#OC!Winchester x Castiel

[myladyship]

Imagine baby Winchester crying their crib and calling out for Dada. When that doesn't work, they whimper, "Cas!"

In a second, the angel appears. Baby Winchester sniffles and raises their hands, the universal sign for "Uppie!".

Just as he was about too, the baby monitor cracks up. "Don't... you... dare, Castiel..."

Cas blinks. Baby Winchester still demands cuddles.

"We're sleep training!"

Cas blinks again. "What's that?"

"Just!" Heavy sigh. "Let them sleep by themselves. "

Cas looks at Baby Winchester, who's still crying. He doesn't understand. When babies are upset, you comfort them. Why shouldn't he comfort the baby he was trusted to protect?

He picks the baby, ignoring the curses coming out of the baby monitor as Baby Winchester giggles.

[zepskies]

The Honorable Choice - Part 1

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC 

Summary: June 1872. Captain Dean Winchester of the U.S. Cavalry is tasked with one job: break a wild mustang. He just didn’t expect the woman who infiltrates his camp, intent on freeing her tribe’s horse.

AN: I got inspired after a recent rewatch of Spirit: The Stallion of the Cimarron (literally a perfect movie), as well as having Yellowstone in the back of my brain. I thought this idea might be a good fit for this @jacklesversebingo prompt.

Disclaimer: I’ve done extensive research for this one, both on the American Indian Lakota tribe, and on American history during this time in the late 1800s (AKA: the Old West, during the American Indian Wars and the Sioux Wars). Of course, one of my main goals is to avoid inaccuracies, both historical and cultural.

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: Western AU

Song Inspo: The Spirit Soundtrack

Word Count: 4.6K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only to be safe. Racism/racial slurs, attempted sexual assault (not successful), protective Dean, angst, some violence and some action.

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Part 1: Pride & Prejudice

June 1872

Dean hears some of his men shouting, along with the telltale cracking of bone that would make a less seasoned soldier wince. He spares a look to Benny, his Lieutenant, and sets down his glass of whiskey.

Dean’s path takes him brusquely out of his office and toward the stables. He grabs his gun and his hat on the way there, setting the latter on his head.

Is it too much to ask for one night where he can drink in peace?

Dean comes to find a young woman being detained by two of his men, Kline and Novak. Roman sports a bloody nose and his eye is already beginning to swell. The woman fights against their hold.

Even under the pale moonlight, Dean notes the way she’s dressed: a deer skin dress cinched at the waist, over thin pants and shoes. He surveys her tan skin, her black hair that blends into the night, twisted into a long braid, and the anger in her dark eyes.

“What have we got here?” Dean says. He stows his gun in its holster as he approaches her, resting his hands at his belt.

“I caught her breaking into the stables, Captain,” Roman says. He prods with a hiss at his busted nose while trying to stem the bleeding. That’s going to be a bad break.

She remains tight lipped, stubborn. 

“Probably doesn’t even understand English. Savage bitch,” he says. Dean shoots him an impassive look to cover up his annoyance.

“Put a cork in it, Roman,” he orders. Then, he focuses back on her. “You’re a Lakota, aren’t you?”

Aside from their main mission here in the Dakota Territory, the Colonel has been fixed on fighting back against the Lakota Indians, especially after they sabotaged the supply line last month.

The proud tilt of the woman’s chin is her only answer to Dean’s question. Her gaze drags down his form with disdain, like he’s the savage. His mouth twitches mirthlessly. 

“The Lakota rear up their own horses pretty damn well. Why would you want to steal one of ours?” he asks.

She glances away from him, first at her feet, then over at the camp’s latest “guest.” Dean, Benny, and a few of his men wrangled up a horse a few days ago. He’s a beautiful Kiger mustang with a nasty mean streak. He barely got through a trim this afternoon, and almost took a chunk out of Rufus when he tried to brand the horse.

The Colonel ordered them to tie the horse up to a post just outside the corral—no food or water for three days. He’d turned to Dean with a firm set to his face and issued a single order.

“Break him.”

Now, Dean catches the furtive look the Lakota woman gives the horse, who flicks his tail. The animal stares right at her, as if into her eyes.

“Oh, don’t tell me you here for him,” Dean says with a chuckle. “That thing’s a little too much for you, sweetheart.”

That earns her attention, steely and unimpressed.

“He is too much for you,” she says. Her voice is smooth, and would even be pleasant, if not for the circumstances. “He is one of ours. You will never break him.”

Dean's eyes widen a fraction. He glances back at the mustang.

So that's why she's here, he thinks. She's trying to mount a rescue. Dean feels a twinge deep inside, but he can't allow himself to care about that. They've collected a strong horse that will be a good support for their objectives here, once he's broken.

“Ah, well see,” Dean says, tipping his Stetson up to meet her gaze. “That’s kind of our specialty.”

“Sir, should we take her to the stockade?” Novak asks. He seems reluctant to do so to a woman, even an Indian, but he’s always been good at following orders.

Dean opens his mouth to reply, but another voice cuts him off. Colonel Asmodeus Sanderson steps out and takes a look at their captive.

“Not the stockade,” he says, with that Southern drawl that betrays his Kentucky roots. “Not yet.”

He approaches her with a slow, calculated gait. His hands gather behind his back. Dean gives her credit for looking Sanderson in the eye. She seems rightly wary, but not afraid.

“We won’t hurt you. I give you my word,” the Colonel says, “if you’ll lead us to your people’s camp.”

He takes a hold of her chin, turning her face this way and that, like he’s examining a dirty animal, and all that he’ll have to do to make it clean. She spits in his face.

Dean bites the inside of his lip against a smile. She’s got as much fight in her as the mustang. However, he has to school his face back into stoicism when Sanderson rears back in anger.

The harsh smack rings out in the clearing, along with the woman’s cry. Dean doesn’t allow himself to outwardly react, but inside, his spine tightens as he fights his instincts.

Only Kline and Novak’s hold on her arms keeps her upright. She pants for breath, but again, she meets the Colonel with a face that doesn’t give away anything, despite the reddening mark on her cheek.

“The post,” he barks. “Three days. No food or water.”

Dean is kept busy by his duties. He makes sure the camp is running in order, accepting shipments of supplies and ammunition, among other things. Cas Novak is in charge of the stables, caring for the horses and putting them through their training. Jack Kline is young and strong and a good assistant, along with others in his unit.

Right now, Dean and Benny are going over the plans with Colonel Sanderson for continuing construction on the railroad, from here to the Black Hills. It’s a path that cuts straight through Sioux territory—the bands of Dakota and Lakota Indians that occupy the land.

“The natives are fightin’ us tooth and nail,” Sanderson says. “But maybe our guest will be able to help us…negotiate.”

Dean remains quiet, ignoring yet another uneasy twinge in his gut. He didn’t join the army to fight the Indians. He doesn’t always understand their way of doing things, but he understands why they fight—to protect their land, and to protect their own. It’s the same reason Dean fights, when he has to.

He joined the army because…well, it felt like the right thing to do at the time. His father had been a Cavalry Major, and he’d died an honorable death, now about a decade past.

Has it really been ten years? Christ.

Dean wipes his brow. Even with the windows open, the office is humid and smells like ass. He glances outside, where both the mustang and the woman are tied to their posts under a sweltering sun at high noon.

Not for the first time, Dean wonders what his dad would think of him now. 

After the meeting, Dean and Benny fall into step together to inspect the camp. The summer sun shines hot on their blue uniforms, and occasionally they raise their hats to mop the sweat from their brows.

Things are running as usual, but many of the men’s eyes occasionally turn to the posts. Dean’s attention wanders there too without him realizing, catching on the woman’s dark hair. It shines even blacker in the sunlight, like a raven’s wing. He knows the shade because his dad used to have a feather kept in his journal, like a bookmark.

“You okay, brother?” Benny asks. Dean realizes what he’s doing, and his attention returns to the task at hand. Get it together.

Always forward, never backward.

“Just fine,” Dean replies. Benny gives him a knowing look.

“A bit unsavory, ain’t it?” he says. “Keeping her chained up without even a lick of water.”

“The Indians are getting smarter, bolder. They’re ambushing our men, going after our supply lines, and now, stealing our horses,” Dean says. “This is strategy.”

Benny shrugs slightly, making a sound of agreement. Dean hesitates, his gloved fingers flexing against his sides.

“If she was a man, you guys wouldn’t give a shit about putting a bullet through her head,” Dean says.

Benny’s gaze shifts downward. He doesn’t reply, but he concedes the point all the same.

They continue their route, and Dean keeps the rest of the conversation on the work at hand.

Mila has gone far longer without drink, but the sun is particularly unforgiving today. She’s prayed and prayed for even one cloud to glide overhead and shield her for a while. It’s not much better for her companion. He paces in place, occasionally tugging his head against the rope that binds him to his post.

She makes a clicking sound at the horse, getting his attention. She calls him by his name, and his ears flicker in her direction. He offers her a short whinny in response.

“I see you, Mato. I am with you,” she says in her native tongue. She hopes the sound of her voice will soothe him. He looks tired and hungry, but his eyes flick hard and untrusting on any man who comes near him. His spirit isn’t broken.

“Hey! Shut the hell up over there,” Roman shouts at her from where he and Cas are taking a short lunch break. Cas gives him a certain look, crossed mostly with annoyance.

Mila resists the urge to roll her eyes. Instead, she closes them and tilts her face back to the sun. In a way, it feels cleansing. Maybe it can wash away the stench of the White Men’s hands on her body, manhandling her, checking her for weapons.

She spends the rest of the day watching the camp. One of their leaders, the Green Eyed One, called this a fort. It does look fortified, with tall walls made of thick wood constructed to form a cage—whether to keep others out, or to keep the men and horses in.

She identifies the Colonel as their chief, of a kind. Green Eyes is second in command, followed by the Bearded One with a strange voice. Even the scruffy Blue Eyed One has some authority, mostly over the Child Faced One. There are too many others to rank them all, but she knows the Loud Mouthed One is arrogant, even after she broke his nose. The way he carries himself, he clearly thinks he has more power than he actually has.

In her mind, Mila conjures up different plans of escape. All of them fall short in some way. The men didn’t find all of her weapons; a small knife is hidden deep in her boot. She could saw at her binds within an hour, but even with Mato to carry her out and away, the problem is escaping this camp without alerting the men. Without getting shot.

She has three days to think.

That night, the moon refuses to give her clarity. Her stomach is too empty, her throat too dry, her tongue thick in her mouth. Her attention shifts in and out of consciousness, until the sound of boots crunching in the dirt trills unease down her spine. More alert, she sits up straighter.

