the same. He’d swallow any sarcastic comment or solution to your problem and listen to you. No matter what was bothering you, at whatever hour of the day, he was at your side, doing what you asked of him without hesitation.

He just nodded, pressing his lips to your forehead before he led you back to the bed you two were sharing for the case. His body threw off heat like a bonfire, and your normally freezing hands were appreciative of that. In this moment, however, it felt like you were burning from the inside out.

You adjusted yourself between the sheet and the comforter, so the two of you could still touch without pressing your skin together. Dean waited for you to still before he made himself comfy, and he gently ran his fingers through the ends of your hair.

“Is this okay right now? Do you want me to leave you be?” He asked, in as soft of a voice as he could. You hummed, smiling at the tingling sensation running through you. Comfort, and a warmth that wasn’t burning to the touch, crawled up your back, and into your head. You tried to focus your eyes for a couple of seconds more, but without your control, they forcefully fluttered shut.

“Y/N.”

Sheet tangled between your limbs, and you could see the light through your closed eyes. Opening them, you find an unexpected sight. Instead of Dean, or Sam, standing at your bedside, the trench coat-clad angel you’d met five years ago stood awkwardly, waiting for you to fully wake up.

“Cas,” you rubbed your eyes as you sat up, “what are you doing here? Where’s Sam and Dean?” You asked.

Cas sighed and sat at the end of your bed. He shot you a quick look, before focusing his eyes on the blank wall in front of him. He tapped his fingers on his legs, a habit he picked up from Sam.

“Dean called me and told me you were sick. I came in, and told him I’d try and cure whatever… ailment is afflicting you.”

You smiled at the way he spoke, and the fact Dean went out of his way to try and help you out, but there was something off about Castiel’s demeanor. You sat up and touched his arm to get his attention.

“Cas, what’s wrong? Did something happen that I should know about?” You asked softly.

“I think you’re pregnant, Y/N.” He looked at you, and there was a rift of guilt lingering in his eyes.

A course of confusion and shock coursed through your body before you felt a rotting pit settle at the bottom of your stomach.

“Why would you… think that, Cas?” You felt a tightness taking over your throat, rubbing your hand across your neck to try and loosen it.

“I can sense life forms. Human ones, at least. It was hard to tell with Sam and Dean here, but once they left I was able to confirm my suspicions.”

Your hand traveled to your lower abdomen before your mouth spat out a request without thinking.

“Pregnancy tests. Can you get me some, please? I just,” you ran your hand across your forehead quickly, “I want to confirm, using non-magical means.”

Cas nodded, “of course. I’m going to assume you don’t want me to let Dean know?”

You nodded your head before swinging your legs over the side of the bed. Deep down, you knew Cas was right. You were late by a few days, but you’d chalked it up to the illness that’s kept you on the bench for this case. You didn’t usually react as poorly as you’ve been to an illness, even when you’d gotten a terrible case of Pneumonia.

Getting up from the bed, you walked into the bathroom as Castiel vanished to get you a couple tests. Looking to the mirror, you’re met with a form of you that was a little scary; purple, slightly-puffy eyes, smeared makeup that hadn’t been washed off from days before, and your skin was breaking out in places it hadn’t before.

Dean hadn’t said a word about it, but even someone as blissfully ignorant as him had to have noticed the way your face wasn’t looking like your own.

Dean.

You’d have to tell Dean you were pregnant, with his child. That you’re going to be parents.

What if he didn’t want to be a father at thirty-six?

Children weren’t one hundred percent out of the question, but they were longer down the line in hunters’ lives. If you were lucky enough to get out of the life unscathed and find someone who would want to settle down with, you’d likely be creeping into your mid-forties, at best. Mary had gotten lucky with John, but now they’d both been taken away by the thing they’d spent half of their marriage avoiding.

What if you weren’t ready to be a mother at thirty-five?

For you, it wasn’t the question of wanting to have kids, but you never saw you or your boyfriend backing out from hunting anytime soon. To add on, you’d heard of many nasty births that ended in fatality for the infant or the mother, including your own. Every time you and the boys were on a case involving a child, you’d be extra reckless. Dean picked this up within the first couple of times you’d almost gotten yourself killed to save a kid, and you explained your fear to him. The fear of a mother not being able to welcome her child home in her arms, or the child not seeing his mother again, and their fate lying in your hands. You’d already ripped apart your family, and you tried your damnedest to keep as many together as possible.

A ruffle of feathers and a sharp knock on the bathroom door snapped you out of your thoughts.

“You can come in, Cas.”

Wordlessly, the angel stepped into the small motel bathroom holding a plastic bag. He pulled out three different pregnancy tests and set them on the counter.

“The woman working there said I should get a couple just in case one doesn’t work like it should.” He said as you picked up the first test. “I’m telling the truth, but I understand you wanting to confirm this to yourself.”

I know Cas, you thought, but you didn’t say a word. Instead, you stared at him, waiting for him to leave the bathroom, but he had a blank look on his face and didn’t move a muscle.

“Cas, I’m going to need you to leave the bathroom for me to do this.”

“Oh, sorry. Of course. I forgot how ‘hands-on’ human tests can be. I apologize.” He said blatantly before stepping out of the bathroom and shutting the door behind him.

Fuck me.

That’s what got you into this in the first place, dumb ass.

After twenty disgustingly long minutes in the decrepit motel bathroom, you walked out holding four positive tests. Cas was sitting on Sam’s bed, staring out the window, but immediately stood up and crossed the room to you. You handed him the tests, and he placed them on the table between the two beds.

“How do you feel?” He asked. Another thing he picked up from his years on earth was the ability to know when to ask what questions.

You felt blank. Void of answers and solutions to the situation at hand. Whether or not to turn left, or right.

“I… don’t know what to do, Cas.” Your voice broke along with the tears you were holding back, and a sinking feeling of hopelessness began to dig its way through your head.

Neither you nor Dean are ready to be parents. What if Dean’s angry? He would never kick you out of the bunker. The bunker is the only real home any of you have had in a long time, but is it safe? Is the world safe enough to bring a baby into? A Winchester baby, who would no doubt be a target from birth. What if the baby doesn’t make it to full term? What if this baby kills you like you killed your own mother?

“Y/N,” Cas placed his hand on your shoulder, “I’m going to ask you to take a breath.” He drew his hand up and waited for you to inhale. Taking in a shuddered breath, you followed the flow of his hand, stopping your heart from running up your throat.

“Thank you.” You said, sitting down on your bed and grabbing the pregnancy tests off the nightstand. Two pluses, two double lines. You and Dean were careful and used a condom whenever you found extra time together, but somehow God decided that rubber wasn’t going to work as intended.

“I think I’m going to just lay here,” you tuck yourself under the bed sheets once more, the tests shoved into your pajama pants, “and wait for Dean and Sam to get home. I’ll get him out of this stuffy ass room and tell him in private. Sam shouldn’t have to witness if we- if we argue. I know it makes him feel awful.”

“That’s a smart plan. You need to take this one step at a time and do it carefully. I know Dean cares for you deeply, but if you need someone to support you, all you have to do is call for me.” Cas squeezed your shoulder reassuringly.

“Thank you, Cas.” You yawned, pulling your body further under the covers of the bed. Castiel smiled slightly, before turning away and disappearing with a familiar rush of wings flapping.

Your body was covered head to toe in sweat, and the bed sheet you wrapped around yourself was thrown onto the floor. No light entered the room, and the time on the alarm clock read 1:43. Your stomach churned in a familiar way, and as you got to your feet you finally noticed neither of the boys were in the room.

You clambered to the bathroom, phone in hand, trying to call Dean. One hand braced on the toilet, and the other tried to thumb down to his contact. There wasn’t any time to think about the fact you were carrying a baby inside of you, the baby whose father is missing in the middle of the night with no calls or messages.

They always call. You thought before you set your ringing phone on the floor to throw up for the first time that morning. The phone rang, the sound slowly driving you insane each time you redialed Dean’s number between dry heaving into the bowl.

Your hair was sticking to your forehead, poorly swept away and held back by a rubber band you found on the sink. The heat, the pain, and the fear of losing contact with the Winchester brothers combined with the reality of you being pregnant was finally built up enough to break the swarm of emotions you barely choked down when Cas was in the room earlier.

Eyes burning, you slumped against the sink cabinet and brought your phone to your ear as you called Dean once again. You let out a sob, tears rushing down your face and neck, leaving behind a slightly burning trail. Your breathing became uneven, the sound of your own heart drumming through your ears drowning out the ring of your phone. Letting your phone slip to the floor, you brought your knees to your chest and folded your arms as a nest for your forehead.

Neither of the boys called within the twenty minutes you were in the bathroom, your phone was now close to being dead, and no muscle in your body wanted to obey your brain telling them to move and do something. You weren’t a weak woman, you took the cards you were dealt and tried your best to win, but sometimes all you could do was fold.

“Y/N? Y/N?”

A hand pulled your face from your knees, and you could barely see with the light of the bathroom now on and blinding you. A warm hand rested against your cheek while another briefly touched your forehead.

“Help me get her up, Sammy,” your eyes fluttered closed and you felt two arms hook under both your arms, laying them over shoulders as your feet lightly dragged across the floor.

“I’ve never seen her this bad, Dean.” The voice you now recognized as Sam said. Your legs were swept up from under you and you were laid on the bed you’d crawled out of.

You felt the tests still pressing in your pockets, and you thanked whatever greater being was willing to listen. There was no way you wanted to Dean to discover that information on accident.

Dean.

The other voice was Dean.

You moron, who else would it be?

The bed next to you dipped down, and you felt a gentle hand tuck a few stray hairs behind one of your ears. The sweat covering you was sucking every inch of clothing to your skin, and all you wanted to do was peel either of the pair off.

“I thought Cas was going to come here and help her out,” you heard his voice straining as he spoke, and you felt your heart snap in two.

You moved your hand, as heavy as it felt, and squeezed the first part of him you touched.

“Sweetheart,” you could feel Dean’s breath as he hovered over you, “you’re scaring me here.”

“Cas…” you gave out a heavy cough, “he came. He helped me figure out what’s been happening.”

A glass of water was brought to your mouth, and you took every drop of it. After swallowing the cup, your eyes finally were able to open. You were greeted by a worried Dean hovering very close to you, and a worried Sam crossing back from the kitchen holding Dean’s water bottle.

Sam set the bottle on the bedside table and sat on his bed, facing you and Dean. Dean’s attention was solely on you. His hands grabbed both sides of your face and brought his lips to your forehead, before resting against it.

“Hey,” you said, chuckling slightly, “I didn’t mean to scare you, De. You, or Sam.” You sat yourself up in bed.

“Did Cas tell you what’s wrong?” Sam asked, looking at you expectantly.

“He did, but… is it okay if I talk to Dean? Alone?” You asked softly.

Sam shot Dean a look, which Dean promptly returned with one that had Sam standing up, and walking into the hall.

Orange rays of light shone from the window of the room, and you could just barely see the sun climbing on the horizon. Dean moved to hold you in bed while you gained the composure to tell him you were both parents.

“Dean…” you breathed steadily, trying to even your heartbeat that was ramping up once more, “I have to tell you something-”

“I kinda gathered as much sweetheart,” he said lightly, lines forming around his forest-lorn eyes beautifully.

“- it’s important. I mean, it’s going to change our lives, for the rest of our lives.”

Dean’s face became more serious, pulling you to face him as he crossed his legs.

“You know you can tell me anything, Y/N.”

Do it, now. Just say-

“I’m pregnant.”

The air hung heavy around the pair of you as you handed him the tests in your pocket, and you could see the clocks turn in Dean’s mind as he stared down at them.

“But we used a rubber?” He said, and you could guess where his thoughts were wandering.

“We did, but you’re the only person I’ve been with for years, Dean, I need you to believe me when I say that.” You said reassuringly as you could without sounding like you were lying.

His face broke into a small smile, and he brought his thumb to trace over your lower cheek, “I know, sweetheart. I trust you with my heart, I just know not to use that brand anymore, seems like their effectiveness is questionable.”

You laughed, tears drying in your eyes as you pushed at him playfully, “Dean! You gave me a heart attack, you son of a bitch!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry okay!” He laughed, capturing you in a giant bear hug and rolling you on top of him. You looked down at him and brought your lips down to his.

“You’re going to be a father,” you said, beaming at him while smiling the hardest you’d ever in the longest time

“You’re going to be a mother,” he replied, smiling just as hard. Your face fell slightly, and the word mother finally kicked into your head. “Hey,” Dean said as he saw your face shift, somehow remembering the story you told him all those years ago, “Remember, we’ve got an angel on speed dial, and you know how hard it is to take out a Winchester.”

Your heart warmed at the statement, the baby inside of you was just as much L/N as it was Winchester. You loved Dean with your heart, as did he love you, and now the two of you were going to brace the dangerous world you’d spent years protecting with the amalgamation of that love.

You brought Dean’s hand to your stomach as he brought his other hand to your face. His calloused fingers were gentle on your skin, and small crinkles formed around his eyes as he smiled, holding his hand at your stomach as you gazed back at him.

A knock sounded at the door, making you turn your head around before you and Dean burst into laughter, and told Sam he could come back in the room to tell him the news.

[figthoughts]

dean and angel!reader headcanons *°࿐

⭑ when you first met the winchester brothers, dean decided straight away that he didn’t like you. he initially saw you as nothing, but a “self-righteous little feathered nuisance” who didn’t have a clue how the world worked. but as the months passed, he slowly grew fond of you, enjoying your endearing little quirks and the way you were so intrigued by the world around you; he realised you were so much more than just a celestial being. he also loved the way you and castiel would interact like siblings. cas actually played a huge part in helping you bond with both brothers.

⭑ of course his favourite petname for you is angel, but his other favourites include: little bird, dove, birdie & feathers. they started off as a way to mock you initially, but they stuck, and now they’re only said with love. he always enjoys calling you sweet thing, pretty girl, sweetheart, lovebird etc. anything that makes your pretty little face light up.

⭑ dean adores how fascinated you are by the world and by humanity in particular. the way you ask odd little questions and quirk your head as you absorb information. he loves watching things click in your brain and the soft gasp you always expel as you put two ‘n two together in your head.

⭑ his heart continues almost burst every time you make jokes and reference things he’s taught you about— like movies, pop culture moments, music. he finds it so heartwarming because he sees himself reflected in you. he loves that you like what he likes, and that you’ve grown to adapt his sense of humour.

⭑ dean loves how overwhelmed and moved you get by music, especially by sappy poetic songs that he hates. he puts up with your music taste because he loves how your eyes sparkle when you dance and sing along.

⭑ dean just thinks you’re the sweetest little thing. he constantly second guesses himself and wonders why you’re choosing to be with him. he thinks someone as beautiful and as pure as you deserves someone better than him.

⭑ dean noticed early on how you took a liking to certain things like colours, scents, textures. he goes out of his way to pick you little flowers that are your favourite colour or buy you candles with your favourite scent. he also took notice of things you didn’t like, and consequently keeps you from dealing with them— like sticky textures or the feeling of crumbs in his bed (he’s working on that, he swears.)

⭑ dean had to teach you about sleeping when he kept waking up to you sitting on the end of his bed, watching over him as he slept. what he doesn’t know is that most of the time you pretend to sleep. you’d never let him know, but you pretend simply because you enjoy being in his arms overnight. it’s the only time you get to see dean completely unguarded; his features relaxed and his face almost boyish.

⭑ sam watched dean fall in love with you without realising. after months, he had to finally tell dean to make a move. it almost blew dean’s mind when you reciprocated your feelings. he wasn’t used to the warm ‘n fuzzy feelings in his chest, but with you they became natural. a constant. and he wouldn’t have it any other way now.

⭑ dean considers you the light of his life. he’s always making jokes about you being heaven-sent for him. he’s completely enamoured and in love with his little birdie.

⭑ dean had to learn to be patient with how sensitive you can be. as an angel, you always assumed that people were more good than evil, so being on the receiving end of harsh words and treatment used to upset you greatly. dean labelled you a crybaby at the beginning, hating how you’d look so sad and pathetic with your tear-filled eyes. he never understood why your tears made his chest ache, but now he does, and he’s vowed to never make you cry again…. unless it’s out of pleasure that is.

⭑ sex was a tricky subject for you and dean initially. he was cautious and wanted to take things slow— he knew that mentally you were a virgin, so he wanted to be good to you. the first time you went all the way, he immediately knew that there was nobody else for him. the way you looked at him with such trusting soft wide eyes and the way you moaned out his name made his knees weak. he loves seeing your face all blissed out, your neck all marked up and your skin glistening from sweat. your soft little sighs of pleasure make him go truly crazy though.

