#SPN Reader Insert

[jollyhunter]

24 Kinky Days with Dean x reader - Day 16.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW - MDNI! - includes explicit sexual content (somno, intense fingering, edging, overstimulation), soft!dom Dean, also some fluff sprinkled on top of it ♡ (Also! English is not my native language)

Summary: Dean loves to pleasure you when you’re still in your half-sleep, still dozy and all his to play with and to take care of… and this time he coaxes you into taking a little more than usual.

Words: 2,520

Feedback and reblogs are highly appreciated! And let me know whether you enjoy it so far! <3 A/N: I skipped the 15th Dec. prompt, since I felt like writing this one first. I'll post the 15th later some time! On another note; I've got a new theme! Made my own lil' banner and such. Hope you like it 😳 ANYWAY

♡ ENJOY THE torturous EDGING MY LITTLE VIXENS ♡

16th Dec. - Roll Over Rule

The sound of Dean’s serene breaths make you tiptoe your way around the bed, careful not to wake him from his deep sleep. It was late, 3AM by now. You’d done some late night research in the War room with Sam, losing track of time as you often did. And you’d basically forced Dean to go to bed a few hours ago since he had stayed up the past nights.

You slowly slip under the covers and still in your movement for a moment – listening for the slow rhythm of his breath. Good, he is still asleep. And he has occupied 3/4rd of the bed as always. Your face softens as your eyes take in his peaceful state; his face pressed into the pillow, his ruffled dark blond hair still a bit damp from the midnight shower. He’s on his stomach, his body twisted in a way that almost makes you wince inwardly. And his left arm stretched out to your bedside. Waiting for you to latch onto it, as it had become a silent habit of yours.

You gently grab his arm and snuggle up to him. Your arms wrap tightly around his muscled upper arm and his forearm gets tucked nicely between your thighs. Dean stirs briefly, mumbling something before he angles his head to rest it against the top of yours. You let out a soft, content sigh, relieved that you didn’t wake him from his dreamless sleep. Soon enough you fall asleep with your limbs entangled with his arm, feeling his comforting warmth and listening to his calming breaths of a slow steady rhythm.

You don’t know how much time has passed, maybe an hour or so, when you feel Dean’s arm slightly twist in your grip. Suddenly his hand slips between your legs to cradle you there with palms up. Your mind’s still too sleepy to fully register what’s going on when a little shiver goes straight to your core. A small, almost imperceptible one. But your body acts on instinct and doesn’t need your mind for what it subconsciously craves. You suddenly let go of his arm and roll over onto your stomach – a sleeping position you usually never take. Unless, it’s meant as a green light for Dean to go on.

Yeah, you had been pretty needy lately. ‘Damn, you’re like a bitch in heat, babe.’ As Dean had commented on it shamelessly. Which not only made you sputter, but had Sam choke on his beer and Cas raise his eyebrows in confusion, secretly wondering why Dean would compare you with a female dog.

Your mind quickly slips back into that cozy sleep – whereas Dean seems to have woken up beside you. He places soft kisses along your neck, his hand gently running up and down your body, occasionally slipping beneath your pyjamas.

Next moment you remember, you feel hot and aroused. Your inner thighs are wet, your clit swollen and you’re panting slightly. And then you feel his two fingers slip inside you, effortlessly parting your slick folds. A meek moan escapes your lips, your mind still somewhere caught between sleep and excited arousal.

“You good, sweetheart..?” you hear his gravel voice next to your ear. You nod, not wanting the pleasure to stop but too sleepy to form any words.

He picks up a tantalizing pace. His small and middle finger pumping inside your dripping wet cunt while his index and middle finger slide along your folds, pinching your clit between them with every thrust. Your moans grow louder and soon turn into needy whimpers, begging him for release.

“Mh? Tell me baby…” your answer once again is a weak, short whimper. A thick haze clouding your sleep-addled mind and ridding you of any capability to form a thought, let alone words. It’s like you’ve been turned into a whimpering, mewling mess – powerless in every form. At this moment you were his entirely. Completely at his mercy. And knowing Dean, you are left with no other option but to take the overwhelming pleasure and to teeter on that torturous edge. Over. And over. And over.

Dean is truly a master in the art of edging. His calloused fingers playing you like it’s child’s play, hitting every spot at the right moment and – to your frustration – changing rhythm and withdrawing them every single time right before you get to fall over the edge. Leaving you mewling desperately, close to tears from the overwhelming built up tension in your core. You cry and pant into the pillow breathless while he starts over with the procedure, denying you the final relief with a cheeky grin of his.

Soon a third finger is jammed into your throbbing cunt. Dean and you groan in harmony when your walls clamp his fingers, pulling them in like they were made for you. He bites back another deep moan before grazing his bottom lip with his teeth. "Damn... sweetheart, you're killin' me here..."

Once he rode you through another round of edging by switching between the numbers of fingers every now and then, you quickly adjust to the new size.

When Dean notices how his fingers slide in and out so effortlessly, an idea forms in his head. He suddenly presses his lips against the shell of your ear. His voice a husky whisper, gentle and yet demanding, “Show me how deep you want it.”

You don’t even think, your body acting on its own. It’s like he’s got you under some magic spell, the relentless working of his fingers keeping you spellbound. His hand stills while you buck your hips against his hand. Further and further up, angling it while you press your chest into the mattress – the increasing tightness making you whimper and bite down on the pillow.

But to Dean’s amazement, you keep pushing against him, taking it all the way. Even when he slowly slips a fourth finger inside. He bites back another guttural groan. The feeling of you clamping his fingers and now even slowly, tentatively rocking your hips against him is almost too much for him.

“That’s it…” he murmurs, a hint of pride in his voice which doesn’t go unnoticed by you, despite your mindless state. You roll your hips up against him and a loud groan erupts from your throat at the intense sensation of him splitting you apart.

Dean leans a bit back to relish the view with parted lips: He’s knuckles-deep inside you. His four thick fingers stretching you to the point you feel like you might explode. He’s completely filling you, his fingertips hitting your most sensitive spot at the very end.

He lets you set the pace, only occasionally curling his fingers as he draws sounds from you which can only be describe as borderline pornographic. Every whine and mewl are rewarded with a stronger flick of his thumb over your swollen clit. Your legs are shaking and you buckle from the increased friction, the pleasure doubled with a simple continues rub against your bud.

It doesn’t take long until your legs not only tremble but start to give in and fight the mattress for some form of control. Short erratic puffs of breath burst out of your mouth and a little dribble of saliva escapes the corner of your lips. The sight alone would’ve almost sent Dean, but the sounds you made – my God your sounds of pleasure where like heaven to him.

Desperate and overwhelmed, your body starts to act on its own again; your legs kick and squirm and writhe. Your hips suddenly jerk away and your fingers dig into the sheets enough to strangle a grown man.

Dean’s eyes widen briefly, leaning down with his weight to keep you still. “Shhh-Shhh,” he coos reassuringly, but with an almost mock-innocent undertone. As if that sly bastard didn’t know that you are on the brink of breaking.

He slings his leg around one of your kicking legs, effectively holding it in a deadlock as he presses it back into the mattress. “Ah-ah-ah,” he playfully warns you with a cocky smirk, “Stay here, sweetheart… ain’t done with ya yet…” He moves his free hand up to the back of your head where he carefully threads his fingers through your hair, taking a fist full to gently tug your head back and hold you in place.

A pleading whimper leaves your lips. Begging for relief, for him to finally allow you to fall over that damn edge. You try to voice your plea for mercy but any word that’s meant to leave your lips is smushed into another pathetic, strangled noise on its way out.

“Damn… can’t even talk any more can ya, gorgeous…” Dean chuckles deeply, his rumbling chest vibrating against your back as he keeps you pinned down under his weight. You can feel the muscles of his hard calf, tense and unyielding against your trapped leg. Your thigh straining against him in vain, twitching and trembling. Your toes claw at the sheets in a desperate attempt to break free from his grip, whimpering something which he recognises as a scrambled, frustrated “please”. But he doesn’t budge, his strength effortlessly keeping you at his mercy and leaving you no chance of escaping his onslaught.

He leans down to your ear, his voice dropping an octave when he asks teasingly, “You wanna come? That it, baby? You want me to make ya come?”

Yes, yes, yes yes yes – you keep repeating the word in your head until you realize that you’re only whining more. Dean chuckles, “That a yes? Hm? What was that?”

Oh Jesus Christ he’s enjoying this way too much. This time you nod – frantically. Not taking the risk of your answer getting lost again. Your sounds are hoarse by now, your body contorting from his four fingers slowly moving inside your cunt and his thumb working your clit every now and then – not enough to let the knot in your stomach burst, but enough to keep you on the brink of it. He falls into a tantalizing pace, sometimes shallow, sometimes so deep that it makes your half-lidded eyes roll back with a pained groan.

Dean meanwhile drinks in the sight of you squirming from the pleasure he can give you, all at his mercy, making sure to not give you a single moment of catching your breath.

“Oh yeah..?” Dean lets out a low hum. He pulls your ear lobe between his teeth and gives you a little tug at your hair. You’re shaking, even your whimpering sounds are clipped, breathless and trembling, your mind numb by now. Your body overstimulated and exhausted from chasing that sweet relief for what feels like hours.

“Jesus, you’re so vocal babe… you know how hard this gets me?” He groans against the side of your face and he grinds his rock hard erection against your hip to prove his statement. After a moment, he releases the grip on your hair and moves his hand down your neck, angling his shoulders to push his arm down between your shoulder blades to keep you from wiggling away. “You’re such a good girl for me…” he says while shifting his position on top of you, “And good girls get a reward…”

Fucking finally. A long shaky exhale escapes you when his weight presses down on you, his body covering you like a heavy blanket. He supports himself by leaning up on his right elbow, always making sure not to put too much pressure on you, but enough to let you feel his strength and the power over you.

His hot, ragged breath hits your ear once more. Whispering in that gravelly and authoritative tone of his, every word punctured by a deep thrust of his fingers, “’M gonna count down from ten… and when I hit zero... I want you to come for me baby, understand?”

Lord have mercy. You nod again, although most of his words went past you and at this point you would have probably agreed to anything for that relief. With your brain melted into a useless puddle, you feel like your only driven by need and primal instincts by now.

And then, the next ten seconds feel like the most intense you have ever experienced. With every number you feel your knot tighten more, your core burning up as if it was to explode any second – but not yet, not yet —

“…seven…”

He moves his arm along your back to grab your left hand, holding it down. “…six...” His fingers intertwine with yours, while his other hand picks up its pace. “…five…” You’re suddenly arching your back, involuntarily trying to squirm away from him. But his firm chest keeps you safe beneath him, while his lips form the next number against your ear, “…four…”

Almost there. Your free knee slides along the mattress aimlessly and your other hand rips at the pillow, feeling like your body is about to snap into two. “…three…”

Determined to get you there, his calloused thumb flicks your overstimulated bud without mercy, earning himself another guttural whimper of yours, “-that’s it, let me hear ya …two…”

The sound of his low rumbling voice cuts right through your haze and a shudder shoots through your body. The anticipation’s almost killing you at this point, feeling coiled up like a spring.

“…one…” You can feel it, the wave building up and ready to crash down on you. Dean can sense you’re on the very edge too and he intends to send you over it this time. He gently bites down on your neck, muttering his final order against your skin, “…zero… come for me, sunshine.” You go tense like a bowstring and your head snaps forward to bury your face in his elbow. When, at last, the wave hits your body and the knot in your stomach finally explodes with a strangled scream of relief. Several shudders of pleasure ripple through you, leaving you twist and turn, sandwiched between the mattress and Dean’s heavy body. He lets you ride out your high, his strong muscles working to hold you close to his chest.

You pant heavily, shakily. Your mind finally clearing. Your bleary eyes fully opening for the first time, like this was all just a dream too good to be true. His voice draws your attention to his face, when he gasps. “Jesus sweetheart… it’s like a swimmin’ pool down here.”

That comment takes you so much off guard, that you break out into a surprised laughter. He grins at you before he joins with his own hearty bark of amusement, a cocky grin on his face. “I ain’t kiddin’ – I’m growin’ fins!” He holds up his drenched hand, wrinkled skin, wiggling his cum-covered fingers in front of your eyes, “Look!”

He chuckles and his widened eyes take in the mess with something like fascination and an eager lick of his lips. The corners of his smile pull up into a lazy grin when his emerald eyes meet your satisfied and dozy, half-lidded ones again. “Y’know… I think ’m gonna need to clean up that mess down there.”

Masterlist of opened windows:

1st Dec. - Sunshine 2nd Dec. - Spell Book 3rd Dec. - Lights Out 4th Dec. - Tickle 5th Dec. - Dirty UNO 6th Dec. - (TBA) 7th Dec. - Candlelight 8th Dec. - Hex Play 9th Dec. - Whip Stroke 10th Dec. - Barbie World 11th Dec. - Temptation ... (check the masterlist for more!)

Tags:

@ariasong11 @deansjacket @literallylexa @lmpala1967 @foxyjwls007 @impala67rollingthroughtown

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Oh, Baby

Summary: When Dean is cursed on a hunt and turned into a baby, the reader has to take care of him along with Sam. Dean however, is a bit more adult than they might realize...

Pairing: Baby!Dean x reader

Word Count: 4,500ish

Warnings: language

“Nice job, Sam,” you said, Sam sighing in relief.

“I think she was trying to hex me before I put her down,” said Sam, shaking his head. You hummed, glancing around and pursing your lips. “Where’s Dean?”

“We split up. I thought he came back to you,” you said.

“I thought he was with you,” said Sam. You both took off in opposite directions, combing through different rooms of the house. You were in the kitchen when you heard a baby start to cry somewhere. You opened a door and saw it go down to a basement. You had your gun out, following the sound as it got louder, finding an infant shouting it’s head off in the middle of the room.

“S’okay, baby,” you said, shoving your gun away and picking him up off the cold floor. “You’re alright. The witch is gone and...”

You noticed a lump of clothes nearby, Dean’s navy jacket and his gun in the pile. You stared at the six month old in front of you, wet green eyes staring at you.

“No, baby. No, you aren’t...” you said, the baby scrunching up his face before he was crying again. “Dean?”

He stilled for a moment, recognizing his name but he started crying again and burrowed himself into your jacket collar.

“Okay. It’s okay. We’ll fix it Dean. Stop crying baby. We’ll fix it.”

“Sam,” you said, sitting in the backseat of Baby with Dean an hour later, Sam trying to install a baby seat in the back. “Sam! Hurry up!”

“What?” said Sam, glaring at you, Dean shouting even louder. “Dean! Stop crying!”

“Don’t shout at him, he’s a baby,” you said. “Get that damn seat together so he can get some sleep.”

“He’s shouting his head off and it’s not exactly helping,” said Sam, fiddling with a strap. You managed to get Dean in a diaper, any attempts at finding an adult stuck in that tiny body not resulting in anything beside Dean recognizing his name. “Put him in some clothes. He’s probably cold.”

“Well hand me the bag with the onesie’s in it then,” you said, Dean yelling some more. “Dean, baby. Please calm down.”

“I got it,” said Sam, clipping something in place. He took Dean from you and got an earful, Sam strapping Dean in as he kicked his legs. “Dude. Relax. Here.”

Sam leaned into the front seat and grabbed a bag, shoving a little blanket over Dean and tucking it in, Dean calming right down and conking out like a light.

“Finally,” said Sam, grabbing the bag and shoving it in the back. “Let’s get home so we can get this figured out.”

“Hi Dean,” you said softly the next morning, Dean grabbing his toes in the makeshift crib you’d made out of a laundry basket. “Good morning.”

He scrunched up his face as you caught the smell, wiping at your nose.

“Okay so you’re really like a baby,” you said, picking him up and setting him on your bed. You got a towel under him and some wipes, gagging when you plucked off the diaper. Dean wasn’t crying so far which was an improvement but he got red in the face when you tried to put a fresh one on. “Dean, you have to wear it.”

He tried to pout and you sat next to him, running a hand over his head.

“Agg!” he said, kicking his feet.

“Are you an adult in there?” you asked. Dean seemed to ignore you, staring up at the ceiling. “Or do you really think you’re a baby?”

“Neither,” said Sam, knocking on the door frame as he came in. “I figured out the spell. He’s a baby in most senses of the word. He likely only remembers us as family and that we’ll take care of him. But he’s not arguing that he doesn’t want to wear a diaper because he’s adult Dean. He just doesn’t want to wear one right now...I think.”

“How long is he going to be like this?” you said, Dean grabbing hold of your finger and sucking on it. Sam swallowed and stared at his feet. “Sam.”

“...Six months,” said Sam.

“Six fucking months!” you said, Dean dropping your hand and starting to cry. “Sam we can’t take care of a baby for six months. We’re damn hunters.”

“We’ll have to figure something out,” said Sam.

“I don’t know how to take care of him though,” you said. “I can change a diaper but I don’t know how to feed him or-”

“We’ll buy some parenting books I guess,” said Sam, staring at Dean. “I have some other news you won’t be happy about.”

“What?” you said.

“Jody called. She needs backup on a hunt,” said Sam.

“One of us has to stay here with him,” you said.

“Can you stay?” said Sam. “I ran out this morning and got more stuff for Dean but...he doesn’t cry as much around you.”

“Fine but if I call you better answer your phone. Better yet, give it to Jody, she was a mom,” you said.

“I know,” said Sam, walking inside, putting a hand on Dean’s head. “Be good for Y/N. We’ll try to figure out how to make this as painless as possible.”

By the time you got Dean in a diaper and a onesie, Sam had already headed out. You carried Dean on your hip to the kitchen, finding the jars of baby food and instant formula Sam had bought, Dean giggling as you sat him in a high chair at the counter.

“Well you sound like you’re in a better mood,” you said with a smile, picking up the different jars, finding some sweet potatoes and swirling it up before you set it in front of Dean. You turned around and grabbed a frozen breakfast sandwich from the freezer, tossing it in the microwave.

“Afba agah uf,” said Dean. You turned around, Dean staring at the jar and then you.

“I’m so sorry, you can’t feed yourself,” you said, shaking your head as your grabbed the little spoon and held it to his mouth. “Go ahead, Dean.”

Dean shook his head, pointing at the sandwich you were making.

“No, that’s adult food Dean. You can’t have that,” you said. Dean blinked at you slowly and you swore you saw an eye roll in there. “Dean...are you really a baby?”

He shook his head again, your eyes wide.

“Okay. After breakfast, I’m going to look into that spell Sam found some more. Maybe he missed something,” you said. Dean stared at you, blinking a few times.

Then he spit up all over himself.

“Did you just throw up?” you said, Dean shaking his head again. “Do you have any idea what I’m saying?”

Dean shook his head, patting his hand on his tray.

“Oh course not. Well...might as well feed you like this in case you make another mess.”

“Dude,” you said, Dean giggling on the floor of the bathroom. “You got potato in my hair. I don’t even…”

Dean laughed as he looked up at you, shirt covered in baby food.

“I’m glad you find this hilarious,” you said, peeling off your shirt. You grabbed the little tub meant for washing babies one and under and filled it with warm water. Dean wasn’t sure what to make of it when you sat him in it but he started splashing and he had a big smile on his face.

You used way too much soap, accidentally squirting an adult size amount in your hand but Dean didn’t mind that you had to dump out his soapy water for fresh. When you finished with him, you wrapped him up in a big towel, Dean leaning back in the thing and practically falling asleep on the bathroom floor. You kept an eye on him as you took a quick shower, Dean still passed out once you took care of yourself.

“I really hope this doesn’t take six months.”

Dean’s POV

Pretty much the only reason I wasn’t shouting was because it freaked Y/N out. I’d tried earlier in the day to make her understand that I was a full fledged adult trapped in an infants body and she’d almost caught on but she misunderstood. Throwing up was inevitable with how awful that baby food crap tasted and now we were back to square one.

I didn’t want to act like a baby. I didn’t feel like a baby. But stuff just happened on its own. One minute I’m sitting there, the next I’m wrapped up in a towel in the bathroom with no idea what happened in between.

Y/N was drying herself off after her shower, giving me cautious glances every few seconds while I sat there. Fuck, this was awful.

“What’s with the grumpy face?” she asked, kneeling down next to me. “Do you have to go potty? Do you want your diaper on again?”

Diaper? I’d worn a diaper already? Oh hell no. I was not dealing with that for a day let alone six months.

“Okay, okay,” she said, shushing me and picking me up. I tried to squirm but she sighed and started to walk out of the bathroom and to our room. She threw her towel down on the bed and put me on top, moving around the room before she pulled out a baby shirt. It wasn’t a onesie at least but I would have preferred something with less fire trucks.

She set it it down next to me, cocking her head before she ripped off the tag and undid the bottom clasps, a sigh out of me making her smile.

“Well they didn’t have any black or flannel so we had to settle for the trucks. Unless you wanted kittens and puppies,” she said with a smile. I shook my head, Y/N, laughing. “I know, you want some clothes on. One second little dude.”