The Loud Mouthed One. The one they call Roman comes to taunt her, offering her water, then drinking for himself instead. He comes closer to examine her. He has a small bind over his broken nose.

“You know, you’re a pretty one,” he says, taking another cold sip as his gaze drags over her form. “For a wild thing.”

His face nears hers, clean shaven, though his thin smile reminds her of a rattlesnake. Dread and repulsion churn at odds in her stomach as she realizes what he's really here for. It doesn't matter if he truly wants her, or just wants to pay her back for his face. Either way, he means to take her here in the dirt.

She looks away, not wanting to let him see her fear, or the dread tightening her stomach, rising into her throat. He winds long fingers into her hair. At first the hold is gentle, deceptive. Then it's tight against her scalp. She hisses in pain when he tugs her head back and forces her to look at him. Her breathing quickens as she tries to pull away.

He draws in close to try and claim her in a kiss, but she head-butts him, hard.

He cries out and stumbles back, his flask falling to the ground.

He angrily grabs her and hauls her up to her feet. He pushes her hard against the post and unbuckles his belt, just to stuff it in her mouth. With his free hand, he begins to undo his pants.

She refuses to cry out, even though she spits out his belt and fights him, trying to kick out his knees.

Suddenly, the man’s body is ripped away from her. Mila loses her footing and falls to the dusty ground, sliding against the wooden beam she’s tied to. The wind is knocked out of her, but when she raises her head, she watches with wide eyes as the Green Eyed One beats the other man into the dirt. It doesn’t take much, just a few well-placed fists.

Roman lies there catching his breath, and he spits a wad of phlegm and blood. His left eye will match his nose, that’s for sure.

Green Eyes looks angry and disgusted. He huffs and puffs while staring down at his subordinate. He pushes back his short brown hair and points an ungloved hand at Roman.

“Get back to the goddamn barracks. You’re gonna be mucking out stalls until shit’s coming out of your ears,” he growls.

Roman doesn’t argue, though it’s obvious that he wants to. He just picks himself up, makes a show of straightening up his open uniform jacket while catching his breath. He walks past Green Eyes with a resentful, angry look. Green Eyes watches him until he disappears inside.

Then, he turns to her. His gaze softens somewhat, but it’s still unreadable. He crouches down in front of her, resting his arms on his thighs. Mila’s gaze briefly falls to his hands. They’re calloused, the hands of a laboring man. He carries himself like a warrior.

“Sorry about that,” he says.

It’s not what she expected. Mila eyes him warily when he moves closer. She presses her back against the post until it hurts her spine. He raises up his hands placatingly.

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” he says.

“That is what your Colonel said,” she says. Her voice cracks with dryness. “I didn’t believe him either.”

His lips flicker at a rueful smile. It wrinkles crow’s feet around his eyes, breaking his stony face.

“Fair enough.”

He reaches for his belt and retrieves a flask, similar to the one his subordinate carried. He extends it out to her.

“It’s water, unless you prefer whiskey. I know I do,” he says.

She raises a brow at him, but hearing the sloshing inside the flask, her thirst takes over her wariness, and even her pride. She tentatively leans forward. He brings it closer so she can press her lips to the opening. Despite his Colonel’s orders, he lets her drink as much water as she’s able. When she’s done, he pockets the flask and sighs, running a hand through his hair.

“What’s your name?” he asks.

That, she will not give him. Names are sacred to her people, and this man, while seeming to have a shred of honor, isn’t worthy.

“Don’t wanna even tell me your name?” he says. He nods slightly. “Okay, well, I’m Dean. Captain Winchester, to this band of delinquents.”

He gestures around the camp with a dismissive hand. Mila only watches him. She’s never seen a White act like this, breaking his leader’s rules, being…kind.

What a strange man.

But if he had any real convictions, he would untie her and let her go, along with Mato. She won’t hold her breath.

Dean’s brows raise up toward his hairline, and his full lips form a pout. Realizing he’s not going to get anything more from her, he lets out a tired huff and straightens up.

“Well, goodnight,” he says.

He finally leaves her alone, but she can’t help but follow the swaggering path of his bowed legs and heavy boots. They carry him away and back indoors.  

A strange man.

By the morning of the third day, Dean is ready to do what he does best. Or at least, one thing he does best.

He’s no stranger to horses. He grew up on a farm in Lawrence, Kansas, where he and his brother would help take care of the animals. Dean was older, so he helped his father till the land and train the horses. Sometimes he and Sam would sneak off and race their favorite ones, until their mom called them back for dinner.

In fact, part of what earned Dean his rank in the U.S. Cavalry was how well he could command a horse. His own is resting in the stables.

Today, he’s getting in the ring with the mustang.

…Well, not right away. He lets a few of his guys go first to tire him out. Even after three days of no food or water, the horse is living up to his bad attitude. He bucks each of them off after just a few seconds in the corral. Dean can tell it’s becoming a kind of game for the horse. His dun-colored coat shines in the sun, his brown socked legs kicking up dust and manure as he brays angrily at whoever tries to mount him.

Dean notices the Lakota woman watching with an amused smile on her face while she sits with her hands tied to her post. She’s enjoying the show, like she knew this would happen. It seems to give her energy every time another man is thrown off the horse and limps out of the ring.

Dean shakes his head. Pitiful.

He puts two gloved fingers to his mouth and whistles the entire clearing to attention. He saves Kline the chance to bruise his spine and pats him on the shoulder. Dean steps into the corral and positions himself into the stirrups, wrapping the reins around his hand. The horse is breathing hard, but he’s not done. He’s still got fight in him. Dean sees it in his brown eyes.

“All right, mustang. You’re big and bad. I get it,” Dean says lowly. “But I don’t scare easy. Gimme your best damn shot.”

Cas and Benny give him wary looks from where they stand outside the gate.

“Hold onto your hat, Cap,” Benny mutters.

Dean adjusts his hat and rests his gun on the post for safe keeping. He wants to feel as natural as possible, like it’s just him and this horse, out back in his family farm. He holds on tight to the reins. He’s fully prepared for how the mustang takes off at a galloping clip around the ring. He twists and bucks, but Dean claps his thighs tight and holds on for the ride.

The horse gets smarter.

He runs for the water trough just outside the ring. He slams Dean against the side of it once, twice—and manages to throw him off, with Dean landing right in the water trough.

He bursts out from the dirty water, sopping wet and spluttering in anger. He looks over at the horse trotting around, whinnying and tossing his head like he’s laughing. Dean can’t help it. His anger fades, and he smiles.

This guy’s got some brass balls, I’ll give him that.

The Lakota woman laughs. Dean hears it and his head swivels toward her. She bites her lip, but she knows she’s been caught. Despite his injured pride, Dean’s lips curve with a smirk. Just gonna laugh at me, huh?

“I see things are going well,” comes a familiar drawl.

Dean’s face falls as he looks up and finds Colonel Sanderson. Dean pulls himself out of the trough and tries to squeeze some water out of his uniform. He clears his throat.

“Well, uh, it’s going, sir. Just gonna take a little more time than I thought,” Dean says. He quickly reclaims his hat from the ring, giving the mustang a smart berth. After he climbs back out, he goes over to the post where he left his pistol.

“Hold him steady,” Sanderson barks out the order, but not at Dean. The other men wrangle the horse back into the pen, where Sanderson climbs up and mounts the horse himself.

To his credit, he stays on longer than even Dean thought he would. The mustang gallops and circles. He tries slamming Sanderson on the sides of the corral, tries bucking him and bucking him, but the man clings on, even when his hat falls into the dirt.

The horse is exhausted. He eventually stops in the middle of the ring, panting for breath, his legs shaking slightly. Dean straightens at attention.

So does the Lakota woman, he notices. She looks worried, her brows furrowing.

Sanderson swipes a hand over his graying hair and moustache to collect himself. He raises his head with an arrogant smile.

“You see, gentlemen. Any horse can be broken,” he says. He kicks the horse with his spur. “Move along, mustang.”

To everyone’s amazement, the horse obeys him. He moves forward at a slow clip. All the men applaud, even Dean, belatedly.

“There are those in Washington who believe the West will never be settled,” Sanderson continues. “The Northern Pacific Railroad will never breach Nebraska.”

His gaze draws over to the woman. Her eyes are filled with tears as she watches the Colonel makes his rounds.

“A hostile Lakota,” he says in derision, “will never submit to providence.”

She stares back at him with steel in her watery eyes.

Dean doesn’t realize his jaw is clenched tight until he feels the strain in his jaw. He forces himself to relax, with his hand on his dampened belt.

“And it’s that kind of small thinking that would say this horse would never be broken,” Sanderson says. “Discipline, time, and patience. That’s all you need to level a wild thing.”

Just then, the horse stops abruptly.

“Mustang?” Sanderson asks in warning.

Dean tenses. He knows what’s about to happen.

“Sir!” he calls out.

But it’s too late.

The stallion revs and charges, bucking even wilder than before. He swings his head and rears back high on his hind legs with a powerful bray. Sanderson yells in fear and strain, but he stays on the creature’s back.

The horse’s angry eyes take on a darker shade of conviction. When all four of his hooves hit the ground, he finally bucks hard enough to get the Colonel off his back, though he still clings to the reins near the animal’s head. He comes face to face with the horse’s crazed eyes. His own are wide and full of terror.

Hot breath heats Sanderson’s face. Then the horse swings his head and tosses the man out of the ring. In the process, the horse falls on his side and shatters a section of the wooden beams that fenced him in.

While he shakes his head and gets his hooves under him, Dean and Benny help the Colonel up to his feet. His uniform is a wreck, and now, with a bruised body and likely a couple of broken ribs, the man is fuming.

Kline and Roman wrangle the horse’s reins and keep him more or less in place. The Colonel shoves Dean and Benny off of him. He reaches for his gun at his belt and aims it at the mustang. Dean goes rigid in shock, but he knows he can’t interfere. If he does, it could warrant some major discipline.

The Colonel pulls the hammer back on the revolver, but before he can pull the trigger, the sound of cutting rope and a feminine yell breaks the silence in the clearing. The Lakota woman pulls the Colonel’s arms down, and the gun goes off into the ground. Her elbow comes up quick to strike the man between the eyes. He careens back into Benny, who catches him.

Meanwhile, the woman swings up onto the mustang. She grabs a stronghold by the neck and barks something in her native language. It spurs the horse onward, and he breaks through the crowd of men at a gallop.

Dean watches with widening eyes and furrowing brows. “Shit!”

He runs to the stables where he finds Baby waiting for him. Her black coat ripples as she stamps impatiently.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he beckons. He leads the mare out of the stable, and after grabbing a coil of rope from the supply bench, he mounts her smoothly. With a subtle kick of his heel, she picks up speed to follow the mustang and his rider.