⭑ you’re very sensitive to the feelings of people around you. dean’s emotions were no different. you saw how closed off he was when it came to his feelings and dealing with things. with gentle prodding and patient kindness, you’ve managed to get him to open up a little— granted it is still a work in progress, but he’s doing better. he trusts you.

⭑ you insist on doing weekly bodily scans for dean— and sam too. you just wanna make sure your boys are healthy. heaven knows how much damage dean’s poor liver takes. a little zip and it’s all better. dean says once a week is “a bit over the top”, but you disagree; you aren’t taking any chances when it comes to your love and his brother. you want them happy, healthy and safe.

⭑ dean loves when you just start rambling and info-dumping about whatever you’ve decided to learn about that day, even if it’s a subject he’s completely uninterested in; if you’re interested, then so is he. he has to stifle a laugh if you get a fact wrong or say something entirely untrue with full confidence. he always just nods along and when you’re done, it’s always “very good, my little lovebird.”

⭑ dean knows you don’t really understand the concept or reasoning of marriage— you’re an angel, why would you? but you’ve come to the conclusion that it’s worth it if it makes dean happy… and you’re not entirely opposed to becoming mrs. winchester or being bound to him officially.

A/N: are these too specific?? idk but dare i say angel!reader is neurodivergent coded??? i think yes!! anyways i’m lowkey sick as hell rn and this is poorly written ofc but enjoyyy <3

feedback and reblogs are welcome !!! <3

✩ taglist: @chevroletdean @fitxgrld @jasvtsc @bluestrd @1-imbroglio @titsout4nicholas @faithfulsofi @tortureddarkstar @abellmunsonmovie @atenea585 @manicjk @aileenunfiltered @minettacreekk @jackleslvr @winchester-whiskey @artyandink @emeraldcrs @freyabear @a1ecmcdowell @cosmopolitan-thedrink @jwritestuff @suhnisideup @spookyysinsanity @kimxwinchester @bleuatlas @deansbbyx @angelicjackles @cosmicanakin @artemys-ackles @deanswidow @psychicnatural @ghostlyaccurate @k-slla

↑ comment to be added!

[lvvrmel]

CORRUPTION .ᐟ

DEAN WINCHESTER X ANGEL!READER

PAIRING: Human!Dean Winchester x Angel!Reader.

CONTENT WARNING: corruption, innocent!reader, slightly sleazy! dean, gn! reader, nsfw, smut, oral (dean receiving), mdni, 18+

SUMMARY: dean cant stop himself from corrupting your angel-like innocence.

>> word-count — 1.2k .ᐟ

.ᐟ not proofread .ᐟ

Dean had first met you through Castiel, both of you being angels who knew each other from Heaven. You had been tagging along with the Winchester brothers for an indefinite amount of time, occasionally dropping by to visit and help them out a bit.

Dean didn’t really care for you too much at first, although you eventually grew on him. Maybe a bit too much.

Your constant innocence and naivety was adorable in his eyes, and he couldn’t help but imagine what it’d be like to be the one to take that from you. Could you really blame him though? When you bat your eyelashes at him like that, what do you expect from him? He’s a simple guy, of course he’s gonna be attracted to a cute little thing like you.

Sam found Dean’s attraction to you fairly obvious; with his constant staring — not just your chest and backside but your wide eyes and glossy lips too, his never-ending flirting and teasing he continuously aimed towards you. Although, unlike Sam, you did not catch on to Dean’s relentless innuendos, no matter how often he said them and no matter how suggestive he made them. You were just too much of a pure and innocent angel.

Dean really looked forward to the times you’d randomly decide to drop by unannounced. But this time? When you’ve dropped by when he’s all alone? Dream come true for him. Getting you alone plays a huge part in his fantasies.

Dean and Sam had found a motel to stay at during a hunt, both of them in separate rooms that are just next door to each other, and Dean did not expect to get back from the bar and see you sat there on the centre of the bed. It was a nice surprise though.

He raises his eyebrows at the sight of you randomly visiting, shutting the door behind him while he keeps his gaze on you with that smug look on his face, running his hand through his hair as he makes his way over to you, speaking in his usual gruff tone. “Hiya, Sweetheart. What’re you doing here? Decided to drop by?”

Dean watches as you nod your head and smile slightly at him, sitting down on the edge of the bed with a small grunt. “Missed you, yknow, darlin’. Should come visit more. I’d love to see your pretty face more often.” He smirked, reaching over to gently pat your thigh with his hand.

Dean watches as you smile a little more at him, probably appreciating that he missed you and thinks your face is pretty, which only made him think of you as even more adorable. “You’re a cute thing, sweetheart, yknow that? Caught anyones eyes yet?” He sure hopes not. Dean wants to be the first one to touch you, take that innocence from you that he loves so much.

Contentment washes over him when he sees that shake of your head in response, the smirk on his lips widening slightly. “Oh yeah? No angels fallen in love with you? You ever been with a guy before?” Which you responded with another shake of your head and a small “No.” in that soft, sweet voice of yours.

“Never? Oh, darling, that’s adorable. Not even had a quick peck on the cheek?” Dean very clearly loved how innocent you are, how you’re too precious for your own good. Each visit you make to Earth, the more captivated he finds himself.

“Want me to show you what it’s like?” Dean leans forward slightly, the two of you now very close as he watches you consider his offer for a moment, grinning slightly more at your small nod, enjoying the fact your curious to what a kiss feels like.

Dean wasted no time when he saw you agree to his offer of showing you what it’s like to kiss someone, moving closer to you on the motel bed as his hand goes to rest against your cheek, gently pulling you towards him while he leans in, starting off with a chaste, innocent kiss against your lips before deepening the kiss more, his lips pressed against yours as his thumb gently rubs against your inner thigh.

He continues to kiss you as his tongue slips past your lips, reluctantly pulling away after a while once he decides he wants a little more than just making out.

“How was that, sweetheart? Y’wanna go even further than kissing?” He suggests in a low, gruff voice, moving a strand of hair from your face and tucking it behind your hair as you hesitantly nod your head a bit after thinking about his suggestion.

With that, Dean gently guides you onto the floor, propped up on both of your knees as he sits on the edge of his bed, his hands hastily unbuckling his belt and unzipping his jeans, freeing his hard-on from his boxers.

Deans hand loosely pumps himself up and down a bit as a little precum leaks from his tip, eventually resting his hand on the back of your head and guiding you to his cock, quietly instructing you to open your mouth before placing his tip on your tongue, his hand on the back of your head slowly moving your head forward to help you take his whole length, those cute noises you make when his tip prods at the back of your throat sounding like music to his ears.

Your pretty lips wrapped around his cock makes his head roll back, groaning while directing your head back and forth, gradually getting quicker the more he gets closer to cumming.

Dean pants heavily as he slowly starts to thrust his hips, his cock going deeper into your throat at a faster pace than before, letting out a low grunt every now and then as he feels himself getting closer.

When he finally lowers his head to look at you, it does nothing but speed up the nearing climax. Your head relentlessly bobbing back and forth, your eyes ever so slightly tearing up at each inch you take down your throat, he can’t help but grind his hips even quicker at the arousing sight.

Dean can’t take anymore, the view he has of you throating his dick, the sounds you make each time it reaches the very back of your throat, and the way your mouth feels wrapped around his cock, all just becomes too much for him, cum eventually oozing out, landing on your tongue and some of your face from Dean pulling out, his hand pumping his dick a few times while cum continues to land on your lips and chin, watching your eyes close tightly in reaction to the sudden sticky nut that’s now all over your face.

Dean breathes heavily at the sensation of finishing, watching you try to spit his seed out, probably not liking it from how new it all is to you. He gently runs his fingers through your hair before reaching over to the nightstand beside the bed, taking a few tissues from the tissue box that was sitting there, using it to wipe away the cum that had planted on your face.

“God, you’re a natural, sweetheart…” Dean pants out after finishing with wiping the stickiness off your face, leaning down and leaving a soft kiss to your forehead. He was definitely going to be doing that with you again. It was just too good not to happen again. And hopefully he might be able to eventually go further than just a blowjob with you.

[colorlessjay]

Here's a Destiel prompt based on a doodle I did but also Chappell Roan:

Dean Winchester is your average picture perfect American boy. Tall, blonde, football team quarterback, Kansas sweetheart with a little brother he's way too over protective of, and a southern drawl he swears he doesn't exaggerate. He's brash and rude, his confidence making him an easy target for over excited crowds and the occasion fights. The girls at school want him when he gives them a wink and a smile, and most guys envy him. Wish they were him.

But Dean had his eyes set on the unattainable

Castiel Novak. the Student body vice president who seems to fly through school like he was above it all. But not in the obnoxious 'I'm better than you' way in most teen movies. No, Castiel radiates an energy. One of pure intent, kindness, and joy that makes people fall for his hypnotic blue eyes

People like Dean, Castiel's best friend, and the guy he confides in more often than not

And Dean hates that he does. Because Castiel,for all his intelligence, was as clueless as they come

So whenever Castiel asks him to wingman for him

It's months worth of heartache and fake smiles as he watches Castiel pull every trick Dean taught him

Because Dean Winchester? He's the practice boy

-----

Castiel, wanting to the full college experience, asks his best friend Dean to help on how to date/seduce girls (Since Dean is really good at it and has been in relationships before. But only to distract from his massive crush on Cas)

And Dean, being a good friend, walks Cas through every step regardless of how much it hurts to flirt with Cas, only for Cas to use those same words and actions on girls

And one day, Cas asks Dean how to kiss. If he'll be a good kisser. Castiel's self conscious about it. Self deprecating and confused cause his lips are always chapped and his hair always a mess. And he's scared he won't close his eyes

And Dean just goes on about how those can be good things. How they're attractive. Blurting out stuff he personally feels about kissing Cas

"Your hair's perfect for kissing, short and soft and perfect to hold"

"If she doesn't like your eyes when you kiss, then she's blind as a bat!"

"Your lips look chapped but I'll bet my Baby they're as soft as the look you get when you see a bee"

"hell! Given the chance, I'd kiss you and I'd be the one left breathless"

And of course, they practice kissing

And Dean was right. It leaves him breathless

Leaves him heartbroken too when he finds Cas kissing Meg the same way a week later

-------

"I can't take it anymore, Cas! I'm so fucking tired of being your goddamn practice dummy!" Dean turns around, finally facing Castiel after he storming off "Yeah, I asked for it. It was fucking stupid to even suggest it, but you can't be so goddamn blind to not see that everything I've said, everything I've taught you, was more then just a shitty flirting lesson to me!"

Castiel stops in his chase, staring at Dean wide eyed as the rain picks up

Dean powers on, pacing and flailing "Fuck me for thinking the way you kissed me meant something then just practice" he laughs humorlessly then lets out a sob

"Fuck, Cas…" Dean looks up. his hand coming down to clutch at his wet shirt. Tears and rain running down his face "It meant something to me… you saying it otherwise doesn't change that… it just makes it hurt"

Castiel stared wide eyed and frozen. His mind flashes back to every interaction, every little touch, every word said between them

And all he could muster up was

"Dean…"

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

.⋆｡When They Realised That They Loved You｡⋆.

Team free will x plus size reader (separately)

Warnings: smut, lil bit of angst, fluff, (somehow Dean’s isn’t the angsty one), undefined relationship (Dean), mention of scars, sam detoxing off demon blood, childhood friends to strangers to ?, heartbreak, pain, mention of torture and pain and Dean’s death, sam being sad, gentleness, Ruby can catch these hands, seemingly unrequited love on both sides, a kid being lost, castiel being stupidly in love and not knowing what to do with himself, humanity being good WC: 3.8k

Minors DNI

A/N: One assignment left baby!!

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

Dean- When you were the only person he could let his walls down with

You weren’t exactly a hunter but you also weren’t exactly a civilian. You were… something else. You could shoot, recite an exorcism backwards and outdrink the most seasoned hunter but you also were stationary, paid your taxes, even had a retirement fund and to Dean, you were safe. And a damn good lay at that.

“That’s it baby. Move those hips for me.” Your nails bit into the muscles of his chest as you lifted yourself up on shaky legs, then slammed back down onto his cock. Dean hissed and bit down on his lip, desperately trying to keep his eyes open to watch you fall apart just one more time before he succumbs to the blinding pleasure he could only find with you.

“It’s too much, Dean.” You wailed but continued to roll your hips downwards like you didn’t even think of stopping. His hands clamped down on the meat of your plush thighs as you tightened impossibly around his thick cock.

“Fuck, baby. I know you’re close; just come for me. Cum, and I’ll give you what you want.” He planted his feet onto your bed and thrust upwards, hitting that one spot inside you he knew made your brain turn into TV static. “Thaaaaat’s it. That’s my girl.” He cooed as you slumped forwards, your mindless babbling only serving to spur him on even more.

You tucked your face into his neck, kissing and licking at his skin like you wanted to swallow him whole. Dean squeezed his eyes shut and pounded into you even deeper. Your soft body trembled against him as you tumbled into your final orgasm of the night, your cunt fluttering around him like it was made for him.

“Dean. Cum inside me.” You managed to gasp out as you rode the last waves of your high. Dean snarled and pushed himself in as deep as he could go as the dam finally broke and he succumbed to his own end. You moaned softly at the feeling of his cum filling you up. 

Dean relaxed back down into the mattress, your body a comfortable weight on top of his, easing away the pain inside him. He ran his hand down the length of your back, coming to rest on the gentle swell of your ass. “You good sweetheart?”

A quiet giggle vibrated through your chest. “I think I saw god, I am more than good Deanie.”

He rolled his eyes as he guided you to lay down next to him, his softening cock slipping from your warm walls. “How many times have I told you not to call me that?”

“How many times have I told you not to wear your boots in the house?” You retorted with a jab to his ribs, quickly followed by a loving kiss against his lips. His heart skipped a beat as he wrapped a strong arm around your thick waist, pressing deeper into the kiss. You let out a pleased sound that made his spent cock twitch in interest.

But all too soon, you pulled away and laid your head down on his shoulder.

It felt so domestic, so real. If he just shut his eyes he could almost imagine that this was your shared home; a place for him to just be without the worry of saving the world or protecting Sammy, that maybe he could have a lawn to mow and tedious chores that he would be happy to do for you. He wished he could wake up in this bed every day instead of once or twice in a blue moon when hunting had dried up or he needed more supplies from your shop for hunters.

“Do you remember the day we met?” His voice echoed through the small bedroom, soaking into the old wallpaper that you refused to let him replace, claiming that it was just fine the way it was.

You hummed and glanced up at him, your eyes still hazy from an entire afternoon of ‘I missed you but I’m not going to say it out loud’ sex. Dean cupped your full cheek.

“‘Course I do. You broke into my shop at 4 in the morning and I almost shot you.”

“We still need to work on that aim of yours sweetheart.” You scoffed but snuggled closer to him, the sweet smell of your skin almost getting overwhelming. Your fingers traced over the scars along his torso, never flinching away or touching them like you wished they weren’t there in the first place. You were mapping out the story of him without question or hesitation.

“Yeah well why would I need to do that if I have you here to protect me?” You said it like it was a fact, that you never doubted he would come to your rescue at a moment's notice. “I’ve got Dean Winchester in my bed, I’m the safest girl in the world.”

His breath caught but before you could notice, he gave you that smirk that got him there in the first place and drawled out a low: “Yeah you do sweetheart.” You visibly flustered, burying your face into his arm to escape the heat of his gaze. 

“You’re always so mean to me.” His laugh bounced your head up and down. You began to giggle, unable to help yourself, and slid your arm beneath his back so you could wrap your body around him. Electricity followed your touch, his nerves sparking to life like the feeling of stepping out from the darkness into the sun.

God I love her.

The thought slammed into his chest, briefly knocking the air from his lungs. He expected a sense of panic, maybe dread, but all he felt was a sense of calm that settled against his soul. Dean just pulled you tighter against him and pressed a lingering kiss to the crown of your head. You returned it with a soft peck right above his heart.

He didn’t want to run from this, not this time. You were everything to him and he wanted to stay right here, even if he knew he didn’t deserve it. Your breathing evened out as you succumbed to some much-needed sleep.

Maybe staying another few days wouldn’t be so bad, Sammy kept telling him he needed a vacation.

Sam- When you were kind to him even after he broke your heart

Sam’s voice had gone hoarse over an hour ago but they still hadn’t let him out. He knew that they wouldn’t but still he had begged and pleaded, even succumbed to tears yet there was no answer from outside the heavy iron door. 