She turned around again, dropping something on the other side of the bed I couldn’t see.

Next thing I knew I was being picked up by the legs and when I sat back down, there was something soft there.

“I am not wearing one of those!” I shouted, the words translating to some sort of very loud and high pitched shriek. Y/N blinked a few times and rubbed her ears. I yelled at her again that at least I had control over that function thank God. At least I was pretty sure I did.

“Do you think this is fun for me?” she said, hands on her hips. “Please stop screaming at me. I have to do this.”

She sounded so...off. So already beaten down. I closed my eyes and relented. Maybe after a little while she’d figure out I didn’t need it and we’d figure out some kind of bathroom signal.

God this was going to suck.

Eight Hours Later

“Dean, you haven’t gone to the bathroom all day,” she said, cocking her head at me after dinner, kneeling next to the crib she was forcing me to sleep in. “Are you sick?”

I grumbled at her, trying to say I really had to take a leak and she hadn’t gotten a single message that I was this close to losing it.

“Do you have a fever?” she asked, putting her hand on my forehead. “Sam bought one of those baby thermometers I think.”

“I need to take a piss! That’s what’s wrong!” I said, glaring at her as she stood up.

“Again, screaming does not help,” she said, looking around the room. “Just...stay right there. I’m gonna go see if it was the food I gave you.”

She walked out of the room and I about lost it. I couldn’t get out of this damn thing without help and I was not going to…

“You’re fucking kidding me,” I said, glaring at my lap. “Stupid infant body and I only went because my body forced it and Y/N! Get me out of this thing!”

Y/N came rushing back in at my screams, frowning when she saw how mad I was.

“Oh, you went!” she said. “Maybe you were just shy.”

“Shy my ass!” I shouted, pointing at my lap, instead whacking myself in the leg.

“You’re a very angry baby,” she said, picking me up and moving me over to the changing table she set up. I was glad to be out of the wet one but I most certainly was not going back in one.

I kicked when she tried to move me again, hitting her in the face.

“Ow. Dean,” she said, holding her hand over her nose, pulling it away and a little trickle of blood coming out. She wiped it away with a tissue but more came out.

And for some reason I had to start sniffling. Of fucking course. Did I feel bad? Yes. But it was not a cry worthy occasion and now she was picking me up and telling me it was okay.

“Calm down. It was an accident,” she said, rubbing up and down my back. “I still love you, Dean.”

I leaned back as best I could to look at her, Y/N smiling at me.

“I’m gonna take care of you,” she said. “Just like I know you’d take care of me if I got stuck as a baby.”

“Y/N,” I groaned.

“Okay, okay. I know the diaper pisses you off. How about we make a deal? Daytime, no diaper. I’ll take you every couple of hours to the bathroom. But if we have to go out or at night, you have to wear it, just because you might have to go and I can’t get you to one in time,” she said. “First accident though and it goes on all the time. Agree?”

I nodded, that plan sounding much better.

“I wonder how much of you is an adult in there…” she said. “You can hold it I’m guessing...maybe that’s why you hated your baby food.”

I made a face, Y/N laughing at me.

“Okay. As soon as your teeth come in, you can have some fruit and other stuff,” she said.

I frowned, rubbing my hand up to my mouth, wincing when I realized she had a point.

“Don’t worry babe. Your teeth will start to come in soon I’m sure.”

“Sup Dean?” said Sam, smiling at me when he finally came home. I wanted to yell at him to go give Y/N a break but I hadn’t quite figured out how to spit out the pacifier in my mouth yet.

“Oh, let him watch his cartoons. He’s starting to teeth and that pacifier is his new best friend,” she said.

I narrowed my eyes at her, Y/N giving it right back.

“Is that a potty face?” you asked. I shook my head, Sam wearing a big smile. “Don’t get your hopes up. Being able to hold it and an affinity for pie flavored foods are the only adult things I’ve been able to concretely confirm.”

“It’s only been a week,” said Sam, sitting down next to me. I rolled my eyes, trying to shift away but he pulled me into his lap. “You hanging in there?”

“I hate this. I hate you. I hate everything,” I mumbled under the pacifier, Sam chuckling as he bounced me on his knee.

“He doesn’t like that,” said Y/N, Sam pulling me off his knee to lay back in lap instead. “So how was the hunt?”

“A pain. I’m glad to be back,” said Sam, stretching back on the floor.

“Uh, be careful with him,” said Y/N.

“I’m just taking a quick nap,” said Sam.

“She’s worried about you crushing me, doofus,” I mumbled, Sam sighing as he sat up with me. He picked me off the ground, way higher than Y/N did and I instantly clung to him. The pacifier fell out of my mouth when my jaw dropped, something I’d have to try to remember, and Y/N was instantly over.

“Give him here,” she said, Sam handing me off, Y/N bending down to grab the pacifier and give it back to me. “He got scared. New stuff you have to go slow.”

“He knows I wouldn’t hurt him,” said Sam.

“He knows but...like he goes full blown baby sometimes and you have to slow down. Most of the time he’s just grumpy and wants to watch TV,” she said. “There’s a learning curve to him.”

“Sorry,” said Sam. I sighed when Y/N handed me back but then I sort of liked it, getting to be tall again. “So...what do you do for fun, Dean?”

“Seriously? Jackass,” I mumbled, Sam tickling my stomach.

“That’s a cute little sound,” said Sam, cocking his head. “You smell funny.”

“He needs a bath,” you said, sitting on the couch. “Would you mind giving him one?”

“No!” I shouted, shaking my head, spitting out the pacifier again.

“Uh, does he not like baths?” asked Sam.

“No, it’s one of the few things he likes actually,” you said. “Do you want me to show Sam first?”

I sighed but nodded. Y/N needed the break and it wasn’t like I hadn’t done all this crap for Sam when he was little.

Ten minutes later I was in the tub, surprised at how gentle Sam was.

“Does he sleep through the night?” asked Sam, wiping a cloth down over my hair.

“He does. I don’t,” you said.

Oh boy. This again.

“Trying to research still?” asked Sam.

“Yeah. I’m paranoid something’s going to happen to him all the time and it’s my fault he’s stuck like this. I shouldn’t have let him go off by himself,” you said.

“Stop being stupid. I’m a grown man, or at least was. We did that hunt exactly how we were supposed to. By the way, I’m fine. I’ve started to figure out his crawling thing so don’t worry about me,” I said.

“What the blabbering little guy just said,” said Sam.

“You understood me?” I said, Sam seeming to ignore the comment. “Oh. You said blabbering. Don’t mind me. I’ll just sit here and make squeaking noises for your entertainment.”

“Someone is talkative today,” said Y/N, a relieved little smile on her face. “I’m happy Sam’s home too. But we should get you out before you get too pruny. Sam, you can learn the joy of getting him into his pajamas.”

“Oh, I can’t wait.”

The Next Day

“What happened?” said Y/N. Good. She was home and she could yell at Sam properly.

“He had an accident and then he started yelling and he got even louder when I put him in a diaper. He hasn’t been quiet since,” said Sam.

“Dean, I know we had a deal but you had an accident. I think you’re too little to-“

“It was his fault,” I yelled, pointing at Sam. “He forgot to...I will destroy you both if you-“

“When’s the last time you took him to the bathroom?” she asked Sam.

“I don’t know,” he said.

“Has he gone since I took him at breakfast?” she asked. Sam looked away and thankfully Y/N was getting with the program. “You have to take him Sam. Of course he had an accident. His bladder isn’t as big as yours.”

“I don’t get why he just doesn’t wear the diapers,” said Sam.

“I will kick your ass when I’m big again Sam,” I growled, Y/N settling me on her hip.

“He doesn’t like them and you upset him. This is a baby but it’s Dean too. If there’s a shred of adult in there, we’re going to try to make him feel like himself,” she said.

“Best fucking girlfriend ever. I so owe you,” I said, leaning down to give her a hug.

“Well...don’t piss on me again,” grumbled Sam.

“Maybe now you learned your lesson.”

Three Months Later

“Hi Dean,” said Y/N when I crawled over. “What’s up?”

“Guess what I figured out how to do,” I said, grabbing her leg and standing up, able to take a few shaky steps on my own before falling on my butt. “I’m mobile.”

“Well look at you! You’re growing up all over again,” she said, scooping me up to sit in her lap. “We made it halfway there. Just another few months and you’ll be big again.”

“Trust me, I’m counting the days. Figuratively I mean since telling time is a bit hard right now but you know what I mean,” I said, Y/N humming. “Uh oh. That’s the bad hum.”

“Don’t worry, Dean,” she said. “Sammy’s just checking on a last ditch effort. I’m not getting my hopes up is all. Besides, you and I are going to have my favorite thing right now.”

“It’s nap time,” I said, grunting when I started to get carried. “At least this part isn’t too bad.”

Something was off when I woke up twenty minutes later. Y/N had her head in her hands and was crying on the bed.

“Sam,” she said into her phone. “You said six months.”

“Rowena is going to work on a counterspell to get it to reverse back,” he said.

“But she only has three months left or else he’s gonna he a baby permanently. I don’t want to raise my boyfriend. I’m barely keeping it together,” she said.

“Rowena is the best witch there is. She’ll figure out what the other witch did,” said Sam. “Just try not to let Dean see you upset or he’ll think something’s wrong.”

“Too late for that,” she said, moving her hands away, looking over at me with a sigh. “I’ll see you at dinner.”

“So I’m fucked,” I said, trying to cross my legs in the crib but making no progress. “Fuck.”

“Dean,” she said. She picked me up and gave me a hug, wiping her face off when she pulled back. “Don’t worry. I will always take care of you. Big or small.”

“I really hope Rowena can figure this out.”

Three Months Later (Almost)

“Big day today Dean,” said Y/N, rubbing her hand over my head.

“Yeah. In about an hour I’m a baby for good and I’m sort of thinking that means I’m going full baby mode and I’m gonna forget everything and everyone and how to even talk…” I said, Y/N shushing me.

“Don’t cry. I hate seeing you cry,” she said. “And if things go south today...don’t be scared because we got you.”

“How’s he holding up?” asked Sam, Y/N giving him a sad smile. “He has to understand if he’s so upset.”

“I know. I know part of him is an adult in there,” said Y/N. “Rowena’s in the library sweetie and she’s going to keep working as long as we got left.”

“I think I’ve got it,” said Rowena, rushing into the kitchen. “I need materials though.”

Sam took off with her, both of them taking far too long in my opinion. Y/N eventually plopped me down in the high chair in the library, Rowena shoving a mixture in a bowl at Y/N.

“He has to drink it,” she said.

“Dean, don’t throw this up,” said Y/N, tilting the bowl, some of it dribbling down my face. “Get a damn bottle. Now!”

“Come on. At least a sippy cup, not the stupid bottles again,” I grumbled, Y/N taking one from Sam, pouring the slop inside and twisting the cap on.

“For once, do not fuss with this thing,” she said, putting the bottle to my lips. I wanted to scoff at her but she squeezed it and liquid flooded my mouth. It tasted awful and she just kept squeezing more in, forcing me to swallow. I drank most of the bottle down as a timer went off, all three of them jumping about a foot back.

I peeled open an eye, bottle hanging from my mouth and ass currently sat on the floor and pieces of broken high chair.

“Dean?” asked Sam. I spit the bottle out and stood up, blinking down at myself.

“Excuse me but I’ve had to piss the last two hours,” I said, moving past them all for the bathroom, ripping the obnoxious baby outfit off and sitting down. “Oh, I never thought I’d be so happy to be using the bathroom again.”

Reader POV

“Hey, Dean?” you said, walking into the bathroom, Dean currently walking around the space in a pair of boxers, happy as could be. “You doing okay? All adult in there again?”

“Yes. Thankfully,” said Dean. “I’m just enjoying things like brushing my own teeth and shaving and oh yeah, I can actually talk again.”

“So how much-”

“I understood everything. I acted a lot like a baby whether I wanted to or not but I understood it all,” said Dean. “Thank you so fucking much for not making me use the damn diapers.”

“Well...I figured there was some of you in there,” you said. “Sorry about the bottles. And baby food. And pacifier. And the onesies.”

“Eh, they grow on you,” he said with a shrug. “I wasn’t a very well behaved baby.”

“You kept out of trouble for the most part,” you said, wrapping your arms around him, so glad to have him back to his normal size.

“I want a burger and steak and sweet potato fries,” said Dean.

“Okay. You can have all that,” you said with a laugh. “You can even drive to the store if you want.”

“Oh, I am looking forward to it.”

[supernaturalfreewill]

"Hey! That's my shirt!" Dean said, watching you slip the soft cotton of his t-shirt on over your head. It swallowed up your frame and left you with slightly tousled hair.

You bit your bottom lip and grinned at him. "So?"

He sat up in bed, the sheet still swirled around his hips. You let your eyes wander over his strong chest. "So, that's why all my clothes keep disappearing. Do you have that green flannel too?"

"Maybe," you smiled innocently. "You like how they look on me anyway," you said, revolving in place so Dean could see just how his t-shirt brushed your thighs from all angles.

He sighed and clicked his tongue. "I can't argue with that... but I would like them back eventually."

You shrugged, carefree. "You can file your complaint in the suggestion box," you said cheekily.

Dean chuckled. "Oh yeah? Where's that?"

"Oh, it's that gray bin over there by my desk, next to the recycling can..."

"Alright, that's enough sass. Gimme back my shirt and get back in bed!" Dean demanded through more laughter, reaching for you. You tried to dart away, out of reach of his long arms, but he was too fast and soon tugged you back into the bed right on top of him.

[justwhisperingfantasies]

Imagine ♡

You wake in the fimilar bed of Bobby's spare bedroom. You feel a sting of disappointment as you reach your arms out to find Dean's side cold and empty. You sigh and get up.

As you walked down the stairs, you inhaled the scent of waffles, beacon, and fresh coffee. You lean on the kitchen doorframe, and a smile spreads across your face. He's standing in front of the stove, wiggling his hips and singing along with the music playing on his phone. He turned around to fill his mug. A shy smile on his face as he realizes he had an audience. "Morning baby."

"Mornin Mick Jagger."

He laughs and lifts his head. "Sit down. I'll get you some coffee." He changes the song as he pours. You laugh as Start Me Up by The Rolling Stones starts playing. He dramatically turns around and starts singing. Making you laugh again. He starts thrusting his hips as he walks your coffee over.

💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚

[sams-sass]

Remembrance of Things Past

Hi!!

I actually wrote a Dean fic...like what? I hope you enjoy! Special shout out to all my bunker babes for the confidence boost!!

Warnings: Langauge, smut, a wee bit of heartbreak?

Summary: You and Dean find each other again.

_____________________________

The motel door slammed shut behind Dean’s back, loud and heavy. He turned to face you; his eyes were emotionless, and his jaw tightened. 

“So you’re not coming?” He asked you. 

“Please, Dean…I can’t,” You said softly. 

He ran his hand down his face and nodded, looking at the wall before connecting his eyes to yours again. 

“Well, that’s just great, Y/N.” His voice was like venom. 

“Try to understand…I just…I can’t watch…” Your voice betrayed you, breaking as the lump in your throat grew. 

You stepped toward him, taking his leather jacket into your fists as you pressed your body against his. You leaned your forehead against his cheek, inhaling his intoxicating scent. He pushed your hands off him, shaking his head and stepping away. 

“You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to fuck with my head.” He spat. 

“It’s too much.” You whispered, crossing your arms over your chest and squeezing yourself. 

“And how the fuck do you think I feel? It’s too much for you? I’m the one who made the deal. I’m the one who's gonna-” Dean stopped, leaning on the small desk in the corner and hanging his head. 

You stepped toward him again, raising your hands to lay on his back. Dean instinctively moved away from you, jolting his body to the side to avoid your touch. You held your hands up for a moment before lowering them again, and this time, Dean let you touch him. Swallowing thickly, you ran your hands over his jacket, trying to calm the situation as best you could. 

“I’m sorry.” You said finally, speaking loud enough to know he would hear you. 

“I would stay for you.” He mumbled. 

At that moment of rare fragility, you knew you had broken down at least one of his walls. The truth was, you didn’t care about him opening up to you. You didn’t need to hear him say how he would stick it out until the end or move heaven and earth to be by your side when the time came. You knew this. You knew he would extend a devotion to you that you weren't giving him, and you hated yourself for it. Your hands slipped under his jacket and the fabric of his shirt. His back was warm as you ran your touch over his freckled skin. A ragged and heavy breath left his lungs. He glanced up at you, making eye contact in the mirror. His body turned to face you, your hands now resting against his bare stomach. Placing his forehead against yours, he closed his eyes. 

“Please stay.” He whispered. 

“I love you…so much. But I can’t watch you die.” You answered, feeling him pull away again. 

Dean took both of your hands into one of his, yanking them from under his shirt but keeping you close to him. He looked deep into your eyes, his sage ones glassy and red. 

“Thanks a lot, kid.” He said, his voice coming from low within his chest. 

He walked away from you, pulled the door open, and stopped in the doorframe. You watched as his shoulders moved with heavy breaths before he turned back around. He crossed the motel room in three giant steps and grabbed your face between his hands. His lips attached themselves to yours before you could even breathe. His kiss was full of passion and fear. You could feel the vulnerability in every swipe of his tongue. He dug his hands into your hair, scratching your scalp with his fingertips. You wrapped yourself around him and clung onto the last thing you would carry of him. Committing every breath, taste, and moan to memory as you let yourself fall into him just one last time. 

Suddenly, he stopped. Leaning his head against yours once again. You both held each other in the silent space momentarily before his broken, husky voice whispered. 

“Don’t forget me.” 

You nodded your head, feeling your chin begin to quiver. He was gone just as fast as he had come back to you. The door slammed on its hinges, and you were utterly alone. 

Two Years Later

The warehouse was void of life as you expertly moved around the halls. You rounded the corner, pulling the gun closer to your chest and breathing. A soft shuffle made your hair stand on edge. Leaning against the wall, you ventured a peak into the next room. A tall man stood with a gun of his own, his brown jacket grazing against his jeans as he crept around toward the back of the room. You held in the gasp that filled your lungs, closing your eyes and mentally cursing yourself. You could run for it. Fly as fast as your feet could take you towards the exit. You could wait him out. Or you could…and before you knew what you were doing, you walked into the room.

“Sam?” You said, disbelief in your voice. 

He whipped his head around, aiming his gun perfectly at you. A look of shock, confusion, and anger crossed his face. 

“Y/N?” He asked, lowering his gun quickly. 

You smiled at him, feeling years worth of memories swarm you in an instant. Your eyes began to fill with water when you heard the cocking of a gun. A cold shiver ran down your spine, your palms suddenly getting clammy. You let out all the air in your lungs. Every fiber of your being told you not to turn around. Don’t look. You held Sam’s eyes with your wide stare for a beat too long. Don’t you dare look. For the love of god, just run away. If you look at him, it’s all over. You turned slowly. 

Dean’s chiseled face sat emotionless, his gun mere inches from your head. You felt your mouth go dry, desperately trying to swallow saliva to keep yourself from coughing. Sage eyes locking with yours for the first time in so long. You almost cried out in joy. Your mouth opened and closed again. Eyes blinking and heart racing, you wrapped your hand around the gun as well, stepping towards him as he lowered it to his side. You were so close to him, his face impassive as he looked down at you. Your chest was just a breath away from his. His body was stiff and unmoving. Slowly, you tilted your head back to look at him better. He glared down at you with hard eyes.  

“Dean.” You said, trying to keep your voice as steady as possible. 

“Y/N.” His voice was low and rough. 

You let go of the gun and stepped back, nervously scratching behind your ear. The awkward feeling settled over the three of you thickly. 

“So…you’re also after the ghoul,” Sam said, shoving his hands into his pockets. 

“Yeah, been trailing it for a few days now,” You said, keeping your eyes on Sam. 

You missed him—sweet and soft, Sammy. You missed how he would gently knock on your door in the morning. You missed his warm scent when he placed his arm around your shoulders and pulled you close after one too many beers. You missed how he always remembered to put precisely 2 and 1/2 teaspoons of sugar into your coffee. While researching, you would look up and swear you saw him sitting on the end of your bed with his nose in a book. You had almost forgotten how tall he was or how his dimpled smile could make you forget about the world momentarily. You missed your friend. 

“Well, we’ll take it from here. Thanks for the interruption.” His voice spoke. Your eyes slowly shifted to Dean. His angular face was stoic and harsh, the sporadic lighting of the warehouse casting shadows on the deep contours of his cheeks and nose. 