They’re already approaching the gate where the men are quickly trying to close it. There’s still a window of opportunity for escape, but not only is Dean on their heels, Roman also stands on a pile of crates filled with iron parts that are due to be shipped out in the morning for continued construction on the railroad. Roman holds a rifle. He trains his weapon on the woman, taking deadly aim.

Dean’s jaw clenches and his brows furrow. He knows then, in the breadth of a few seconds, that he has to make a choice. If he does nothing, both she and the horse are as good as dead.

Sam used to call him reckless, stubborn as the horses he spent long hours taming.

Right about now, his brother is probably right.

Dean reaches for his gun, aims, and shoots within the span of those seconds. Roman goes down before he even knows what hits him. His chest plumes with blood after he slides down the crates and flops heavy to the ground. His eyes stare unseeing at the crisp blue sky.

The mustang tears through the narrow opening in the gate, and Dean isn’t far behind. The woman is an excellent rider, far better than he expected her to be. She clings to the horse’s neck and mane, and she doesn’t even use the stirrups. She clings on when the horse leaps over rocks, and when she notices Dean tailing her, she urges the horse at an even faster gallop.

Dean’s face furrows with determination. Baby is built for speed too.

He gives her a little kick with his heel. “Come on, Baby. Go!”

He’s able to keep up with the mustang just a few yards behind, even when they reach rougher terrain, going further up and into a canyon. He follows them through every curve and dip, guiding his horse just as much as she's guiding him.

Dean takes his rope in hand and turns it above his head, but his attempt to lasso the mustang's neck fails; the woman saws straight through the rope with her knife.

"Damn it!" Dean mutters.

He's forced to let go of his frayed rope when he and Baby nearly careen off the edge of a cliff. His heart settles high in his throat as he grits his teeth, but he pulls back on the reins hard and leans in the opposite direction. Baby's able to bank left, saving them from a long way down to certain death.

They continue up the narrow path the mustang has trod ahead. It carves around and through the mountain.

Dean mentally grasps for a plan, aside from just keeping up. Without even a bit of rope, he doesn’t know how he’s going to slow the woman down without hurting her or the horse. He doesn’t want to have to use his gun.

Eventually, the canyon breaks into a patch of desert, and then, grassy plains and tall forest trees. The mustang begins to tire and slow to a stop. His rider murmurs soothing things to him, stroking his neck. She turns back to look at Dean over her shoulder in dismay. She knows she’s caught.

“All right, sweetheart. That’s enough,” Dean says.

He sidles up next to her and intends to grab the mustang’s reins.

That’s when her swift kick comes, dead in his forehead.

AN: And here we go! 😅 Feels right that November is Native American Indian Heritage Month. 🫶🏽 For that reason especially I've done my best to do the Lakota people justice, even in this little series and complete work of fiction.

There's a lot packed in this first chapter, and yep, I did borrow a bit of scene from one of the best scenes in Spirit as an homage. From here on out, we're literally going off road...

Next Time:

Dean falls out of his saddle with a yell, landing hard in the grass. The impact knocks the air out of his chest and his hat off his head, not to mention the pain that rattles down his back.

“Son of a bitch,” he wheezes, while trying to get back up.

The woman jumps down from the mustang’s back and all but leaps on Dean. Straddling his waist and grabbing a fistful of his collar, she lets out a battle cry and raises a small knife at him. It’s probably no more than two inches long.

Dean may be on the ground with a smarting forehead, but he’s still got the upper hand. He grabs her knife-wielding arm and whips out his pistol from his belt. Her eyes widen, and she stills above him. The gun lies between them, aimed for her chest. They’re both breathing hard.

Dean has a problem.

Looking into her eyes, soulful and brown, the slope of her nose and her full lips, parted with shock… 

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 2

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[the-offside-rule]

Castiel Novak (Supernatural) - Baby Winchester

Requested: yes

Prompt: Cas being like a guardian angel to Y/n and Dean's baby

Warnings: none

Y/n stirred awake to the faint sound of her daughter’s cries through the baby monitor. She squinted at the clock on the nightstand; 3:14 am. Beside her, Dean was sprawled on his stomach, snoring softly, clearly exhausted from his recent hunting trip. She sighed, her heart swelling with affection. He needed rest. Silently, she reached over, turned off the baby monitor, and leaned down to kiss his cheek. "Thisis for your own good, Winchester." She whispered before slipping out of bed.

Padding softly down the hall, she stopped at her daughter’s room. The dim nightlight cast a soft glow across the nursery, and her breath hitched when she noticed someone standing by the crib. "You know, peopleusually knock before they come in." She said, gently knocking on the doorframe. Castiel turned sharply, startled. "Y/n. I apologize. I didn’t mean to intrude. I’ll leave now." She stepped inside, her expression calm. "It’s okay. What are you doing here?" Castiel shifted uncomfortably, his gaze flickering back to the baby. "I… thought something was wrong." He said, but the lie was transparent, his usual stoicism faltering. Y/n chuckled softly. "Cas, you’re a terrible liar. What’s really going on?"

He sighed, looking at the baby. "It… has no arms." Y/n blinked before realizing what he meant. "Oh no, Cas. She’s swaddled. Here, look." She gently unwrapped the blanket, freeing her daughter’s tiny arms. "See? She’s fine." Castiel tilted his head, his intense blue eyes studying the baby. "Ah. I see. My mistake." He stepped back awkwardly. "Well, if I’m not needed-"

"Wait-" Y/n interrupted, her tone warm. "I need to feed her anyway. Would you like to hold her and feed her downstairs?" His eyes widened slightly. "You would trust me with this?" Y/n chuckled at the ever-so-serious face Cas had made so many times before. "Of course. You're a literal angel." She said, scooping her daughter up. "Come on." He hesitated, then nodded, following her downstairs.

In the living room, Castiel perched stiffly on the armchair, glancing around the cozy space as Y/n went to the kitchen to prepare a bottle. When she returned, she handed him the baby, guiding him on how to hold her properly. "Like this." She said, adjusting his hands. "Support her head." After a moment, he frowned. "No, no. Take it back. I fear I might break it." Y/n laughed softly. "Cas, you won’t break....it. Just relax." She handed him the bottle. "Now, feed her."

Castiel began feeding her, his expression softening as he watched the baby suckle. "Oh wow. Humans are remarkable." He murmured. "So fragile, yet so resilient. Especially the little ones." Y/n smiled, settling onto the couch. "You’re practically human yourself, Cas. You’re pretty remarkable too."

Before Castiel could respond, footsteps creaked on the stairs, and Dean appeared, holding a crowbar. His serious expression melted into one of surprise when he saw Castiel feeding their daughter. "What the hell’s going on?" Dean asked, setting the crowbar down. "Why’d you turn off the baby monitor? I thought something was wrong." Y/n shrugged, smiling sheepishly. "I wanted you to get some sleep. You looked exhausted."

"Why’d you say that this was for my own good? I thought you were possessed or something." Dean added. "And ypu didn't stop me then and there? You figured an extra ten minutes of beauty sleep would've helped you fight a demon better?" Dean rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze shifting to Castiel. "And what’s he doing here?" Y/n grinned. "Found us a babysitter." Castiel looked up. "I would be adequate for that position."

Dean chuckled, shaking his head. "As long as you don’t teach her any bad habits." Y/n scoffed, smirking at Dean. "I’d trust Cas to be a better influence than you." Dean smirked back, dropping onto the couch beside her. "You'd trust Cas?" She nodded. "I like Cas." Dean grabbed the remote and pulled her in closer. "You like me a lot too though, right?" She didn't answer, instead she grinned over to Cas. "Don’t give him that look. I know you two are gonna plot something against me soon enough."

"What? You don't live with Sam anymore so I can't plot anythin with him anytime soon."

[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.

[emo-markie]

*:･ﾟ✧ Supernatural oc/reader fic recs

I like to read. So I read. A lot. This is my curated selection of fics that make me feral. I highly recommend checking out the creators!

REMEMBER TO READ THE TAGS!

Last updated : October 10, 2024

red means work in progress

blue means complete work

(sorted by alphabetic order)

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SAM WINCHESTER

Birdcage Fires by FallingDomino on Fanfiction.net

Rating: M

After finding a naked girl on a lonely stretch of California road on a stormy night, Sam doesn't have long to try and help the amnesiac girl before Dean drags him back into the life of hunting. Over the past three years, he never really forgot her, but when they reunite, the brothers discover something much more sinister about the night Sam saved her. Sam/OC, Before S1, skips to S4

Complex by NeQuittezPas on AO3

Rating: M

Sam Winchester will do whatever it takes to save his brother from Hell. When all else fails, he tries a spell—and botches it. Cassandra Holmes awoke from uneasy dreams and found herself transported to a fictional universe. Cass wants to go home. Sam wants his brother back. Maybe, working together, they can both get what they want.

Pie and Consqeuences by SteelRigged on AO3

Rating: T

Dean’s eyebrows were popping off his face. He looked at Sam, who had pie falling off his nose, and swallowed a smile. "You're getting slow, Sam," Dean said, and patted his brother on the shoulder. Sam wiped pie from his cheeks and chin. Veronica's rage had caught him off guard. She was one of the few people from his past he was still on good terms with. At least he thought they had been on good terms. At least neutral terms. Not pie in the face terms. “Oh Sammy, Sammy, Sammy,” Dean muttered, glowing with pleasure. “Don’t worry. I’ve been there. You probably deserved it.”

pythia - a supernatural rewrite by uncouth-the-fiffth on AO3

Rating: T

John goes missing. Like every time you use your Gift to track him down, it's hardly for his own sake. If it weren't for Dean, trembling under that too-big jacket on your stoop and working up the courage to even say Sam's name, you'd happily never think about their father ever again. Or what you're doing to Sam's life by pulling him back into the hunt. If it was up to you, John Winchester would never be heard from again. But the boys need you. So, you go.

I highly recommend checking out the author's other fics here: uncouth's spn fics

The LightBringer by I_Am_A_Silver_Lining on AO3

Rating: E

Waking in the body of Lucifer, having their memories and powers, should have been horrible. And it was... ...Until it wasn't OR Kore wakes up as Lucifer, powers, memories and all. She is still herself with a little something sinister sprinkled in and decides to rip up the script and throw the apocalypse out the door. However, her True Vessel seems to still believe she wants to get in him, but he'd MUCH rather have it the other way around... OR OC invades Supernatural and takes over the world one piece of trash at a time. with ART

This Untraveled Road (series) by BAPWarrior18 on AO3

By Fate or Free Will

Rating: M

In the year 2003, a witch unleashed a powerful spell that drastically altered the fates of thousands of girls and women around the world. Some were killed. Some were protected. Many went about their lives or deaths unknowing of their transformed purpose. However, each were meant to be soldiers in the war against evil. Each were meant to tip the scales in the favor of good. For one in particular, there would have been no tipping of the scales… if not for some higher being’s determination to piggyback not only on the spell, but on the things that had already been set in motion by demons. OR In which the Winchesters meet the original breed of hunter, causing tiny ripples that turns their world on its head. And brings forth the war of change. For better or worse.