He slumped back against the cot in the centre of the room, the sharp metal scraped against his back but it was nothing compared to the pain he felt in every waking moment. The cold concrete beneath him did nothing to soothe the burning inside of him. 

“Please.” The word was barely even audible, escaping his lungs with little more than a whimper. Sam let his head fall back onto the thin mattress.

As soon as the door was slammed shut, all he felt was blinding rage. Didn’t they understand why he was doing this? The blood gave him the power they needed to help people! But when hours had passed without so much as a hint that they even heard him, the anger melted away into a sort of numbness. Dean and Bobby had tricked him into this, you had tricked him.

It was your face that he saw last as the door was shut. Your lips were pulled downwards, your eyes rimmed with red, your shoulders slumped. You had looked like you were in mourning. Guilt curled in his stomach, just like every other time he looked at you since the day he left for Stanford. But this time, the sour taste of betrayal filled his mouth like bile.

You were turning your back on him, siding with his brother when all he wanted to do was to make the world safer, for you. 

Sam forced himself to take a deep breath, even as his body screamed with the ache of movement. The air was stale and settled heavily onto his chest but he was grateful to feel it, he was grateful to feel anything besides the searing pain of his nerves. This was the first break from the hallucinations he’d had in days, or weeks, time, just like everything else, had no meaning within the iron walls that enclosed him.

The cotton of his shirt felt like it was rubbing his sensitive skin raw but to take it off meant moving and he was far too tired to withstand the pain anymore. His head turned, letting the right half of his face press into the cot. The single flat sheet on the bed smelt of the flowery laundry detergent that you always used, it made something inside of him twist sickeningly.

A single tear slipped down his cheek.

“Sam?” His eyes squeezed shut.

“Please not again. Please don’t hurt me again.” He begged with broken words. He cringed at the sound of metal scraping against concrete. He couldn’t do it again, he wouldn’t fight it. Sam was going to let the pain take him.

Soft footsteps drew closer. He braced himself for the first strike. Would it be the sharp pinch of a scalpel or the burn of a propane torch? Or would it be the voices of people he loved reminding him of just how tainted he was? How evil? 

He whimpered as they stopped right beside him. There was a beat, then two, then the gentle whoosh of air as someone kneeled down beside him. 

“Sam.” Your voice washed over him like a gentle breeze, easing the stiffness in his bones. “Sam? Can you look at me?” He wanted to say no, to yell at you to get out and leave him alone like you did when you first locked him in here but the exhaustion in your tone made him crack open one of his eyes.

You sat on your knees mere inches from him, letting him see you in stark detail. One of his flannels hung from your shoulders partially concealing the form-fitting tank top you wore beneath it. Normally, his heart would have skipped a beat seeing you wear his clothes, but now it only reminded him of why you stopped. Bruise-like dark bags marred your full cheeks, your eyes blood-shot.

“Oh Sammy. I-“ Your voice cracked. You reached for him but quickly thought better of it, your hand dropped back down to your side where there was a bucket of water now on the ground. “You know you can’t come out yet but I thought you might like to clean up a bit, maybe eat something that isn’t dried or jerkied.” 

Sam opened his other eye but made no other efforts to move. You sighed, your shoulders dropping as you sat back on your heels. “Will you let me wash your hair and change your clothes at least? I bought the softest ones I could find and even washed them in the fabric softener Dean keeps secretly buying.” Your lips quirked up, attempting some sort of reaction from him.

You looked so worn out, Sam wondered if you had sat right outside the door waiting for him to stop screaming. His head bobbed and the hardness in your gaze eased. “Thank you. I’ll be as gentle as I can, squeeze my leg if you want me to stop.”

He bit back a whimper as you guided him to the floor. His broad shoulders rested across your plump thighs, letting his head hang above the floor. You kept one hand beneath his neck, taking far more of his weight than he would be willing to admit, and reached for the small plastic cup floating at the top of the bucket. 

His fingers curled around your knee, his short nails digging into the denim as you poured a cup full of hot water over the crown of his head. You paused for a moment but continued when Sam loosened his grip. 

As you placed the cup to the side and retrieved a small bottle of fragrance-free shampoo, he let his eyes shut once more, this time, his mind wandering to the last time the two of you had spoken.

It had been in the days after Dean died. You refused to break down in the face of losing your best friend, the man that taught you to drive, to throw a proper punch. You wanted to stay strong for Sam and for Bobby but Sam knew it wouldn’t last long. 

You had been slowly, methodically cleaning Baby, just like Dean taught you to when the younger Winchester approached you with a bowed head and a duffle bag on his shoulder. Just like the day he left for college.

You didn’t wait for his excuses.

“You’re leaving?” You said but it didn’t sound like you, not really. Sam didn’t answer and you scoffed, throwing the sponge you’d been using onto the dusty driveway. “Just like that, running off days after-“ Your breath caught but you swallowed down your tears, “What are you planning, Sam? You know selling your soul won’t work, we’ve already tried that.”

Sam huffed and pulled the strap of the bag higher on his shoulder. “I’ve got a friend who might know a way to get him back.”

He should’ve seen the way your back straightened as your body went stiff. “A ‘friend’?”

“She knows a lot about hell and right now I’ll try anything to bring him back.” And then he did something truly stupid. “Unlike you.” 

Silence crashed down around you like a falling building, immediately filling the air with a tension so thick Sam could almost choke on it. He watched your shoulders draw up, your hackles raised before your chest expanded fully and you exhaled through your nose.

“Then I won’t stop you. I trust you Sam but I don’t trust Ruby and I won’t be around forever to fix up your messes, not anymore. I’m worth a hell of a lot more than just being the girl you always leave behind but keep running back to.” You fished Baby’s keys from your front pocket, tossing them at Sam as you passed.

“Ruby’s dead.”

“Is she?” You shot him a look before opening Bobby’s front door. “Don’t get yourself killed. Lose my number.” The door slammed behind you and suddenly Sam felt like he was making the wrong decision, again.

You ran a hand through his hair, letting the shampoo run through your fingers as you carefully washed it away with the lukewarm water and with it, you washed away his pain. He turned his head into your hand, soaking up every ounce of touch you were willing to give him. It’d been so long since he had felt anything other than lust or hurt pressed to his body. 

You refused to meet his gaze, not that he could blame you after everything he had done, but he wanted so badly to look into those perfect e/c’s even just one more time. To feel that peace and acceptance that had always swirled within the deep colour of your irises. 

Suddenly, all Sam wanted to do was curl up in your lap and cry. He’d spent so many years taking your warmth for granted and now, after months of being denied even a sliver of your presence, he couldn’t imagine ever being away from you again. He wanted to prove to you that you were worth staying for, you were worth everything to him, but all he could do was let you care for him with hesitant hands.

He loved you, he always had, even when he was trying to run away from his life, even as he fell in love with someone else. It was you that kept him from falling into that well of darkness that would be so easy to slip into. You with your sass and your gentleness, your softness and your bite, your laughter and your grief. He loved you.

But how could you ever love him back?

Castiel- When you made him remember why he loved humanity in the first place

It was the sound of crying that drew Castiel to the playground across the street from the motel you had been camped out at. It wasn’t an unfamiliar sound to the angel given his age and how many prayers he’d heard throughout his existence, but the pitch was so high, so truly filled with fear that he didn’t hesitate to follow it.

“Angel? Where are you going?” He glanced back at you as you were pulling on your boots.

“There’s crying.” He said simply before descending the concrete steps to the ground floor. You let out a noise like a scoff and scrambled after him, barely grabbing the room key and your hunting knife before the heavy door slammed shut.

“Cas!” His pace didn’t falter as the crying picked up in intensity but he was confident you were following close behind him. His blue eyes flicked over the colourful plastic structures, expecting some siren or ghost to pop out at him. The weight of the angle blade against his forearm and your steady footsteps behind him reminded Castiel that he would not fight this battle alone.

He slowly rounded the bright yellow twisty slide just as you skidded to a halt a step behind him. Thankfully, you remained silent, a palm pressed to his back to remind him that you had him covered. The crying was louder now, though it did not sound like it was from any creature he had encountered before. 

There was a shadow at the edge of the monkey bars. Castiel’s blade dropped silently from his sleeve, sliding perfectly into his grip. He took a single stride forwards, ready to attack before it could when your fingers suddenly snagged the back of his trenchcoat.

“It’s a kid.” You breathed, he imagined it was out of relief but your human emotions always confused him. You slid the knife into the sheath you kept at the small of your back, tugging down your shirt so it was completely hidden as you cautiously approached the small figure curled up in the wood chips.

“Hi sweetie, are you ok?” Your voice dripped with sweetness, like he remembered syrup to taste like. You leaned forwards, your shoulders dropped as low as they could go.

The crying stopped but small hiccups still echoed through the maze of playground structures. The sun had been steadily setting and now sat just above the horizon, the darkness creeping in. 

Castiel watched closely as you squatted a foot away from the child, a soft smile on your face. “Are you lost?” The child finally looked up, their eyes wide and sparkling with tears in the low light of the evening. They nodded.

“Can we help you find your parents?” Their nodding got quicker and they reached out their arms to you. Your smile grew wider as you stood up, easily pulling them up and resting them on your wide hip. You turned back to face Castiel, a hand rubbing up and down the child’s back.

They must’ve been only 4 or 5 and wearing an outfit that was far from appropriate for the dropping temperature. “We’re going to go to the police station, I bet your parents are waiting there for you.” They looked up at you, still silent, but now clinging to your t-shirt in a way that made Castiel’s heart inexplicably skip a beat.

“This is my friend Cas,” You leaned closer to their little ear and loudly whispered the next part, “He’s an angel.” The child’s eyes widened and their head snapped around to look at him. Cas stepped closer, the child didn’t flinch.

“I am and so is she, that’s how she was able to find you.” He could almost feel the heat from your cheeks even feet away but still the child seemed convinced. 

“Really?” You hiked them up higher on your hip, your arm wrapping tighter around their little body to keep them warm.

“Really really. Now why don’t we get you back home?” They rested their head beneath your jaw and nodded, snuggling closer to your soft body. 

Cas dutifully followed you as you walked out of the park, watching the child bounce with each of your steps. You chattered away about things you were seeing around the street, your voice filling the silence like a white noise machine. Cas could feel the calmness radiating from the child and it warmed something long forgotten inside of him.

You had no duty to this child, nor any other person that you saved and he knew that you would receive no thanks for your actions but yet you still did them. You threw yourself into harm’s way to protect complete strangers from things they could not possibly understand. You had once confided in the angel that you had been pressured into hunting but you had stopped trying to run away from it long ago.

He’d felt anger for you, just the same as he felt for the Winchesters and all the other unfortunate children who never had a choice. He felt angry for himself, at humanity.

But seeing you now, caring for this child like they were your own, Castiel understood why you stayed. You didn’t do it for the glory of saying you saved the world, nor for some duty bestowed to you by your parents, it was because you cared and because you knew what evil was. 

The near empty streets soon gave way to rows of shops and townhouses, leading directly to the lit up police station only a few blocks away. The child started to fidget against you as they began to recognise their surroundings, making you laugh quietly. “I know sweetie! We’re almost there. You’re so close.”

You came to a stop right at the entrance. “You can go right in and tell them your name and that you were lost.” They nodded dutifully while you carefully lowered them to their feet. “Ok sweetie, you were so brave today but make sure you stay with your parents next time.” You ran a hand over their head and stod to your full height.

They looked at you and Castiel before gracing you with a toothy grin. “Thank you nice angels!” Then they threw open the glass door and rushed inside just as two grown ups turned the corner behind the reception desk. They fell to their knees, catching the little one in their arms.

Something warm brushed the side of his hand, making Castiel tear his eyes away from the scene in front of him. You took his hand into your own, your eyes shimmering with tears. You didn’t say anything and he found that no words were needed.

Tomorrow, he would tell you how incredible you were, that you were what angels should be and that he was feeling something for you that he never thought he could ever experience. But for right now, he wanted to watch this child reunite with the people that loved them most while the chill of the night and the monsters in it were kept at bay by the brilliance of your soul.

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[ryngzmn]

what an idiot

PAIRING: Dean Winchester x reader

SUMMARY: you don’t listen to Dean after he gives you an order, and now he’s smug about it.

WORD COUNT: 668

WARNINGS: a little bit of swearing, not beta’d so there may be typos…

A/N: I had no idea what to make the title ugheklekwjfj. also would’ve loved to write more but I couldn’t think of anything 😭😭

prompt/idea requested by @0ffwiththeirh3ads !

“Y’need to listen to me next time.” Dean chastised you. He had been doing so for the last ten minutes.

All because he had told you not to waltz on into the vampire nest like you owned the place.

For context, you and Dean were hunting down a vampire nest.

Well, aspiring vampire nest considering there was really only four vampires. And you thought you could take them all on your own.

You remember Dean’s words so clearly: “Don’t go running in there without me.”

Of course you didn’t listen, you practically bolted in there while shouting “Who made you the leader?” after him.

Now that you think about it, you should’ve listened to him. Because now you were stuck with Dean patching up your injuries from trying to take on four vampires by yourself.

You could just feel the smug aura coming off of him in waves. He was fucking enjoying this. He was enjoying the fact that he was able to scold you for not listening to him.

In your defense, he wasn’t the actual leader of whatever Godforsaken team you, Sam, Castiel, and Dean had named Team Free Will.

Dean probably just gave the title to himself, because he was the oldest. Well, oldest physically considering Castiel was a literal angel.

“Will you listen to me next time?” Dean’s voice broke you out of your thoughts, and you looked over at him.

He was currently knelt down by your side so he could get better access to the deep gash on your torso as you sat on an uncomfortable motel chair.

You cleared your throat, shrugging your shoulders. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

Dean tsk’d, shaking his head. “‘m gonna need a more definitive answer than that, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart.

Dean called everyone that. But he used it more on you to get under your skin.

And it worked, it worked so well.

You felt your head fall back, finding the popcorn-textured ceiling much more interesting than Dean all of the sudden.

You could feel his green eyes on you as he waited for your reply. You groaned before muttering a weak “yes,” under your breath.

“What was that? Didn’t quite hear ya.” You grit your teeth, you could hear Dean’s smirk. You didn’t even have to look at him!

“Yes.”

That reply was much better than before, at least according to Dean it was, as he let out a small hum of contentment.

“Good,” He grinned, suddenly tugging on the makeshift stitch he had created to sew your wound tight.

You jumped in your seat as the sudden pain that shit through you. “Jesus Christ-!”

Dean chuckled, shaking his head. “Nope, just me.”

You wanted to slap him. You wanted to slap some sense into him so bad.

“Fuck you…” You grunted under your breath, Dean didn’t reply as he kept working on your wound. His touch much more gentle now.

You averted your gaze from the ceiling and looked over at Dean’s hands deftly stitching your gash closed.

It would definitely scar, but hey, at least it would make a cool story to tell in the future.

After about five minutes, Dean patted your leg before standing up.

He stretched, his back and knees popping from kneeling down and being hunched over.

“I think you should get me some pie as a reward for actually patching you up.” Dean teased, crossing his arms.

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head.

“Nah, you can get that yourself.”

Dean pursed his lips together. “Oh c’mon, just do it!” He insisted.

“Fine!” You relented, shoulders slumping a bit. “But you owe me then.”

Dean raised his hands in the air as you pointed a finger at him. “Okay, I owe you a favor then I guess.” He chuckled, patting your back as a sign for you to get going and get him his pie.

“Better be back before I fall asleep, wouldn’t want to eat a cold pie in the morning.” He commented before you walked out of the room.

—————————————————————————

reblogs and feedback r appreciated! they keep me motivated <3

[missmarveledsblog]

A kind of sex education part 2 (platonic cas x winchesters x reader)

Summary : after the whole porn ordeal , castiel finds tumblr and the world of fanfiction has him asking more curious questions  which the residents of the bunker are not so happy to answer . 

warnings : mentions of smutty fics , cas being the curious baby in a trench coat we love .

After the whole angel porn ordeal , they were more careful with what cas was watching not wanting  history to repeat itself . Like monitoring a toddler on an iPad. Especially given that y/n wouldn't come out of her room for days not wanting to look any of them bar sam in the eyes .  Dean even limited his teasing when it came to the subject . Today he was luckily out while cas was on laptop , Sam and Y/N were looking over some incoming cases seeing which needed to be handled first .

" interesting this is very interesting " the angel spoke making them look over both slightly relieved not see or hear an explicit image on the laptop. 

" I've been on a interesting site that led me to many other over the last couple of days " he  spoke up .