To say that you had missed Dean in the same way that you had missed Sam would practically be an insult. It was more than just missing him. It was a deep and guttural longing that had you curled under the covers, unmoving and unfeeling for days after he left. There was no way to decide what you missed most. Was it his warm breath against your back on slow mornings after a hunt? Lips and hands drawing an absent pattern across your sore muscles and tired skin. Was it his long fingers intertwining through yours as the Impala tore down a dirt road, the sunlight bouncing off its black paint? Or perhaps it was how his expressive jade eyes would always find yours first. On every case. Every hunt. Every monster. Those earthy pools of warm waters full of lilypads and speckled flowers holding your gaze, reading your mind, and drowning your sorrows. Or it could be when he smiled with his eyes—saying your name and touching your face with the tips of his fingers? Maybe it was the nights where you gave yourself to him and he you? Minds fold to the intensity of the body's pleasure. Arms and legs wrapped around each other so tight, as if the other person would explode into a thousand pieces at any moment. With hungry lips and a thirsty tongue. Allowing all to be explored. All to be sacrificed and exposed. Although you couldn't pinpoint it, you knew it was when he told you he loved you. When he dropped the act and let himself feel the world. In those moments, he could choose to feel the bad. The ache. The hurt. But he would choose to feel you. To tell you he loved you. The soft words in your ear, his breath playing with your hair gently. His hands circling your wrists, feeling your quickening pulse against his skin. 

“I-” You started, not knowing where you were going with your sentence. 

“You what?” Dean cut you off. “You wanna work this together? Like old times?” He asked, his voice full of anger and hurt. 

“Dean…” Sam tried to calm his brother down. 

“No, Sammy. I want to hear what she has to say after all this time.” Dean's voice shifted to one of controlled arrogance. But you knew him. You knew how much pain he was trying to mask. 

“Look, I know you hate me. To be honest, I hate me too sometimes…I had no idea you were going to be here. Honest.” You said, holding up your hands and stepping back when Dean approached you. 

“Right. So, like I said, we’ll take it from here.” Dean said, pointing his finger between him and Sam. 

Suddenly, you felt angry. You didn't know where it was coming from, but you saw red, and your “calm, cool, and collected” attitude began slipping away. 

“What? No! I was here first. I was the one who found this place by myself, might I add. The only reason I even got distracted was because of Sam’s huge, clunking feet.” You argued. 

Sam tilted his head, letting his face fall into one you had seen so many times before. The bitch face. 

“You know, you could always be a brat when you wanted to,” Dean said, stepping towards you. 

“I recall you liking that, Winchester.” You countered, stepping towards him, too. 

“Funny.” He said, his voice dropping deep within his chest. “I don’t recall much.” 

“Neither do I.” You practically whispered. 

“I thought I told you not to forget.” He said with authority. 

“And I thought you would have learned a long time ago. I don’t always follow your orders.” You retorted. 

In that moment, you saw something pass through his eyes. A memory long forgotten and put away resurfaced. His cheeks flushed slightly. His eyes lowered to your breasts, holding his gaze there for a beat before following the curves of your neck to your mouth. Your lips parted, allowing a small breath to escape. Dean sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, dragging his teeth across the plump flesh before it popped back out. Pink and wet. 

“Come on, Sam. I could use the sleep anyway.” And with that, they were gone again. 

Because of your little production with Dean, the ghoul was long gone by the time you found its hideout. You repacked your car and slammed the trunk, throwing out every curse word you knew into the windshield as you drove away. You rolled your window down and let the night air cool your heated flesh. The moonlight couldn't hide the memories that saturated your mind. It was as if double doors opened, and everything you had put behind you came raging into focus. Hearing his thick voice say your name made your time with the Winchesters play out in front of your eyes. You and Sam reading over books at a diner table, plates and cups littering the space. You and Dean counting down before jumping into the swarm of vamps together. Sam’s hair blowing in the passenger seat. Dean’s groggy voice in the morning. Dean holding Sam’s shoulders as he has yet another vision. Dean smiling at you, a smear of blood covering his freckles. Dean clanking his beer against yours. Sam laughing over the jukebox of some dive bar. Dean pulling you close and burying his face into your hair after a particularly long hunt. Sam pushing you behind him as the wendigo approached. Dean slipping his fingers under your shirt, tickling your skin. Dean sneaking into the shower with you when you were trying to keep your relationship a secret. Dean whispering “I love you” for the first time in an empty field under the stars. Dean running his fingers through your hair while a movie played on the T.V. Dean giving your hand a squeeze before charging at a ghost. Dean holding your face in his hands, blood spattered across your skin. Dean pulling you into him in his sleep. Dean stitching up your wounds in the motel room. Dean kissing you in the back of the impala. Dean. Dean. Dean. 

Fuck! You slammed your car into park and charged into your motel room. Your fingers ran through your hair frantically as your heart rate picked up. Your feet paced quickly across the room, heavy breaths pulling in and out of your lungs. Just as you were about to collapse, a knock on the door stopped you. You knew it was him. You closed your eyes and swallowed down your anxieties. 

You opened the door to his angry face. 

“How did you find me?”

“I remembered you liked the nicer things.” Dean pointed to the motel sign. 

You nodded, pursing your lips together.  

“Tell me what happened,” Dean instructed. 

“You know what happened.” You said around a sigh. 

“Ya know…I thought I did.” His arrogant voice was back. “But the more I think about it, the more it doesn't make sense,” Dean said, coming close to you. 

“I think you and I have had enough for one night.” You said, trying to close the door. 

Dean’s open palm stopped the door from moving further, “I’ll say when I have had enough.” 

“Dean-” You began to protest again. 

He pushed into the door, crowding your space and entering your room. 

“Come on in.” You mumbled sarcastically. 

“I don’t know what you think you are going to solve by bothering me.” You tried to play annoyed. 

“How about the fact that it came out of fucking nowhere?” Dean said, holding his arms out to his sides. “I mean really. One day you are telling me you love me and that you can’t imagine your life without me, and the next-” Dean stopped himself. 

“I’m breaking your heart.” You filled in the rest. He nodded, holding your gaze as he did. 

“It’s like I said, I couldn’t watch you die.” You responded as emotionless as you could. 

“Bullshit. I gave you an out in Lincoln. I told you to go. I told you to get as far away from me as possible. To live your life and leave me to suffer the consequences of my actions. And you stayed. You said you would never leave me. And not two weeks later…your fucking gone.” He dropped the arrogance, his voice now full of confusion and anguish.  

He was right. That is precisely how it played out. 

“Tell me what happened.” He asked again. 

“I did.” 

“You didn’t,” 

“Dean” 

“Y/N.”

There he goes again. Saying your name with that wicked tongue. 

“Please-” Your voice breaking. 

“So there is more?” Dean asked, stunned. 

“I can’t.” You whispered. 

“You can.” There was no anger now. His shoulders dropped, and his face was left full of despair. 

Dean crossed over to you, took your wrists within his hands, and pinned you against the wall. He looked deeply into your eyes, searching for an answer. 

“Baby, tell me what happened.” He said one last time. 

“It was the angels.” You finally relented. 

“What?” His brow furrowed, and his eyes moved quickly between yours. 

“Well, one angel. Zachariah. He spoke to me.” You felt the tears fill your eyes. “He told me they would save you if I left. They said you would be spared from hell, but I had to leave. I had to get away from you.” You let the truth lay in front of him for the first time. 

“The angels? Why?” He was wide-eyed and horrified. 

“I don’t know. They said that if I left, you would be saved. I was so desperate, Dean. I was so scared you were going to die. I didn’t know what to do. So I left. I left like a coward, and I knew the only way you wouldn't come after me was if I broke you.” You breathed. Although it killed you to tell him, there was a sense of relief finally telling the truth after all this time. 

Dean stared at you, his face difficult to read. You let your eyes fall on his lips, plump and slightly agape. You felt his hands tighten around your wrists, and it shot you back to the last time he held you like this. You could hear the soft rain on the window and smell the coffee going cold on the nightstand. The skin of your neck tickled, remembering his hot breath groaning in your ear. Your fingers could practically feel the cheap comforter, his hands holding them down just like they were now. You bit down on your lip as you remembered the way he pushed into you, slow enough to tease but fast enough to make your legs shake. 

“Why didn't you come back after?” He finally asked, breaking you out of your memory.

“Because they lied to me. You still went to hell. How could I ever face you? How could I ever expect you to look me in the eyes again after I abandoned you? I can barely look at myself. I left you, Dean. I loved you so much. You were the air that I breathed. And I just fucking left. I could never ask you to understand.” You explained, your voice sounded wet from the tears. 

“Y/N…” He spoke, his body pressing into yours harder. 

You inhaled sharply, arching your back and allowing your head to loll back on your shoulders. Dean licked his lips, leaving a wet sheen on them. 

“I don't understand.” He said softly. 

“Understand what?”

“Why would they want you to leave? Why would it matter if you were with me or not?” He asked with a furrowed brow. 

“Because we knew you would never say ‘yes’ to Michael if you were clamored on to some chick.” A voice suddenly spoke. 

You and Dean broke apart, both clenching when startled. A man with balding grey hair stood in a black suit, a smile that made your mouth curl sat on his face. 

“Zachariah,” Dean practically growled. 

“Good to see you, Dean.” 

“Wish I could say the same.” 

“Well, now you know the big secret.” He said, shrugging his shoulders and turning down the corners of his mouth. 

“I always knew you were a son of a bitch, but now you’ve gone too far.” Dean stepped toward him, you could feel the hate in his voice. 

“You lied to me! He died anyway!” You screamed, coming to stand next to Dean. 

“No. No. I never lied. I said we would save him from hell, which we did. You simply heard what you wanted.” He said nonchalantly, as if he was describing what he ate for breakfast.

“That’s called manipulation, dick.” You shot back.

“Oh! Fiesty.” He held up his hand, pretending it was a claw. 

“I am going to say this one time.” Dean started, his arms pushed you slightly behind him as he moved toward Zachariah. “If you ever step foot near her again, I am going to rain down a world of hurt on you that you cant even imagine. You do not come near her again, do you understand me? Whatever you want to do to me is fine, but you leave her alone. All this bullshit, Michael, Lucifer, angels, demons, that’s your shit to clean. Not hers! And since Michael still wants to wear me like a fucking sock puppet, I suggest you listen to me and back the fuck off!” Dean thundered. 

You stared with eide eyes as he got closer and closer to the angel. Your breathing quickened and you nervously swallowed. You sat in a silent panic for his safety. 

“I may not have much in this world. Nothing but left overs from my father and his neverending crusade. But I have her. And I will die before I let you or any other winged bastard breathe near her again.” Dean’s voice was unnerving and low. 

“Jeez, give it a rest. When did we put on lifetime?” Zachariah asked without trying to hide his disdain. 

“Make your jokes, but don’t forget that I specialized in torture.” Dean practically whispered. 

Your heart skipped a beat, what? 

“Well, I do not pretend to know about coitus as I find it repulsive, but I have heard make up is the best!” Zachariah said with a gross mocking tone. 

“Don’t you fucking-” 

Zachariah was gone before Dean could finish his sentence. 

“Shit!” Dean yelled. 

His back was still to you. The air in the room was so thick it felt difficult to breathe. Your skin warmed under the tension. Just as you were about to speak, he turned. His face was hard and determined. You both stared at each other for a moment, trying to read the other person's mind. Dean acted first. He practically flew across the room back to you. His hands dug into your hair harshly, pulling your head back as a shocked moan left your mouth. Your mouth opened to his before he even kissed you. All teeth and tongue. Both relinquishing control and fighting for it at the same time. 

You and Dean had shared many kisses in your relationship: passionate, quick, raw, emotional, fast, and slow. This was different. It felt like an ache. It felt familiar and foreign at the same time. He kissed you like the ocean raged when a storm descended upon the land. His lips were out of rhythm and timing, but they still hit exactly where they needed to be. And like the warmed waters fueling the storm, you found yourself trying to grind your pelvis desperately into his, seeking any friction. 

Keeping one hand on the back of your head, he hooked his other around your thigh, yanking you up. You wrapped your legs around his waist, grabbing onto a fistful of his hair for yourself. He groaned into your mouth, twisting his tongue around yours. 

“I missed you so much.” You mumbled against his lips. 

“You’re the only thing I want.” He answered, pushing your back against the wall. 

His head dipped down. You squeezed your thighs around his waist as his teeth nipped at your neck and breasts. Using his hips and the wall to hold you in place, he undid the buttons of your shirt, opening it before taking your breasts in his hands. His thumbs stroked just above your bra while his mouth continued to suck and nip at your neck. He grabbed onto your hips again, his fingers digging into the globes of your ass. He threw you down on the bed, quickly crawling on top of you and reattaching his lips to yours. You undid the button on his jeans, hearing the sharp hiss as you palmed him through his boxers. He grabbed your hand and pulled it out of his pants, grabbing your other hand and pinning both above your head. His mouth found yours again, his teeth sinking into your bottom lip, pulling on it harshly.

“Don’t move.” He commanded. 

He left your hands above your head as his body lowered down yours. Teasing you by keeping his lips just hovering over your skin. His pointer finger dipped below the waist of your jeans, running it across your belly slowly. Your body was almost squirming as the anticipation built within your core. Your fingers twisted together when he opened the button on your jeans and yanked them down your legs. His mouth moved over your thighs, his hot breath fanning your skin. His teeth playfully pulled on your panties. His tongue teased you through the fabric. You lifted your head to look at him. God, you had missed this. That soft brown hair is just asking to be pulled. Those green eyes rolled back in his head as he decided he couldn't wait anymore, yanking your panties off you and taking you into his mouth. His freckled nose scrunched when he knew he had found a particularly good spot. And, of course, that mouth. Those lips and tongue, tasting every part of you. Dean ravaged you. Hooking your legs over his shoulders and lapping at your entrance, sucking and licking your clit. His breath was heavy, and his eyes closed. You were sure no one could paint a more beautiful image than Dean Winchester between your legs. 

Your first orgasm came quickly, taking both of you by surprise. Dean held you down with one forearm across your hips as he continued. Your hands were wrung together. You wanted to touch him so badly. Your body rapidly built up another orgasm. Dean kept you on the edge for this one, extending the pleasure but building the tension. By the time he let you tumble, you were covered in sweat and practically begging him. You couldn’t stand it anymore, and your hands flew to his head, yanking on his hair as your orgasm released throughout your body. He held you through it, moaning around your cries of pleasure. 

He came back to you, face to face. “I’ll let you have that one.” He said with a crooked smile. 

The tone shifted then, and a new reality settled over the two of you. Dean’s eyes softened to your favorite shade of them, the green grass of the first cold morning in fall. Fresh dew lay in a wet blanket over young blades, their mossy color diffused by clouds against the low-hanging sun. 

“You know I never stopped loving you, right?” You asked, running your fingers over his arm. 

“I do now.” He answered, pushing your hair away from your forehead to kiss your hairline. 

“I love you, Y/N. I’ve always loved you. When you were gone, no matter how hard I tried to deny it or how much I shoved it down, it was always there. You were always my girl.” His voice was thick with need and emotion. 

From that moment on, the night felt different. It was more than a reunion. It was more than hashing out old times. It was a vow. You both knew that marriage was not exactly in the cards for hunters, but this night was as close as the two of you would ever come. Words that should have been exchanged in a ceremony were written on each other's naked flesh with wet tongues and eager lips. Names that should have been signed on a document were inked onto each of your hearts through the whispered pleasure filling the air. And oaths that should have been pledged for all to hear were found in the dilating pupils of your locked eyes. 

Slow and passionate kisses turned heavy and deep as you recommitted yourselves to each other and your relationship. Dean's hands touched every part of you, dipping into all your crevices, tracing every scar and freckle. You tasted him, feeling the thick drag of him through your mouth, holding onto his deep groans of ecstasy. He pushed into you, spreading your legs with his before looking you in the eye as he filled you completely. His perfect rhythm brought you to your peak, grasping at his back and shoulders. You found yourself on top, rolling your hips over his, watching his teeth bite into his tongue to keep himself from crying out. His eyes open, showing his blown-out pupils, all traces of morning dew gone. Dean’s hands pressed into your hips so hard, moving you with him as he neared his own peak. Face to face, his fingers dragging down your back, you both fell together. 

Tangled in limbs and sheets, you let your beating heart slow to an average pace. Dean dreamily traced a pattern over your arm, occasionally kissing your forehead as dawn began to break. You didn’t say it and he didn’t ask, but you were never leaving his side again. Finally feeling safe in the arms of the man you loved, you let your eyes drift closed for a moment. You heard his breathing become slow and even, knowing he was also falling asleep. You smiled, healing yourself in the light of a new day before closing your eyes and sailing into a restful sleep.

Tagging: @thinkinghardhardlythinking @watermelonlipstick

[arjwrites]

The Space Between- Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: GN!Reader breaks their arm on a hunt and needs a little assistance. This is a Dean version of my other fic Close (Sam x Reader), as requested by @the-scream-story !

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: Injury, nudity, strong references to sex. MDNI!

A/N: THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR PATIENCE! I had so much fun writing this. This is officially the end of my writer's block- I am back in business, baby. I hope you all enjoy!!!

“DAMN IT!” Your voice echoed out of the bathroom from behind the closed door, punctuated with the contents of your toiletry bag crashing to the floor. Instantly regretful of your outburst, you prayed that no one had heard your voice above the dull whir of the bathroom fan and the rushing water cascading against the floor of the tub. The last thing you wanted was for one of the boys to come try to play the knight in shining armor to your damsel in distress.

After making some brief mental calculations, you figured Sam would still be out grabbing food, leaving only Dean in your shared motel room. There was no way he heard you, and even if he had, you doubted he would stir from his current position. When you had headed in for your attempted shower, the man was already reclined in a chair, beer in hand, and engrossed in some sub-par TV show. 

Attempted truly was the best word to describe the shower experience so far. Last night’s hunt had landed you with a broken arm, and a long wait at the ER had delayed your return to the motel into the wee hours of the next morning. At this moment, it was 4am and none of you had slept. And you, covered in a mix of dirt, and blood (yours and the creature’s), figured that a quick shower would be the best catalyst for sleep. 

But twenty minutes had passed since you had holed yourself up in the bathroom. There were several obstacles that sat between you and a warm, clean nap. Your dominant arm was confined to a cast, providing a myriad of challenges. First was getting off your clothes. Next was wrapping your cast with the ziploc bag and duct tape combo you had armed yourself with. Then was navigating your shower routine, somehow shampooing your hair and scrubbing blood off your body with your weak hand while trying to keep the other clear from the water. 

It was an impossible task, but asking for help was not necessarily your forte. Plus, you felt horrible having kept the boys up all night because of your injury. Of course, they waved you off, used to the sleepless nights, taking the late hours in stride and going about their usual post-hunt routines (Sam’s supply run and Dean’s beer and motel TV marathon). Though neither of them would ever admit it, you could see the exhaustion radiating off their every movement, and the guilt ate at you. The last thing you wanted to do was to ask either of them to do you any more favors.

But your hopes of soldiering on independently were crushed in an instant. In a valiant effort to singlehandedly take off your shirt, the tight fabric had become twisted over your head, covering your eyes and trapping your free arm against you. And when your balance was thrown off, you stumbled back, foot catching the shower curtain and bringing the tension rod down with a decisive bang. Shit. There was no way Dean hadn’t heard that. 

Your suspicion was quickly met with a firm knock on the bathroom door. 

“You alright in there?” Dean���s voice harbored no sign of annoyance, simply concern. So after a few deep breaths and a moment to wriggle your head free from its trap, you conceded to what seemed to be your only option.

“Dean, can you come in?” 

Nothing could have prepared Dean for the sight behind the door. There you sat, in a pile of shower curtain and shampoo bottles, one arm pinned to your head and the other pinned to your chest. The shower, still running and void of its curtain, had started to spray down on your fully clothed body, adding insult to injury. Dean’s mouth gaped open for a moment, searching for the words, eyes blinking as he took in the scene.

“Look, I need your help. Please don’t be weird about it. Can you just help me get this shirt off and then I’ll just wrap the cast and hop in-” Your nervous rambling was cut off as Dean lifted you from the floor and sat you down on the closed toilet seat. 

“Sweetheart, you’re not doing this by yourself. You’re gonna mess up that cast and I am not going back to that goddamn hospital.” You cringed at the memory of the long hours you, Sam, and Dean had spent under those horrible fluorescent lights. Though his remarks dripped in frustration, nothing about his appearance did- his eyes and lips were graced with the softest echoes of a smile.

You mumbled a few protests but Dean had already set right to work. In a few, swift movements, he had popped the shower curtain back into place, pulled it aside, plugged the drain, and shifted the source of the water down to the bathtub spout. When the water began to pool in the bottom of the tub, he turned back to you. 

“Dean, I really don’t need you to do this. I’ll be fine if I can just get this damn shirt off,” you huffed, punctuating your complaint with a few pulls at your restraint. This was exactly what you had feared, and it made it all the more embarrassing because it was Dean. You felt vulnerable and looked ridiculous, and here he was cleaning up your mess and drawing you a bath? Your nerves wound tightly in your stomach as Dean lowered himself to sit on the lip of the tub across from you. The tiny motel bathroom left little room between the two of you, and your knees brushed against each other in your seated positions. 