War of Change

Rating: M

THE ROAD SO FAR… The Winchesters met their bespoke Slayer, shifting the balance of their lives and unknown to them, the fate of the world. The Catalyst awakened new paths, altered goals, and shifted motivations. Like a drop in a pond transforming into a tsunami. As intended. Six Special Children survived Cold Oak. Four Slayers fought at the opening of the Devil’s Gate. One Slayer met death and lived. One Slayer confessed and vanished. All the while, two beings of undefined purpose watched and plotted. None could have predicted the drastic turn of events caused by the union of Slayers and Champions. NOW Demons and hunters scramble to make sense of the new world order. Some revel in the change. Some attempt to fix the balance. Others struggle to carry out carefully constructed plans. In the meantime, the Winchesters navigate what it means to be Champions. The Catalyst comes to understand her true gift. And the purpose of The Connected becomes clear.

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DEAN WINCHESTER

one of these nights by uncouth-the-fifth on AO3

Rating: E

“S’ a good night,” Dean tells you, beaming, “we can do another round, right?” “Hell yeah,” you shrug, and raise your empty glass, “Here’s to alcohol poisoning, baby.” “Yeah,” Dean echoes, almost slurring. “Baby."

This Curse On Our House by Sonny13 on Fanfiction.net

Rating: M

Faith has battles in her bones and nothing left to lose; a dangerous combination, but perfect for a hunter. But she's got demons out for her blood, convinced she can break some kind of curse, and they call her the Child of War - whatever that means. Things might be a little easier if Dean Winchester wasn't so damn frustrating.

Toil and Trouble by LittleGreenPlasticSoldier on AO3

Rating: M

What’s the best way to infiltrate a coven? Be a witch. What does a modern witch need these days… Dean is going to be your familiar. He really wants to be a dog. He's not going to be a dog, and it works out way better and messier than either of you planned.

“Yeah, I have a Great Dean.” by LittleGreenPlasticSoldier on AO3

Rating: E

Dean is a good boy.

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CASTIEL

Angel 101 by kittenofdoomage on AO3

Rating: E

The angels are dying out in huge numbers, and Castiel, searching for a way to save Jack from being used by them, and to also save them, is called by another angel to assist in what he thinks may be the solution.

Branded by ObliviousApple on AO3

Rating: E

Basically, the first time Cas ever touches you, a brand appears on your arm. A brand that says his name in Enochian. Come along for the ride as you try to stop the apocalypse, save the Winchester's from their own idiocy, and fall in love with our favorite feathered bastard. Spoiler alert: the brand is a soulmate mark. Who saw that coming?!

David by therev on AO3

Rating: T

What if the person who found amnesiac!Cas when he stumbled out of that river in Colorado had been a man and not a woman? And what if when Dean caught up with him, he found that Cas had a husband? And what if he was a real character and not the throw-away that they made Daphne?

Empire State of Mind by saprrowed on Fanfiction.net

Rating: M

Rating: E

Castiel makes a friend in New York City. And like many New York sitcoms, this is a story about nothing.

Feathers by enter_the_phantom on AO3

Rating: T

The giving of feathers and the revealing of wings is a sacred act for an angel, and it's something Castiel doesn't take lightly. But if there's one human he'd enter into such a close bond with, it's Abby Singer, the Winchesters' hunting partner and adopted sibling. Whenever he's around them, he feels things he's never felt before, and as strange as these new emotions are, he doesn't want them to stop. Unfortunately for him, Abby isn't the most receptive to his presence. They've been stubbornly opposed to his awkward attempts at friendship ever since they first met. In fact, it feels like he's the only one who can't seem to forge a relationship with the prickly hunter. Even more unfortunately, it doesn't seem to matter anyway, because another angel has already beaten him to it.

Gas-n-sip by eratothemuse on AO3

You just needed a job. Who knew that getting one at your local Gas-n-Sip would end up like this? (Set in 9x06 “Heaven Can’t Wait”)

Guardian Angel by ZonateBiscuit on AO3

Rating: M

When you feel lost, you begin to pray. Charlie Crivens is lost, but she's not sure anyone can hear her. Slow build Castiel/OFC

I Was A Stranger And You Welcomed Me by dorkilysoulless on AO3

Rating: E

Whoever he is, he's either homeless or hitching. He's also too damn pretty not to take home.

The Love Story of the Runner Up by Margo_Kim on AO3

Rating: T

“So you saw a white man in a trench coat pop out in an alley,” Paul says, “and you thought, what, ‘I want to see where this is going’?”  “If you get hung up on details like that,” Miguel says, “it will take a very long time to get through this story. For a very weird era in his life, Miguel dates an angel who is in love with another man.

The Original Cambion by thereluctantshipper on AO3

Rating: E

Just as they're gearing up to stop the apocalypse, Bobby, Dean, Sam, and more importantly, Castiel, meet the original Cambion, a half-demon half-human hybrid. And she wants to... Help them? OFC insert, starts roughly S5E16, will not follow story all the way through.

Questions and Answers by lacqueluster (GG_and_MM) on AO3

Rating: E

Castiel is becoming increasingly uncomfortable in his vessel. He comes to you with some questions.

Where Angels Fear To Tread by OrigamiDoll on AO3

Rating: E

Reader meets the Winchesters and Castiel when they roll through town on a hunt. They inadverdently expose her to the supernatural and turn her world view upside down. Soon, her house becomes a frequent detour for the boys and a friendship begins to blossom between the reader and Team Free Will. Castiel finds himself fascinated by the reader. Where will things lead?

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CROWLEY

Dead Body Moving by NeQuittezPas on AO3

Rating: M

Nell never expected to return from her cross-country roadtrip, but when a fellow camper goes missing during her stay at the Grand Canyon, she may live far, far longer than she expected.

Like I'm Not Made of Stone by ProlixInSpace on AO3

Rating: E

In ancient Mesopotamia, one careless death-goddess invents a cruel curse. Its singular victim can never die, but will rather live the last single year of a random human life somewhere in time, every year, forever and ever. In Hell, a belligerent soul takes centuries of abuse from Lilith herself, and is molded through her cruel tutelage into something darker, more ambitious, and cleverer by far than your standard-issue demon. A pair like that can only become more than the sum of their parts.

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GABRIEL

alexa, play candyshop (bass boosted) by bumbleberrysky on AO3

Rating: T

You knew there was a reason some divine power brought you to the Winchesters all those years ago, but to this day you still have no idea what that reason is. It's something you're destined to find out soon though, especially when you return to the bunker after months away and find not only a new face, but one that belongs to someone who up until that point you'd thought was dead. What does his return have to do with the changes you're suddenly experiencing in yourself? Will you finally find out the reason you'd been brought here in the first place? Maybe... Chuck works in mysterious ways after all. [divergent around s13/the end of s13-- will likely have spoilers]

Along For the Ride by MyPurpleSkies on AO3

Rating: T

Danielle Awenasa Callaghan thought being a hunter was complicated enough. That is until she joins the Winchesters along for one hell of a ride that involves repeatedly saving the world from danger, falling for a Trickster that's more than he seems, hiding the fact that your godfather isn't exactly human from the boys you're beginning to see as part of your family, and discovering that she and the King of Hell share a mutual appreciation for David Bowie's music. Not to mention being told by a cupid that she's met her soul mate already. Oh, let's not forget that she nearly died and was saved by some mysterious stranger that Death refuses to tell her the identity of.

I Want to Tell you by lacqueluster (GG_and_MM) on AO3

Rating: E

He can’t tell her when she’s drunk. That wouldn’t be right. He’ll tell her tomorrow. He’ll bring her coffee and let her shower and then he’ll sit her down. Tomorrow. It’s definitely time. He has to get this off his chest and tomorrow is the day.

Kibble by The_White_Rabbit42 on AO3

Rating: T

Sam and Dean ask Gabriel to cat sit for you, and it leads to a surprising discovery.

Third Time's a Charm by The_White_Rabbit42 on AO3

Rating: E

Gabriel unexpectedly comes to your aid and reveals a part of himself you never expected to see.

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SIBLING OC

Dynamics of an Asteroid by NeQuittezPas on AO3

Rating: T

Sam thumped a photo album down onto her desk. Beneath the thin film of dust, the cover was dark burgundy. Margo recognized it at once. “Ah.” He was here for the other reason, then. The one she’d always dreaded, even if she’d imagined it more than a few times over the years. He was here because that photo album contained pictures of Margo from the time she was born through the time she was in high school. A rare few of them even showed her together with John Winchester—Sam’s father. And also, incidentally, her father. She was not prepared for this conversation.

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CHILD OC

Along Came Sophie by LaceyoftheTypewriter on Fanfiction.net

Rating: T

Dean is still fighting supernatural crime with Sam when a pretty young plot twist named Sophie Gardner shows up claiming to be Dean's 15-year-old daughter. As she worms her way into his heart, he comes to realize what exactly he's been missing, and how far he'll go to fix what's broken.

Light of mine by TheTardyOwl on Fanfiction.net

Rating: T

A Fledgling is almost killed during one of Michael and Lucifer's explosive arguments. Gabriel steps into the role of Caretaker for the little Angel and discovers that his new charge isn't what he expected.

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PLATONIC OC

Student Housing by darkshrimpemotions on AO3

Rating: T

Sam decides to rent out rooms in the bunker to college students. Finding yourself in a housing bind just before the start of your sophomore year, you decide the dirt cheap rent is worth the risk that your landlords might be serial killers.

[loomis-maxima]

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: Okay, okay. Supernatural rewatch time and I'm gonna just say it now because I know it's gonna happen eventually. I'm taking requests for Supernatural too! I'm open to writing for any character, x reader, ship fics. (no wincest. that shits weird.) *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

[matxhstixkers]

i love making my sad 30-40 year old bisexual men pine for eachother

[briannafenrir67]

I just finished writing the final chapter of Haunted, and all I'm going to say is that I can barely wait for you all to read it. Chapter 5 will be available tomorrow on Wattpad and Ao3.

[thestoriesfold]

Not posting fanfiction I write at 1am, no sir. You get to wait till midday tomorrow after I revise whatever crack ass word vomit my sleep deprived brain comes up with. Unless 👀

Baja be thy, blast 🫡

[zepskies]

The Honorable Choice || Series Masterlist

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC 

Summary: June 1872. Captain Dean Winchester of the U.S. Cavalry is tasked with one job: break a wild mustang. He just didn’t expect the woman who infiltrates his camp, intent on freeing her tribe’s horse.