" what was that buddy" she smiled over. Their joy short lived when he uttered the next few sentences out of his mouth .

" tumblr that led me to all these other sites , did you know there is fanfiction of us like the play we seen except it's classed as what they call smut " he looked up at the two .

" why didn't  I go on the supply run ,  why am I here when he finds this shit " she cursed up at the ceiling .

" could be nothing " sam offered a weak smile .

" did you know most popular is Dean x y/n fiction seems as though you are most shipped although there are some of Dean and sam with you too " he mused .

" but I could be wrong" sam winced taking the laptop off of cas completely .

" how do you find these things " he asked looking through the tabs .

" I'm very pop culture savvy now " cas said proudly . 

" what the hell man why are you reading all these " sam groaned wanting burning his eyes out seeing an explicitly  wrong image of Dean and himself (no to wincest) .  " you are actually popular with them Y/n " sam mused .

" that's after  that stupid ghost hunting  website and chuck " she grumbled  wondering where she was going to start her new life.

" hey there's even some with you and cas " he chuckled. 

" Alaska or maybe Australia would be better it further Away " she mused .

" wow these are extremely detailed " sam continued .

" would you call Dean daddy , the stories seem to think you would " cas asked .

" what the hell did I walk into " the man in question walked into the room .

" my resignation  " she mumbled hiding her head in her arms. 

" destiel  is another popular one " sam chuckled. 

" cas found smutty fanfictions " she looked up to see the clueless expression on Dean's face.

" they suggest that Y/n is a sub and you are a Dom " the angel stated.

" wanna see if they're right sweetheart " Dean winked .

" wanna kill me cause I can't be dealing with this" she countered wondering if she could also legally change her name.

" why are they so descriptive on the parts , have they seen them" cas sat looking between the three .

" the way Dean sleeps around they probably seen his " she reasoned.

" they also suggest you like..." .

" do not even finish that one" she growled .

"so many kinks cas did you google all these" sam asked eyes widening at the search history. 

" i was looking at chucks book and comments said to check out the tumblr versions " he said looking confused to what he did wrong. " they forgot to add that birthmark just below your tits " he added matter of factly .

" when did you see her ... what he got to see i didn't" dean turned to Y/n , who honestly rather be stuck with Crowley for eternity than this .

" he walked in while i was getting dressed and it not a birthmark it's a scar from a battle with an old favourite bra "she could feel her cheeks redder than they've been so far . "i'm going to my room to pack for my new life in australia" she stormed out her room .

" she's kidding right?" dean asked looking to the mean .

" you should dom her  and make her stay , they said she responds to good girl" cas explained .

" i wonder if she would let me come with her " sam mused walking out after her.  

another awkward dinner bobby was almost afraid to ask. Although dean was smiling more than the others.

" cas read fanfiction , pornographic fan fiction " dean explained .

" i've also read some theories too, like bobby is Y/N Dad and not her uncle" cas smiled making bobby choke on his water.

"  their theories cas they're not right ... right? " she laughed but stopped when she notice bobby expression or how he would barel look at her.

" i mean it's a possibility " he mused truthfully making her jaw drop

" great more daddy issue not like the place is drowning in them with these two " she pinched the bridge of her nose and point at sam and dean.

" so the theories of dean being her soulmate are true " cas asked.

" probably " dean shrugged winking at her .

" why did i ever come here, sam wanna move to australia with me " she ignored the other three men .

" look me and your mom had a brief thing , your dad well your dad agreed while he..." . 

" australia sound nice " sam agreed cutting bobby short .

" hey stop denying our love even nerds on internet think we'd be hot together"dean spoke up .

" cas from now on stop the curiosity or so help me i will make you eat the computer  " she  groaned learning too much information for the day .

"we need to do dna test " she turned to bobby .

" you can pick me up at 7 " she turned to dean before walking out leaving the men speechless . 

" i got punished" cas pouted .

" i got a kid  kinda " bobby gulped .

" i got a date " dean smirked .

" and i got a rock ... It's a thing on tiktok ... what cass isn't the only pop culture savvy one around here " sam shrugged .

part three

[lila-lou]

✨Obsessed - Pt. 3✨

Summary: After weeks of searching, you finally found Dean. However, he was no longer the man you had been in love with- but more importantly, no longer the man who never returned your love. Because now, in his twisted state, he was somehow obsessed with you.

Pairing: Demon!Dean x Reader, Dean x Reader

Warnings: Language, Angst, Hurt, Violence, Humiliation, naive reader

Word Count: 8412

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

Dean’s eyes were completely blacked out as he looked at you, a twisted smile forming on his lips. “You can’t let this happen, sweetheart”, he purred, his voice low and seductive. “The old Dean won’t even look at you the same way. He won’t touch you, won’t fuck you as good as I do. You’ll be back to being just his little sister”.

Before you could respond, Sam stepped forward again, his face hard with determination, and sprinkled more holy water on Dean. Dean screamed in agony, the sound tearing through the bunker. But as soon as the effects wore off, Dean looked back at you, his smile even more sinister.

“The old Dean didn’t love you, and he never will”, he spat, his voice dripping with venom. “But what we have, that’s real, sweetheart”.

Your heart ached at the truth of his words. You had always feared that the real Dean didn’t feel the same way about you, but hearing it out loud, spoken with such cruelty, shattered you. Tears gathered in your eyes, the pain of his words cutting deeper than any physical injury ever could.

“When they turn me back”, Dean continued, his eyes boring into yours, “I’ll be fucking ashamed of touching you!”.

The tears began to fall freely now, your vision blurring as the full weight of his words hit you. You felt more heartbroken than ever. The final affirmation that Dean didn’t love you back then, while you were so deeply in love with him, made you feel stupid and naive.

“Y/N, don’t listen to him”, Sam said urgently, stepping closer. “He’s trying to manipulate you. The real Dean cares about you, and we need to get him back”.

Dean’s eyes flickered to Sam, his expression full of hatred. “Shut up, Sammy. She knows the truth now”.

You sobbed, feeling utterly broken. “Dean, please”, you whispered, your voice shaking. “Don’t do this”.

Ignoring your plea, Dean continued. “Face it, Y/N. When they turn me back, I’ll be disgusted by everything we did. I’ll push you away, and you’ll be left with nothing”.

Castiel stepped forward, his eyes filled with determination. “This ends now”, he said firmly, raising his hand to continue the exorcism ritual.

Minutes stretched and felt like days as the exorcism continued. Dean’s screams filled the air, but you held on to the hope that the real Dean was still in there, fighting to come back. Finally, with one last blinding flash of light and a gut-wrenching scream, Dean fell silent, slumping in his chains. The room was eerily quiet, the tension thick and suffocating.

Dean opened his eyes, now finally green again. It took a few seconds for him to register his surroundings, but as soon as his gaze landed on you, you felt a surge of emotion. Panic and heartbreak overwhelmed you, and you started tugging at your chains, desperately yelling at Sam.

“Sam, cut me loose! Please, let me go!”, you cried, tears streaming down your face. You were crying like you had never cried before, the raw pain and desperation evident in your voice.

Sam quickly nodded to Castiel, who moved swiftly to unchain you. The moment you were free, you didn’t waste a second. Before Dean could even say a word, you ran towards your room, ignoring the throbbing pain in your broken arm and the myriad of bruises and cuts that covered your body.

“Y/N, wait!”, Dean called after you, his voice weak and filled with anguish. But you couldn’t stop. You couldn’t face him, not after everything that had happened, not after the painful truths that had been laid bare.

You reached your room, slamming the door behind you and collapsing onto the bed. The physical pain was almost a relief, a distraction from the emotional turmoil raging inside you. You curled up, hugging your broken arm to your chest, and let the sobs wrack your body.

The memories of the past weeks played in your mind like a relentless nightmare. Dean’s harsh words, the brutal reality of his feelings—or lack thereof—towards you, and the twisted connection you had shared while he was under the demon’s influence. It was all too much to bear.

Meanwhile, as you lay in your room, trying to process the torrent of emotions, Sam remained focused on ensuring that Dean was truly back to his old self. He watched his brother closely, searching his eyes for any lingering signs of the demon.

“Dean”, Sam said cautiously, “is it really you?”.

Dean nodded weakly, his green eyes filled with a mixture of exhaustion and sorrow. “Yeah, Sammy. It’s me”.

Sam took a deep breath, relief washing over him. He moved forward and began to unchain Dean, working quickly but carefully. As soon as the last chain fell away, the two brothers embraced tightly, both of them clinging to each other as if their lives depended on it.

Sam held on, feeling the weight of the past weeks lift slightly off his shoulders, and Dean buried his face in Sam’s shoulder, drawing strength from his brother’s unwavering support.

“I need to talk to Y/N”, Dean mumbled into Sam’s shoulder, his voice thick with emotion. The guilt and urgency were evident in his tone, and Sam pulled back slightly, nodding in understanding.

“I know”, Sam replied gently. “But take it slow, Dean”.

Dean nodded, his eyes reflecting the pain and regret he felt. “I know, Sammy. I just… I need to make things right”.

Sam placed a reassuring hand on Dean’s shoulder, giving it a supportive squeeze.

With a final nod, Dean turned and made his way towards your room, his heart pounding in his chest. Each step felt heavy, burdened by the knowledge of what he had put you through and the fear of how you would react to him now.

He paused outside your door, taking a moment to gather his thoughts before knocking softly. “Y/N?”, he called, his voice trembling slightly. “It’s me. Can I come in?”.

Inside, you lay on the bed, still trying to process everything. The sound of his voice sent a shiver through you, but you didn’t answer. You didn’t want to speak to him, see him, or even hear him. The pain was too fresh, too raw.

“Y/N?”, Dean called again, his voice more desperate. “Please, let me in. We need to talk”.

Still, you remained silent, your heart aching with the weight of everything that had happened. You couldn’t bring yourself to face him, not yet.

Dean pressed his forehead against the door, his hand resting on the doorknob. “I know I messed up”, he said, his voice breaking. “I know I hurt you, and I hate myself for it. But I need to make things right. Please, Y/N. Just give me a chance to explain”.

You swallowed hard, the tears that had been threatening to fall finally spilling over. Despite everything, part of you wanted to hear him out, to understand what had happened and why. But the fear of more pain held you back.

“Y/N, please”, Dean pleaded. “I can’t do this without you. I need to know you’re okay”.

Dean hesitated.

“I know you don’t want to see me right now”, he said softly. “And I don’t blame you. But I need you to know that everything I said and did… it wasn’t me. It was the demon. The real me would never hurt you like that”.

And that was kind of the problem. The real him didn’t love you, didn’t want to be with you. Sure, the demon also didn’t love you—not in any conventional way—but that version of him wanted to be with you. It made you feel seen and wanted, even if it was twisted and wrong. The real Dean, though, saw you as a sister, a friend, and nothing more.

Dean sighed heavily, sensing your turmoil even through the closed door. “Just… just come talk to me when you’re ready”, he said, his voice filled with resignation. “I’ll be here”.

With that, he finally left. You heard his footsteps retreating down the hallway, and the silence that followed was deafening. You curled up tighter on the bed, the weight of his words settling over you like a heavy blanket.

Your mind raced, torn between the memories of the past few weeks and the reality of the situation. The demon’s version of Dean had been violent, possessive, and cruel, but he had also given you a twisted sense of intimacy you had craved. The real Dean, now free from the demon’s influence, represented safety and the brotherly love you had known for so long—but not the romantic love you yearned for.

You knew you couldn’t avoid Dean forever. At some point, you would have to face him, confront the pain, and decide what you wanted for your future. But for now, you needed time. Time to heal, to process, and to understand your own heart.

It had been two days since you had locked yourself in your room, refusing to come out or talk to anyone. Cas and Sam had both tried to reach out, knocking on your door and speaking softly through the wood, but you remained silent. You were hurt, ashamed, and mostly mad at yourself for being so naive. You should have known better.

Each morning was the same. First, Dean would knock and try to talk to you, his voice filled with regret and desperation. Then, Sam and Cas would take turns, offering their support and urging you to come out. But you couldn’t face them, couldn’t face yourself.

In the kitchen, Sam was making breakfast, the smell of eggs filling the room. Dean and Cas sat at the table, the tension heavy in the air. Dean’s face was buried in his hands, his shoulders slumped with the weight of his guilt.

Sam glanced at his brother as he turned the eggs, his expression a mix of concern and frustration. “Wanna finally share what you did to her?”, he asked, his voice calm but insistent. Sam had a feeling about what had happened, but he needed to hear Dean say it.

Dean hesitated, his breath hitching as he prepared to speak. “I made her my girlfriend… in some twisted way”, he finally admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Sam paused, his hands stilling over the pan. The reality of Dean’s words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. “How far did you go with her?”, Sam asked, his voice low and controlled, though the tension was palpable.

Dean’s head dropped lower, his silence speaking volumes. “I… we… I went all the way, Sam”, he whispered, the shame in his voice palpable.

Sam’s mouth parted before he spoke. “You did… you took her…”, Sam didn’t need to finish his sentence. The horror in his voice was clear enough.

Dean rose abruptly, his emotions boiling over. He grabbed the whiskey bottle from the table and smashed it against the wall, shards of glass scattering everywhere. Without a word, he stormed out of the kitchen, heading straight for his room. The door slammed shut with a force that echoed through the bunker.

In his room, Dean collapsed onto his bed, his head in his hands. He hated himself more than he ever thought possible. He had taken your virginity in the worst way imaginable, without care or consideration. He knew how important it had always been for you, how you had waited so long for the perfect experience. And he had ruined it.

As he sat there, replaying the events in his mind, the guilt and shame weighed heavily on his heart. He could still hear your voice, see the hurt in your eyes. The demon had twisted his desires, but he couldn’t escape the fact that he had been the one to act on them.

Back in the kitchen, Sam stood in stunned silence, his hands gripping the counter. He exchanged a look with Castiel, who had been watching the scene unfold with a deep frown.

At night on day three, the gnawing hunger in your stomach became unbearable. You had managed to avoid everyone for days, but your body’s needs could no longer be ignored. You quietly slipped out of your room, hoping no one would hear you as you made your way to the kitchen.

The kitchen was dimly lit, the soft hum of the refrigerator the only sound breaking the silence. You moved quickly, grabbing bread and cheese to make yourself a sandwich. As you worked, the familiar smells of the kitchen hit you, and you couldn’t help but think of Dean. Everything in the bunker reminded you of him, and it made your heart ache.

You ate the sandwich standing in the kitchen, each bite a mix of relief and sorrow. The room smelled like Dean, a mixture of leather, whiskey, and something uniquely him. Your eyes dropped to your broken arm, wrapped tightly to manage the pain. Even though you should be happy that Dean was saved, you couldn’t shake the twisted longing for what you had, no matter how sick it was. The intensity, the possessiveness—it had become your world, and now it felt like a part of you was missing.

As you finished your sandwich, the door to the kitchen creaked open. You froze, hoping it wasn’t Dean. But when you looked up, you saw Sam standing there, his eyes filled with concern.

“Y/N”, he said softly, not wanting to startle you. “I’m glad you’re eating”.

You nodded, swallowing the last bite. “I was starving”, you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Sam walked over, leaning against the counter next to you. “We’ve all been worried about you”, he said gently. “You don’t have to go through this alone”.

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you quickly wiped them away with your good hand. “I just… I needed time”, you said, your voice trembling. “It’s all so messed up, Sam”.

“I know”, he replied, his voice filled with empathy. “And we’re here for you, whenever you’re ready to talk”.

You nodded, the weight of everything pressing down on you. “It’s hard”, you admitted. “I should be happy that Dean is back, but… I miss what we had, no matter how wrong it was”.

Sam sighed, looking down at his hands. “I can’t pretend to understand everything you’re feeling”, he said honestly. “But I do know that you’re strong, and you’ll get through this. And Dean—he’s beating himself up over what happened. He wants to make things right”.

You took a deep breath, feeling the conflicting emotions swirling inside you. “I don’t know if things can ever be right”, you whispered. “But I guess we have to try”.

Sam nodded, offering a small, reassuring smile. “One step at a time”, he said. “And you don’t have to take those steps alone”.

“Thank you, Sam”.

“Anytime”, he replied.

You lay in your bed, talking to yourself and staring at the ceiling, the weight of the conversation with Sam heavy on your mind. Despite your best efforts, exhaustion eventually pulled you into a fitful sleep. Unknown to you, in your weariness, you had forgotten to lock the door.