“You’re hurt and I’m helping you. Take it from me, you don’t need to pull the tough guy routine all the time. It’s not gonna help anyone.” It was as if the intensity of his eye contact had taken hold of your entire body. You were frozen in front of him, caught off guard and melting quickly as warmth swelled in your heart. This felt different than the usual Dean. In a way, him helping you in your vulnerabilities seemed vulnerable of him, too. And there was no denying your feelings for the man. In the short few years you had hunted with the brothers, you had developed a soft spot for the older Winchester that you had vowed to never let see the light of day. But your heart was beating hard and fast against your chest, because here he was, right in front of you, reaching in to unbutton your shirt…

You shook the thoughts from your head, recognizing the tenderness of the moment. Off came your shirt, which Dean haphazardly folded and placed on the counter. The intensity that buzzed between the two of you raged on unencumbered for a while. It made you nervous to look at him even a second longer, so you turned your gaze to your jeans, working at the button with your free hand. Dean sat back, letting you work for a moment, before stepping in to help and to dissolve the tension with a joke. 

“This might be the longest it’s ever taken someone to take their pants off for me,” he chuckled to himself as he popped the button free with ease.

Your head snapped up to him, your expression tinged with annoyance, but Dean didn’t miss the blush that tinged your cheeks and the smile that threatened to breach the surface. He knew you were unhappy with the situation, a bit anxious and uncomfortable, so he figured he would do what he did best- crack a few jokes. Plus, he had come so close to kissing you right then and there that he needed a way to distract himself. 

Dean always knew how to make you laugh. It was one of the things you liked most about him. So any nerves you had about being naked in front of Dean Winchester were easily melted away because you couldn’t help yourself from laughing the whole time. Like head-thrown-back, full-body-shaking laughter. What had started as a challenging and tense situation had boiled down to just simply hanging out with Dean. 

He had lowered you into the tub, you clinging to his arm for dear life, until you were sat down, the bubbles in the water providing you just the right amount of coverage to make you feel even more secure. Once you were settled in, Dean took a step back, sitting down to let you get to work. He knew you would want to retain a bit of independence, so he let you work on scrubbing whatever you could with the arm you had, only stepping in when you needed his help. The time was filled with conversation about the previous hunt, wonders about what Sam could possibly bring back for food at this hour, and plenty of shared laughter at Dean’s jokes. 

“So I see you don’t have a lifeguard here at your beach,” Dean said, taking on a dramatic tone as if he were playing a character. 

“Dean, what are you-” 

“No, no, no. You’re supposed to say, ‘I’m not at the beach, this is a bathtub.’” He wagged a finger at you as he corrected your response. 

“What the hell are you talking ab- Oh my God! DEAN!” Realizing the origin of the joke he was making, you used your free hand to splash him with the warm soapy water. But you couldn’t even feign frustration- your laughter gave you away. 

Things continued on like this for a while- you and your washcloth scrubbing dirt and blood from every corner of your skin, Dean cracking jokes, and occasionally stepping in to offer a hand.

“Look, let me do your hair for you. How the hell are you supposed to do that with one hand?” Dean interjected as you attempted to lather shampoo in your palm. 

He kneeled on the floor next to you, taking the bottle into his hands. As he worked, you took time to notice the sensations around you, to ground yourself in the moment. You watched soap bubbles take flight as you moved through the bath. You felt the warm water lapping at your skin, and the gentle circles Dean’s fingers made on your scalp. You could smell the clean scent of the soap that filled the tub, the floral perfume of the shampoo, both mixed with something you could only describe as Dean. He smelled like some combination of the beer he was drinking, his usual cologne, and the lingering sweat and dirt of the day’s hunt. Rarely were you close enough to Dean to be able to smell him, but whenever you did, you relished in the moment. But at this particular moment, his proximity was drawing all of the nerves back into your system. Dean was hovering over your naked body- you could feel his breath on the back of your neck as he worked his fingers through your hair. Beyond feeling his touch on your skin, you felt as if you could feel him- his presence, his essence. It was so intimate, so romantic, that your heart swelled and your mind raced to a million and one places. Nevertheless, you remained anchored in the bath, the water and bubbles serving as a shield and the only thing that served to separate the two of you. 

When you were finished, all the suds rinsed off your body leaving you squeaky clean, you weren’t sure how to feel. Dean had slipped out of the room to grab you a towel, and though you remained in the tub filled with the warm water and the air hung hot and heavy with humidity, the lack of his presence still made the room feel cold. Sitting alone with your thoughts, even for such a brief moment, you had realized the extent of your feelings, the irreparable mark Dean had left on your heart. In your head, you rifled through a library of moments you two had shared, picturing this morning’s events sliding into place on the shelf as the newest edition of the series.

Stepping back into the room with the towel, Dean handed it over to you before plucking the plug from the drain and helping you rise to your feet. You braced the towel underneath your broken arm and used the other to wrap it around yourself, hoping to restore even a shred of your decency- though there was little point in that anymore. Now there sat a power imbalance in your relationship with Dean- he had all the cards in his hands. So when you stepped out of the tub, you stood square in front of him, determined to level the score somehow. 

You lingered for a moment, both of you locked in an intense stare, feeling goosebumps radiate your entire body. At first, you attributed these to your drastic change in body temperature since stepping out of the water, but when you noticed a similar sensation rising over Dean, your perception shifted. Dean cleared his throat.

“So, uh, you want me to help you get dressed?” Dean rubbed at the back of his neck to settle the hairs that had been raised under your intense look.

“Not really.” You murmured in response, looking to him through lidded eyes. The unusual burst of confidence in your system inched you closer and closer, until there was nothing that separated the two of you but the thin towel you had wrapped around your frame. 

You channeled every ounce of what you were feeling into your gaze, praying Dean could read your thoughts through your eyes as if you were an open book. When he reached a hand up to cup your face, you knew the message was received. With a slowness that was almost painful, he leaned his forehead against your own, drawing his lips nearly to yours before rerouting them to your cheek, just slightly above their initial destination. After planting the softest kiss, his lips lingered, hovering ever so slightly above you. Dean was in limbo, as if he couldn’t decide whether to pull away and return to safety, or lean in to seal the deal. But you made the choice for him when your hand snaked around the back of his head and pulled him down to you, closing the gap between your lips. 

The kiss was everything you had hoped it would be, and yet, nothing you could have ever imagined. Dean was soft and gentle, so cautious of your injury, but you could feel the intensity so thinly veiled below the surface. The energy flowed from both of you, as if you were cautiously exploring something so new and dangerous, yet so incredibly desirable and magnetic. Something needed to break the seal, to throw your cautions to the wind.

You wanted to kiss Dean Winchester forever, and he shared the sentiment. So the only thing that could break you two away was the brief moment when you took a calculated step back. Confusion twisted into Dean’s face, before melting away into desire when you let your towel fall to pool at your feet. He took his own step back, reaching behind him to turn the lock on the bathroom door, before closing the gap between you- the very last time there would ever be space between you and Dean Winchester.

[castiwls]

Hii

I was wondering if you could so something with a dean x reader where one of them gets attacked by a djinn and their fantasy involves the other person?

djinn - d.w

pairing; Dean x fem!reader

synopsis; A Djinn's coma causes Dean to come to a realisation

warnings; none

notes; Idk how i feel about the ending of this one

masterlist

Dean groaned as he squinted at the light snaking through the gap in the curtains. Throwing an arm over his eyes he turned pulling the covers up with him. How much did he drink last night? He hadn’t had a hangover this bad in years.

Deciding sleep was the best idea he pulled the cover higher and closed his eyes. The room was quiet for a few minutes as he lay still, his head still throbbing. 

“Dean. Come on you need to get up. You're going to be late.” Someone reached over and pulled the cover down despite his protests. A hand shook his shoulder briefly before he felt a dip in the bed. The hand which had previously been in his hair moved upwards and began carding through his hair slowly. “Dean, come on.” 

Dean frowned slightly. He knew that voice. “Y/n?” He opened his eyes slightly and stared at the person beside him in slight shock. You smiled at him, your hand continuing its movements. “You need to stop drinking at night.” Your voice was still quiet but there was a hard edge to it. “You promised you’d stop.” 

What was going on? This wasn’t normal…at all. Sure you’d been on his case about his drinking habits for ages but you’d never been this nice about it. Normally you’d just make some snarky comment about how he was drinking himself to an early grave before pushing him to bed.

He rubbed at his eyes sitting up slowly. He slowly took in his surroundings as his body seemed to finally wake up. This wasn't the motel. His eyes darted around the room for a moment before landing on you. You looked…different.

You looked happier. The stress lines which seemed to be prematurely forming were gone and those dark bags which seemed a constant under your eyes were gone. Satisfied that he was up you stood from the bed. “You have an hour till you need to go.” 

Dean frowned clearing his throat. The headache seemed to be subsiding. “Go where?” At his words, your frown deepened. A look of concern crossed your face. “The garage. You said you would cover a shift for Bobby remember?”

Dean quickly nodded. “Yeah, yeah sorry just not with it this morning.” You shook your head before leaning down to press a quick kiss to his lips before turning and walking out of the room. 

Dean felt his cheeks heat up at the affection. While he couldn’t lie that he enjoyed it, the action also caused warning alarms in his head.

You and Dean weren’t a thing. You’d always just been his best friend nothing more. He slowly stood and walked over to the drawers pushed up against the wall and pulled a few open till eventually he found his own stuff. He’d never seen this house before in his life yet as he looked around the room it seemed that he had lived here for a while. The bedroom alone had pictures dotted around, things he had no memory of.

The last thing he remembered before waking up here was being in a barn on a hunt with Sam and the real you. He rubbed his neck as he racked his brain. What had you all been hunting?

Suddenly it hit him. A Djinn. “Fuck. Fuck.” He kicked the leg of the bed in frustration. That son of a bitch had managed to get the jump on him. He needed to get out of this dreamland fast. 

After calming himself down and getting dressed Dean made his way through the house. As he’d gotten dressed he’d been thinking of a plan. He had to wake up his actual body somehow and then get out of the barn. So far though he had no idea how to do that.

His only hope was that you and Sam would realise that he’d been grabbed and go after him. 

After a few moments, he found himself standing in the doorway to a small kitchen. At the sound of his steps (fake), you turned to face him. “There’s coffee in the pot.” You gestured to the counter beside you before you went back to cooking. 

Was this really his fantasy? Yeah sure, maybe his feelings for you weren’t exactly platonic but he didn’t realise they went this far. While he knew he had to wake up part of him didn’t want to. For the first time in years, you looked calm. You seemed the happiest he’d seen as you moved around the kitchen, humming softly.

“So, um.” He cleared his throat as he leaned against the counter. “Any plans for today?” He cursed himself internally at how awkward he was being but he had to at least act like he had an idea of what was going on.

You pursed your lips for a moment before coming over to him. You stopped in front of him before speaking. “Not much. Probably just more wedding planning I guess.” You shrugged not noticing his expression. “Oh yeah, I was gonna ask if you were happy with the quote for the venue. They need a response by tomorrow.” You stepped back before reaching for two plates from behind him.

Dean stood still as he digested what you had just dropped on him. You were getting married. To him. 

“Uh yea. Yeah, it was nice.” He nodded. You smiled as you turned with two plates. “Great I’ll call them later.” 

Dean followed behind you as you walked over to a small table. He was getting married.

What else was different in this ‘fantasy’

You frowned stepping over a pile of you didn’t even know what. “He has to be here somewhere.” You whispered as Sam shone the flashlight around the old barn.

“Over there” Sam shined the light to a corner of the barn. You could just make out the shape of a person strung up. You and Sam had managed to get rid of the Djinn relatively easily, the hard part was finding his hideout. The creature hadn’t exactly been willing to talk.

You’d only managed to figure it out due to Dean mentioning to you before he left that he was going to a barn a few miles from the motel.

You both rushed over and began to untie him. “Dean! Hey Dean.” Sam shook his brother harshly for a moment. Dean let out a quiet groan before his eyes slowly opened. “Wha-where.” He stumbled over his words for a moment before rubbing at his eyes.

Y/n crouched down beside Sam and reached out to place a hand on Dean’s arm. “Are you ok?” 

Dean nodded. He slowly pulled himself to his feet stumbling slightly. You quickly reached out to steady him. Dean’s eyes flew down to where your hand rested on his arm.

His heart picked up slightly at the touch before he cleared his throat and looked back up to where you were looking back with a concerned expression. He cleared his throat trying to push the woozy feeling in his stomach away.

As the three of you walked back to the car he found his gaze falling on your left hand. Dean had never been one for marriage or even crushes for that matter but for the first time in his life, he felt himself longing for something which seemed so far out of reach.

[winchester-girl67]

Imagine... Dean Coming To You For Comfort

Summary: Dean looks for comfort after a nightmare. He enjoys being the little spoon. 

Requested by anonymous: “could you write a fic where dean just needs some comfort from the reader? it could be platonic and dean just had a bad day or a nightmare and doesn't want to be alone and wants to be held without asking"

Pairing: Dean x reader 

Word Count: 902 

Warnings: language, nightmares, implied violence (hunting a vamp nest), brief mention of a gun reader keeps under the pillow, a little angst, emotional hurt/comfort, cuddling, fluff 

A/N: Found this in my wips, it's a little short but sweet. Enjoy. 

_____

“I said, I'm fucking fine, okay?!” 

Dean's words echoed in your ears. You'd only asked him the once and he just snapped at you, so when you got back to the bunker you beelined for your room and slammed the door. 

You didn't get food, you didn't shower off the motel shower from a few hours earlier like you usually would, and you didn't get any sleep either. ‘Monopoly’ speaking, you did not pass 'GO'. You just pouted in your bed. 

The hunt could've gone better; it also could've gone worse. 

You stared at the ceiling, still awake and wondering how to reproach Dean. He was clearly not fine but until he was able to admit that, there was no getting through to him. Dean was just too stubborn when he was in these moods and honestly you were a little, too. You wanted to help, but you didn't want to swallow your pride and walk down that hall just to have him yell at you again. 

You weren't a masochist. But you still laid there, in bed, overthinking everything that went wrong with the hunt. 

First of all, you should've brought Sam with you, or Cas. Dean said it would be simple enough though with the two of you. It wasn't and you almost got killed. Dean, of course, wasn't letting himself forget it. You could see that written all over his face on the ride home. 

Stopping your mind from racing wasn't easy. You counted the dots on the ceiling tiles as you listened to the ticking of Dean's wristwatch on your arm. He'd synchronized it to the time on his cell and given it to you before the hunt so you could stay structured in your plan against the vamp nest. 

It was smart, until it wasn't. There were more than you expected and you always jumped the gun and went in first. Standing still wasn't the easiest thing for you to do with all that adrenaline pumping in your veins. And you were used to hunting alone. Before the Winchesters came into the picture. 

Needless to say, everything that went wrong after that was about ninety-percent your fault. The other ten was simply a miscalculation.

You'd known the Winchesters for quite some time but moving into the bunker with them was fairly new. In the back of your mind, you hoped Dean wouldn't ask you to move out. You kinda liked not being completely alone anymore. The world was tough and they felt like family already. It would break your heart for sure; shatter any trust you had left. 

Your bedroom door creaked open slowly on its old hinges and a shadowed figure peaked its head inside your room. You held your breath for a moment and gripped the cool handle of your gun underneath your pillow. 

Always on guard. Even if the bunker was the safest place you'd ever been. 

"Easy, Y/N, it's just me." Dean said, pushing the door open the rest of the way so the light of the hall revealed his features. 

His expression was soft, too soft -broken like a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders and the nightmares to prove it. His hair was disheveled and he rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands. 

"Just wanted to check on you, I'll let you get back to sleep. Sorry I woke you, sweetheart." Dean breathed deep and slowly started to shut your door. "And sorry I yelled." 

"Wait," you sat up and placed the gun on the night table next to you before switching the light on low. "Come here. Close the door." 

You flipped back the covers, shuffled over to make room and patted the mattress beside you. Dean wiped the frown from his face with his hand and did as you said. He shut the door and settled into bed next to you. Tense and unmoving once he rolled onto his side facing away from you. 

He couldn't ask, but he didn't need to. 

You clicked off the light and tugged up the covers to his chin. Your palm rubbed over his shoulders and half-way down his back, then circled up again until you felt his muscles begin to relax. 

"That feels nice," he breathed and sniffled a little. 

You continued your motions for a while longer until his breathing evened out, you could tell he was still awake but knew he didn't intend on talking things out. That wasn't Dean. So instead, you rubbed up and down his arm and molded your chest into his back, settling into your position as big spoon. You squeezed him and held his hand against his chest. 

"Thank you," he sighed and weaved his fingers through yours. 

Dean didn't talk about feelings if he didn't have to. And for someone so 'tough', more often than not, he liked to be the little spoon. Especially to your big spoon. 

There was an unspoken understanding that neither of you were ever to bring it up in the light of day. But things were just different at night and being vulnerable and open didn't feel as achy and oozy. 

Feelings were allowed to be felt in the dark. 

He'd be gone before you woke, starting breakfast and roasting coffee in the kitchen, but for now your pieces could hold his pieces together. 

And maybe you could both finally get some sleep. 

_________________________ Dean: @akshi8278 @laycblack @thoughts-and-funnies @mrsjenniferwinchester @crustycheeks @kazsrm67 @sexyvixen7 @lyarr24 @suckitands33  @eliwinchester99 @yvonneeeee @igotmajordaddyissues @djs8891 @leigh70 @globetrotter28 @backseat-of-deans-67chevy

SPN: @hobby27

[percywinchester27]

The new Mrs. Winchester (18)

Word count: 3.1K

Pairing: Sam X Reader AU

Chapter warnings: Implications of sexual abuse, mentions of torture, PTSD, angst, flesh trade, language, mention of violence; reader discretion is strongly advised.

Series Summary: After spending over two years in captivity, and enduring assault, torture, and degradation of every kind, Y/N is finally sold off to the highest bidder. But when the deal is masked as a hushed marriage to a wealthy and powerful man, Y/N knows it means a few more nights of brutal torment ending in certain death. After all, why else would a man like him, want someone like her, except to fulfill desires so depraved that they would require owning a person. However, the Winchester mansion has mysteries of its own, woven in lies, betrayal, and death. Smack in the middle of it, she finds both hope and a home, in the person she least expected to find it with. But when it comes down to it, will she be able to save the thing that matters the most?

A/N: Really slowly, but we are getting there ;)

Beta: My darling @deanssweetheart23

With your back to the damp wall, you stared at the mouldy ceiling. Sick green patches had bloomed all over it, giving the appearance of an ugly, mossy carpet. A guard had thrown two blankets over your body. Amazing the difference that warmth could make to the mind’s functioning. 

Thirteen men so far. 

The pins had been removed from your heels, and now littered on the cell’s floor.  Using the sharp point of one you made thirteen lines on the wall, then a fourteenth one. The guard from the first night should also count. But so should Nick, then.

Rage, the sort that could scorch the earth whole erupted inside you. A few days was all it took for the shock to turn into horror, then grief and finally rage. That monster was the reason Danny and Jamie were being held hostage. But they were safe. You had gathered your marbles and spent every minute since your recapture vigorously trying to understand the extent of your situation to the last detail. First: You were a commodity, with investment already put in place. If you behaved as instructed, you could avoid the worst of bodily harm, at least, from the captors’ side. The boss– a shudder ran through your body, in cold fear– wouldn’t let his men touch you… only the clients and him. The first assault from a guard was a one-time thing and would never be repeated, now that you knew all the rules. So, as an investment, you would be taken care of. Physical injuries would obviously reduce the value of the goods. 

Second: The kids were safe for now. The business didn’t deal with murdering children for fun, they were only a security and not a purposeful target. No one would ever go out of their way to hurt them. As long as you followed instructions, they would be untouched and well-educated. 

Third: You could manage and escape, but you wouldn’t even try now and everyone knew that. They managed high-end clientele and you were specifically chosen for being well-educated, where you could entertain body and mind. 

A possibility emerged from all the analysis. If you managed to stay alive for a few decades here, they wouldn’t want anything to do with a wrinkled woman. Then, instead of killing you, they might turn you onto the streets. 

A rattling cough sounded from the adjoining cell. In the afternoon, when they’d taken you upstairs for the man in the hideous purple suit, the cell had been empty. Noises could only mean one thing– you weren’t the newest piece for sale anymore. 

Gripping the bars, you hoisted yourself up, still in pain, and banged on the wall. No one was on duty in the passageways at that time. The girl must have mirrored you, for you could see the tips of her fingers if you craned your neck.

“Don’t resist,” you whispered. “They’ll get you one way or another. It’s no use.”

She spat. “You can give up. But I won’t. I’ll find a way of getting out of here.”

You didn’t mind her derision. Rather, a sadness gripped your heart at her confidence, at the fight she harboured. You were just the same once.

Sliding back, you bit back a shriek of pain. Everything hurt and you didn’t know if you would be ready to deal with more by tomorrow.

“Where… where are we?” She asked, voice shaky. “Which way is the exit?”

“We’re in Texas, near the border to New Mexico. This is the second basement and the exit is on the third right by the parallel passageway. Two guards are always stationed there. If you get past it, you’ll exit on a mile-long driveway and about two miles to the east of its end, you’ll find a bus stop.”