AN: I got inspired after a recent rewatch of Spirit: The Stallion of the Cimarron (literally a perfect movie), as well as having Yellowstone in the back of my brain. I thought this idea might be a good fit for @jacklesversebingo.

**Disclaimer: I’ve done extensive research for this one, both on the American Indian Lakota tribe, and on American history during this time in the late 1800s (AKA: the Old West, during the American Indian Wars and the Sioux Wars). Of course, one of my main goals is to avoid inaccuracies, both historical and cultural.

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: Western AU

Series Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Racism, angst, violence, protective Dean, eventual smut, perilous situations, fluff and spice, along with other chapter-specific tags.

🎵 Listen While You Read: The Spirit Soundtrack

Chapters:

Part 1 - Pride & Prejudice

Part 2 - Death & Sacrifice

Part 3 - Worthy

Series Complete!

Sequel Stories:

Outlander - Series in progress!

Summary: Dean Winchester has been stripped of his military rank, but he’s living happier with his new wife, trying to adjust to a new life in her tribe. What will it take for her people to accept him, especially when the battle for her heart might not be completely won? 

🎙️ Podcast Fics:

A “podfic” is where you can listen to the story narrated - in this case by my amazing friend Sandra - @talltalesandbedtimestories.

Listen to Part 1 -

Listen to Part 2 -

Listen to Part 3 -

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@kmc1989 @ghostslillady @siampie @pieandmonsters @globetrotter28

@spnwoman @stoneyggirl2 @spnfamily-j2 @mostlymarvelgirl @artemys-ackles

@mrlonelycat @sanscas @spnexploration @tmb510 @fromcaintodean

[bloodcanbehot]

I wanted to write a one shot to introduce my supernatural fic to you guys but my laptop decided to STOP WORKING the little fucker

I'll see if I can write it on my phone and maybe I'll post it

I also wanna do like a post to introduce my main character (a female oc) but I think it can take me a while to do it, so watch out for both I guess

[supernatural-bias]

woe. self insert + co memes be upon yee (art credit & character names under the cut)

commissioned art in the second and last pictures is by @/noxious-fennec. everything else was made by @/miiilowo

descriptions—

first picture: conversation between crowley (above) and ezra (bottom)

second picture: conversation between dean (left) and ezra (right)

third picture: conversation between gabriel (left) and ezra (right)

fourth picture: gabriel talking

fifth picture: ezra talking

sixth picture: conversation between ezra (right) and crowley (left)

seventh picture: conversation between ezea (right) and castiel (left)

[randomperson99sworld]

Hope Masterlist:

Prologue: https://www.tumblr.com/randomperson99sworld/763735074150727680/hope-prologue-summary-dean-and-sam

Chapter 1: https://www.tumblr.com/randomperson99sworld/763736293395005440/hope-chapter-1-summary-dean-and-sam

Chapter 2: https://www.tumblr.com/randomperson99sworld/763744465993220096/hope-chapter-2-summary-dean-and-sam

Chapter 3: https://www.tumblr.com/randomperson99sworld/763746058717315072/hope-chapter-3-summary-dean-and-sam

Chapter 4: https://www.tumblr.com/randomperson99sworld/763746896157310976/hope-chapter-4-summary-dean-and-sam

Chapter 5: https://www.tumblr.com/randomperson99sworld/763748227864477696/hope-chapter-5-summary-dean-and-sam

Chapter 6: https://www.tumblr.com/randomperson99sworld/763771530276634624/hope-chapter-6-summary-dean-and-sam

Chapter 7: https://www.tumblr.com/randomperson99sworld/763772956510978048/hope-chapter-7-summary-dean-and-sam

Chapter 8: https://www.tumblr.com/randomperson99sworld/763774406717800448/hope-chapter-8-summary-dean-and-sam

Chapter 9: https://www.tumblr.com/randomperson99sworld/763795158619865088/hope-chapter-9-summary-dean-and-sam

Chapter 10: https://www.tumblr.com/randomperson99sworld/763796634203226112/hope-chapter-10-summary-dean-and-sam

Chapter 11: https://www.tumblr.com/randomperson99sworld/763798239994609664/hope-chapter-11-summary-dean-and-sam

Chapter 12: https://www.tumblr.com/randomperson99sworld/763798916039852032/hope-chapter-12-summary-dean-and-sam

Chapter 13: https://www.tumblr.com/randomperson99sworld/763834835953418241/hope-chapter-13-summary-dean-and-sam

Chapter 14: https://www.tumblr.com/randomperson99sworld/763835988477984768/hope-chapter-14-summary-dean-and-sam

Chapter 15: https://www.tumblr.com/randomperson99sworld/763884000870809600/hope-chapter-15-summary-dean-and-sam

Chapter 16: https://www.tumblr.com/randomperson99sworld/763887279961964544/hope-chapter-16-summary-dean-and-sam

Chapter 17: https://www.tumblr.com/randomperson99sworld/763889631318196224/hope-chapter-17-summary-dean-and-sam

Chapter 18: https://www.tumblr.com/randomperson99sworld/763891731862355968/hope-chapter-18-summary-dean-and-sam

Chapter 19: https://www.tumblr.com/randomperson99sworld/763902361728122880/hope-chapter-19-summary-dean-and-sam

Chapter 20: https://www.tumblr.com/randomperson99sworld/763922720759103489/hope-chapter-20-summary-dean-and-sam

Chapter 21: https://www.tumblr.com/randomperson99sworld/763924835097313280/hope-chapter-21-summary-dean-and-sam

Chapter 22: https://www.tumblr.com/randomperson99sworld/763925827339567104/hope-chapter-22-summary-dean-and-sam

Chapter 23: https://www.tumblr.com/randomperson99sworld/763984996430151680/hope-chapter-23-summary-dean-and-sam

Chapter 24: https://www.tumblr.com/randomperson99sworld/763986542620475392/hope-chapter-24-summary-dean-and-sam

Chapter 25: https://www.tumblr.com/randomperson99sworld/763987840333905920/hope-chapter-25-summary-dean-and-sam

Chapter 26: https://www.tumblr.com/randomperson99sworld/763999676891643904/hope-chapter-26-summary-dean-and-sam

Chapter 27: https://www.tumblr.com/randomperson99sworld/764012047130296321/hope-chapter-27-summary-dean-and-sam

Chapter 28: https://www.tumblr.com/randomperson99sworld/764014981552504832/hope-chapter-28-summary-dean-and-sam

Chapter 29: https://www.tumblr.com/randomperson99sworld/764020854887776256/hope-chapter-29-summary-dean-and-sam

Chapter 30: https://www.tumblr.com/randomperson99sworld/764022679115268096/hope-chapter-30-summary-dean-and-sam

Chapter 31: https://www.tumblr.com/randomperson99sworld/764271684324835328/hope-chapter-31-summary-dean-and-sam

Chapter 32: https://www.tumblr.com/randomperson99sworld/764278090999431168/hope-chapter-32-summary-dean-and-sam

Chapter 33: https://www.tumblr.com/randomperson99sworld/764411047679524864/hope-chapter-33-summary-dean-and-sam

Chapter 34: https://www.tumblr.com/randomperson99sworld/764713390052655104/hope-chapter-34-summary-dean-and-sam

Chapter 35: https://www.tumblr.com/randomperson99sworld/764976308699660288/hope-chapter-35-summary-dean-and-sam

Chapter 36: https://www.tumblr.com/randomperson99sworld/765513493831090176/hope-chapter-36-summary-dean-and-sam

Chapter 37: https://www.tumblr.com/randomperson99sworld/766387077962203136/hope-chapter-37-summary-dean-and-sam

[iamleesi]

THE HUNTERS & THE SOLDIER

Pairing: Avenger! Bucky Barnes x OC! Avenger Reader

Summary: Bucky’s being an idiot once again and you meet someone… quite interesting? Or creepy? You decide. Also a surprise in the end simply because I can.

Warnings: Alcohol, bit of angst (?), gun, annoying lady, allusion to s3x if you squint, mention of Hydra and being watched/ followed -> 18+!!

Other: Forgive me for eventual mistakes but I wrote this in 3 days and I changed my mind about 60 times

-> Masterlist

-> Part twelve ; part fourteen

-> Devil On Your Shoulder (13)

The ticking of the living room clock was the only sound filling the space around you, each second’s click made you lose your hope about Bucky’s return. Hours had passed since Cassandra had knocked at your door and Bucky had stormed out of the house. Sam and Dean had completely disappeared as well - not that you made any efforts in contacting those two, you anger towards them was still very much present - leaving you all alone with the girl.

You hadn’t spoken much to her due to the fear of stressing her out more than she already was; instead, you opted to let her rest in your bedroom for the night, saving the questions for tomorrow.

You had searched the whole neighborhood for Bucky, checking nearby parks or public places he could be at but there was no sign of him, not even his shadow. It was as if he had vanished. In moments like these, you hated to admit how worried sick you were for his safety, knowing Hydra had their eyes on him. If he were to fall into their hands once again because you couldn’t find him, you’d never forgive yourself.

Hours later, that fear consumed your thoughts. You hadn’t eaten anything all day - the scrambled eggs Bucky had made for breakfast were given to Cassandra since she needed it more than you. But you, honestly, weren’t hungry anyway, especially not when Bucky’s phone went straight to voicemail every time you called.

Your attention was caught by the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs, and you turned your head slightly around to see Cassandra coming your way. She was now dressed with some new, clean clothes you had given her, and she seemed to be feeling way better than before.

“Hey.” You tiredly said, as she sat beside you. “I thought you were sleeping.”

“Couldn’t find sleep.” She made a small smile your way, resting her feet on the couch to wrap her arms around her knees. “I’m sorry for earlier.” She mumbled. “I’m sure he’ll be back.”

You looked at her and shook your head at her apologetic tone of voice. “It’s okay, it’s a sensitive topic for him. It’s… I don’t know why he doesn’t pick up the phone.”

Your nervousness intensified once you spoke, voicing your thoughts was like confirming your worries. You began to play with the golden ring on your finger trying to get your mind off of it, but unlike other times it did nothing to ease the growing anxiety gnawing at you. He had specifically told you to call him once Cassie had calmed down, and you did, but he ignored you.

And, to be completely honest here, being ignored was the best case scenario your brain could think of.

Cassandra’s voice brought you back to the present. “Do you want me to help search for him? I’m sure he’s not far away, and I know the city.” She offered kindly, worry evident in her tone. Her guilt over what she said was as clear as a day.