Dean, unable to sleep in his room next door, had heard everything. Every whispered word, every tearful confession. The guilt and self-loathing kept him awake, gnawing at him relentlessly. When he heard you not lock your door, an overwhelming need to see you, to somehow make amends, drove him to your room.

Quietly, he opened the door and slipped inside, his footsteps almost silent on the floor. He stood there, looking down at your sleeping form. Just days ago, he had you all to himself. You were vulnerable beneath him, and he had taken whatever he wanted from you, feeding his dark desires.

Now, seeing you like this—broken, hurting, yet still so undeniably strong—brought a fresh wave of anguish crashing over him. He knelt beside your bed, his eyes tracing the bruises and cuts that marred your skin. Each mark was a testament to his failure, a visible reminder of the harm he had caused.

“Y/N”, he whispered, his voice breaking. “I’m so sorry”.

You stirred slightly in your sleep, but didn’t wake. Dean reached out, his hand hovering just above yours, aching to touch you but afraid of causing more pain. He clenched his fist, pulling back and instead sat down on the floor beside your bed, his back against the wall.

Dean sat there, feeling helpless and torn, as the memories of his actions replayed in his mind. When you finally stirred, you noticed him and flinched, not expecting to see him there. Your eyes widened and before you could speak, he whispered again, “I’m so sorry. I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I had to see you”.

You pulled the blanket tighter around yourself, trying to create a barrier between you and him. “Dean, you shouldn’t be here”, you said, your voice trembling with a mix of emotions.

He nodded, his eyes filled with regret. “I know. I just… I needed to see you, to make sure you’re okay”.

“I’m not okay”, you replied, your voice cracking. “How could I be after everything?”.

Dean’s face contorted with pain, his guilt almost palpable. “I know I hurt you in ways that can never be undone. I wish I could take it all back. I wish I could erase everything I did”.

His words hurt you more than anything. While he thought they might somehow ease your pain, they only made it worse. Because that was exactly the problem. You didn’t regret all of those things. After all, you loved him. You loved being with him in that intimate way, even when it wasn’t how you imagined, even when he was cold. But being kissed by him, being touched by him, hearing him say that you were his and no one else could have you—those moments were everything you had ever wanted.

You took a shaky breath, trying to find the words. “Dean, what hurts the most… is that I don´t regret it”, you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I know it was wrong, and I know it wasn’t really you, but… I loved being with you like that. Even if it was twisted”.

Dean’s eyes widened, shock and confusion mingling with his guilt. “Y/N, you don’t mean that. What I did to you was… it was monstrous. You deserve so much better”.

You shook your head, tears spilling down your cheeks. “I don’t care about better. I care about you. I always have. And even though it was painful and wrong, it was the closest I’ve ever been to you. I felt like I finally had you, even if it was only in the worst way”.

Dean’s expression softened, and he reached out, hesitating before placing a gentle hand on your blanket-covered leg. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver through you, a reminder of the closeness you had shared. More tears fell down your cheeks, your heart aching with the weight of your unspoken question.

“Why can’t you love me, Dean?”, you finally sobbed, the words spilling out in a desperate, heartbreaking plea. “Why can’t you love me like I love you?”.

Dean’s heart broke hearing those words and seeing your tears. He felt a deep, painful twist in his chest, but he knew he couldn’t change how he felt. His expression was filled with sorrow as he prepared to give you the most honest answer he could.

“Y/N”, he began, his voice trembling. “I do love you. I love you more than you can imagine. You’re so important to me. You’ve always been a part of my life, someone I could count on, someone I could trust with everything”.

You looked at him, your eyes filled with hope and desperation. But Dean shook his head, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. “But it’s not the same way you love me. It’s not the way you want it to be. I love you like a sister, like family. I care about you deeply, but I can’t change the way I feel”.

His words hit you like a punch to the gut. The hope that had flickered within you was snuffed out, replaced by a crushing wave of despair. More tears spilled down your cheeks as you tried to process what he was saying.

Dean reached out, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm so sorry, Y/N. For everything. For taking your virginity, for all the bruises, and the broken arm. I never meant for any of this to happen. I was supposed to protect you, not hurt you".

But your mind was already far gone, retreating into a numb haze to escape the unbearable pain. You stared blankly at the wall, your vision blurred by tears. You couldn't hear Dean's words anymore, couldn't process the apologies that tumbled from his lips one after another. It was as if a barrier had gone up between you, blocking out everything but the overwhelming ache in your heart.

Dean's voice broke with emotion as he continued, his hand still gently holding yours. "I can't undo what I've done, but I want to make it right. I want to help you heal, to be there for you in any way I can. Please, Y/N, just tell me what I can do".

But you couldn't respond. Your mind was a storm of confusion and hurt, the weight of your unrequited love crushing you from the inside out. The room seemed to close in around you, the air thick and suffocating. All you could think about was the loss, the betrayal, and the realization that the one person you had always counted on, the one person you had loved more than anything, could never return your feelings in the way you desperately wanted.

Dean watched you, his heart breaking all over again as he saw the distant look in your eyes. He wanted to reach you, to pull you back from the edge of despair, but he felt helpless, unable to bridge the gap that had formed between you.

"Y/N, please", he whispered, his voice trembling. "I know I've hurt you more than anyone else ever could. But I need you to know that you matter to me. That you always will".

You blinked, the sound of his voice barely registering. You felt so detached, so removed from the moment, that his words seemed to come from a great distance. All you could manage was a small, almost imperceptible nod, more out of reflex than understanding.

Dean sighed deeply, squeezing your hand one last time before letting go. He stood up, his movements slow and heavy, as if the weight of his guilt was physically dragging him down. He took one last look at you, his eyes filled with a sorrow that would haunt him for the rest of his life.

"I'll be here if you need me", he said quietly, before turning and walking out of the room.

Before you met Dean and Sam, you were always on the run, hunting all kinds of monsters and never settling down for longer than a week. Now, with your heart shattered by Dean’s words, you desperately wished you had never met him. Since that was impossible, you made a decision that came close to erasing him from your life.

As you heard Dean’s door close after he left your room, you stood up and began packing two bags. With your broken arm, it was a slow and painful process, but you managed to gather everything important, along with enough clothes to last a while. Each item you packed felt like a piece of your heart being tucked away, the weight of your decision pressing down on you.

Once your bags were loaded into your car, you made your way to the control room. The familiar surroundings felt bittersweet, each corner holding memories of your time with the Winchesters. You slowly placed a little note on the map table, looking around one last time before leaving.

The note simply read: “Thanks for the stay. Maybe we’ll meet again on a hunt. Take care”.

With a heavy heart, you left the bunker, the door closing behind you with a finality that echoed in the silence. The drive away from the place that had been your home for so long was filled with tears and silent sobs. You didn’t know where you were going, but you knew you had to get far away, to start anew.

The next morning, Sam woke up before Dean, unaware of the events that had transpired the night before. He moved through the bunker quietly, trying not to wake his brother. The familiar routine of making breakfast and brewing coffee brought a sense of normalcy to the otherwise somber atmosphere.

As he made his way to the control room, he noticed the note you had left on the map table. His heart sank as he read it, the realization of your departure hitting him hard. He sighed deeply, the weight of your absence settling heavily on his shoulders.

Dean eventually shuffled into the control room, looking exhausted and defeated. His eyes were bloodshot, and it was clear he hadn’t slept much, if at all. He glanced at Sam, then at the note in his brother’s hand, and his expression darkened.

“She’s gone, isn’t she?”, Dean muttered, his voice hoarse.

Sam nodded, holding out the note for Dean to see. “Yeah, she left this. Didn’t hear a thing last night. Guess she wanted to get out without a fuss”.

Dean took the note and read it, his jaw clenching with regret and pain.

He threw the note back on the table, letting himself sink into a chair and covering his face with his hands. For Dean, family was the most important thing in the world, and after spending years together, you had become part of that family. The realization that he had pushed you away, that his actions had driven you to leave, weighed heavily on his heart.

“Dammit”, Dean muttered through his hands, his voice thick with emotion. “I pushed her away, Sammy. I pushed her right out of our lives”.

Sam placed a comforting hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Dean, we’ll find her, but she needs time. We need to give her that”.

Dean shook his head, his eyes filled with a mix of regret and determination as he looked up at Sam. “I have to make this right. She doesn’t deserve to be out there alone, thinking I don’t care about her”.

Sam nodded, knowing how much this weighed on his brother. “We’ll find her, Dean. We’ll bring her back”.

But despite their best efforts, it didn’t work out like Dean had hoped. Over the next six months, there wasn’t a single trace of you. You had vanished without a hint of where you might have gone. No one had seen you, no one had heard from you. Not a whisper from hunters, demons, or angels. It was as if you had disappeared from the face of the earth.

Each lead they followed turned into a dead end. Every call, every piece of information led them nowhere. Dean’s frustration grew with each passing day, his guilt and fear gnawing at him. He had failed to protect you, failed to keep you safe. And by now, he was convinced you were dead.

But even that conviction couldn’t stop him from looking. Dean continued to search, driven by a relentless need to find you, to know what had happened. He traveled from town to town, questioning anyone who might have seen a glimpse of you. His nights were filled with restless dreams, haunted by the memory of your face and the knowledge that he had driven you away.

Sam watched his brother with growing concern. Dean was becoming more withdrawn, more obsessed with finding you. It was taking a toll on him, physically and emotionally. But Sam knew better than to try to make Dean stop. He understood that this was something Dean had to do, even if it was tearing him apart.

One evening, after another fruitless search, Dean sat at the bar of a rundown dive, nursing a whiskey. His mind was a whirl of memories and regrets. He replayed every moment, every word, trying to figure out what he could have done differently. The ache in his chest was constant, a reminder of the void your absence had left.

Sam entered the bar and took a seat next to Dean. “Any luck?”, he asked, already knowing the answer.

Dean shook his head, his eyes hollow. “No. It’s like she vanished into thin air”.

Sam sighed, placing a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “We’ll keep looking, Dean. We won’t give up”.

Dean took a deep breath, nodding. “I know. I just… I just wish I could tell her I’m sorry”.

Sam squeezed his shoulder. “We’ll find her, Dean. And when we do, you’ll get that chance”.

Dean stared into his glass, the amber liquid reflecting the dim light of the bar. “I hope so, Sammy. I really hope so”.

As they sat there, the weight of the past six months pressed down on them both. The search for you had become a part of their lives, a quest driven by love, guilt, and a desperate need for redemption. And no matter how long it took, Dean knew he wouldn’t stop until he found you.

Unknown to Dean and Sam, you had stopped hunting three months ago. It was a decision you never thought you’d make, but circumstances had changed dramatically. As you noticed your weight gain and your growing stomach, it dawned on you that you hadn’t had your period in a long time. The realization hit you hard: you were pregnant. And a pregnant hunter wasn’t exactly a feasible scenario.

Now, you were in your seventh month, and your baby bump was noticeable, though smaller than what most women had at this stage. Your doctor assured you that both you and the baby were healthy, which was a small comfort in the midst of your emotional turmoil. When you first found out, it felt like your heart had been ripped out all over again. You had just been on a path to forgetting about Dean, trying to move on, but the fact of being pregnant—carrying his child—ripped open all those wounds anew.

The past months had been a roller coaster of emotions. You had rented a small apartment in a quiet town, far from any hunting grounds. Well, so you thought. You needed a safe place to bring your baby into the world, somewhere you could try to build a new life. Every day was a battle between hope and heartache. You loved the baby growing inside you, but it was a constant reminder of Dean, of what you had lost and the life you could never have.

One quiet evening, you sat on the couch, your hand gently resting on your baby bump. The baby kicked softly, and you smiled despite the tears that formed in your eyes. You had started talking to your baby, telling them stories of your past, hoping to forge a bond despite the pain.

“Your dad… he’s a good man”, you whispered. “He’s strong and brave. And he would love you so much if he knew”.

The thought of Dean never knowing about his child was a heavy burden, but you couldn’t bring yourself to face him again, to bring that pain back into your life. You had to be strong for your baby, to build a new life, even if it meant doing it alone.

Meanwhile, Dean and Sam continued their search, unaware of the new life growing inside you. Dean’s guilt and desperation only grew with each passing day. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong, that you needed him. But all his efforts to find you were in vain.

As you settled into your bed, the baby kicking wildly, you groaned softly at the discomfort. Tomorrow was another appointment to discuss your birth plan, and it felt surreal how quickly time had passed. You hadn’t even set up the baby’s room yet; all you had was a single pacifier with a black car on it that looked like Dean’s Impala. It was a small, bittersweet reminder of him, a piece of the life you had left behind.

You ran your hand over your belly, trying to soothe the baby and yourself. “We’ll get everything ready soon”, you whispered. “I promise. We’ll make it work, just the two of us”.

The baby’s kicks slowed, and you found a little comfort in the routine of talking to your unborn child. You closed your eyes, hoping for a good night’s sleep, despite the worries and heartache that constantly weighed on your mind.

Meanwhile, back at the bunker, Dean and Sam were growing more desperate with each passing day. The lack of any leads or clues to your whereabouts was taking its toll on both of them. Dean’s guilt gnawed at him constantly, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong.

One evening, as Dean sat alone in the library, he stared at a map spread out on the table. Pins and notes marked places they had searched, but it felt like looking for a needle in a haystack. Sam walked in, carrying two cups of coffee, and placed one in front of Dean.

“Dean”, Sam started quietly, sitting down across from him. “Maybe she just doesn’t want to be found. Maybe we need to stop looking”.

Dean’s jaw tightened, his eyes never leaving the map. “I can’t stop, Sam. I can’t just give up on her”.

Sam sighed, his own heart heavy with worry. “It’s been months, Dean. We’ve turned over every stone, followed every lead. What if she just needs space? What if our searching is just making things worse for her?”.

Dean clenched his fists, the familiar clench in his heart tightening. It was a week after you’d been gone that he started to feel something different, a strange, painful longing whenever he thought about you. It was a clench that was different from guilt and remorse. It felt like heartache and, if he didn’t know better, love. But he could never admit it to himself. He blamed it all on his guilt.

“I can’t stop”, Dean repeated, his voice rough. “I need to know she’s okay. I need to make things right”.

Sam reached across the table, placing a hand on his brother’s arm. “We all want that, Dean. But we also need to respect her wishes. Maybe it’s time we trust that she’s safe and that she’ll reach out when she’s ready”.

Dean’s eyes flickered with a mix of emotions, his heart warring with his mind. “I just… I can’t lose her, Sammy. Not like this”.

The next morning, you woke early, feeling the familiar mix of excitement and nervousness about your appointment. You took your time getting ready, making sure to dress comfortably and pack a small bag with essentials. As you prepared to leave, you glanced at the pacifier with the car design and tucked it into your bag, needing the small comfort it provided.

At the doctor’s office, you went through the usual routine of checks and questions. Your doctor was kind and reassuring, which helped ease some of your anxiety.

“So, have you thought about how you’d like to give birth?”, the doctor asked, her voice gentle.

You took a deep breath, feeling a bit overwhelmed. “I’m not sure yet. I want what’s safest for the baby. I’ve been considering both natural birth and a C-section, but I don’t know what’s best”.

The doctor nodded understandingly. “That’s perfectly normal. We can discuss the pros and cons of both, and you can take your time to decide. The most important thing is that you and the baby are healthy”.

You felt a bit more at ease as the doctor explained everything in detail, giving you a better understanding of your options. By the end of the appointment, you felt more prepared and had a clearer idea of what you wanted.

Dean groaned as he and Sam walked into a diner in a small town somewhere in the middle of Montana. Sam had convinced Dean to take on more usual cases, even though they never stopped looking for you. Dean was tired—he had driven all night, and when they arrived in town, the first thing they did wasn’t sleep, but play their FBI roles and interview witnesses. They had just finished and wanted to grab a quick bite before heading to the motel to get some rest.

They settled down and ordered their food. Not even minutes later, you walked inside, though they could only see your back. Dean was clearly checking out your ass, not knowing it was you. This was your favorite diner in town, and you were here practically every day. You sat down at your usual spot, still with your back turned to Dean and Sam.

Sam noticed Dean’s gaze and followed it. Dean looked beyond tired and exhausted, but now there was something else in his eyes—an appreciative interest. Before Sam could say anything, Dean held up his hand, grumbling, “It’s been months, and that ass is worth starving for”, pointing toward you.

Sam rolled his eyes but said nothing, his own fatigue evident. As they waited for their food, Dean continued to watch you, his gaze lingering. There was something familiar about you, something that tugged at the back of his mind, but he couldn’t quite place it.