A sharp intake of breath.

“I managed to escape once,” you told her. “Almost made it into the bus, too.”

“So, there is a way out?”

You didn’t want to repeat words of hopelessness to her. In her own time, she would know how impossible it was.

Michael came rattling the bars and you pressed up against the wall, scared of the smirk on his face. But he stopped before your cell, in front of hers. 

“C’mon, Darling, it’s showtime,” he sneered. She must have spat in his face because the next minute you heard the clanging of the door being opened and then a slap, followed by a crash. 

“You better watch it, bitch!” 

“My boyfriend will rip you to pieces!” She screamed.

“Oh, really?” Another slap.

A sob broke free of your lips. That poor girl had also trusted a man and ended up here. You knew the drill, the water hoses, followed by nights of torment where she would worry sick about the guy before they would drop the truth on her of who really sold her.

“T-Take me!” The words left your lips, and then you couldn’t take them back. “Leave her. I’ll go again tonight.”

“My… my… how touching,,.” Michael came around to your cell. “Such a princess move! You know I’m not picky. If you want to get some more tonight, be my guest.” He opened your door and yanked you out. Slowly, you moved past her and registered nothing but her big brown eyes, before Michael poked you in the back. “After you, your royal highness.”

*****

“Would you like honey in your coffee, Miss?”

You craned your neck up to squint at her. “Honey? In coffee?”

“Yes,” said Abby. “Mr. Winchester has been taking it in his and it seems to have made all the difference.”

“Abby, the only thing that could make any difference to his coffee is throwing that whole jar away.”

She giggled quietly and added a single sugar cube to yours. You registered her mild tone. There seemed to have been a colossal shift in her attitude towards Sam. You wouldn’t be the one to complain, but regretted having missed the phenomenon.

“Mrs Winchester!” Sarah, the other maid on Wednesday’s wait staff barged into the room. “Ma’am, you need to come down, people have come asking for Mr Winchester.”

Sharing a confused look with Abby, you followed Sarah downstairs and then steeled yourself to find most of the board in the dining room, seated at the table.

“Mr Singer, it's wonderful to see you here,” you greeted Bobby and then the other members, most of whom were Sam’s cousins. “Sam isn’t home at the moment. What can I help you with?”

Sam hadn’t been home for a while now, away on business as he was.

“You can’t help here,” said Christian, but he didn’t appear surprised in the least to not find Sam at home. “It’s a board matter.”

None of the Campbells had ever spoken to you directly. Not Christian or even Gwen, but she was glaring at you now.

“Why, I think I deserve to know.”

“If you insist then,” he said, tilting his head. “The board has decided by a majority to remove Sam Winchester as the CEO. Considering the share of all present parties, the majority percentage agrees to instant dismissal.”

Your heart started pumping faster in your chest, but you managed to murmur, “How does that work?”

Christian seemed to be the spokesperson here. “Removing Sam’s forty per cent leaves sixty per cent. Bobby here refuses to agree–” a sneer in his direction– “ That leaves a majority of the shares with us! Is it simple enough for you, Y/N?”

You jerked at being called by your name by anyone other than Sam. However, you held your ground. “Doesn’t leave sixty per cent.”

“Excuse me?” Gwen stepped up.

“I said, removing Sam’s share, doesn’t leave sixty per cent. It leaves eighty. A week ago he transferred half of his shares to mine.”

A rumble ran through the assembled men. Apparently, the share transfer hadn’t been put up on a bulletin board. 

“That’s still what? Twenty to–”

“Twenty-five,” grumbled Bobby. “Don’t go forgetting this old man, Campbell.”

Christian was losing it now. “Fine, big deal. It’s still twenty-five to thirty-five. About time that Sam and his new bride packed up and left.” 

At your startled look, Gwen grinned. “Didn’t you know, Darlin’? The mansion’s run by a trust, no majority, no house.”

You looked about yourself, missing Sam in your bones. Insanely, while sitting at the dining table, of all people you thought of Han. The snapping, the hostile looks in everyone’s eyes reminded you of his words: “Lady, if you run into the wolves, I’ll be afraid for them.” You wanted to be that brave girl now, the one unafraid of wolves. And just like that you were homesick for him. He’d promised to come when you needed help, needed him– lamp or no lamp.

And here you were about to be thrown out when Sam wasn’t even home.

The doors of the dining hall were thrown open and you jerked up in your seat. As if in a fever dream you saw Han saunter into the living room, boots, leather jacket, muddy jeans and all, as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

As he passed by your chair, he lightly ruffled the top of your hair briefly, then pulled the chair beside yours and fell on it. “Hey, Chewie!” He grinned, completely disregarding that every chair apart from his and yours had scraped and now everyone else was on their feet, emotions ranging from shock to being thunderstruck. He put his muddy boots up on the table over crossed ankles. The soles directly faced Christian.

You made a move to get up as well, but he placed a hand on yours to hold you there. You couldn’t help but gauge everyone’s reaction. Out by the brook, on your pier, holding Han’s hand would be the most natural thing in the world, but not only did he seem completely out of place here amidst these men in suits, but he also didn’t seem to care… at all. And you didn’t know if you did, as Mark Campbell’s eyes moved from Han’s face to his hand on yours. Be that as it may, you were still magnanimously glad that he was here for you.

“So, Christian, I heard you were harassing this young lady?” Said Han, eyes sharp. “Old habits die hard, huh?”

A slight panic started to rise in your throat. You didn’t want any of these people to be disrespectful to your friend, be horrible to him, because they were perfectly capable of it. 

“Ha–” you started, but he tightened the grip on your hand, and you understood his signal to be quiet.

No one had found their voices yet and were still gawking at Han as if he were some extra-terrestrial being.

In the end, Bobby cleared his throat and put a hand on your friend’s shoulder. “It’s good to see you, son.” 

Han turned his face to meet Bobby’s gaze and you couldn’t see the expression on it anymore, but Bobby’s eyes became tender and he let go. When Han faced Christian again, the steel was back in his voice. “ Explain the math to me again, will you?”

“Y-you can’t just come back again and… and…”

“And what? Explain it like a five-year-old to you?” Han smirked. “Did you leave all of my twenty per cent out? Guess it doesn’t take the MBA that you don’t have to figure out forty-five is a bigger number than thirty-five, huh?”

“You, son of a bitch,” hissed Christian, putting his palms on the table. “You think you can disappear to God knows where and then turn up now to–”

For the second time, the door to the dining room opened and Sam stumbled in. At first, his gaze fell on the assembly as a whole, then he did a double take at Han, eyes going wide and wider by the second, until they dropped to your entwined hands and back up again, at your face first and back to the man next to you. You saw him rock a little on his feet and then go very still.

You yanked your hand back, but you needn’t have because Han let go, too, and got to his feet. You fully appreciated how tall he was, also. It seemed like an eternity passed between them as they stood staring at one another and slowly, very slowly the situation truly sank in your comprehension. 

Castiel followed after Sam and froze, too, then exclaimed, “Dean!”

With shaky feet, you stood up, realising how wrongly you had interpreted the entire situation. The board members weren’t shocked at the appearance of an alien person in their midst. Rather they were incensed at the entry of the strongest contender in the game save for Sam himself.

This man was Dean. Your Han was Dean Winchester.

“Cas,” Bobby warned, and Castiel schooled his expression. “Move along then, people,” Bobby raised his voice. “I believe the matter is settled. Let the family have some privacy.” But the men didn’t seem to want to move, as if they were also caught in the power of the unbroken gaze, expecting a shouting match… eager for it. And maybe they weren’t far off, because you knew Sam’s clenched jaw and Dean’s steely eyes. 

“Move now!” Bobby snapped and slowly the board filed out of the room. Cas, the last to leave, closed the door behind him with a look of apprehension.

Your breath caught.

Time unfroze then.

Suddenly, Sam crossed the room and closed the distance in between to engulf his brother in a tight hug. Dean hugged him back fiercely, eyes an ocean of emotions– pain, longing, love. And Sam? You had seen him stressed, worried, even vulnerable… but never like this, never seen him close his eyes so tight and simply let go. The weight he seemed to carry on his shoulders all the time, seemed to evaporate in a second and you could see in him the man who was only twenty-nine, without the responsibility of the world to pull him down.

They broke apart, eyes still roving each other's faces for a minute, before Sam turned to you, grinning. “Dean,” he said, voice lighter than a breeze, “This is Y/N. And Y/N, this… this is my brother, Dean.”

He took a step in your direction, but you moved back, flattening yourself against the wall. “Don’t… don’t come close to me.”

“Y/N?”

Sam’s brow furrowed. 

You inched further away, pointing a finger at him. “You got me good, Sam. You got me real good. You and your brother. Did you plan every second of it? And for how long? For two years, is it? For two years you’ve made a fool of the whole world… no bigger fool than me, though. Brilliantly executed good cop- bad cop routine.”

You felt disgusted at yourself for falling for the manipulation. Had anything been real at all? 

“You wouldn’t even look at me in the beginning. In… In the chapel, you wouldn’t even turn your head in my direction, as if I was something disgusting stuck to your shoe, and you treated me like an invisible ghost in your house. And then you graced me with your attention, your care, your… your…” You broke down crying. “All to get me talking. I know that now. I’m not stupid.”

Knees bucking, you fell to the ground, unable to stop the pitiful crying. 

Both brothers moved, but Dean was quicker to get on his knees.

“Chewie–”

“Don’t you fucking call me that,” you screamed. “I trusted you. I thought you were my friend.”

Over you, Sam started, worried eyes shifting between you and his brother in confusion.

“You’re an asshole,” you pointed at the man before you and then above. “You, too, Sam. You violated my trust. What you did is no better than any of those hundred men.”

Sam flinched. You might have slapped him.

Shakily, you got to your feet. “I’ll never forgive you.” 

The run up the stairs and straight into your room ended when you threw yourself onto the bed. The silk hangings mocked you. You had been blinded by the false promises and reassurances, but you were still nothing more than a piece for sale, to be used… had never been anything more.

Slowly the past few months started to feel like a dream… one that had always felt too good to be true because it was.

The girl in the next cell jumped up from the floor as you were nearly dragged back to the basement that night, having completely lost the will and ability to walk. You heard the clatter of steel bowl as she rushed, but couldn’t find the energy to meet her gaze. Then it was too late as the door to your cell opened and you were unceremoniously flung inside. The birds outside were just starting to twitter, signaling the early hours of morning, little rodents scurrying to get back into their holes now that the night had ended. How you wanted to crawl in a hole, too, and just… die.

“Why did you do that?” She asked, voice strangled.

You didn’t have an answer for her. Getting slapped six times was nearly the same as getting slapped five times, right? Tonight, you were beaten anyway and she wasn’t. You understood the difference.

“Thank you.” Her voice held all the gratitude.

With the last vestiges of strength, you dragged yourself up onto the cot and pulled the two blankets over your body. “It’s alright.” Maybe she heard the whisper. Maybe she didn’t.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “I’m gonna get us out of here. Get you out, if it’s the last thing I do.”

She was brave that one. You wanted to tell her to hold on to that spirit because men knew nothing but to hammer against it. Men knew nothing but to take advantage of women, but you were too tired to open your mouth.

Maybe having her in the next cell, you might not feel so lonely anymore, you thought as your eyes closed.

The banging woke you up. Sam was hammering on the connecting door of your room. Pulling your hands up, you shut your ears tightly until the banging stopped. Sam didn’t rest, as the desperate banging gave way to structured knocks.

L-E-T  M-E  A-T-L-E-A-S-T  E-X-P-L-A-I-N

P-L-E-A-S-E

Y-N

One last loud bang against the door, as if he had banged his fists against it in frustration.

You must have fallen asleep or were nearly under when softer knocks sounded right over your headboard on the wall:

I-M  S-O-R-R-Y

But you didn’t have it in you now. All along you had been right: Men knew nothing but to take advantage of women.

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

A/N 2: I am struggling to write. Encouragement is the only thing keeping me going at this point. Please chat me up/ message me/ share your thoughts on this chapter!

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[lenavonschweetz]

Hunter Insert

Dean Winchester x Reader

Synopsis: You really didn’t mean to, but somehow you’d stumbled upon something called Tumblr - and in turn fanfiction. You may or may not get addicted to reader inserts featuring your favorite teammate. You may or may not get caught.

Warnings: Smut, second-hand embarrassment, adorable Dean, fanfiction cliches, fanfiction cliches turned on their heads, fluffy smut.  It’s ok (and quite adorable, honestly) to laugh during sexytimes.

A/N: This is just a reworking of one of my most popular Bucky x reader fics!  Tweaked for the Supernatural world and storyline. No Beta, so be kind!

You’d had a thing for Dean Winchester for longer than you could remember.

It probably all started when you met Sam Winchester at school.  The tall goober took to you immediately.  Your calming presence and warm smile lured him in and you became fast friends, giving Sam a bond he hadn’t felt in a long time.  You were the only one he trusted enough to tell the truth about his family and their business.  He spoke of his older brother with bucket loads of admiration, though he would never admit it to the man in question.  When he told stories of their shenanigans back in the day, his eyes would light up but then his smile would fall just as quickly when he also recalled his father.  You fell in love with the idea of a man glorious enough to make even displaced, ‘unwanted’ (his words, not yours), and jaded Sam smile like the kid he never got to be.

They say reality never lives up to the stories, but lord almighty were they wrong.

You first met Dean when the business of his dad’s disappearance was in full swing.  A regular weekly movie night at Sam and Jessica’s place having turned tense when an unknown figure had broken in.  You remember your eyes had wandered to his dark figure, speaking to Sam in hushed tones, head reeling as you realized this was the man who haunted your dreams. The infamous older brother and monster hunter, Dean Winchester.

You hadn’t believed in love at first sight, but the way his impossibly hazel eyes made your heart clench… Well, there was no denying this is exactly what was happening.  

After Jessica had died you sat out the first leg of their search for their father, wanting to let them catch up.  It wasn’t until after their father was long dead, and the apocalypse was well on its way that you joined back in - or rather, were dragged back in.  Being the only woman currently in Sam’s life - though platonically, of course - the universe seemed to have it out for you and after having to save you from demons at least twice, the brothers claimed teaching you how to defend yourself and dragging you along with them would be safer than leaving you to whatever fate there was to be had.  You even became an incredibly capable hunter.  Though this was all after Sam had effectively ended the world with a demon lover who screwed him over, Dean died then came back thanks to the help of an angel - Castiel - who joined in your asinine little game, and the apocalypse really started.  Because life with the Winchesters was never simple.

And through all your years together, there was always the looming reality - or rather, fantasy - of the Supernatural books by Chuck Shurley.

At first, the fans were harmless.  There was the convention incident where reality and fantasy got a little too close, but Chuck assured you he was going to stop writing the books.  

He lied, obviously.

Still, the fandom was mostly benign - and rather small, actually, with only some fanatics here and there. Although perhaps your favorite attention to come from the ‘fame’ was from Tumblr.

Folks from all over the world posted about the boys - or rather their ‘fictional’ counterparts. Artists’ work would pop up from time to time, usually of the boys, but yours were there - even if they were pretty scarce. 

The art was amazing.  Some funny comics, some lewd drawings, some gorgeous renders - all talent.  But somehow, from Chuck’s descriptions of you and the boys, these artists rendered the most flattering, wonderful, and accurate works.  It was incredibly humbling and awe-inspiring all at once.  It even got you to start reading the books!

And you couldn’t blame them for the way the brothers were almost always shirtless or naked. They were like Greek statues, for God sake!

Your character was pretty popular, up until Chuck’s latest book where he started hinting at your little crush on the older brother.  Thank God the boys never read them, or you’d be in deep shit.

Some users sided with you “she’s only human! And he is just so…well, look at him!” Lewd pictures were attached to that post.  Others condemned you. “Seriously? How could he ever notice someone like her? #DeanDeservesBetter” “What’s Chuck thinking?”, “Worst.  Ship. EVER!”

Those stung, you’d admit. But if growing up in the 21st century taught you anything, it’s that fans were only jealous and no one was safe. You could ignore the hate though.

What you couldn’t ignore was the fanfiction.

Oh goodness, the fanfiction.

What seemed to be most popular were the reader inserts with your gorgeous teammate, and you didn’t mind indulging in them one little bit. Some were sweet and cute, others left you dashing for a cold shower after. It stunned you that these writers were able to capture Dean’s mannerisms and personality so well! And these works were just so addicting!

It became a daily thing, finding a new fic, and reading it in the safety of your room where no one could see or judge. You read reader inserts, stories with original characters, and may or may not have found a guilty pleasure in a teensy bit of Destiel (who could deny the two perfect specimens would be hot as hell together?? But you would never tell them).  You steered clear of the Dean x Lisa fics, though, like your life depended on it.

That was one torture you just couldn’t expose yourself to.

Then you stumbled over the one that changed everything. A new fic by one of your favorite authors that featured Dean (of course) and…you. It was a prompt you hadn’t read before, one where the two of you had to share a motel room with only one bed and things got hot and heavy. Your heart raced as you indulged in this fantasy, thinking of all the times you had to share a room with your teammates, though there was always more than one bed. You had never shared with Dean, as he usually bunked on the couch while you and Sam each bunked alone, but a girl can dream can’t she?

And dream you did.  Especially with Dean’s constant flirting and sexual innuendos.

The story became a constant thought in the back of your mind and when Sam hangs back at the bunker and leaves you and Dean to take on a duet hunt together, you felt your heart stop. At the motel when checking in, you were given one room and your mind ran ramped.  Had he read your phone’s history? Did he find your Tumblr? What if he had read the sinful story you’d found and wanted to live out the fantasy with you (another of your favorite prompts). The thoughts had you following silently behind your partner, heart racing as he smiled at you while his deft fingers unlocked the door. Steeling yourself as you walked inside behind him, you dropped your bags and spun around to find… 2 beds.

Oh.

Well, you supposed your dirty fantasies were just that; Fantasies.

----------

The night crawled on with no notable incidents -unfortunately-, and when it was finally time to call it a night, you both fell into your own beds.

Sleep evaded you for hours. The thought of that perfect body lying just feet away from you swam in the back of your mind. You could easily get up, crawl into bed with him, and make all your dreams come true. The fantasies that filled your head made you anything but tired.

Well, that, and the fact that Dean was snoring like a mother fucking buzz saw.

Your wide, dry eyes stared up at the ceiling as the loud rumbles filled the room. Dean had come a long way - with your help - and no longer had nightly episodes or memories of hell. Of course, they still happened on occasion, but they were a rare occurrence now.  The hunter often found himself sleeping soundly through most nights, including this one.

He was the only one who would, it seemed, as you tossed and turned, doing your best to tune out the irritating sound. You put earplugs in, then headphones playing music, then even tracks of white noise.  A forest, a stream, the ocean each one louder than the last.  They all usually knocked you right out on a hunt.

But Dean snored over all of them.

You did your best to ignore it, you really did, but when he rolled over onto his back and started with a newfound volume, you’d decided you’d had enough.

“Dee.”  You say lowly, hoping that he’ll sleep through the disturbance, but that his subconscious will hear his name and disturb his sleep just enough that he’ll shut the hell up.

The resounding snort proves that theory wrong.

“Dee!”  You snap, louder now.  Nothing.  “Dean!”

A few moments pass…

Nothing…

Maybe it worked!  Maybe-

Yeah, no,  there he goes again.

Groaning loudly, you sit up and reach for your phone.  Fine, if his hard-sleeping-ass can sleep through all that, then he could sleep with the light from your phone filling the room as well.

You open your favorite app, the blue screen greeting your tired eyes.  Switching over from the homepage feed, you type ‘Dean x reader’ into the app’s search bar and your screen is immediately flooded with fic after fic.  Pursing your lips, you decide to narrow your search.  It doesn’t seem like you’ll be falling asleep any time soon, so what would the harm be?  You let your thumbs fly over the screen’s keyboard.

Dean x reader smut.

Happy with your amendment, you hit ‘search’ once more and decide to take a walk on the wild side.

Immediately, your screen is flooded with sin and you bite back a smile.  With your screen’s light as low as it’ll go, you click on the first story and settle into a comfortable position, facing away from Dean and the window as you immerse yourself in the fic.

You’ve probably been reading for about an hour or so when your bladder decides it’s time for you to get up.  Sighing quietly, you leave your phone on your pillow, creeping through the silent room.  As soon as you’ve taken care of business and washed up, you tiptoe back to bed.  As you all but fall into the sheets, feeling like you can finally sleep, you realize your phone is not where you left it.

Hell, it’s not even in the bed.

Sitting up in fright, your eyes dart across the room and the sleeping man in the bed opposite yours.  When you see the dimly glowing screen on the bedside table, you sigh in relief, telling yourself that your sleep-deprived brain probably just didn’t register you putting it away.  Locking the screen with sleepy eyes, you drift off to sleep with visions of Dean trailing kisses down your neck flitting behind your eyes.