“No, no.” You waved her off gently. “You need to rest, so feel free to go to bed. I think I’ll go for a walk to clear my head.” The last thing you wanted was to drag her into your tunnel of worries - not just for Bucky, but for the entire situation. She was still a missing girl and she needed to stay inside in order for no one to find her, so letting her out of the house was out of the equation.

Also, she was the goddamn key to solve the case and she was sitting right beside you while three out of four people working on the case were men (as if that was unfortunate enough) that couldn’t set their priorities straight. There were people that needed to be found, like Fury and Maria, others who needed to be captured - and yet, there you were, all alone.

“Are you sure?” She pressed, her brow furrowing with worry. “I don’t mind staying up with you if it’s going to help. I mean… you’re here because of me. It’s the least I can do.”

You managed to give her a small, grateful smile. “I appreciate it, Cassie, but none of this is your fault. There’s no need for you to worry or stress over it. Get some rest, I’ll see you in the morning.” You hoped the assurance in your voice was convincing.

Cassandra hesitated for a moment, clearly torn between wanting to help and follow your advice. Eventually, much to your relief, she nodded. “Alright, but if you need anything don’t hesitate to wake me up.”

“I won’t.” You promised, knowing you’d never wake her up in any case. “Also the house is secure. No one can get in without a key, so you’ll be fine.” You reassured her, watching as she stood up, nodded at you, and headed back back towards the stairs.

Once she was out of sight, you finally let out a deep sigh and looked around the dimly lit room. You forced yourself to get up, knowing that sitting around doing nothing only worsened your mood. Especially seeing your phone screen remain dark without a single message back from Bucky added fuel to the fire.

Grabbing your coat from the armchair, your slipped it on and headed towards the door, locking it securely behind you as you stepped onto the street.

It was probably all the emotions you were feeling at the moment, but for some reason you couldn’t quite understand why the atmosphere felt different that night. It was as if the air stood still, and you sensed presences that weren’t even there.

The streets were empty so you must have had imagined it, the only sound being your footsteps on the wet crosswalk. You double checked behind you to ensure your were alone and, in fact, there was absolutely no soul around. Even the neighbor’s dog was oddly quiet since the animal seemed to be possessed at each hour of the fucking night, but the owners left the poor creature outside alone the whole time so it wasn’t really the dog’s fault.

However, feeling watched or not, you needed to have a proper walk and get your mind off of those three stupid ass men for one night. You could almost excuse Bucky’s behavior initially; seeing the hurt on his face was enough to understand what had come over him. Even if you weren’t close to him, living in the same building for so long meant you knew that being seen as a murder was a trigger for him. You didn’t want to hold him accountable for how he reacted to those accusations, it was his own way to deal with it.

What you couldn’t tolerate was that, if he was still out there somewhere, he hadn’t bothered to let you know he was okay or to check how things ended with Sam and Dean. Especially after hearing how they had kept Cassie locked up for a whole day.

Lost in thought, you almost collided with a stranger who stood directly in your path, making no effort to move even as you took a few steps back.

Your already sour mood darkened further, aggravated by his presence and the small, annoying grin on his face. He appeared to be in his late forties, dressed entirely in black. The streetlight above his head flickered intermittently, unlike the others that worked perfectly.

“I need to go that way.” You said, pointing to the street behind him, as he blocked your path.

He stared into your eyes for what seemed like an eternity before finally stepping aside, extending a hand in the direction you were headed. “Forgive me, kid, didn’t mean to startle you.”

His voice was smooth, but carried an unsettling undertone that you couldn’t ignore. You shot him a glare as you reluctantly walked past him, your eyes not leaving his for the slightest second - you didn’t like this man. He gave off weird vibes, way too familiar vibes, and you didn’t like that.

“You didn’t startle me.” You mumbled. “Maybe just don’t stand in the middle of the crosswalk.”

“I’ll make sure to follow your advice from now on.” The man answered with a sarcastic tone, giving you one last glance before turning around to walk away. “Have the sweetest night, kid.”

You stood there for a moment, watching his short figure disappear around a corner. The nickname he used left a bittersweet taste in your mouth, but you didn’t think much of it as you turned back around to continue your night walk.

You didn’t have a place in mind, the cold air hitting your skin was just a way to cool you off - it was a nice, relaxing feeling for you. Even with that, your mind immediately drifted back to Bucky, Sam and Dean; if you survived this, you’d fight to be paired up with women in the future missions because you had had enough. And it had barely been a week.

You tried to focus on the rhythm of your steps and the crisp night air, which gradually started to finally calm you down. You didn’t know how long you had been walking when, at some point, you arrived near the center of the city, which was far more crowded than the area where you lived. Deciding it was about time to get back, you turned around - or almost.

“I don’t think that’s the right direction.”

A voice made you stop dead in your tacks, and you looked ahead only to see the same man from earlier, throwing something heavy into a nearby dumpster. He smacked his hands together to remove some dirt before slipping them into his pockets, walking towards you with that same small grin you had seen before.

He stopped right in front of you, and all your efforts to dissolve the anger you had built up during the day vanished in a mere instant. Great.

Why this mad had such an effect on you, you didn’t know.

“Excuse me?” You raised an eyebrow, which only made his grin wider.

“I said, you were going in the wrong direction.” He repeated, his voice tinged with mockery. He pointed behind his shoulders, as he spoke again. “You need to go that way, he’s having fun over there. You don’t want him to blew the mission, do you?”

“I have dealt with crazy fuckers like you before, alright? Leave me alone.” You shoved him off, turning your back to head back home. Or, at least, that was your intention.

“I see your attitude hasn’t changed in these last ten years. I thought you’d get nicer with age, but I’m glad to know I was wrong.” He called after you, making your freeze for a second. “Has no one ever taught you that it’s best to be nice to strangers?”

You turned back around, studying his expression because he sure as hell got your attention with that. He seemed to be lucid and collected, making you reconsider in an instant your initial thoughts of him as just another street creep. After all, you had encountered way too many in your life.

“What did you just say?” You said, your voice laced with suspicion.

He took a step closer, still grinning. “Ten whole years. I must admit, I never thought you’d get paired up with the Winchesters. But they go wherever trouble is, so I had to see it coming at some point; my bad.” He raised his hands in surrender before continuing. “But as I was saying, I’m happy to see you haven’t changed. Still so quick to judge, so quick to dismiss and so, so slow when it comes to understand who you can trust and who you can’t. You even got a name now, don’t you, my dear Emma?”

Your mind started to race the second you heard your name fall from his mouth with such normalcy. You were transported back to ten years ago, back to the time you were still with Hydra, to try and remember who he was. But everything was blank, you were sure you had never seen this man before; and there he was, talking to you as if you were his long-lost something.

“How do you know my name?” You demanded, keeping your voice steady. You were an Avenger, sure, but due to your request your face was not allowed to be published - therefore, nobody outside of your friends or some of the people you worked with knew who you were.

He tilted his head, his grin widening. “Oh, I know a lot more about you than just your name, dear. I’ve been watching you for a long time, not that you could have known. It’s fascinating how you’ve grown, how you’ve changed… yet some things remained the same.”

“What do you want?”

“Me? Oh, nothing.” He shrugged. “Believe it or not, I’m on your side. All this… trying to solve creepy mysteries with your gang like some sort of Scooby Doo in real life is quite exciting, but I need you to solve this case quickly because I’m getting tired of you all dancing around it.”

“Do I even know you?!” You asked, as this man was making less sense each passing second.

“No, silly.” His tone was condescending. “So don’t strain your little brain.” He waved a hand in front of your face. “I never bothered to meet you personally, I had more important things to do like…” He trailer off, trying to find the words. “Nothing really, but I’ve been watching you. And let me tell you, that little stunt you pulled when you let that friend of yours escape… what was her name? You used to call her something like Naomi or something?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You lied, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Nonie.” He smirked, knowing he had your full attention. “Yes, that’s right, because she was anonymous. Brave of you, really, but also quite foolish. She stayed for you, you know? Even after you freed her; she stayed around in the woods and brought John Winchester straight to you, so that he could save you. And what did she get in the end? She was burned alive.”

Your breath caught in your lungs at his words, confirming that the man in front of you wasn’t just some crazy idiot on the streets harassing women. He knew about Nonie, a secret you always kept for yourself (one of the many) and that meant he knew far more than what you were comfortable with. And you still had no idea of who he was or where he came from.

The pain of his revelation hit you like a punch to the gut. Not that you had ever held out much hope for Nonie, considering she had been turned into a Wendigo, but you had convinced yourself to believe that perhaps, somehow, she found some form of peace. Hearing that she was dead, though, was like a knife to the heart. She had been your first and only friend, or the closest thing you had to one, for most of your life.

“What do you want from me?“

“Your loyalty.” He answered, the serious you had seen him all night.

You let out an honest chuckled at that, which only made him roll his eyes. “You want me to be loyal to you? I only just met you and, frankly, you’re not exactly making a great first impression.”

He smirked, unfazed by your sarcasm. “I don’t need to make a good impression, my dear, I just need you to understand that we can help each other. We can make a deal, right here and right now, and I’ll explain everything to you. Starting with the truth about Ella White.”

You hated to admit that you took a moment to consider his offer, truly, the second he mentioned that woman. He did seem to know a lot of things, but you didn’t know him and you didn’t trust him. “Listen, not trying to sound rude here, but get lost.” You finally said him, even if a part of you was burning to know what he was talking about. “You’ve been creepy this whole time saying that you watched me when I was younger and now you want to be buddies?” You raised a brow at his nonsense.

“Not buddies, partners. You know, work together, be a team.” He clarified. “You don’t even know how many things we can accomplish together, we’d have everyone at our feet - do you not want that? Imagine, just imagine, how it could be like to rule the living and the dead.” His green eyes were locked into you as he talked, getting close to you.

“You sound like a dictator. I hate dictators.” You answered. “And if you don’t leave me alone I’ll put a bullet right between your eyebrows.”

He laughed at what you said, and your crossed your arms under your chest quite offended. “You’re funny, girl, I’ll give you that. But if you want to kill me, I think a simple gun won’t do it. It’s not your lucky day.” He said, faking an apologetic tone.

“You haven’t told me your name yet.”

“It’s not important.” He replied dismissively. “I’ll give you time to think about my offer, kid.” With a casual shrug, he began to walk past you.

Your eyes refused to leave his figure, and you were conflicted whether to follow him or not. Not because you wanted to accept his weird offer, but because he was clearly involved somehow and letting him go didn’t seem like the smartest choice. But you had a feeling that your paths would cross again.

“I already said no.” You called after him, raising your voice slightly.