As you settled into your usual spot, you noticed the diner was a bit busier than usual. You took out a small notepad and started jotting down some thoughts, your mind preoccupied with the upcoming birth and the new life you were about to begin. You didn’t notice the two men at the corner table watching you.

Dean couldn’t shake the feeling that he knew you from somewhere. “Hey, Sam”, he muttered, still staring at you. “Does she look familiar to you?”.

Sam glanced at you again, then back at Dean. “Dean, you’ve been checking out every woman we pass for months. You probably just think she’s familiar because she fits your type”.

Dean frowned but didn’t argue. He took a sip of his coffee, trying to focus on something else, but his eyes kept drifting back to you. There was a nagging feeling in his chest, something he couldn’t ignore.

Just then, the waitress brought their food, and Dean reluctantly turned his attention to the meal in front of him.

Meanwhile, you were munching on some fries while jotting down everything you needed for the baby. You had just turned 21, and since you didn’t grow up in a normal household, everything about impending motherhood was pretty overwhelming. You had to gather all the information about motherhood by yourself, but still, you managed.

Across the diner, Dean and Sam were finishing their meal. Dean, ever the flirt, quickly checked his hair in the reflection of Sam’s laptop, making sure he looked presentable. Sam rolled his eyes, knowing exactly what was about to happen. Dean was about to try and charm his way into your good graces, thinking you were just another pretty face he could win over. He usually succeeded, so Sam didn’t bother to stop him.

Dean approached you from behind, a confident smile playing on his lips. “Excuse me”, he began with the cheesiest pick-up line he could muster, “Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?”.

You turned slightly, ready to brush off the unwanted attention, when Dean finally caught a glimpse of your face. His smile vanished, replaced by a look of pure shock. His face turned white, and he froze, unable to process what he was seeing.

“Y/N?”, he breathed, his voice barely audible.

You stared back at him, equally stunned. The moment felt surreal, as if time had stopped. You could see the myriad of emotions flickering across his face—shock, confusion, and something deeper, something that looked like regret.

Sam, noticing the sudden change in Dean’s demeanor, quickly stood up and joined him. When he saw you, his eyes widened in disbelief. “Y/N?”, he echoed, glancing between you and Dean.

You quickly closed your jacket and turned the paper over, hoping neither of them had seen anything. Clearing your throat, you mumbled a small, “Hi”, trying your best to avoid looking at Dean and focusing more on Sam.

Sam took a step closer, his eyes filled with concern. “Y/N, where have you been? We’ve been looking for you for months”.

You tried to maintain your composure, but the emotions swirling inside made it difficult. “I needed time”, you replied quietly. “Time to figure things out”.

Dean, still grappling with the shock, felt that familiar clench in his heart again. He wanted to say so much, to apologize, to ask why you left, but the words were stuck in his throat. Instead, he took a step forward, his eyes locking onto yours. “Y/N”, he began, his voice filled with a mix of desperation and regret. “Why didn’t you tell us? Why didn’t you let us help?”.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. “Dean, it’s not that simple. After everything that happened, I needed to be on my own. I needed to process things by myself”.

You started to pack your things into your bag, ready to leave them behind once more. Your movements were quick, almost frantic, as if you could outrun the emotions threatening to overwhelm you. But before you could zip up your bag, Sam reached out, his hand gently grasping your arm.

“Y/N, just stop for a second”, he urged, his voice soft but insistent. “We’re family. Dean and I, we don’t want to lose you again”.

You paused, your eyes meeting Sam’s, seeing the sincerity and concern etched on his face. “Family?”, you whispered, your voice trembling. “After everything that’s happened?”.

Sam nodded, glancing at Dean who was watching you with a pained expression. “Yes, family. And families go through rough patches, but we stick together. We want to be here for you”.

You whispered, your voice barely audible, “I’m done with that life. I can’t hunt anymore. I… I just want a normal life”.

Dean was still too overwhelmed by all his feelings to look anywhere else but your eyes, searching for any sign of hope. Sam, however, noticed the slight bulge underneath your jacket, his eyes widening in realization.

“Y/N”, Sam began cautiously, his voice softening even more, “are you…”.

But before he could finish, you saw where his gaze had landed. Panic surged through you, and you stood up abruptly, grabbing your stuff. Without looking back, you walked with quick steps towards the door, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Y/N, wait!”, Dean called after you, his voice filled with desperation.

You didn’t stop, your mind racing with fear and uncertainty. The diner’s door chimed as you pushed through it.

Dean and Sam followed you outside, their footsteps echoing in the quiet street. “Y/N, please, just listen!”, Dean shouted, his voice cracking.

You stopped in your tracks, turning to face them, tears streaming down your face. “What do you want from me?”, you cried, your voice filled with a mixture of anger and despair. “I just want to be left alone”.

Dean reached out to you, his hand trembling, but Sam held his wrist gently, stopping him.“Y/N, you’re pregnant, aren’t you?”, Sam said softly, his eyes never leaving yours.

You tugged your jacket tighter around you, looking down at the ground through your tears, unable to answer. The silence hung heavy between you, the truth of your situation palpable.

Dean’s breath hitched, his eyes wide with shock and realization. Sam’s grip on his wrist tightened slightly, a silent support between brothers.

The silence stretched on, heavy and suffocating, filled with unspoken words and emotions. You felt the weight of their gazes, the mixture of concern, guilt, and helplessness in their eyes.

Finally, Dean found his voice, though it was strained and quiet. “Y/N… I…”. He trailed off, not knowing how to begin to address the pain and turmoil between you all.

Sam stepped forward, his tone gentle and reassuring. “Y/N, we’re here for you. Whatever you need, whatever you decide… we just want you to know you’re not alone”. You were only 21 and the thought of having to care for a newborn worried Sam greatly.

You wiped at your tears with the back of your hand, still avoiding their eyes. “It’s none of your business”, you mumbled, your voice thick with emotion.

Sam shook his head, stepping closer. “Y/N, you’re family. Of course, it’s our business. We care about you, and we want to help”.

Dean remained silent, his face pale as he stood there, counting the months in his head. His mind raced with the realization that he might be the father. The weight of this possibility settled heavily on his shoulders, making it difficult to find the right words.

He hesitated before finally looking at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of fear, hope, and regret. “Y/N”, he began, his voice trembling slightly. “Is… is it mine?”.

You felt a fresh wave of emotion wash over you at his question. The pain, confusion, and love you had for him all mixed together in a tumultuous storm. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself before responding.

But the words wouldn’t come. You just nodded, more tears spilling from your eyes. Dean rubbed his palm over his mouth as he saw your nod, his own eyes filling with unshed tears, unable to speak. Sam’s eyebrows raised as he took a deep breath at your admission.

You mumbled to Dean, your voice laced with bitterness, “You don’t have to do anything. The baby and I will be fine on our own”.

You turned to go, your heart heavy with the weight of everything unsaid. But before you could take more than a few steps, Dean reached out, his voice filled with desperation. “Y/N, just-.. damn it, just wait!”.

You paused but didn’t turn around. Dean took a step closer, his voice trembling. “I know I’ve messed up. More than you can ever forgive me for. But please, let me be a part of this. I want to help. I want to be there for you and our baby”.

Sam nodded in agreement, his eyes filled with empathy. “We’re family, Y/N. We want to support you".

You shook your head, still crying, then looked Dean in the eyes. “I don’t want you to be a part of it”, you said, your voice filled with a mix of pain and resolve.

Dean’s face fell, the weight of your words hitting him like a physical blow. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Sam looked between the two of you, his heart aching for both his brother and for you.

You turned and walked away, your steps determined even though your heart felt like it was breaking all over again. Dean watched you go, feeling a profound sense of loss and helplessness. He had always prided himself on being able to protect and take care of the people he loved, but now he felt utterly powerless.

Sam placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder, trying to offer some comfort. “Give her time, Dean”.

Dean looked after you, watching you walk away, taking his baby with you. The reality of it all hit him like a ton of bricks. His eyes followed you until you were out of sight, and he rubbed harshly over his face, unable to control his emotions. The frustration, anger, and helplessness boiled over, and he kicked the nearest trash can with such force that it flew across the ground, clattering loudly.

Sam winced at the sound but didn’t try to stop him. He knew his brother needed to vent his emotions somehow, and this was Dean’s way of coping. Dean’s hands clenched into fists, his knuckles turning white as he struggled to hold back the tears.

“This isn’t how it was supposed to be, Sam”, Dean said, his voice breaking. “I was supposed to protect her, to be there for her. Now she’s out there, alone, carrying my child, and she doesn’t want me to be a part of it”.

Sam stepped closer, his hand still on Dean’s shoulder. “We can’t change the past, Dean. But we can be here for her when she’s ready. You’ve got to give her time and space. She’s been through so much”.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰 

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Part 4

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Taglist: @spnfamily-j2 @kr804573 @kylersgirlfriend34 @spncupcake @woooonau @winchesterwild78 @anacarolinadasf @suckitands33 @thesilmarillionblog @supernaturallyedsheeran @pizzagirlxnsfwx @riah1606 @hobby27 @lickmybalws @whimsyfinny

[caplanbuckybarnes]

Celestial Stars & Candy Apple Eyes (Castiel) (Dean)

Request: CanI request a Dean x Reader x Castiel (no Destiel) fic? Reader has been hunting with Sam and Dean for a long time (like since the events of early S1) and met Cas when Dean, Bobby and her went to the Barn (S4 E1). She had a Crush on Dean since the beginning and they kissed right before he died (end of S3) but they never talked about that again after he came back. And when she met Cas, she instantly felt a strong connection and also developed a Crush on him. So now she is conflicted, thinking both dont like her like that (Since Cas is an Angel and Dean doesn't talk about the kiss). The Fic could be right around S6, so Dean was with Lisa for a year which made Reader even more convinced that Dean didnt like her. And Cas hadn't contacted her in a while. But Dean, Sam and Reader started hunting again and called Cas a few times. During their interactions, the two boys realize how they feel and get jealous of the other for being close to Reader (or something like calling her petnames). Idk if all of that makes sense but thats the general Idea I had^^" @storytellers-randomshortstorys

A/N: you'd requested this back in April 2024, and I couldn't for the life of me think of what to do with it. SOrry for the lateness!

Summary: You're torn between man & angel, and cannot handle the jealousy anymore.

WC: 995

Warnings: jealousy, reader loves both dean & Castiel, pining

Read on ao3!

--

The Impala’s engine hummed a low, steady rhythm as the three of you drove through the dark backroads of Ohio. You were wedged in the backseat, your head resting against the window. Dean was behind the wheel, Sam in the passenger seat flipping through a case file.

The silence wasn’t awkward, but it wasn’t entirely comfortable either. You felt it keenly, especially every time you glanced at Dean. Things had been weird since he came back from Hell. Not outright bad, just... unspoken. That kiss before his deal ran out was a moment you couldn’t forget. But he never brought it up after he returned, especially not with Lisa in the picture for a whole year.

And Cas—well, Cas was another layer of confusion entirely. He wasn’t here often, but when he was, you couldn’t help but feel the pull toward him. The two of you had this... connection. Like you understood each other without needing to say much. He wasn’t human, but he made you feel seen in ways no one else did.

“You good back there?” Dean’s voice cut through your thoughts, rough but edged with concern.

“Yeah,” you lied, offering a small smile.

Sam looked back at you over his shoulder. “We should call Cas for this. If that witch really managed to pull off a binding spell like this, we’ll need more firepower.”

Dean grunted in reluctant agreement. “Fine, but he better not be off doing Heaven’s dirty work again.”

You rolled your eyes but stayed quiet. Dean always acted like he didn’t trust Cas, but you knew better. He was just too stubborn to admit he cared about the angel.

Later, at the motel, you all regrouped in the cramped room. Dean called Cas, who appeared with the usual flutter of wings.

“Hello,” Cas said, his gravelly voice sending an involuntary shiver down your spine. His eyes found yours immediately, lingering a beat longer than you expected. “Y/N.”

“Cas,” you replied, unable to stop the smile tugging at your lips.

Dean huffed. “Yeah, yeah, great reunion. You got anything for us, Feathers?”

Cas ignored the jab and got right to work explaining the spell you’d be facing. But as the conversation went on, you noticed something odd. Dean kept glaring at Cas every time the angel spoke directly to you, and Cas—well, he wasn’t much for subtlety. Every time Dean called you sweetheart or kiddo, Cas’s jaw tightened just slightly.

Sam noticed too, of course. He wasn’t oblivious. He shot you a look that said, You seeing this?

You were trying not to.

By the time you were setting up for the hunt that night, the tension was palpable. Dean was unusually snippy, barking orders with more edge than usual. Cas stayed unnervingly silent, only breaking it to answer your questions.

At one point, you felt Dean’s hand on your shoulder as he guided you to a safer position near the abandoned barn. His fingers lingered longer than they should have, and when you looked up at him, his green eyes softened. “Be careful, okay?” he murmured.

Your heart twisted. “I always am.”

From a few feet away, Cas’s eyes bore into the scene. He stepped closer as Dean walked away, his presence like a calm yet electric storm.

“Dean seems... protective of you,” Cas remarked, his voice low.

You shrugged, unsure how to respond. “It’s just Dean being Dean.”

Cas tilted his head, studying you in that way that always made you feel like he was looking straight through to your soul. “I don’t believe that’s all it is. He cares for you. Greatly.”

You froze. “What?”

He stepped closer, his gaze intense but not unkind. “And you care for him. But you also...” His voice faltered, rare for him. “You also care for me.”

Your throat felt dry. “Cas, I—”

Before you could finish, a loud crash from the barn interrupted, followed by Dean shouting for backup. You cursed under your breath and ran toward the noise, Cas right on your heels.

The fight with the witch was chaotic, but you managed to come out mostly unscathed. By the time it was over, the adrenaline had your heart racing.

Dean was pacing, muttering curses under his breath. When he saw you, he rushed over, his hands gripping your arms as he scanned for injuries. “You okay?”

“Yeah, Dean, I’m fine.”

“You sure? Because you scared the hell out of me back there.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but Cas’s voice cut in. “She handled herself well. She always does.”

Dean turned to glare at Cas, his grip on you tightening slightly. “Yeah, I know that, angel. But she’s not bulletproof, is she?”

“And you think I don’t know that?” Cas shot back, stepping closer.

You stepped between them, exasperated. “Guys, seriously? This is not the time.”

They both looked at you, their frustration melting into something softer. Something vulnerable.

Dean sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Look, Y/N. I—I care about you, okay? More than I should, probably. And I know I’ve been a dick about it, but—”

Cas interrupted, his voice calm but firm. “Dean, stop. She doesn’t need your guilt. She needs to know the truth.”

Dean glared at him, but Cas ignored it, turning his full attention to you. “Y/N, I’ve felt this connection with you since the moment we met. I don’t fully understand it, but I know it’s real. And I know you feel it too.”

Your breath hitched. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be happening.

“Y/N,” Dean said softly, stepping closer. “I don’t want to screw this up. I care about you. A lot.”

You stared at them, your heart pounding as you tried to process their words.

“I... I need time,” you finally said, your voice trembling. “I care about both of you, but I can’t just... choose like this.”

They both nodded, reluctantly stepping back. The hunt was over, but the battle in your heart had just begun.

[so-much-for-the-seashells]

This doesn’t get a title because I’m confused

Disclaimers: The only character I own is the reader insert!

Author’s Notes: I think I got possessed, I don’t even like Sam 😭 like in the slightest 😭

But pretend season 8ish Sam has season 2-3’s hair for the sake of that’s the season I’m on lol.

Icons by @gosling-girlx !! She’s a genius!

Anyway, all notes are appreciated!

Content/Content Warnings: 18+ ONLY! Minors do not interact, this is NOT for you.

This fic is extremely spicy, sort of can’t-stand-each-other sex. Reader’s AFAB & uses she/her pronouns, only physical description is of her being shorter than Sam. There’s oral (both m and f receiving) and unprotected piv which frankly only exists in the books- wrap it before you tap it!! Oh also they’re both pretty mean to each other… you’ll see.

Again, I think I got possessed when I made it-I sincerely can’t stand him- but hope you enjoy it!

**************************************************** Working with the Winchester Brothers is a gig like no other. Cas and I are more tagalongs in the operation these days, Cas demoted to resident healer and I to stay at home mom, apparently.

One accident (authors note: one possession & a year long recovery for a spinal injury retained from said possession) had apparently rendered me useless to the boys. It’s not all bad- I’m relatively close with the older one, Dean, since we’re both hoes for a good time and good movies/music. And before the accident, I was happy to kill evil sons-of-bitches with Dean any day of the week.