----------

The morning comes much too quickly for your taste, but you push yourself out of bed to face the day ahead.

You grab your bag quickly, packing up all your belongings as you and Dean prepare for your hunt.  He’s uncharacteristically quiet this morning, barely meeting your eyes as you two embark from the motel room.  Shrugging it off, you follow behind him and before you know it, the two of you are standing before the doors to a known haunted office building.  It’s far too early for anyone to be there, so breaking in is easier than you’d expected and the two of you don’t run into any trouble as you make your way to the top floor.

Once there, you put your plan into motion, Dean taking a defensive position as you sneak into the manager’s office.  You find the haunted artifact like you’ve done a million times before, and you note the sudden shift in the air once you touch it.  It’s almost too quiet as you do your work, but by the way Dean hasn’t even flinched in his spot is a good indicator that things are - miraculously - still going as planned.

Finally, your work is done - the artifact turned to ash and the ghost successfully placated.

----------

You don’t allow yourself to breathe until you and Dean walk into yet another motel, this one only a few towns over from your rendezvous point with Sam.  You’d spend the night here before making the remainder of the journey in the morning.  Exhaustion hits you like a freight train as you trudge to the room, and you find yourself hoping against hope once more that your favorite fics may come to life.  But when your eyes fall on two beds once more those hopes are dashed.

“You can take the king,”  Dean says, and you suddenly realize those are the first words he’s spoken to you all day aside from the business of the break-in earlier.  There hadn’t even been one famous Dean innuendo all day.  “I’ll take the queen.”

You raise your eyebrow at that but don’t argue, even though you know damn well that the man who is almost twice your size probably needs the larger bed more than you do.

No more words are passed between the two of you as you prepare for bed, each taking their turn in the bathroom and shower before turning the lights out and settling down to sleep.  It doesn’t take long for sleep to tickle at your eyelids, but it’s chased away almost instantly when Dean’s buzz saw snores kick to life again.

Groaning quietly, you toss a pillow at the human-grizzly bear before rolling over to grab your phone and headphones from the bedside table.  He continues, of course, and you go to your favorite app once more.  Using your phone this late at night and right before you sleep is bad, you know, but how the hell are you supposed to sleep with that man rumbling only several feet from you.

You open a new fanfic, this one’s warnings staring you down as you read “smut, language, NSFW gifs” and you can’t fight back the smirk that plays on your lips.  Again, you roll onto your side, back towards Dean, as you get to reading.

You know your breathing has picked up pace as you get past the fic’s casual banter between friends and the sexual tension sets in.  Your legs squeeze together of their own accord, your chest warming in arousal as you envision Dean speaking to you the way he’s speaking to Y/N in this fic.

Within a few minutes - and a few lines - the sexual tension explodes into a full-on kiss, the smut slowly building as a result.  You scroll quickly, devouring every detail before your fingers slow as the top of a gif comes into view.  It’s sinful, to say the least.  You watch the way the man’s hips swivel into his lover’s, her head thrown back as he buries his head against her throat and himself deep into her.

Your lip is back between your teeth and you can’t bring yourself to scroll on just yet.  Instead, you let yourself take every detail in as the image loops, again and again, your arousal growing with every second.  Oh, what you wouldn’t give to have Dean moving against you that way.  His heavy breath fanning over your collarbone as he grinds against your most sensitive skin.  You have to bite your tongue so as to not moan into the silent room.

Wait…

Silent.

You realize at that moment that the violent snores from the other side of the room have died completely, silence overtaking their absence.  A silence that has you tentatively glancing over your shoulder and only to immediately regret it.

Even in the dark, your eyes find the hazel ones that are only inches away.  Hazel eyes that are damn near swallowed with lust.

Oh.  

Oh, Jesus.

“Whatcha lookin’ at, Kiddo?”  His deep voice rumbles in the quiet room, sending your heart galloping as you jump up to sitting, desperately burying your phone against your breast in an effort to hide its contents from him.

“Nothing.”  You say, your voice scarcely above a whisper.  You don’t miss the smirk on his face and frantically reevaluate the past several minutes in your brain.  When had he woken up?  When had he snuck up behind you?  How much had he read over your shoulder?

“Doesn’t look like nothing to me.”  He says, teeth dragging over his lower lip and it seems for a moment that he’s debating on whether or not he wants to take this any further.  When he speaks again though, he makes his choice very clear.  “Looks like you’re being a very bad girl.”

The room is so fucking quiet that the lump that you gulp down is painfully audible.

He didn’t just say that…did he?  You chuckle humorlessly, trying desperately to break the obvious tension and play off of the joke he is so obviously playing on you.  Dean makes comments like that all the time.  That’s just how he is with you!  Any moment now he’ll chuckle like he always does.

But then he doesn’t laugh with you.  Just stares as he scoots closer on his knees until his frame is right against the bed, pulling you by your thighs until he’s encasing you - palms on either side of your legs that are now thrown over the side of the bed.

You’reDreamingYou’reDreamingYou’reDreaming…

“That…that was too far, wasn’t it?”  He suddenly asks, rocking his weight back on his heels.  Bless him, he looks so uncharacteristically shy and you must look completely dumbfounded.  He waits with bated breath as you open and close your mouth uselessly, desperately searching for words.

Finally, you spit out the first thing that comes to mind.

“Did you just quote the fanfiction I read last night?”  OH MY GOD, you mentally scream.  Why the fuck would you expose yourself like that?? What if he just thought of that himself??

But then what if he didn’t?  Because that line had definitely stuck out to you when reading the night before…and suddenly, you remember why it had.  That was the last line before you left your phone to go to the bathroom.  The last line you’d read with tired eyes before you set your phone down, unlocked, on your pillow and - ohmygod!

“You read that!?”  You screech, gripping your phone tighter.  You gasp so hard you damn near swallow your tongue.  “You put my phone on the bedside table! Dean, you totally snooped while I was peeing!”  Alright, you could’ve kept that bit to yourself.

He’s biting that damn lip again, and you know he can tell that’s exactly where your eyes are zeroed in on.

“Maybe?”  He says, voice small as he admits his secret to you.  “I didn’t mean to!  I just…I woke up when you shut the bathroom door, and the screen was shining right in my face - I just-I got up to lock it so it wouldn’t bother me, but then I saw what you were looking at and…”  He clears his throat.  “Y/N, I…were you reading porn…about me?”

Your face is no doubt a thousand degrees of embarrassment.

“It’s not porn!! It’s fanfiction, and-”

“It literally talks about me fucking you.”  He deadpans, eyebrows raised.  “In explicit detail.  It’s porn.”

You’re silent for a few moments, staring him down as you wait for him to back down.

Of course, he doesn’t.

“Ok, fine!  It’s porn, are you happy?”  You huff, crossing your arms and finally ditching your phone to the pillow beside you.  A sudden terrifying thought causes you to freeze. “So…are you going to tell Sam?”

“Why the fuck would I tell him?!”

“I don’t know!”

“Do you honestly think I’d tell him something so personal?!”

“I don’t know!”  You repeat, floundering as you toss your hands up before crossing them again in a pout.  “It’s embarrassing.  You know I tend to jump to the worst-case scenarios…”

“Y/N, I would never out you like that.”  You would have to be blind to miss the way his eyes drag over you in your nightclothes, and you are suddenly very aware of your lack of bra and just how cold it is in the room.

He seems to notice too, his eyes zeroing in on your breasts and the way your nipples are pressing against the soft fabric encasing them.

“Do you…do you want me like that?”  He asks, his voice dropping back into the husky tone it had been before his awkward detour.

“No, Dee, I was just reading porn of you for the fuck of it.”  He chuckles at that, his palms coming to rest on your thighs as the embarrassment between you two eases - making way for a choking tension.

“Really?  Ah, well, then I guess I can just go back to bed, then.”

“Don’tyoudare!”  The words are out before you can stop them, but at this point, you don’t much care.

“Oh?  Then what should I do?”  His hazel eyes are dark, gazing at you from below thick lashes as his hands creep higher up your thighs, pushing your oversized t-shirt up to expose the soft cotton covering you from his gaze.  “Should I do this?”

Your breath catches in your throat, eyes widening as he leans forward, lips pressing against the soft skin on the inside of your thigh.

“Oh, please.”  You beg, arms falling at your sides to support you as his mouth grows closer to where you really want him.  Only he doesn’t quite reach, his eyes twinkling playfully at you.

“Words, Y/N.”  He grumbles lowly, splayed hands pushing your legs wider to give himself better access to your heat.

“Dean, please-”  A squeal escapes you when his teeth drag across your hip bone.  “Put your mouth on me.”

Nothing you’ve ever read could’ve prepared you for the way Dean touches you.

He moves slowly, his palms running from your inner thighs to behind your knees to pull your legs over his shoulders.  The movement has your stomach flipping, eyes never leaving his as he drags his tongue up the material hiding your core from him.

He chuckles at your moan, eyes batting as he presses the point of his tongue against your clit beneath your panties.  To be honest, you’re not sure which one of you is enjoying this more what with the way his fingers tighten against your legs, his eyes closing in concentration as he laps at you.

In your wildest dreams, you never thought Dean would be touching you like this - at least not outside of the fiction you were reading.  But, oh, is he touching you - playing you, more like it, plucking your strings until you’re practically singing for him.

You could cum just like this, light pets of his tongue teasing your sensitive skin, but then he’s tugging the panties from your form, diving right back into your bare skin and you’re keening at the contact, your fingers knotting in his long hair.  He groans in response to your moans, forearm flung lazily across your hips to keep you still as he wreaks havoc on you.

You open your mouth, ready to chastise him but the words instantly make way for cries as he finally swipes his tongue through your folds - fucking you with his mouth as he watches your form writhe.

“God, you taste amazing.”  He moans, and you have to hold back a giggle.  “What’s so funny?”  Do you admit that you’d read him saying those very words far too many times to keep count?

But then he’s pulling away, leaving you whimpering at the precipice of release and the sight of his strong torso being revealed to your ends any thoughts you may have had.  Especially when he reaches down and rids you of your own shirt, kissing across your collar bones once they’re exposed.

“You got any protection?”  He asks suddenly, teeth scraping at your throat and you are suddenly aware of the fact that this is real life, not a fic, and wow you’d lost count of how many bareback smuts you’d read.

Not that the thought of Dean cumming inside you wasn’t the hottest thing ever, but the idea of pregnancy was something you didn’t even want to entertain at the moment.

So, begrudgingly, you pushed him off gently, bending down to rifle through your bag - hey, it never hurts to be prepared.  You roll your eyes at his chuckle as you bend over, shaking your exposed backside at him - where he has taken your seat on the mattress - before rising to hand him the small, metallic square.

He toys with it for a few seconds, watching as you stand with a lip tugged gently between your teeth and your eyes flicker to the semi-hard shaft against his thighs. Long fingers enter your line of sight, coming to cup himself, stroking a few times as you watch him.

“See something you like, baby?”  He asks, free hand coming up to run his thumb against your lips.  You nod slowly, shivering at the new pet name, eyes never tearing from where he teases his cock.  You flick your tongue out to wet your lips, Dean’s thumb accidentally catching where it had been against your lips and then he’s growling and pulling you to him.

Your lips crash together, a flash of pain as your teeth clack momentarily, but you’re far too lost in Dean’s intoxicating proximity to care.  He seems to share the sentiment as your hands weave through his hair, pulling him closer as he moans and strokes himself faster before you straddle his strong thighs.

You consider grinding down against the taut muscle momentarily, but then Dean’s rolling the condom down his shaft, his knuckles brushing your folds as he does and all you want is for him to fill you up to the brim.

The desperation is clear on your face, wrapped in hooded eyes and a deep flush as you inhale deeply every time Dean’s knuckles brush you.

“Oh, my god!”  You huff, getting ever so impatient.  He chuckles at your tone, tugging you higher on his lap so that - finally - you’re aligned.  A brief moment passes as you two eye each other hesitantly, your nerves on fire as you consider what it is you’re about to do.  

You’re about to fuck one of your partners, one of your best friends…the man you’ve been fantasizing about for years.

“Ready?”  He asks softly, testing the waters as he runs the head of his cock through your lips.  Any hesitation you may have had melts with the shiver that travels your spine, and then some when Dean growls as you bare your nails into his shoulder blades.

“Dean, I swear to god, if you don’t fu-ck me!”  You squeal the tail end of your sentence, Dean’s own groan disappearing into the skin of your shoulder as he slides home.  Pain and pleasure flood your senses and suddenly you are highly aware of just how long it’s been.

“Shiiit,” Dean sighs at the tight fit, his fingers digging into the skin of your hips and holding you still as he struggles to hold himself off.

It’s been a while for him, too.

“Jesus, you’re tight.”  He hisses between his teeth, his brow as scrunched as yours no doubt is at the moment.

“And you’re huge.”  He laughs then, the movement of his abs against your sensitive skin enough to have you sighing.  “I, uh, think you’re good to move.”  You say quietly, testing this theory with a slight brush forward of your hips.  When delicious friction reaches your clit at the action you moan lowly.  “Oh, yeah.  Very good to move.”

And move he does, giving you a few moments as he slowly builds up the pace before falling back and letting you take the reigns.  Your hands find his strong pecs as you fall forward at the sudden shift, and a shit-eating grin crosses your face.  Dean misses this, however, as his eyes are screwed shut with pleasure.

“Fuck!”  He groans when you begin to rut against him, dragging your clit against his adonis belt as his cock head catches against your insides perfectly.  He doesn’t seem to mind this change, panting openly and quite vocally.  Well, that is until his hands find your thighs and hold on tight.  “Shit, slow down, baby…I don’t know how long I can last if you keep that up.”

You’re about to apologize, a flush very evident on your skin before Dean is manhandling you onto your back, your legs cast wide in his grasp.

“Let’s slow things down a little.”  He teases, kissing your nose as you giggle and let him set the pace.

When he does, it’s dizzyingly slow, his teeth dragging against your skin as do his fingertips and after a few minutes of sinfully slow rocks of his hips, he is very quickly stringing you towards the edge.

“Dean,”  You whimper, your walls beginning to flutter around him.  The groan that milks from his chest is nothing short of sexy and you return one of your own.  His name becomes a chant on your lips as pleasure rushes through your bloodstream, your nails digging into his taut back and after a few more thrusts of his own, he’s emptying inside the condom.

The high fades slowly, your skin buzzing in sated pleasure as a lazy smile takes place on your face.  Dean is quiet, almost shy as he retreats to the restroom to clean himself and dispose of the condom.  You snicker quietly to yourself at the thought that this detail is often left out of the fics you read, but the pleasant ache between your legs certainly isn’t.

“Well,”  He says as he returns, slipping under the covers with you.  As you shift, something digs into your side and when you bring the offending object above the covers do you realize that your phone had remained in the sheets that whole time.  You hand it off to him as he tugs you closer, waving him to put it on the bedside table.  “Aren’t you glad I decided to snoop?”  He teases as he takes the contraption from you.

“Yeah, Yeah, Dee.  But not as glad as I am that we can save on rooms by just booking us one bed from now on!”

You both chuckle at the jest, your giggles soon dying into labored breathing as your energy drains quickly against the warmth of Dean’s body wrapped around yours.  Your eyes drift shut of their own accord, not noticing how Dean hesitates at placing your phone on the charger…again.

“Hey, baby?”  He asks hesitantly, his eyes widening as he scrolls through your Tumblr feed and exposed to all sorts of sin.

“Hmm?”  You hum, sleep tickling at your mind.   That is until your eyes fly open wide at his following question.

“What’s Destiel?”

FIN

[doctorbitchcrxft]

It's The End of the World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine) | Castiel x Demon!Fem!Reader

Pairing: Castiel x Demon!Crowley's Daughter!Fem!Reader

Warnings: general demon snarkery, canon violence, canon gore

Word Count: 8503

A/N: Request fulfilled for this nonnie! I hope this makes your week a little better, sunny!! it sort of turned out to be a rewrite for Abandon All Hope 5x10 and and The Song Remains the Same 5x13. enjoy, kids!

Songs of the fic !

It’s The End of the World As We Know It (and I Feel Fine) by R.E.M.

Roll the Bones by Rush

Too Sweet by Hozier

Dream Girl Evil by Florence + the Machine

Dirty Diana by Michael Jackson

Take My True Love by the Hand by the Lamplighters

Queue up your favorite music streaming service and listen while you read along, if you'd like!

General Writings Masterlist

“Are you sure you want this?” you asked, stepping closer to the man before you, heels crunching the gravel beneath them.

The man nodded. 

“Use your words, darlin’.”

“Yes,” he replied. 

You grabbed his neck to pull him down to kiss you, but he shoved you back. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, wh— what are you doing?”

“What, you didn’t think we were just gonna shake on it, did you?” you grinned. 

“Oh,” the man replied. He hesitantly leaned back down toward you, and you tilted your chin up slightly to kiss him. 

When you pulled away, you wiped his spit off your lips— he’d been a horrible kisser— and turned away. “See you in ten years.” You closed your eyes and reopened them once inside your father’s mansion. 

The Louboutins he’d gotten you clicked across the marble floors leading down the hall to his office, and you wanted to be anywhere other than reporting to him. However, since Hell was in shambles, here was one of your only options. You knew you’d inevitably be taking a trip downstairs soon enough to speak to your accomplices. 

“Ah, (Y/N/N), welcome back,” your father said. “Business seems to be as usual.”

“Always,” you sighed. “Let’s skip the pleasantries, though. Given I’m doing your job for you, I don’t exactly have time to chat.”

“If you want to keep your position, I suggest you keep the attitude to a minimum,” your father argued, effectively silencing you. 

“Whatever,” you replied. “What do I have to do?”

“I need you to get the Winchesters here,” he stated simply. 

“What?!” you exclaimed. “What could you possibly want with those idiots?”

Your father took the Colt out of his desk and placed it in front of him. “They need this. I intend to give it to them.”

“And how does that help us?” you asked. 

He looked at you strangely, as if it was obvious. “They need it to kill Lucifer. We need them to kill Lucifer so he doesn’t kill us.”

“I mean, sure, but why are we relying on them to get the job done?” you scoffed. 

“They’ve got an angel on their shoulder. I’m sure they can handle it,” he responded. 

***

Hell was completely in chaos. There was no corner you could go to without bloodshed happening in front of you. Therefore, you and your allies decided to meet in the most inconspicuous of places: a coffee shop. In fact, it was one another one of your allies ran; it was covered in enochian symbols to keep angels from getting too close or hearing something they weren’t supposed to. 

“So, what is he just on vacation?” you asked, taking a sip of your latte. 

“Apparently, he’s got something set up in Carthage, Missouri,” your friend, Fallon replied. “Whatever it is has the reapers so excited they came running to me with information. I swear, they haven’t been this uppity since they dropped the atom bomb.”

“Oh, great,” you sighed. 

“Lucifer’s following is getting shaky, too,” your other friend, James, chimed in. “We’ve started spreading the word that he’s gonna kill us when he’s done with earth.”

“Wait, they didn’t know that before?” you questioned. 

“They seem to be on a need-to-know basis,” he shrugged. 

“Typical,” you snorted. “Any word on the Winchesters?”

Fallon smirked. “Word on the street is their little angel friend has been trailing you.”

“I thought so. He’s not exactly subtle,” you laughed. 

“Be careful tonight,” she warned. “They’ve got a little blonde friend who’s planning on showing up.”

“Great,” you rolled your eyes. “I’m sure the lumberjacks won’t be far behind.” A sigh tore through you. “I swear, if they fuck this up…” 

“I’m sure they will, (Y/N). They don’t exactly have a track record that suggests otherwise. Does Crowley have any sort of… insurance in place?” James questioned.

You bit the inside of your cheek. “It’s my father we’re talking about. I’m sure he does; probably involving a desert island and mai thais. And I’ve got some of my own.”

“What’s that smirk for?” he asked. 

“That angel fella. What’s his name?” 

“Castiel, I think,” Fallon answered. 

“Think he’s into demons?” you grinned broadly. 

“(Y/N), you’re fucking crazy,” she scoffed. 

You leaned back in your chair, feigning offense. “What? I can be very persuasive.”

“Yeah, I know, but… I mean, have you ever tried it out on an angel?” You shrugged. “Never had the opportunity.”

“That is a huge risk, though,” James pointed out. “You realize how sideways that could go?”

“Obviously. I’m bored, though. Business is slow, my dad’s a fucking idiot, and Lucifer’s gonna kill us all. Why not fuck an angel while I have the chance?” you replied. 

Fallon shook her head. “Good luck with that, lover. I’ll see you when I got something else you can use.” She headed to the back of the shop near the restrooms and disappeared under the cover of the shadows. 

James patted you on the shoulder to say goodbye. “Let me know when they’ve got the Colt. I’ll keep a tail on them when they do.”

“Thanks, love. See you around.” You walked out the front door of the café knowing the angel was near. You could almost feel the light emanating off him. 

You lead him to a clearing in the woods outside the small town you’d met your friends in. “I know you’re there, angel,” you almost spat out the words, but you tried to keep your voice sugary sweet. 