He paused, turning his head slightly to glance back at you. “Go ask Dean Winchester why he agreed to work on this case.” He said cryptically. “And then you might change your mind, I’ll make sure to be there when you do.”

You furrowed your brows, puzzled by his words - but even what he said earlier didn’t make more sense than that. What did Dean have anything to do with this? And why was this stranger so confident that you would eventually change your mind? Sure, Dean hadn’t been exactly the most cooperative person in the last couple of days, but he was making it look as if you couldn’t trust him.

“And before I forget,” He added suddenly. “You might want to go take a look at the bar down the road, see if you can find something interesting, take it as a little help from me.” With that, he turned and walked away. You swore that he vanished as soon as you blinked, but that was impossible… wasn’t it?

Your feet moved before your brain could properly process his words, and you started to head towards the place he told you to go to. It’s true you didn’t have positive vibes regarding that man whose name you didn’t know, but so far he only said things you knew were real, more or less, so you thought it wasn’t a bad idea to go see for yourself what he was referring to.

You hurried down the streets, the sounds of laughter and clicking glasses growing louder as you approached. Hesitating at the entrance, you took a deep breath before pushing the wooden door open, the little bell above it chiming softly. The noise went unnoticed by most of the people in there, except two men who glanced your way and left the second you entered.

The smell of alcohol and smoke was thick, but you ignored it as you scanned the room. No familiar faces met your gaze, and some doubts began to creep in. Perhaps the most logical reason was that the stranger had been toying with you all along. You shook your head, feeling foolish for trusting him even for a moment. Turning to leave, you prepared to step back into the street hoping to not meet any other idiot that was going to mess with your ideas.

Except that then, out of the corner of your eye, you spotted a familiar face sitting alone in the farthest corner of the room.

Bucky Barnes. He was hunched over a drink, his eyes low as he watched the liquid twirl before taking a sip of it. Relief washed over you upon seeing that he was unharmed, but it was quickly replaced by that very same anger you had for the whole day. He had left you worried this whole time while he was there, drinking his problems away - and he didn’t have the excuse of being drunk because you knew it was physically impossible for him to be.

You weaved your way through the crowded bar, your eyes firm on him. With each step closer he seemed to feel your presence, as he looked up from his glass his eyes found yours in no time. His posture visibly stiffened and a flicker of surprise crossed his face as you dropped into the chair across from him, not so kindly.

“Nice to see you too.” He muttered, barely glancing up.

“You left me worried sick.” You snapped, your voice low but intense in order not to have people overhear the conversation. “I called and texted thinking the worst had happened and you were here drinking? What the fuck is your problem?”

“I needed some time alone, alright?” He said dismissively, taking another sip.

“Time alone?” You scoffed. “You could have at least let me know you were okay, for fuck’s sake. Cassandra said some hurtful things while, mind you, she was scared for her life and you disappeared for hours? We have a damn case to solve, Bucky, people are counting on us.”

He shrugged, still not meeting your eyes. “Believe it or not, I have been working. Didn’t think it mattered whether you knew or not.”

“Didn’t think it-” You cut yourself off, pinching the bridge of your nose. “We’re a team, Bucky. When one of us bails, if affects everyone. We lost a day because apparently I’m paired up with people that run away when things aren’t convenient anymore.”

“How did you even find me?” He tilted his head, ignoring your outburst. “You have the worst sense of orientation I’ve ever seen. Didn’t know you knew the city.”

“I don’t, a man told me where you were.”

“A man?” He raised a brow, his skepticism evident. “You made new friends already? That’s great, honey. Socializing is good for you.”

You blinked a few times, taken aback at his nonchalance. You had just told him that a stranger had essentially been following him, and that was his reaction? His dismissive attitude left your dumbfounded to say the least.

“You’re getting on my nerves.” You said, your patience wearing thin. Not that it was great before.

“Do you know how to get back home?” He asked, not even being fazed by what you said.

“Yes.” You responded, barely masking your irritation.

“Then go.” He said, waving you off. “I’ll get back later.”

He glanced to his left, and your eyes followed his gaze. You immediately understood the reason behind his attitude, and you were not happy in the slightest about it. Dalia emerged from the bathroom, heading straight to your table.

Now that you looked down, you noticed two glasses of whiskey instead of one, and one of them had lipstick mark on it. Of course, that made sense.

“Harry.” She said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Didn’t know your wife was going to join us tonight.” Her fake smile grated on your nerves.

“She was just about to leave, actually.” Bucky said, giving you a look that clearly said, ‘do as I say.’ “Isn’t that right, honey?”

You felt a surge of anger at his blatant disregard, clenching your jaw at the way he was acting and at the way she was smirking. “Sure.” You replied sarcastically, standing up. “After all, I wouldn’t want to ruin the night.”

Dalia’s smirk widened as she slid into your seat not even a second after you moved, not hiding the fact she was happy you would leave. “So nice of you, Jade. You know, me and your husband have a lot in common, I might steal him from you.” She chuckled at her own words.

You narrowed your eyes at Dalia’s taunting remark, her words grating on your last nerve. “Ah, good luck with that.” You retorted, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’m sure you’ll have a blast with his mood changes.”

Bucky shot you a glare, but you ignored it. “Sweetheart.” He said, the nickname anything but sweet. “Get home safe, I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah, I promise I’ll be nice to him.” Dalia chimed in, leaning back on the chair. “Or not.” She added, winking at him.

You gritted your teeth, struggling to maintain your composure at her clearly flirting with your fake husband. “Have fun.” You simply muttered out, noticing how Bucky stopped meeting your gaze a while ago - instead, he was looking at his empty glass of whiskey.

“We will.” She said, waving at you with that annoying smile on her face.

You turned on your heel and headed towards the door, ignoring the tension in the air behind you. As you stepped out, into the cool night air, a mixture of frustration and hurt made their way in your stomach. You didn’t know why you were feeling so pissed at her being there with him, but you imagined it was because he had been doing God knows what all day with the neighbor’s daughter when you had a fucking case to solve.

Pushing aside your emotions, you finally walked back home hoping to remember the way to go there, walking quickly to put as much distance as you could between yourself and the scene inside the bar.

To think you were actually starting to like the guy now that your issues were kind of solved, but maybe Bucky wasn’t really the right person you wanted as a friend if he was willing to jeopardize the mission for a woman he met a few days ago.

You finally arrived home, the exhaustion weighing heavy on your shoulder as you shut close the door behind you. Tossing your coat onto the couch still completely in the dark, since you were too drained to bother with the lights, all you craved was a shower and some sleep due to the late hour and the events of the day. However, it seemed that fate had other plans.

As you made your way towards the stairs, the doorbell pierced the silence. With a scoff, you retraced your steps and swung the the door open, only to be met with the sight of the infuriating man in black, his grin widening at the sight of your irritation.

“I told you he was having fun.” He remarked, relishing in your obvious displeasure. “Did I not?”

“More than me for sure.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, well… men are weak. Give them a beautiful woman and they’ll forget about their duties. If you need help, real help with this case, I’m offering it. You just need to say yes.”

“No.” You said again, firmly.

“You’re as stubborn as your mother.”

Your heart stopped at that. “My- my what?”

“Mother.” He repeated casually as if dropping that bombshell on you was just another walk in the park for him. “What? Did you think you popped out of nowhere?” He grinned, using the knowledge he had about your past - past you didn’t even know - to manipulate you into joining him.

You struggled to find the right words to respond, but your brain couldn’t process anything concrete.

“Oh, I’ve got your attention for real now, don’t I? Little Emma wants to know about her mother more than you want help for this case. Selfish, I love it.”

You met his gaze with steely silence, refusing to give him the satisfaction of acknowledging he was right. He had been right the whole time, if we want to be honest, and in the back of your mind you kept thinking about his words as if there was a little devil on your shoulder that was telling you to listen to him. It was clear now that he knew how to find you, who you were and what you wanted… which wasn’t really great news.

You simply shut the door on his face, and you hoped for a moment of peace - but even that was short lived. The doorbell chimed once more, prompting you to hurry back, only this time you had your gun in hand, ready to get rid of the stranger once and for all.

As you opened the door again with your finger firmly on the trigger, you quickly realized that there was no need to use violence that time. Instead, you lowered your hand with clear surprise and relief on your face, your expression softening as you took the unexpected sight before you.

“Woah, calm down.” A familiar voice remarked, her eyebrows raised at your defensive stance. “A bit on edge, are we? Let me in and explain everything, I’m here to help.”

“Natasha.” You greeted, moving aside to let her in.

Finally someone who didn’t get on your nerves.

[deanoheartspie]

SUN•SHINE COMING SOON!!

Pairing: Cowboy Sheriff Dean x City Gal Reader

Summary: After your family cut you off, your great-aunt Laura invited you over to her ranch you often visited when you were just a child... You drive through the beautiful town until you accidentally graze a horse that just so happens to be the sheriffs...

Warnings: smut, cussing, angst.

Taglist: (Open!!)

Chapters: Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

•°•°•°•°•SNEAK PEAK°•°•°•°•°•°

“You look beautiful in that dress darlin' Gimmie a little spin” Dean has a boyish grin, while he leans against the old bed frame.

Giving the cowboy a little spin, with a laugh escaping your lips as you tilt your fake imaginary cowgirl hat. “Y'know I could always give ya' a hat” He stands up, the floorboards creaking at every step he takes while he looks over at his hats deciding on a nice plain white one.

“Why the white one?” You ask, with a hint of a smile knowing he had to grow through his whole process of deciding which one to give you.

“Because after tonight darlin', your gonna be my bride”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

[retromotherfuckers]

If You Win Or Lose

Characters:

morgan winchester (OC), john winchester, sam and dean are only mentioned, will mciver (OC)

Summary:

after the death of the boy she loves, morgan runs away. but nothing lasts forever.

Warnings:

SPN typical alcohol abuse & violence, themes of mental illness, parental abuse, MAJOR gaslighting, character death. please let me know if i missed anything

Word Total:

2,425

A/N:

you don't need to read When The Sun Sets to understand this. this is a one shot within that universe, but it predates that series, and also the show itself

it is of my humble opinion that john was an abuser, even if the show refused to acknowledge that. this is essentially an insight into his and morgan's relationship

so yeah, this one ain't too happy. i don't think i'm capable of writing happy shit 💀

morgan may have fallen in love w a dude but our girl is not straight

italics are flashbacks or thoughts

dean: 19, morgan: 18, sam: 15

Four fingers of whiskey fill and drain over and over. In the shitty hotel bar, she sat up against the decaying oak wall in a flimsy chair. A hazy world surrounded her, everything moving in slow motion. The few other stragglers had no notion of what was brewing in her mind - the darkness that shrouded her eyes, making colors look muted in the small neighborhood. It seemed no one knew how much she depended on the amber liquid to keep things still.