And of course, Castiel is a right sweetheart- showing him new human things is the sweetest experience in the whole wide world.

But you know what ruins the laughs and the nice moments? The younger brother. Sam “Little Shit” Winchester.

I don’t know how he found himself upon the moral pedestal he crafted for himself, but lord I want to remove his kneecaps and slap him with them. Little baby giraffe looking shit.

I don’t like the way he acts, plain and simple. Between the way that he treats Dean and the way that he talks so condescendingly to me- I’m about two seconds from starting a fight every time we’re in a room together for too long. He seems to feel the same way. It’s helpful in a hunt- both of us are smart enough to concentrate that anger towards our monster of the week instead of each other in the field- but now, when there’s no field to take the anger out on? Dean’s had to break up at least 3 almost-fights, and I’ve only been back on my feet for a couple months.

***

The boys looked especially pissy coming home today- they’d grumbled something about a “stupid fucking vampire bitch,” and went their separate ways, Sam to the med bay and Cas trailing Dean like a golden retriever.

Great. Looks like I’m on Douchebag Duty.

***

“What’s your problem?” Sam snaps as I tug the thread on his stitches a little too roughly.

“My problem, you dick? I’m the one that’s stitching you up right now, why don’t I just let you bleed out?” I retort, yanking on the surgical needle with the string attached to a particularly nasty cut on his upper arm. Cut’s an understatement- it’s really a bullet wound. I’m just too proud to have pity for the jackass.

“Yeah, your problem!”

I set down the needle at that, my fists clenched at my sides. “You’re a whiny little bitch who can’t sit still and shut the fuck up for two minutes! That’s my problem.”

“I think you’re a little too high and mighty there, princess,” he scowls, standing up to full height, presumably so that he can use his stature to literally look down at me.

“Yeah? Look who’s talking, Mr Morals,” I seethe, staring up at him. I snatch the needle, on my tiptoes, and hastily finish the stitching on his scar, while standing up.

“Out,” I spit as I cut the thread.

“No,” he retorts, glancing down at me through long lashes and stupidly overgrown bangs.

“What? Is five minutes away from your big head too much to ask?” my hands are on my hips. I refuse to give him the satisfaction of staring up at him, so I stare at whatever’s eye level. He’s wearing a bloodied white tank top, which is not doing much for the whole vibe we’ve got going on right now.

He bites his lower lip, still looking down through his annoyingly long lashes. And my dumb ass is attracted to it, apparently.

“Get. Out,” I say, anger laced in my words.

“No,” he says through clenched teeth. I start to turn away, as if giving up, before pulling a Dean Winchester and turning back around on my heel, punching him in the abdomen. He grunts, keeling over. “Ow!”

“You should’ve listened, you ass,” I say, looking down at him. He looks pathetic, his eyes gone wide and pretty in pain. I shouldn’t be into this, not one bit.

Keeled over, Sam is at eye level. Our gazes lock, his hazel eyes boring holes into mine, searching for something. I don’t dare waver, looking back at him with just as much intensity until he surprises me, leaning in and crashing his lips to mine. He roughly grabs my face, holding me close as he forces his tongue into my mouth, exploring. I hate how easily I give him access, I hate the way I let out a gasp against my will. By the time he pulls away I’m already leaning back in. He smirks, humoring me for one more kiss.

“How do you like me now?” he says cockily, lips plush and pink from the kisses, hazel eyes blown out by lust.

“I don’t,” I mutter, pushing him back so that he’s forced to sit on the med bay bed. His legs are spread wide, and of course I fit perfectly between them, much to my distaste. I kiss his jawline, using mostly my teeth so that it scratches as I go, especially once I start on his neck, biting and sucking dark marks everywhere I see fit. He’s into it, little breathy whimpers further fueling my unfortunate attraction to him.

“Take off your shirt,” I tell him, stepping back and smirking at how this time he leans into my touch instead of the other way around. He thoughtlessly pulls the hem of the ruined fabric over his head, throwing it to the side, exposing an obnoxiously fit physique and an anti possession tattoo. There’s little scars everywhere, and something deep down urges me to kiss every single one of them, but that can be later.

“Take off yours,” he tells me.

“Why?” I ask, trying to play smart.

“Cause if I have to be shirtless you do too,” he says.

“Says who?”

“Says me.”

“Better think of a better retort next time, Winchester,” I say as I take off the oversized concert tee I had been wearing.

“Bra too,” he orders, cocking his head to the side as he looks me over.

“Who made you the boss?” I ask, already unclasping my bra.

“I did,” he says, far too cocksure.

“We’ll see about that,” I grin, letting the lacy fabric fall to the ground as I lean in to kiss his damnable hot mouth. This time I take control, taking pride in the little noises he makes.

“I’m gonna suck your dick,” I say crudely, not bothering with pleasantries.

“Go right on ahead,” and I can tell there was meant to be spite behind those words, but it quickly fades away into sighs as I start kissing down his pecs, his abs, lightly scratching anywhere I can find with my nails. I hate how hot the heat between my thighs is, but at this point, I can’t help it, especially as I sink to my knees, nose perfectly level with his crotch.

I take his belt into my hands, grazing over the obvious tent that lies underneath it. He throws his head back at that, biting back a curse.

“What’s the matter Sammy?” I tease.

“Shut up,” he grumble, words morphing into a proper moan as I graze over the tent again.

“Uh huh,” I agree, tugging off his leather belt and yanking down the zipper of his jeans.

“Boxers? I had taken you for a ‘Tighty Whities’ girl, Sammy,” I mused, doing my best to work him up even more.

“Sto-,” he starts, immediately losing his words as I free his cock from his confines, pulling his boxers down to his knees.

You know, just cause a guy’s a big guy doesn’t always mean that everything’s proportionate. Sam’s six foot five-ish, long and lanky with lean muscle. And naturally, because everything about him is meant to spite me, his dick also fits the physical bill. My mouth waters, and the only prospect that excites my overly-horny self more than having it in my mouth is having it in my slick soaked pussy. And I will, if I have anything to say about it.

“Oh Sammy, you’re a big boy, huh,” I taunt, running a hand up and down his shaft slowly. He moans in agreement, no more fight left in him. It’s too easy.

I let go of it, ignoring the bead of pre cum leaking down as I move to kiss his thighs, grazing my teeth on them like I did on his neck. He seems to like it, legs moving in towards my mouth. Finally I move my mouth towards where he obviously wants me most, rubbing the bead over his tip with my thumb. I’m a little wary about taking the whole thing, but I’m sure as hell going to try.

I start simple, kitten lips around the base, licking a long stripe up the underside before wrapping my lips around the head, and he moans, a little too loudly. I brace my hands on his thighs before taking a deep breath through my nose and forcing myself down far enough that my nose is touching neatly trimmed hair. Thankfully my gag reflex is still gone-it’s been a minute- as I hold him there for a moment, before starting to bob my head up and down, testing the waters. He whimpers and whines, and it’s pathetic, and I’m far too into it, unable to do much else than keep up my ministrations.

One of his big hands find the back of my head, fingers weaving into my hair. I don’t think he does so with intent of forcing me to move, but the idea is so hot that I lock eyes with him with my mouth on his cock.

“What? You want me to fuck your mouth?” he asks, panting. And once he says it out loud I get impossibly wetter, and I moan yes, unable to nod at all with him buried as far as he’ll go.

“Damn, you’re a slut,” he grins, and I moan in agreement before he starts moving my head slowly. Forward and back, forward and back, before I lock eyes with him and he gets the hint to take it harder, hips starting to thrust meeting my throat as his hands push. I just keep sucking, doing my best not to choke as involuntary tears leak out. But it doesn’t hurt, not at all. If anything I’m just doing all I can to not start rubbing on my own sensitive spots.

Before I know it his whimpers get louder and his whines get needier, and he grits out “I- I’m going to-“

So I release him with a pop, taking a hand and rubbing up and down his length furiously before he bursts. Once he does, with the most pathetic whimper yet, I get my mouth right back on him, taking every drop of his hot release down my throat. When he’s done I stay there, opening his mouth so he can see that there’s nothing there.

“God, you’re such a slut,” he mutters, echoing what he said before as he catches his breath and pulls me up by the hair- gently.

I shrug cockily, moving back as he stands up.

“Strip and have a seat,” he lazily demands as he puts his perfect cock away.

I roll my eyes but comply, taking off my remaining clothes so that I’m left in all my glory.

“You’re gorgeous, y’know that?” he compliments, a moment of tenderness as he crowds me against the bed so that I’ll take a seat. I blush, letting him hoist me up so that my ass is on the edge of the dinghy bed. “My turn,” he grumbles, voice low and hot against the column of my neck. He’s even rougher than I was, nipping at every square inch of skin that he meets, sucking dark marks down the side of my neck and over the tops of my breasts. I’m like a bitch in heat, responding to every touch in ways I can’t control- pornographic moans, leaning into his touch. He’s pulling on my hair to give himself more access, and I’m starting to worry that I’m soaking the bed. His mouth continues to work wonders, especially as he travels southwards, playing with my breasts.

He’s mean, outright biting the one and pinching the other, and it’s just what I need. I tangle my hands into his annoyingly long hair and tugging, not missing the way he moans into my chest.

Finally, finally, he gets down on his knees. He rests his chin on the bed, breath heavy on my heat. The sight of his head pillowed on my thighs as he looks up at me with those puppy dog, blown out eyes is enough to get me to come on the spot.

“This all f’me, princess?” he asks roughly, collecting some of the gratuitous wetness on two long, thick fingers.

“N-no,” I stammer, clutching his hair tighter. He bites back his moan in favor of a smug grin.

“N-no,” he mocks, turning to the side to bite the inside of my thigh, and I whine. “Uh huh, that’s what I thought.” His nose is eye level with my clit, and the only warning I get before he dives into my pussy is a small smirk that meets his hazel eyes.

“Fuck!”

He moans in between my thighs, setting my entire body on fire. I try to wiggle away from him, but it only takes one big, strong hand to hold my hips in place as he fucks his tongue into me, his nose rubbing on my puffy clit. It’s wet and it’s gross, but so, so hot.

He’s a little too good, knowing all the buttons to press that leave me tracking wetness all over his face, before taking two fingers and roughly pushing them into my core, giving me no time to adjust. They’re thick and long, and when he makes the come hither motion I know I’m fucked, doing everything I can not to gasp his name.

“S-s-oh my god,” I cry as he plunges his fingers all the way down to the knuckle every time, reaching deeper and deeper and rubbing on my g-spot. He’s too busy sucking on my clit to say anything, his attention overstimulating.

He adds a third finger, and that, combined with him tracing patterns on my sensitive bud, sends me straight over the edge with a an unintelligible cry.

Of course the bastard doesn’t stop, not until I’m physically shaking from the overstimulation, legs quivering, and on the brink of a second release.

He removes himself from my heat, laying his cheek on the inside of my thigh, looking up at me smugly.

“Good, huh?” he knows it was.

“Fuck you,” I mutter, voice weak.

“That’s what I’m getting to, princess. So impatient,” he taunts, standing up to full height again. Sam haphazardly wipes the slick off of his face with his forearm, not really caring how much he removes. He kicks off his shoes and socks before taking off his slacks and boxers in one go, revealing that gorgeous cock again. He stands before me, looking like some kinda statue of physical perfection. I have to physically close my jaw looking at him.

“Like what you see, princess?”

I stick out my tongue and blow a raspberry.

“Real mature, sweetheart,” he rolls his eyes. “You have a condom?”

I shake my head. “Don’t need one, I’m on the pill and I have morning after. Want you to fuck me and fill me,” I tell him honestly.

“God you’re a slut and you’re freaky? I’d never have guessed,” he mused, stepping between my thighs. I assume he’s clean as well since he doesn’t really… get out much.

“Yeah, that’s cause you’re not the brightest,” I tell him, scooting as close to the edge as I can without falling.

“Uh huh,” he says sarcastically, before picking me up and slamming my shoulder into a nearby wall, yet gently resting my back against it. Gentle with my injury, wow. Wouldn’t have expected it. I gasp, surprised by the sudden motion.

“Payback for the gut punch,” he explains.

“Oh yeah? I’ll punch you again if you don’t fuck me,” I say, a mean edge to my voice.

“Mkay,” he says, obviously not swaying either way as he aligns his tip with my entrance.

“Fuck me,” I order through a gasp, unable to wait anymore.

“Careful what you wish for there, princess,” he warns, before sheathing himself in me in one go.

Look, I can get laid whenever I want, especially back when I was on duty as a hunter. I’m no stranger to sex, and I have a decently high sex drive. If I can’t get some, then I always have backup- toys and vibrators, you name it.

But Sam? His dick was big in my mouth, but in my pussy? I feel like I’ve been split in two, my mouth is dropped in an o. But it feels so, so good.

“Move,” I demand after a few moments of adjusting.

“Say my name,” he cocks his head, pushing impossibly deeper so that he’s practically touching my cervix.

“Sammy,” I say with as much sass as I can muster, my voice high from the added pressure. I know he hates the nickname, it makes him feel like a baby. Because he is one.

“Nuh uh, princess. Say my name,” the pad of his thumb flits over my clit.

“Unh- Sam!” I moan, unable to stop myself.

“That wasn’t so hard, now was it? Now ask me to fuck you. Nicely.”

“No.”

“Guess I’ll be on my way then,” he starts pulling out.

“No!” I whine.

“Ask nicely.”

“Sam, fuck me please?” I ask with as much sweetness and doe eyes as possible for me.

“You really are sweet when you’re horny,” he remarks, pulling back, before setting a brutal pace that has me raking my nails across his back and moaning his stupid name. He’s pounding into me with all of his might, sweat sheening on his brow.

It’s so hard that I can barely get any words out, and I hate it, but it just feels too good.

And of course, Sammy has enough words for the both of us.

“Fucking you dumb, huh? Got such a big attitude until I’m in you, just needed this dick,” he says, laughing meanly as I involuntarily clench at his words.

“What? You like me being mean to you? You get wet every time we fight?” a particularly hard set of thrusts accompanies each of the words in his third rhetorical question. I moan, not even sure of the answer. Probably? Maybe? Gah.

“Look at you, taking it like a good slut. You’re so tight and wet, and it’s all f’me,” his raspy voice starts slurring with lust. He brings one of his hands between us, finding my swollen clit and rutting on it, tracing patterns just as he did before with his tongue.

“S-Sam, it’s too much-,” I cry, unable to handle the overstimulation.

“Good,” he grins wickedly, before upping the ante both in thrusts and in rutting, unraveling me into a mess in his arms. I cry his name, helpless as I come down for the second time.

“So soon?” he tuts, not slowing his pace.

“Sh-shut up- ah-,” is all I can say as he gets impossibly rougher, chasing his own release.

“Gotta finish the job, princess,” he stutters, before growing more and more erratic. He’s got me on edge again as he does so, but mercifully comes before I can. I feel his hot release in me, filling me up just a little too full with his dick that he hasn’t yet pulled out.

Eventually he wordlessly puts me down, fingers plugging our mixed release in me. I can’t even complain- him keeping me full is unfortunately kinda hot.

“So…” he starts, looking down at me.

“Get out,” I interrupt.

“No,” he says, not moving.

This is going to be a long afternoon.

****************************************************

“Did you guys finally get into a bout?” Dean asks as we walk (re: stumble) out of the med bay and into the kitchen where he and Cas are sitting playing Uno, Bon Jovi playing in the background. “Oh- oh.”

Yeah, it’s pretty obvious the fight we got into. There’s no hiding it, even if we had tidied up our hair or faces- there’s scratches and bruises everywhere. Whoops.

“Are you guys in need of healing?” Cas asks innocently as Sam and I sit down a chair apart.

“No, Cas… these are, uh, special bruises. The fun kind. And they’re everywhere, apparently… damn, Sammy.” Dean comments as he surveys his brother and I. Sam coughs, and I reach over to punch him from my seat away. He grunts, and then we all go quiet.

“So… all in favor of never talking about this?” I ask after an uncomfortably long uncomfortable silence.

“Aye,” say the brothers in unison. Cas also agrees after Dean elbows him. “Fantastic.”

[nightxcreature]

Sore Loser

Summary: Team Freewill has a game night

Pairing: None

Warnings: None

A/N: I have had the worst week. We had the flu and once we got over it, one of our best friends suddenly passed this weekend, and it just does not feel like Christmas for me At. All. We used to have game nights all the time with our friend and Uno was one of our favorites, so I wanted to put out something silly and fun, and this is the best I could do. Not edited, Written in roughly 10 minutes. I’m so sorry for being MIA, I’m truly trying to get back into a healthy mindset. Writing always makes me feel better but motivation has obviously gone out the window. What I wouldn’t give to be playing Uno in the bunker with these guys instead of living this nightmare.