You heard a flutter of wings behind you. “Hello, (Y/N),” the angel’s deep voice rumbled. 

You turned to face the voice, and you couldn’t lie, he was incredibly attractive. “Y’know, if I wasn’t so disgusted by your existence, I’d find you pretty hot.”

“Is that supposed to be flattering?” Castiel asked, cutting his eyes at you and cocking his head to the side. 

You smirked. “You’re kinda funny for an angel.”

“I do not believe we have senses of humor,” he responded, seeming confused. 

Crossing your arms, you shook your head and rolled your eyes. “Why are you following me?”

“Crowley has something that belongs to the Winchesters,” Castiel replied. 

“And that concerns you, how?”

His expression remained deadpan. “I don’t have to answer to you.”

“Just making conversation,” you returned. “I’m assuming the cavemen in question are heading to my father’s house as we speak?”

Castiel nodded. 

“And I’m guessing they’re gonna try and kill him?” He nodded again. 

“I don’t think it’ll be in their best interest to do that,” you said evenly. 

“And why is that?” Castiel asked. 

“Because my father wants to help. And so do I,” you explained. 

Castiel furrowed his brows at you. “Why?” he grumbled. 

“Personally, I’m not interested in being turned into minced meat by the man in charge,” you snickered.

He seemed confused. 

“What, you didn’t know? Or is your face just… permanently ‘deer in headlights’?” you taunted, circling him. 

“Why would Lucifer kill his own kind?” the angel asked pointedly. He followed you with his gaze as you walked by turning his head.

“We’re not his own kind, genius. He’s a disgruntled frat boy with serious daddy issues, and we’re just the sorority girls he fucks over repeatedly trying to ignore his own problems,” you explained. 

“Lucifer knows he won’t win, correct?” 

You scoffed mockingly. “You wanna tell him? ‘Cause he firmly believes he shall inherit the earth.”

“I would rather not cross paths with Lucifer again. And I’d rather you change your tone when you speak to me,” he replied, his much taller frame intimidating you slightly. Still, you held your ground.

“Whaddya say we work together?” you asked, coming to a stop in front of him. “Y’know, you scratch my back, I scratch yours?”

“What could a demon possibly offer me?” he grumbled. 

“I can think of a few things,” you smirked. 

Castiel furrowed his brows once more, and you could see the smallest bit of lust in them. ‘Gotcha,’ you thought. 

“I know demons,” you explained. “I know how we work. I also know how to kill us. And Hellhounds adore me. I could be a valuable asset in the undoubtedly stupid plan you and the Winchesters are gonna go through with after tonight.”

He seemed hesitant, but you could tell you had him on the hook. 

“Whaddya say?”

***

Much to your surprise, Castiel had agreed to allow you to help them with their mission. However, the Winchesters clearly weren’t aware of that fact.

Your shoes clicked across the concrete as you headed toward the gates where the Winchesters and their friend Jo had just put down two of your father’s servants. 

“It’s a shame,” you said. “We just got the driveway pressure washed.” 

The two brothers were clearly surprised to see you, and the taller one squared his shoulders at you, holding out his knife. 

“Relax, would you?” you said evenly. “And put that thing away. Follow me.”

You turned on your heel and lead the duo into your father’s home. 

The heavy doors closed with a thunk behind the brothers, and you continued down the hall toward your father’s office. He’d apparently been expecting you, as he was sitting behind his desk with a cocktail in hand looking bored. You stood off to his side, leaning one arm on the back of his chair. 

“Wh— It’s Crowley, right?” Sam asked, trying to appear strong despite his clear disorientation. 

“So, the Hardy Boys finally found me. Took you long enough,” your father smirked. 

“I thought I told you to put that knife away,” you said, referencing the one in the taller man’s hand. 

Your father pulled the Colt out of his desk drawer and placed it down in front of him. “This is it, right? This is what it's all about.”

“What the hell is this?” Dean questioned gruffly. 

“Do you know how deep I could have buried this thing?�� Your father waved his hand, and the doors behind the Winchesters slammed shut. “There's no reason you or anyone should know this even exists, except that I told you.” Sam scoffed. “You told us.”

“Rumors, innuendo, sent out on the grapevine,” he returned. 

“Why? Why tell us anything?” 

Your father picked up the gun and pointed it at Dean. “I want you to take this thing to Lucifer and empty it into his face.

“Uh-huh, okay,” Dean deadpanned, “and why exactly would you want the devil dead?”

“None of you are that quick on the draw, are you?” you snickered. 

Dean looked confused. 

“I’ve already had this conversation with your Heavenly lap dog. It’s about survival.” You stalked around the two boys, who were clearly a little intimidated by you. “Lucifer isn't a demon, remember? He's an angel. An angel famous for his hatred of humankind. To him, you're hideous, unwashed miscreants. If that's the way he feels about you, what do you think he thinks about us?”

“But he created you,” Sam noted. 

“Well, that’s a nice sentiment— parental love, and all that— but to him, we’re just servants; cannon fodder.” You came to a stop beside your father again. 

He spoke up to finish your explanation. “If Lucifer manages to exterminate humankind, we're next. So, help me out, huh? Let's all go back to simpler, better times, back to when we could all follow our natures. I'm in sales, dammit! So what do you say if I give you this thing, and you go kill the devil?” He held out the Colt, handle first, to Sam, who hesitantly stepped forward to take it. 

“Great,” Sam said, looking down at the gun in his hand. 

“Great,” Crowley nodded. 

“You wouldn't happen to know where the devil is, by chance, would you?” he asked. 

“He’s got an appointment in Carthage, Missouri on Thursday,” you explained. “I’d be more than happy to escort you.”

Dean laughed. “No offense, sweetheart, but I don’t think we’ll be needing any help from you.”

“Oh, you don't?” you scoffed, eyebrows raised. “Your friend Cas seems to think I could be useful. In fact, he’s already agreed to let me come.”

Dean shook his head. “No. No fuckin’ way. Why the hell would he tell you that?”

“Trust me,” you replied, “you two troglodytes are chum in the water for whatever Lucifer’s got camping out over there. You’re gonna want another great white on your team.”

“Oh, and, uh, excuse me for asking, but aren't you kind of signing your own death warrant? I mean, what happens to you if we go up against the devil and lose?” Dean questioned. 

“Number one, he's going to wipe us all out anyway. Two, after you leave here, I go on an extended vacation to all points nowhere. And three, how about you don't miss, okay! Morons!” your father roared, his gravelly voice thick. You tossed the bullets at Sam and Dean, giving them no time to recover before you disappeared. 

***

A flap of wings behind you told you that Castiel had actually shown up to your planned meeting. 

“I’m surprised to see you, darlin’,” you said, turning to face him. 

“You demons are so peculiar with your terms of endearment,” he replied, voice rumbling deep in his chest. “But yes, as much as I’m unhappy about it, I am here.”

“Your boys seemed a little off-put by you putting your faith in me,” you smirked. 

The angel became defensive. “I am not putting my faith in you. You are simply convenient.”

“Wow, you really know how to make a girl feel special,” you snickered. 

“This banter is exhausting, (Y/N). What is your plan?” he questioned.

“All business,” you sighed mockingly. “Well, I’m not gonna put myself in the Winchesters’ line of fire. Or yours, for that matter. What I will do is jump in to keep the other demons at bay and help you find Lucifer.”

Castiel nodded, his face as stoic as always. “I will be with the Winchesters. We will meet you in Carthage, and you need to help us get into the town. I am sure there will be demons guarding it.”

“Naturally,” you replied. “You realize this is a huge risk for me, right?” 

“I am aware. It’s a risk for me, too,” Castiel cut you off. 

“But you’re not going against your own kind. I could lose some serious street cred,” you said sincerely. 

“I did,” he said simply. 

You turned back to him. “But the angels didn’t kill you when you did. You just got sent away. I’d be tortured. Forever, potentially.”

“No one is forcing you to help us, (Y/N),” Castiel replied dryly. However, he did seem to feel slight sympathy for you. That was overshadowed, though, by his disdainful stare.

“My father is,” you said.

“Crowley?” 

“The one and only,” you snickered. “If I had it my way, I would’ve fucked off to somewhere in the mountains and raised a couple goats when Hell went to… well, hell.”

“Why didn’t you?” Castiel asked pointedly. 

“What difference does it make why I didn’t?” you snapped. “My point in bringing that up is to tell you not to pretend we’re the same in this situation. I have a lot more riding on the line than you do. You may wanna start being a little less of a dick to me.”

“Are you, a demon, sincerely going to call me out on an attitude problem?” Castiel grunted. 

“Yes,” you replied. “If I’m telling you your attitude sucks, then it must really fucking suck. Just… don’t treat me like the scum of the earth, okay? I didn’t ask to be a demon.”

“Well, you must have done something to get yourself sent to Hell to become one,” the angel responded. 

“I didn’t, actually,” you stated. “My mother was a human. She got pregnant with me, and I became my father’s right hand man when she died.”

“You’re a natural-born demon?”

“Are you dense?” you scoffed. “That’s what I just told you.”

“I’ve never heard of one before,” he said, ignoring your flippance.

“I’m the first. Which, again, adds to the danger. I’m the demon-equivalent of a nephilim, and everybody wants me. That’s not me being cocky,” you explained, “that’s just me stating the facts. Everyone jockeying for power down in Hell wants me on their team. And I stayed loyal to my father. Which has made quite a few demons wanna put my head on a pike on their front lawns.”

“If you have all these powers, why haven’t you used them on me yet?” he questioned. 

“You’ve got a pretty face,” you said coolly. “I’d hate to make a mess of it.”

***

The next day, you waited near the outskirts of the town for the 1967 Impala and the band of misfits that would be accompanying it. 

“Hey there, (Y/N),” a voice said behind you. 

“Jesus, James!” you squeaked. You turned and shoved his shoulder. “You scared the fuck out of me. What are you doing here?”

He didn’t seem as happy to see you as he usually was. “I wish you wouldn’t’ve come,” he told you. 

Your expression hardened. “Why…?”

“This isn’t gonna end well. For anyone,” he replied, equally as cryptically.

“Stop talkin’ like Shakespeare. Spit it out,” you snarled, getting angry. 

“Meg’s here. With the Hellhounds. This isn’t gonna end well if you help them,” James explained. 

“What the fuck, did you help her, or something?” you asked. 

“No, but your dad’s got me directly in cahoots with her. I’m gonna have to duke it out with you since you’re here,” he replied. 

You nodded, understanding why he was behaving so strangely. “We’re not leaving here till one of us his dead, huh?”

James nodded. You knew you couldn’t hug him since you were likely being watched by some of Lucifer’s followers, but you gave him an empathetic look knowing he didn’t stand a chance against you. 

“Don’t go easy on me, love,” you told him. 

“Ditto,” he replied, a smirk tugging at the ends of his lips. 

He rushed you, and you dodged him easily. The two of you sparred for a few minutes as your thoughts spiraled downward. James had been your friend for centuries, and he was one of your father’s most devoted followers. He was a low-level crossroads demon, and his powers were nothing against yours. With your telekinesis and ability to manipulate light and energy, he could’ve been on the ground within ten seconds. 

“This is definitely a hell of a way to go,” James grunted as you threw him back to the ground. 

You panted, “It’ll give you a cool story to tell in… whatever’s after this.”

Your friend seemed to get sad at that. “I’m not sure there is anything after this.”

“Well, I’ll see you when I see you, J,” you said, tears rimming your eyes. 

“Don’t cry for me. I’d rather you than Lucifer,” he assured you, letting you shove him to the ground one last time. 

Your lip trembled as you held your hand up at him, and he closed his eyes in preparation for the blow. The most merciful way you could think to kill him was with a blinding light emanating from your hand that immediately disintegrated his essence. Tears finally fell from your eyes when the light dissipated, and you could see your friend’s limp body lying on the ground. 

Collapsing to your knees, you held James's cold hand.

A voice came from behind you. “Who is he to you?”

‘Castiel,’ you realized. “My best friend,” you sniffled. “He was, uh, my guy on the inside.” You stood from the ground but refused to face him. 

“I’ve never known a demon to cry before,” Castiel said, his voice sounding genuinely curious and sincere. 

You sniffed again. “I told you. I’m half-human. I can feel differently than other demons. Where are the others?”

“We passed you when you were fighting with your friend,” the angel explained. “We should go talk to the reapers. They’ll know where to find Lucifer and give us some information as to what’s going on.”

“You do that,” you replied, facing him once you collected yourself. “I gotta go check on something.”

He looked at you curiously, but said nothing before you disappeared. 

“Come on, boys. My Father wants to see you,” you heard Meg saying as you approached. 

“I think we'll pass, thanks,” Sam replied. 

“Your call. You can make this easy, or you can make it really, really hard,” she cooed dangerously. Meg had always been a true pain in your ass. 

Suddenly, a gunshot rang out. You heard a Hellhound whine as you rounded the corner onto the street where the Winchesters were facing off with Meg.

“Run!” someone screamed. 

You saw the hounds heading after the hunters, and one of them pulled Dean to the ground. He screamed in agony as it slashed at his leg. 

“Dean!” the blonde from your father’s mansion cried. 

“Jo, stay back!” he told her. 

Suddenly, a sharp whistle broke through the air. You’d learned at a young age to communicate with Hellhounds, and your whistles could almost hypnotize them. Being a crossroads demon certainly meant having a strong relationship with the creatures, too. 

Everyone’s heads turned to you, including those of the hounds. You walked forward calmly and called the dogs to your sides. 

“Run,” you ordered the hunters. 

They all listened gladly and sprinted away as Meg lunged at you. You couldn’t simultaneously control Meg’s hounds and fight her, and the hounds went back to their original mission. You threw Meg against the wall of a shop, and she retaliated by causing a telephone pole to nearly fall on you. There was never a window of opportunity wide enough to enable you to summon energy to smite her with the many telekinetic bl0ws she threw at you. You continued to grow angrier and angrier as time went on, and the two of you continued to fight, and Meg had apparently grown tired of your battle. She disappeared from view, and you panted laboriously when she’d gone. 

You turned to the shop the Hellhounds were lunging at the doors of. 

As much as you weren’t thrilled about helping people that were unkind to you— namely, Dean— you called the dogs off. The Hellhounds were always terrifyingly beautiful creatures, in your opinion. 

Their ears perked up at your whistles, and you called them to your side. 

“Hi, boys,” you said, stooping down to them. You pet one’s fur, and he nuzzled into your hand. You walked over to the splintered telephone pole Meg had brought down on you with the dogs hot on your heels and broke off a large piece of it. Throwing as hard as you could, you sent the dogs after their new chew toy. 

Dusting your hands off, you made your way over to the shop the hounds had been chomping at the bit to get in. When you threw the doors open with your powers, you were met with guns and angry voices. 

“Whoa, whoa!” you snickered, holding your hands up in surrender. “I come in peace.”

Dean and Sam reluctantly lowered their guns but didn’t seem pleased to see you. 

“I just saved you from those mutts. Maybe a little appreciation would do?” you smirked. 

“This is not the time for you to be a smart ass,” Dean grunted. He tossed a look over at the blonde woman on the floor bleeding profusely from her side. There was no doubt in your mind that she’d been attacked by a hound. 

“Can you… help her?” Sam asked. 

You shook your head. “No can do. I’m a demon. None of the powers we were gifted can exactly be used for truly benevolent reasons.”

“Great!” Dean threw his hands up sarcastically and ran them over his hair, pacing back and forth. ���Alright, we gotta get them the hell outta town.” He was referencing the two women on the floor. The older one muttered encouraging words to whom you assumed was her daughter, and you looked on sadly. 

“Won't be easy,” Sam noted.

“Stretcher?”

“I’ll see what we got.” The younger brother started off, but the blonde stopped him. 

“Can we, uh, be realistic about this, please?” she said through labored breaths. “Ah—! I can't move my legs. I can't be moved. My guts are being held in by an ace bandage. We gotta—we gotta get our priorities straight here.” She tried to offer a sad smile. “Number one, I'm not going anywhere.”

“Joanna Beth, you stop talking like that,” her mother told her. 

The blonde turned her head toward the woman weakly. “Mom, I can’t fight. I can’t walk. I can’t move. This is it for me.”

“There is… something I can do,” you said. 

All of their heads turned to you, but Dean seemed to catch on to what you were implying faster than the rest of them did. 

“No. No way in hell, bitch,” he asserted. 

“Okay, first of all, watch how you speak to me.” You flashed your eyes red to get the point across, which Dean seemed to be slightly afraid of. “Second, do you have any other plan? You heard what she said. Your angel friend is locked up with Lucifer god knows where, and I can’t heal her. What I can do is put her out of her misery, and we can get out of here before those hounds get bored of their new chew toy.”

The blonde’s mother was horrified. “No! I— I won’t let you.”

“Mom, please,” the girl on the floor begged weakly. 

“No!” her mother argued, tears streaming down her face. 

“Look, these guys need to move on. I’ll only slow ‘em down, and you know they won’t leave here without me,” she continued. 

“No, no! That’s not—”

The blonde cut her mother off. “Mom, this might literally be your last chance to treat me like an adult. Might wanna take it?” She smiled sadly up at her. 

Her mom held her close, sobbing. 

“I’ll give you some time to say your goodbyes,” you said, turning away. You waited by the shop doors looking for unexpected visitors or for the Hellhounds to come back. You watched the sun set while Sam, Dean, and the girl’s mother all exchanged their final words. 

When you turned back, the blonde’s mother was on the floor with her. 

“All of you need to leave. Any one of you in this room with me will die if you don’t,” you urged, looking at the girl’s mother. 

“I will not leave you here alone,” the woman told her daughter. 

“Mom, no,” the girl cried. 

You remained stoic despite the pangs going through your chest. “Are you sure?” you asked her. 

She nodded at you and smiled at her daughter. “Just make it quick. For both of us.”

You nodded and turned to the Winchesters. “Get outta here.” 

Both men looked like they wanted to protest, but they decided against it. As soon as you were sure the two boys were out of danger, you raised your hand toward them. 

“Goodnight, guys,” you told them. 

The woman smiled at you and closed her eyes, leaning into her daughter and kissing her hair. “I will always love you, baby,” she told her.

Energy surged from the world around you into your extended hand producing a blinding white light that engulfed the room. When the light dissipated, both women were gone. “Good luck to you both,” you told them. The afterlife was no party; that was for certain. 

You walked out of the shop and down the street where the boys were waiting for you. “C’mon,” you urged them. “I’ll get you guys as close as I can, and then, I’ll go find Cas.”

Sam nodded, but Dean’s mind seemed elsewhere. Still, the two followed you down the street. 

You could feel the light radiating from Castiel and followed the feeling to a farmhouse at the edge of town. It was a peculiar feeling, though; most angels didn’t feel warm when you were near them. Their energy had always felt cold and unforgiving, even more so than demons. 

You pulled the boys down into a bush with you, and the three of you peeked over the tops of the leaves. Dozens of men stood in the field, attention on something you couldn’t see through the darkness. 

“Demons,” you whispered. “He’s here.”

You could feel Lucifer’s horrible presence. His presence felt like Hellfire scorching your skin the closer you got to him. 

“Don’t miss,” you told Dean, referencing the Colt he was brandishing. He nodded at you, and you made your way around the field and into the farmhouse where Castiel’s energy emanated from. 

Something else was here, too, though. You had to guess it was Meg; she’d always had a particularly close relationship with Lucifer. What sounded like flames crackled from upstairs, and you figured they had Castiel trapped in a ring of holy fire. 

You crept up the stairs, praying Meg couldn’t hear your footsteps over the roaring fire. 

“You seem pleased,” you heard Castiel say. 

“We're gonna win,” Meg gloated. “Can you feel it? You cloud-hopping pansies lost the whole damn universe. Lucifer's gonna take over Heaven. We're going to Heaven, Clarence.”

“Strange, because I heard a different theory from a demon named (Y/N),” Castiel said. 

Meg scoffed. “You don’t know (Y/N). Or Crowley.”

“They believe Lucifer is just using demons to achieve an end, and that, once he does, he’ll destroy you all,” Castiel continued. 

“You're wrong. Lucifer is the father of our race. Our creator. Your god may be a deadbeat. Mine? Mine walks the earth.”

You used your powers to break a pipe off the wall and slammed the back of Meg’s head with it. She fell forward into the fire, and you held her screaming, writhing form down for Castiel to walk over. 

Once he was free, you shoved Meg fully into the circle to trap her there. 

“Hello, (Y/N),” the angel told you. 

For the first time since you’d met him, you cracked a genuine smile. “Hello, Castiel.” Remembering your mission, your disposition became serious once more. “C’mon, we gotta get the boys. Something’s wrong.”

You and Castiel teleported to where the Winchesters were being held captive by Lucifer near the mass grave he’d created, and the angel held a finger to his lips to silence them. You let Castiel steer you where he needed your power to transport the boys. Once the Winchesters were delivered back to their friend Bobby’s house safely, you and Castiel regrouped in a clearing in the woods nearby. 