Morgan had been around people all her life, but she'd never once felt a real kind of companionship with them. She knew her brothers cared because they had to; she knew they tried. She just wished that when they asked if life was okay, they'd somehow know her answer was bullshit. That they'd somehow cut off the lies spilling from her lips and just say that they know.

But Sammy was only fifteen. He wasn't old enough to really be able to tell, and if he could, she was the older sister. What she said was what he believed. And Dean was Dean. Not the best emotional support person.  

They never did catch it, and that was the point. As long as she said she was fine, they believe it because that's what they want to hear. They didn't want to know that she hadn't felt like her home was her home in years. Even if that home was the rumble of an engine and cassettes so loud, she couldn't hear herself think. 

They didn't know that she had done things only the lowest of the low would even think of just to keep moving. They don't want to know that the only reason she got out of bed was so she could ease the hangover from the night before. They didn't want to know how hard it was to ask when it was her turn for anything better than this and to keep getting ignored. They didn't want to know that her real reason for living was gone but that his dying wish was for her to keep going. 

"Just promise me you'll try."

They didn't want to know that sometimes she could hurt so bad that she stopped feeling anything at all. That she knew her heart was still beating, but her lungs had stopped pumping oxygen. That waiting for her eyes to stop feeling so heavy while she watched the world spin was worse than actually being a part of it. And even with all that frigid emptiness, there was a widening hole in her chest where a person used to be. And now that he was gone, the ceiling was about to cave in, and all she had left to hold it up was a little white bag and a bottle.

"Where the hell have you been?" The familiar voice broke her from her thoughts, the same that had been repeating for months, on and off, like a scratched record. She didn't have to look up to see who it was. She knew that voice. It's half of the voices that raised her, but not the one who deserved the credit.

She didn't acknowledge him, stuck staring at her drink. His voice made her shiver, and she was too much of a damn coward to face him. "Around."

"Really?" John said, his tone hardening with her one-word response. "'Cause to me, it looks like you ran away and went missing like a child. For. Two. Months."

She took a large gulp of her drink, almost downing the whole thing in one go. She had rehearsed this conversation countless times, waiting for the flash of civilian life to end and for him to find her. But now that it was happening, she felt like a fishing boat in a storm, tossed around by waves of fear and wrath.

Her father's gaze was oppressive, cold, and unyielding. Green eyes cut into her, making her feel like he was staring right through her. She always felt small around him. He had always known the right words to use to humiliate her.

"Let's go," He ordered, not even sitting down. It was like he knew this wasn't even a discussion to be had. She would obey, and that was the end of it. "The boys are waiting."

"Dad," Morgan began, her voice shaky and horse. "I'm not going back."

She could imagine John's lips curled into a sneer as his eyes bore into her. Daring her to defy him more. "You don't get a choice. You're coming. That's final."

Morgan felt a surge of anger. "Why can't you just let me be? I know what's good for me more than you do."

John stepped closer, his face inches from hers. "You belong with your family, not out here alone when we're not there to protect you. I taught you better than that."

It wasn’t praise. John Winchester wouldn’t know praise if it bit him in the ass. He did teach her better than that, and since she’s deliberately not following orders, she’s less than worthless.

She recoiled slightly, the familiar pang of anxiety twisting in her gut. "This isn't about family, dad, it's about-" She fumbled over her words, unsure if she could say it, but hoping for some surge of courage she hadn't had her whole life. "It's about how you can't stand that I'm walking around without you making my own decisions. You just wanna control me-"

John's hand lashed out, slapping the counter beside her, making her visibly flinch and effectively cutting her off. "After everything I've done for you, this is how you repay me? I don't need to control you; you need me to do it. To keep you alive," he sneered. "And the running away from your shit and pretending we don't exist just proves it."

Morgan's eyes welled with tears, but she refused to let them fall. "Everything you've done," Her voice shook as she spoke. "You've done for yourself and your twisted little fantasy of finding the thing that killed Mom."

He grabbed her wrist, his grip like a vise. "Oh, yeah? And what do you think you can do to stop me?" She yanked her arm free, the skin already bruising. His eyes narrowed, and for a moment, she thought she saw a flicker of doubt. But then his expression hardened, and he took a step closer, his shadow enveloping her. "You're making a big mistake, Morgan. You'll regret this."

She took a deep breath, her resolve wavering. The sooner she got away, the better. "The only mistake I made was not getting out earlier."

As she turned to leave, John's hand shot out, grabbing her shoulder and keeping her still. His voice was low and twisted with fury. The deep growl and the warmth of his breath in her ear made chills run up her spine.

"You think you can just walk away from me?"

Morgan's heart sank into her stomach. It wasn't a threat, but she could feel one coming. Her strength was slipping away, the familiar terror clawing at her mind. She'd never be able to hide from him for too long. Just look at her now, it had only been two months.

She was smart. But John was smarter.

"You're coming home, whether you like it or not." He took her stunned stillness as his queue to spin her around, forcing her chin up to look at him. She'd probably have marks on her jaw from how tight he was holding her. "You're really gonna leave us to fend for ourselves? You're so damn selfish-"

"I haven't been selfish a day in my fucking life-"

Her father scoffed as if that was the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard. "Well, by your logic, you're picking the wrong time to start." He got closer if it was even possible, and he looked at her like she was the dirt he loved to walk over. "Will's dead, Mo, and it's your fault. I told you not to go on that hunt alone, but what did you fucking do? You ignored me, like always. When are you gonna learn that you need me? Boy-Toy's not coming back, you saw to that. Stop wasting everyone's time and get over it."

Boy-Toy. That's all John saw him as now. Even though he liked to call Will's parents the closest people he had to friends besides Uncle Bobby. 

Will had been with them for a year and a half when his parents died. They were helping him look for his aunt, the only family he had left. Only problem was they only knew her first name and that she was his mother's sister. So Will, Morgan and Sam searched for his aunt, while John and Dean searched for the demon.

For a while, things were okay. John was slightly more neutral when Will was around, starting fewer arguments and hitting them less. But when he walked in on them hooking up, Dean had to haul her father off of the boy. And then off of Morgan, too.

Two months ago, Morgan was desperate to prove herself to her father. Dean had already completed three solo hunts as a trial run. John wanted to see what he was capable of. Dean surpassed his expectations, as he always did. A rougarou, two vengeful spirits and a vampire taken care of in three weeks.

Will hadn't wanted to go on that hunt without help, but Morgan was frantic. She had to show her father what she was made of, but when Will discovered her plans, he was not going to let her do it alone. 

The air is thick with tension, each step bringing them closer to the lair of the wendigo they've been tracking for days. The forest is dense, moonlight barely piercing the thick canopy above. The silence of the night is broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves and the distant hoot of an owl.

"Are you sure about this?" Will whispers, his voice barely audible.

Morgan turns to him, her blue eyes fierce and determined. "Yeah! We can do this, I swear."

They press on, the beam of their flashlights cutting through the darkness. Suddenly, a chilling growl echoes through the trees. Their hearts start racing as they tighten their grip on their chosen weapons. They're close.

The wendigo lunges out of the shadows, its eyes glowing with a malevolent type of starvation. Will fires his shotgun, but the creature is too fast. It knocks him to the ground, claws slashing through his shirt.

"Will!" Morgan screams, rushing to him. He struggles beneath the wendigo's weight, blood pooling from his wounds.

"Go!" He shouts, but his words are so garbled she hears her name, like a plea. "It's too strong!"

And Morgan can't leave him; he knows she would never. She swings her machete with all her strength, striking the creature's back. It howls in pain, momentarily distracted. Will uses the opportunity to push it off him, but the wendigo retaliates with a vicious swipe, its claws sinking deep into his chest.

"No!" Morgan drops to her knees beside Will as the wendigo retreats into the shadows. "No, no-"

Will's breathing is ragged, and he squeezes his eyes shut in distress. "Mo... I'm sorry..."

"Don't talk like that," she says, tears already streaming down her face. "You're gonna be okay, you'll be fine. We'll get you back to Dean. He'll know what to do."

Will reaches up, his hand trembling as he gently touches her cheek. His eyes are wet, too, but he quickly tries to hide the pain he's in. He graces her with a smile, but it's gone as fast as it appears. 

"Remember when Dean was giving me shit for how long my hair is?" He waits for her to nod. It doesn't take her so long to react because she doesn't remember. She takes a few extra seconds because she can't figure out why he's bringing that up right now. "You shut him up so fast," he says with a strained laugh. "You definitely liked me first."

Morgan chuckles through her tears, but the light memory doesn't last too long in her mind.

He's dying he's dying he's dying

"But I love you, Mo...please...remember that."

"Stop it. You don't get to say that as a goodbye," she demanded, but her voice didn't have the force to make it believable. "You're not allowed to tell me you love me and then die. It's not fair."

"I'll be okay," he rasps. "Just promise me you'll try. Promise me…" His voice fades from there. He has more he wants to say, Morgan can tell, but he used up all his strength.

"Will, please," She begs, her words cracking. "Don't-"

But Will's eyes flutter closed, his hand falls lifelessly to the ground, and Morgan screams.

She doesn't have it in her to set up a pyre. Will doesn't want that. He says it feels barbaric to him. He came from a hunting family and knew it was to prevent the possibility of becoming was a vengeful spirit, but he’s never wavered. He wants a real burial, like normal people have. He wants his family and friends there; they don't have to say anything, just be there.

"It just doesn't feel right, you know? We should be returned to the earth and all that crap. It's more…I don't know, peaceful."

Hours later, as dawn breaks, she buries him under an oak tree. She stands alone - yet another way she's letting him down. Her heart and mind are in tatters, her tears mingle with the soot. She can't face her family, not after what just happened. She can't bear her father’s inevitable punishment. Or her brothers’ pity. Or the possibility that they hate her for letting their friend die.

With one last look at the makeshift grave, Morgan turns and walks away, the shadows of the forest swallowing her whole. She doesn't know where she's going, only that she has to keep moving.

She looked into her father's eyes and saw the unyielding force of his will. In that moment, she knew she had lost.

Defeated, she lowered her gaze, closed her eyes and barely whispered, "Okay."

John's grip loosened slightly, a triumphant smile creeping across his face. Harder than necessary, he slapped her shoulder in appreciation. "Good girl. Now pack your shit. We're leaving in a half hour."

As Morgan turned towards the exit, she felt the weight of his victory settle over her like a cloak. The life she thought she might have wanted crumbled away, leaving only the cold, harsh reality of her father's world. She walked slowly, each step feeling like a surrender, her heart heavy with the knowledge that, for now, he had won.