Please do not steal my work, you don’t have permission and that’s real uncool. Likes, Reblogs, and Comments are always appreciated though, My Dudes. 🤙🏼

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“Kiss. My. Ass.” I bite across the table as I lay down one of the last cards in my hand. My eyes narrow in his direction and I send a sly smirk as I flip him off and say, “Uno.”

His green eyes narrow on my hand and the single card between my fingers. He glances worried down at his own hand and nods before steeling his features to rake his gaze back up to mine and take a slow sip from the bottle in front of him.

Castiel places a red 3 on top of mine, nervously glancing between myself and our friend. I can tell he’s unsure about playing another round with us when Sam lays a blue 3 on top of his red and Dean lets out a loud “Son of Bitch!”.

I send a vicious smile across the table, prematurely celebrating my win when Dean peeks over at Jacks hand. They lock eyes for a moment, seeming to be speaking telepathically when Dean’s own grin suddenly matches mine. He slowly pulls a single card out of his hand laying it down and giving Jack a solemn look, “Draw Four, Buddy.” Jack shakes his head, a pitying glance sent my way when pulls a ‘Draw Four’ card from his own hand, “I’m so sorry.” He mumbles as he lays it on the discard pile.

“You can’t stack cards!” I yell, “Since when do we stack cards?!”

Sam shrugs, a grimace crossing his face, “You stacked cards last round.”

“Yeah, well that was last round. We didn’t talk about it this round and-.”

“Don’t be a sore loser, Sweetheart.” Dean cuts me off, the smirk never leaving his lips as he nods toward the pile, “Draw Eight.”

I stare open-mouthed down at the cards on the table, red filling my vision. I barely hear Sam speaking when I yank the cards up from the table and sling them across the room. Dean’s loud cackle echoes through the library and Sam slips his hand over to pull my drink to his side of the table before I can throw it at the older Winchester.

“I think you misunderstood what to do,.” Castiel’s monotone breaks me from rage and I turn to face him, taking several deep breaths as I do, “Here, let me help.” He says quickly and suddenly the cards are back on the table exactly as they were and Cas is counting out eight cards to add to my hand, “Here.” He says, holding them out to me with the most innocent of expressions, “That should be right.”

I stare blank faced at the angel before deciding against squaring up with God’s literal shield. I jerk the cards from his grasp and slouch back down in my seat to glare at Dean, whose shit eating grin couldn’t grow any bigger, “Your move.” He calls across the table smugly.

The game goes on well into the night, ending tragically with my drink in Dean’s face, his chair across the room, the table flipped, and both of us banned from playing Uno in ‘Sam’s Library’ ever again.

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Taglist: @lmhf1 @k-slla @whimsyfinny @aylacavebear @enigmalynne

@envysarchive @daisydark @foxyjwls007 @roseblue373 @manicjk

@suckitands33 @oceean @mxtansy @justwhisperingfantasies @mgchaser

@xinsonyax

[kamisobsessed]

CHRISTMAS SAVES THE YEAR

A/N: I haven't written in years, so I'm sorry if this is terrible😭. I've had Christmas Saves The Year by twenty one pilots in my head for days now, and suddenly this idea came to my mind. I didn't edit it so I apologize if there's mistakes.

Characters: Dean Winchester x F!Reader, featuring Sam, and mentions of Castiel, Jack, Jody, Donna, Claire, and Alex. No use of y/n.

Summary: Your boyfriend Dean, and his brother, Sam, are on a hunt during the holdiays. On Christmas Eve, you aren't sure if they will make it home for Christmas. When Christmas Day comes around, you finally have your family back together again.

Warnings: Fluff, fluff, more fluff.

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Snow fell from the sky as you sat in the bunker hoping your boyfriend and his brother make it home for Christmas. A few days ago they went out on a hunt, a vamp nest two states over, it was a piece of cake. But, things don't always go as planned. Earlier that morning, you got a call from your boyfriend, Dean.

"Hey sweetheart, things went a little sideways and we weren't able to clear the nest yet," Dean said on the other end of the phone.

"Oh, okay" you say in a melancholy tone.

"I promise, we will be home soon," he replied, "Can't leave my girl alone on Christmas now, can I?" He lightheartedly said.

You smiled to yourself knowing he will do everything he can to make it home. "Be safe out there," you told him.

"Always. I love you, sweetheart," He answered.

"I love you, Dean," you responded and the line clicked.

You spent most of the day decorating the bunker with whatever little Christmas decorations you could get at the little store down the road. You even baked cookies so the boys had a treat to come home to. You knew they never really celebrated Christmas over the years, and this being your first Christmas with them, you wanted to make it special. This year particularly has been rough, especially since Dean took on the Mark of Cain.

The clock kept ticking on, soon it was nearing midnight. You decided to go to bed, hoping that your boyfriend would be home when you wake up on Christmas Day.

You went to you and Dean's shared room, threw on one of his t-shirts and climbed into bed. After tossing and turning for a while, you finally drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, you woke up, reaching over to Dean's spot in the bed, only to find it still empty and cold. They still weren't home.

You decided to get dressed and ready for the day, hoping they would make it home before Christmas dinner. You invited everyone to come for dinner, Castiel, Jack, and even Jody, Donna, and Claire and Alex.

You spent most of the day in the kitchen cooking a delicious Christmas dinner. As you finished the last pie, you heard the bunker door open.

"We're home" you heard Dean call out.

You smiled and ran out of the kitchen "you made it back!" you cheered with excitement as you gave your boyfriend a big hug.

"I told you, I wasn't leaving my girl alone on Christmas," he grinned.

"Merry Christmas!" Sam smiled holding his arms out and you gave him a hug. "Merry Christmas, Sam," you replied.

"Smells delicious in here sweetheart, that pie I'm smellin'?" Dean asked as he headed toward the kitchen.

You ran up ahead of him, "Yes, it is. But you have to wait until later to eat it," you said putting your hand on his chest to stop him, "Plus, I just pulled it from the oven, it is still hot."

"So not fair," he grumbled.

"I promise, there is a whole pie with your name on it as soon as we finish dinner tonight," You smile at him.

He cocked an eyebrow at you, "is it apple?" he asked.

"Of course," you say.

He grinned as he cupped your face and gave you a big peck on the lips, "fine, I'll let it slide this time."

Before long, everyone was here for dinner. Everyone was laughing, sharing stories, and really enjoying themselves. After dinner, Dean got to eat his apple pie. Then it was time to open presents.

Everyone was gathered around the small Christmas tree in the library. You stood back watching as Jack passed out presents to everyone. Despite the craziness of the last few years, right now in that moment, everyone seemed to forget the chaos. Everyone seemed happy. Dean walked over to you, standing next to you as you both watched everyone open their gifts.

"The pie was amazing sweetheart," he said as he wrapped his arm around your waist, leaning back against the table with you.

"I'm glad you liked it," you smiled at him.

"Come with me, I have something for you," He said, taking your hand. You followed him out of the library and down the hall. "Wait here" he said letting your hand go as he left you standing in the entryway of the kitchen. "Close your eyes, no peaking," he said. You closed your eyes as you waited for him to come back.

"Okay, open," he said. He held out a small box, wrapped in wrapping paper. It wasn't the best wrap job, but it did the trick.

"Oh, Dean, you didn't have to get me anything," you said.

"C'mon, of course I did," he said handing it to you. You carefully unwrapped it and opened the box. It was a necklace with the a charm of the inital "D".

"It's beautiful, thank you," I said as I held it up to look at it.

"Want me to put it on for you?" he asked and you nodded, handing him the necklace. You moved your hair as he put the necklace around your neck and latched it. You looked down at it and then back at Dean, "It's perfect baby, thank you," you smiled, but then you began to frown, "but, I haven't gotten you anything" you say, lowering your head.

"Sweetheart, you're all I need. And, the apple pie was a plus," he said, winking at you.

You grinned, letting out a small chuckle, "I'm so glad you made it home for Christmas."

"Me too," he said.

"It's been a long year, we needed a night to just be together and laugh" you said.

"Be jolly and cheerful and whatever else they say on Christmas," Dean grinned at you.

You playfully rolled your eyes, "Christmas saves the year" you said. You looked up at the mistletoe you hung above the entryway to the kitchen. Dean looked up and noticed the mistletoe hanging there as well.

"Merry Christmas, Dean" you said, as he cupped your face with his hands.

"Merry Christmas, sweetheart," he replied, leaning in, placing his lips on yours.

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A/N: I hope this wasn't bad😭 Wishing everyone a Happy Holidays!🫶🏼

[the-night-moves-writing]

Savior- Sisterhood (part 1)

Winchesters x Sibling reader (sibling bond ONLY)

Castiel x Winchester Reader (Platonic)

Summary: When Castiel goes off the deep end and becomes god, he finds he still has a soft spot for the smallest winchester

Warnings: angst, reader is mute for a lot of the fic, Descriptions of a panic attack, mentions of John Winchester being a bad father

Characters: John, Castiel x Reader (platonic), Dean x Reader (siblings), and Sam x reader (siblings), very small amount of destiel (you can see it if you squint)

Word count: 1746

A/N: Hi guys! I feel like i might post a little bit more now that i'm back, also there is a part two (and maybe three) in the works for this! i will create a list for you to be able to find all the parts and link it to my masterlist once i get it all set up. Also now i am on A03 and i will link that to my masterlist here in a little bit too. Anyway sorry for the long authors note, heres the fic. <3

I think of ways to turn the tables and fear what happens when they turn, the anger he fills in turn fills me with uncertainty and anxiety. His father passed the hate down the table, passed through graves and passed through cradles. He said he could never turn out like him, he was different. He kept those he wanted to protect at arms length, never fully giving himself the right to feel and to be loved. The one exception to the rule was Sam. Little brother Sammy, his whole reason for continuing on was to take care of Sam and protect him. Then here I came into the picture like a wrecking ball through the perfectly built motel room. 

Left on the doorstep with nothing but a note that read: John i could no longer take care of our child so i give them to you. May they grow to be strong and better than the both of us. There was no name left on the note but my father John Winchester knew who it was from, some random lady in a bar. He never wanted to deal with me so he placed me into Dean's caring arms. Dean was not only my brother and caregiver but also my dad in my eyes. So Dean and Sam became my whole world my entire life, until Sam left us for college. Being only 6 at the time I had a very little understanding of why he left but Dean always just said he left us. So I hunted with Dean and John, well less hunting and more researching for them and learning everything I could about the lore so that I could be helpful to Dean and John and take Sam's place in hunting. 

 Then it was just me and Dean hunting and I learned the basics.  When Dean went to get Sam from college because John had been gone for a few days on a hunting trip i was so angry, how could he leave us and how could Dean still want him back especially when i was 10 and more than capable of helping dean. Then he came back and we were together again and things were good, until Dean died and Sam dropped me off at Bobbys. I was 13 years old and I could hunt with him, I didn't want to be away from both of my brothers. Bobby thought that I needed a car though so he let me rebuild one with him so I rebuilt my sweetheart, I couldn’t call her baby despite me loving the car, a 1965 mustang. A nice little two seater that I had painted green. I used the car to visit where Sam had Dean buried, all the time. Bobby was concerned at how much time I spent at his grave but I couldn't help it. 

I had lost both of my brothers and the only family I had ever had and I was grasping at straws, I lived but it was my spirit that was haunting Bobby's house. I had become basically mute within these past months and Bobby was trying everything to get me to speak again. So when Dean returned out of nowhere I stayed by his side, though it worried Dean how quiet I was. I never left his side though which helped to ease his anxieties and when the entity was following Dean we had bigger things to deal with. I stayed far away from Sam not being able to look in his eyes after being left again. Then we met Castiel. I was very worried and very scared. Somehow Cas picked up on it though and constantly eased my fears, he could tell why i didn't trust Sam and unlike Dean accepted and understood it. Cas easily became a good friend to me because I didn't have to speak with him and he didn't have to try to understand human norms with me. 

Dean and Sam were both worried about this new found friendship between me and the angel but they saw the way that I was opening up. Saw the way I was becoming happy again and they just couldn't interfere. Everything changed when I turned 15 Castiel died and Sam went to hell. Cas came back though like always and when Sam didn't have a soul and Dean was searching for a way to return his, Cas stuck by me cared for me and kept me safe. He answered when I called and he took care of me. He takes care of me and is the only person I can trust. Then I hit 16 and the worst period of my life began, Cas declared himself the new god. The sadness I felt in my chest, crushing my heart.

For the first time in almost 4 years I had something to say 

“Cas STOP!” I said

Everyone turned to stare at me, and Cas turned to walk towards me. He took my hand

 in his and said,

“I am extremely proud of you my very devoted little one” 

His tone borders on threatening and dipping into enjoyment and pride.

He looked between Dean and Sam and myself before he spoke once more

“I expect complete devotion from you all…” he paused for a second, taking a breath before turning to me. The look in his eyes was no longer the soft and comforting look I had grown accustomed to. 

“…you have proven that you will speak for me in what you consider dire situations, so I command you to continue to do so” his gaze softened “ You have always been my favorite, my little one. Please do not give me any reason to punish you.”  

I, not being able to meet his gaze any longer, turned to look at the ground. My favorite person was now gone and there was nothing I could do to bring him back. I could follow him and leave my brothers again, leave my family. Or I could stay and lose the person I'm closest to in the whole world.

I could hear Dean and Sam shouting but I felt like my head was being pushed underwater, I couldn't breathe and I could feel the tears begin to run down my face and splatter on to the floor below. My vision was blurry and it was so loud everything was so loud, my entire life was falling apart and there was nothing I could do about it. I was completely hopeless and useless, I wasn't good enough. Good enough to help Sam and Dean with hunts, or protect them from going to hell, I couldn't do anything. I could feel my breathing quicken and my chest tightening. 

“STOP” Cas’s voice cut clear though the air, he turned from the boys walking towards me. My thoughts, eyes, and breathing were still shaky and unfocused. At some point I had ended up on my knees sobbing.

“Obviously I cannot leave the care of you to these two, my little one, I better take you with me.” He stated, me not hearing him, though it was more a threat to the boys. Dean finally noticed me and ran over and moved to be on his knees, Sam hot on his trail following suit to kneel in front of me.

“Hey hey hey your ok sweetheart, I promise. I got you, deanies here, don't worry.” Dean said, bringing up the nickname I used to call him trying to calm me down. Dean and Sam continued their calming words till my breath returned to normal. Cas was still staring at us from afar. He looked at us for a minute before speaking 

“If you wish for me to let you keep your sister I expect obedience Dean, I do not want to fret over her as i try to rebuild heaven. I could always just take her with me if that would make you more compliant.” His voice booming and loud

“P…. please let me stay” my voice is still shaky and rough not only from the panic attack but from years of not using it.

“This is not a decision for you to make, if i dont think Dean is capable of caring for you then I won't hesitate to bring you with me.” He said to me 

“Remember for almost 4 years I was the only person you spoke to. I know everything about you, and Dean cannot care for you as much as I could, little one.” Castiel’s voice seemed to soften when speaking to me. Dean could no longer take the former angel speaking as if he could not care for HIS siblings any longer.

“I’ve taken care of her my entire life Cas I think I know what I am doing.” He said a little bit pissed and it showed through his voice.

“I am no longer Cas to you Dean, you may refer to me as lord or god but never speak as if you are close to me again.” The statement was heartbreaking for the hunter, who always had a ‘profound bond’ with the angel.

“Another thing you say you have cared for them yet they were mute for four years, and you have caused so much damage to them. Do you really think you can care for them better than I?” Cas asked him completely serious

“I tried Cas you know better than anyone that i tried for almost two years, but i can't MAKE them talk” Dean was full blown angry now. Making me more frightened

“I TOLD YOU TO NOT CALL ME CAS.” Cas said his voice booming off the walls, he brought his hand up to slam Dean into the wall

“Stop, stop, stop please, I’m sorry, I'm so sorry, please just let me stay.” you cried out

“You have no control over my actions, little one. Dean had been given too many warnings, but seeing as you want to stay I will allow it, but believe me I will be doing check ups, and if I believe that you are not being cared for I will not hesitate to take you. You are still only a child who needs to be protected.” Cas said putting Dean down, Sam running to help him, Cas then turned from me to the brothers before speaking one last time.

“Heed my warnings. I am not going to repeat myself.” he said before disappearing, leaving the siblings alone in the warehouse.