“I can’t fuckin’ believe the Colt didn’t work,” you grumbled, running your hands through your hair in frustration. “Of course he’s one of the only five beings in the universe that thing doesn’t work on. Did you know?” You wheeled around to face Castiel. 

He shook his head. “I wish I had. It could’ve saved Ellen’s and Jo’s lives.”

You looked up at the stars; unobstructed by city lights or trees blocking your view as a heavy silence settled over you and the angel. “What’s Heaven like, Cas?” you asked. 

“What?” he questioned. 

“What’s it like?” You turned to face him, pulling your attention from the stars above. 

“It’s… nice, I think,” he said plainly. 

You snorted. “ ‘Nice’? That’s all I get?”

“Why do you want to know?” Castiel asked, furrowing his brow at you. 

“I wanna know if I sent that mom and her daughter to a good place,” you answered. 

The angel seemed to marinate on that information for a moment, and you could see empathy flash across his face. “It is different for each person. Everyone has their own personal definition of ‘Heaven,’ and that is what awaits them at the end of their lives.”

“Did you like it up there?” you asked, turning your attention back to the stars. 

“I didn’t like anything before I came to Earth,” Castiel replied. 

You tilted your head to the side and faced him again. “Really?”

He nodded. The starlight caught his eyes, and your gaze softened, righting your head. “What is it?” he asked. 

“Your eyes are really blue,” you told him. 

He looked confused. 

“They’re pretty,” you said. 

Those blue eyes searched your face. “I think the correct response to that is ‘thank you’,” he replied. 

You nodded, cracking a small smile and looking away from his intense gaze. “You’re welcome. Lucifer tell you anything worth noting?”

“No,” he answered, starting to walk around you. “I did find a particular distaste for car rides, though.”

You laughed, circling him just the same. “They’re the worst.”

Then, he abruptly stopped. “Why are you being so kind?”

You stopped, too, confused by his question. “What?”

“I mean, you’re a demon. It seemed you hated me when we first spoke,” Castiel explained. “It seemed your motivations were purely self-serving; like your father’s. And yet, you showed concern for Ellen and Jo. You saved Sam and Dean from the Hellhounds. You saved me. Why?”

You looked to the ground. “I don’t know,” you answered honestly. “The… human side of me always confuses the fuck outta me. I do my job, I play the part, but I… love humanity. Sure, they’re horrible to each other sometimes, but so are demons. Their full range of emotion is so complex. I just— they fascinate me. And sometimes, I wish I had a life as little as theirs.”

When you looked back at Castiel, he was staring down at you with such intensity it felt like he was staring straight into your soul. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” you told him. 

“Why?” Castiel asked, his expression unmoving.

“Because I don’t know what it means.” 

He stepped closer to you, and your breath quickened. The angel slid his hand along your jaw and tilted your face up to his, kissing you with a fever. He grabbed desperately at you, and you, at him. When he broke away, you were dumbfounded. 

“I learned that from the pizza man,” he told you. 

You didn’t quite understand what that meant, but you laughed all the same. 

***

The next time you saw Castiel, he informed you there was an angel he needed help handling. 

“So, what’s your deal with this chick?” you asked him. 

“Heaven had her imprisoned, and I heard the angels talking about how she’s free,” Castiel replied. 

“Is she a major player?”

He gave you a strange look. 

“Is she a big deal,” you clarified. 

‘The only way she got out was if someone let her out. So, yes, she’s becoming one,” the angel nodded. 

“And why do you need me?” you asked. “Seems like a family dispute to me.”

“Because you’re stronger than I am. And you’ve proven you’re trustworthy.” Castiel grabbed your hand to bring you along to wherever he’d determined Anna was. 

Unfortunately for you, he was right. You were trustworthy. As much as you started hanging around him for "insurance," he was becoming a true ally you couldn't double-cross.

“Hello?” the woman called into the darkness. “Who’s there?”

You stepped out into the flickering light. “Hi there.”

She jumped back in surprise. “Who are you?!”

Castiel stepped out from behind you. “Hello, Anna.”

Anna turned to face him. “Well, if I didn't know any better, I'd say the Winchesters don't trust me.”

“They do. I don't. I wouldn't let them come,” Castiel replied, beginning to circle her. 

You followed suit, walking in the opposite direction. 

“And why is that?” she questioned, continuing to face Castiel. 

“If you're out of prison, it's because they let you out. And they sent you here to do their dirty work,” he responded. 

She folded her arms across her chest. “And what makes you so sure?”

“Because I've experienced…” the angel trailed off, searching for the words, “heaven's persuasion.”

“You mean when you gave me to them,” Anna clarified. 

Castiel sighed. “That was a mistake. Anna, whatever they sent you here to do—”

She cut him off. “They didn't send me. I escaped.”

“Darlin’,” you chimed in, “Heaven’s the supermax prison to end all supermaxes. Seriously, how’d you get out?” While she was distracted trying to answer your question and keep her focus between both you and Castiel, you used your powers to draw the knife she was hiding in her jacket and pull it around the back of her body to keep her from noticing it was missing. 

“Castiel can tell you,” Anna replied evenly, “I’m not one to underestimate.”

You hummed. “So, if you’re not on team ‘god’—” you used air-quotes mockingly— “then what do you want?”

“I want to help.”

Castiel scoffed. “You want to help?”

“Yes,” she nodded. 

“Then what are you doing with this knife?” You came to a stop in front of Anna, dangling it with a mocking pout on your face. 

She seemed startled that you’d noticed it. “I'm not allowed to defend myself?”

“Against whom?” Castiel pressed. “That blade doesn't work against angels. It's not like this one.” He drew his own long blade that came to a pointed tip. “Maybe you're not working for Heaven, but there's something you're not telling us.”

Anna took in a shuddering breath. “Sam Winchester has to die. I'm sorry but we have no choice. He's Lucifer's vessel.”

You laughed. “He’s not the only one, doll.”

“What, that guy Nick?” she scoffed. “He's burning away as we speak. No. Sam is the only vessel that matters. You know what that means? If Lucifer can't take Sam, his whole plan short-circuits. No fight with Michael, no Croatoan virus. The Horsemen go back to their day jobs.”

“Even if you could…” Castiel trailed off, “kill Sam, Satan would just bring him back to life.”

“Not after I scatter his cells across the universe,” Anna stated almost immediately. “They'll never find him. Not all of him.”

You waited for Castiel to answer. 

“We'll find another way,” was all he could manage to say. 

“How's that going?” the redhead pressed. “How's the Colt working out? Or the search for God? Is anything working? If you want to stop the devil, this is how.”

“The answer's still no, because Sam is my friend,” Castiel said plainly. 

She seemed taken aback. “You've changed.”

“Maybe too late, but I have.”

You tsked. “You’re breakin’ my heart, Cas.”

Your friend ignored you. “Anna, we've been through much together, but you come near Sam Winchester, and I'll kill you.” 

The woman’s eyes widened a moment before she decided it best for her to disappear. 

“Well, that’s fuckin’ great,” you commented, slightly exasperated. “I’ll get my friends on the lookout for the bitch. If she even sniffs close to Sam, I’m on it.”

“What is he to you?” Castiel asked. “Given your motivations, I’d think you’d agree with her.”

You turned to face him. “Well, things change. And if this kid is important to you, then he’s important to me.”

***

After thoroughly briefing your allies and your father, you ventured to the Winchesters’ motel room. You scrunched your nose up at the foul scent of molding carpet. “Ugh, you guys live like this?” you snarked, looking around in disgust. 

“And what the fuck are you doing here?” Dean questioned. 

“Dean,” Castiel warned, “I asked her to come.”

The older brother scoffed. “You did? Why?”

“I’ll need her help in case things go wrong.”

“What are you talking about?” you asked. “I thought you just needed me for the summoning ritual.” 

“Well, I thought that was all I needed you for, too,” the angel sighed. “That was until I found out she’s in 1978.”

“Why would she be in 1978?” you asked. 

“Yeah,” Sam replied, “I wasn't even born yet.”

“You won’t be if she kills your parents,” Castiel stated. “Anna can't get to you because of me. So she's going after them.”

“Take us back right now,” Dean ordered, bracing himself. 

You scoffed. “And deliver you right to Anna? We should go alone.”

“No, no, no, sister,” the older brother argued. “I don’t trust you with my parents or Cas alone.”

“Why not?” you fired back. “It’s not like I saved you. Twice.”

Dean shook his head. “No. No way. They’re our parents. We’re going. Little help here, Cas?”

“It's not that easy,” the angel said calmly. 

Sam jumped in, saying, “Why not?”

“Time travel was difficult even with the powers of Heaven at my disposal.”

“Which got cut off,” finished Sam. 

“Which is why we need her,” Castiel nodded to you. 

You sighed heavily. “I don’t know, Cas.”

“Oh, since when are you two on a nickname basis?” Dean gestured between the two of you. “And, what, you’re like a Delorean without enough plutonium?” 

“I don't understand that reference,” the angel said dryly. “But I'm telling you, taking this trip, with passengers, no less—” he shook his head, “it'll weaken me.”

Dean walked up to Castiel trying to get him to meet his eyes. “They're our mom and dad. If we can save them, and not just from Anna. I mean, if we can set things right, we have to try.”

Castiel shook his head, but then, started to busy himself packing up a duffel bag with holy oil, his angel blade, and other angelic knick-knacks. 

“Ready?” he asked when he was finished packing.

You nodded, grabbing both his and Sam’s wrists. 

“Whoa, whoa, what? Is she coming?” Dean protested. 

“Uh, yeah,” Sam snorted. “She helped us out a lot, Dean. And Cas needs the… juice, or whatever.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Sorry, I’m not crazy about having a demon near our parents.”

“Well, get on board,” you said dryly. "Let’s get this over with.”

When you opened your eyes again, you turned to see Castiel collapsed next to you and bleeding from his nose. 

“Cas?” you asked worriedly, bending down beside him. 

Sam and Dean made their way over to you. The younger asked, “Did we make it?”

Dean pointed to the car driving down the street. “Unless they're bringing Pintos back into production, I, uh, I'd say, ‘yes’.” 

“Uh, guys? Little help, here?” you remarked, gesturing to the collapsed angel beside you. 

“I'm fine,” Castiel assured you. “I'm much better than I expected.”

You tried to help him up, but he ended up spitting blood and passing out. 

“Great,” you huffed. “C’mon, help me get ‘im in a motel somewhere.”

***

With Castiel comfortably tucked in the bed of the honeymoon suite, you bid the boys goodbye and good luck on their mission. 

“Wait, you’re not coming with us?” Dean asked pointedly. 

“I think you kids can handle yourselves,” you replied. “I need to make sure he doesn’t die.” You gestured to the unconscious man behind you. 

“Sure, sure,” Dean sarcastically said. “And I’m just supposed to trust that you’re not stabbing us in the back, here?”

“Look, if it wasn’t for me, you’d be dead. And without my help getting here, so would he.” You nodded your head toward Castiel. “So lay off me, would ya? And tell that angel bitch to suck my dick.”

Dean tried to resist laughing at your comment and covered it up with an uncomfortable cough. “Fine. If we get stuck here, though, know I’m killing you first.”

“Deal.”

Dean and Sam left with Castiel’s duffel bag, leaving you to take care of him. This was a first for you. You’d never nursed anyone back to health; let alone an angel. 

You sat next to him and gently smoothed your hand over his delightfully fluffy hair. Castiel stirred, the ends of his lips pulling into a smile, but he didn’t wake. You repeated the action, which seemed to soothe him, and eventually, his arms wound around your waist. He buried his face in the hinge of your hip, and you froze in shock. Unsure of what to do, you just continued to play with his hair while he slept. 

***

Castiel slept almost completely through the first day. Despite going stir crazy with no one and nothing to entertain you, the thought of leaving never crossed your mind. 

You sat across the room from him, simply staring at him and memorizing his features. He was frustratingly beautiful. Something about him had you captivated, and you weren’t sure you enjoyed the feeling. 

Every once in a while, Castiel would shift in his sleep. Each time he did, you got excited; hoping he’d wake up. When you realized he was still soundly asleep, you mentally scolded yourself for allowing yourself to become at all invested in the well-being of the angel. 

When he did wake up, he groaned. 

“It lives,” you snickered, your sock-covered feet kicked up on the desk and arms folded across your chest. 

“Good morning,” Castiel’s deep voice rumbled. 

“It’s three in the afternoon, dude.”

He perked his head up, his hair messy. “Oh. Really?”

You nodded, smirking. “Sit up. I gotta show you something.”

Castiel seemed confused. 

“Again with that deer-in-headlights stare,” you sighed sarcastically. “You said you didn’t get Dean’s Back to the Future reference. Now, I’m making you watch the movie.”

The two of you sat beside each other with your arms crossed over your chests and legs outstretched in front of you. Your backs were against the situationally-dissonant heart-shaped headboard, adding an extra layer of school-girlish, giddy discomfort. 

This feeling was entirely foreign to you. He was such a warm light that it almost felt as though the side of you closest to him was burning. The most startling part of it all, though, was you felt awkward. You never felt awkward or unsure. And yet, the angel beside you had you questioning every slight move you made. 

His eyes were firmly glued to the television, and you found his endless curiosity adorable. “He’s aware that she’s his mom, right?” Castiel asked you. 

You laughed, throwing your head back against the headboard. “Yeah, he is. This movie’s weird. Cult classic.”

“We shouldn’t be watching this, then,” he said plainly, looking for the remote.

“What, why?” You held the remote out of his grasp. 

“Because cults are bad, (Y/N),” he replied. 

You shook your head, still smiling widely. “Not a real one, Cas. It’s just an expression. I think it means something like it’s critically a bad movie, but a lot of people really like it.”

“This nomenclature is awfully confusing,” he said, sounding slightly disheartened. 

You giggled. You giggled. You surprised yourself with the laugh that escaped you. Never in your hundreds of years of existence had you giggled at anything; much less an angel. 

“You are fascinating, did you know that?” Castiel asked you, searching your face. 

You tilted your head to the side. “I— I am?” ‘Oh, great. Now, I’m fucking stuttering,’ you thought. 

He nodded, leaning his head toward yours slowly. You allowed his lips to meet yours, and you kissed him back with a fever. His hands pushed you down onto the bed, and yours wound themselves in his hair. He held himself up with one arm and rubbed circles on your stomach with the other. 

When he pulled back from you, you were completely flustered. 

A smile spread across his face. A wide, genuine smile; one that you mirrored. You pulled him back down to you with your hands on either side of his face and rolled yourself on top of him. 

***

The last few days with Castiel had been wonderful. You were incredibly grateful he’d asked for your help with getting back to 1978, and even more grateful that you met him. 

On the fifth day of being in 1978, Castiel’s disposition changed. 

“What is it?” you asked. 

“Something’s wrong,” he replied. “I feel… my brother’s here.”

“Uh, which one?” you questioned, popping up from the bed in worry. 

“Michael.”

“Fuck, dude, we gotta get outta here, then,” you said. You moved to grab his wrist. 

“Wait!” Cas urged. “I don’t— I don’t think I’m strong enough to do this, (Y/N).”

“Yes, you can. You have to. C’mon. I’ll help, okay?” you pleaded, holding both his hands. 

He nodded trepidatiously but allowed you to begin getting you both back to the future. 

***

You and Castiel appeared just behind Sam, and he caught sight of your reflection. 

“(Y/N)? Castiel?” he breathed out. 

You helped a stumbling Cas over to the bed in the room. 

“You son of a bitch. You made it,” Dean chuckled, wrapping Cas’s free arm around his neck. 

“I— I did? I'm very surprised,” Cas grumbled earnestly before collapsing on the bed in front of you. 

“Well, I could use that drink now,” Dean told his brother. He quickly fixed one for each of you, much to your surprise. You were a bit taken aback when he held one out to you. 

“Really?” you asked him, hesitantly taking it. “You didn’t… poison it or anything, right?”

He chuckled. “No.” He raised his own cup to his lips. “Well, this is it.”

Sam’s eyes flicked to yours, confused. “This is what?”

“Team Free Will. One ex-blood junkie, one dropout with six bucks to his name, a literal demon, and Mr. Comatose over there. It's awesome,” the older brother remarked. 

“It’s not funny,” Sam said.

“I’m not laughing,” the other man replied. 

“They all say we'll say yes.”

“The angels?” you asked. 

Sam nodded solemnly. 

“It’s getting annoying,” Dean grumbled, taking another swig of his drink. 

“What if they’re right?” Sam worried aloud. 

You shook your head. “They’re not.”

Both men turned to you. 

You shrugged, a deadpan expression on your face. “If Mr. Comatose can genuinely crack a smile, then anything’s possible.”

Both brothers looked confused, but you just snickered to yourself and downed the rest of your drink. 

[jollyhunter]

24 Kinky Days with Dean x reader - Day 11.

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Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW - MDNI! - includes explicit sexual content. It's a kinky writing challenge, so expect anything at this point, (nothing freaky, don't worry) but it's a surprise calendar so I won't spoil it! (Also, English is not my native language) Contains brief reference to Dec.1 (Sunshine) as well as Dec.9 (Whip Stroke) !

Summary: It's Christmas shopping day and Dean and you are cooped up in the fitting room, bickering, when one thing leads to the other...

Words: 2,170

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Feedback and reblogs are highly appreciated! And let me know whether you enjoy it so far! <3 A/N: This prompt took me way too long and I think it shows... I rewrote it a good 4 times and now I'm late with posting it :') But I hope it turned out well enough and ya'll enjoy it nonetheless!

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11th Dec. - Temptation

It's a bustling atmosphere, a wry cocktail mix of merry Christmas songs playing overhead and a grouchy Dean cooped up with you in the fitting room. “Maybe I should get the other tie…” you mumble to yourself, mentally going through different outfits for Dean.

“Please don‘t…” you hear Dean interject next to you, but you ignore him, focused on the task to get you both through this. With a contemplating hum, your eyes scan the assortment of outfits you had picked for him for the upcoming Christmas dinner with your family. You decide to start out with the white shirt, your hand running along the fabrics to smooth out some wrinkles.

Dean suddenly drapes his muscular arm around your neck, heavy and warm against your cheek before he pulls you in close to tuck your head under his chin where he places a soft kiss on your head. “Can we please go home?” He mutters against your hair, still keeping you close to distract himself with your scent (and to keep the clothings out of your reach).

You push a bit into his sides, turning in the narrow cabin to face him. “Nope, we‘re not done yet,” you chuckle as you tilt your head to glance up at him with a teasing smile. But your amusement dies down the moment you see his face; His eyes briefly pull shut before they go wide again in an effort to hold your gaze, his head visibly hard to keep up. Dean looks exhausted. You both didn't get much sleep lately, and on top of that, you know he is bored out of his mind, not being a fan of the holiday shopping spree.

“That bad?” you ask, although you already see the answer in his half-lidded eyes.

“Mhm,” he lets out a tired hum while he nuzzles his nose against your hair, sniffing the sweet smell of it. His voice is hoarse and quiet, seemingly left of any energy to speak properly, “‘m real tired…”

“Just this one, then we‘re done. Okay?” you insist while you reach up to gently tug at the front of his jacket, pulling it off and dropping it onto the small plastic stool in the corner of the cabin.

“You’ve been sayin’ that for the past 3 hours…” He groans and drops his forehead to your shoulder, “Please.” He begs now, his thumb gently caressing your upper arm.

Yeah, okay. You might have overdone it a bit. But it was the first day in months where you had a day - an entire day - with no hunting business whatsoever. So, naturally you took the chance. You‘d been running from one shop to the next since the early morning. Which wasn‘t that much of a deal for you, but clearly you overestimated Dean‘s shopping-stamina.

“Come on, we’re almost done,” you coo softly while you wiggle yourself free from his grip. “You wanna look good, don't you?”

His arms reluctantly slide off your shoulders to fall heavily next to his sides and his head drops forward for a moment. With a low grunt, he catches himself mid-air just to slump with his shoulder against the mirror, almost knocking into you in the process. “You kiddin' me? I look fucking great in anything...” he rolls his eyes and tries to argue cockily, but his tired words lack his usual bite.

Unperturbed, your hands effortlessly work their way down his buttons. He watches your stubborn determination with a frustrated look, but he’s too tired to put up any fight. “Up with your arms big baby.” You instruct and without waiting for his reaction, you first pull his shirt off and then unbuckle his belt to pull his pants off as well, stripping him naked for what feels like the twentieth time today.

You turn around to fetch a white shirt and marine blue pants off the hanger, matched with the first one out of the six suits, all waiting to be tried on. Meanwhile you hear him grumble something about ‘relentless damn woman‘ as he‘s rubbing the space between his eyebrows. You roll your eyes but keep going, pulling one outfit off the hanger after the other while Dean’s muttering disgruntled words under his breath. The entire time you try to navigate around Dean, but it was a difficult task with him almost keeling over and burying you alive in the narrow cabin at any given moment.

After a while you turn away again to finally fetch the last piece. “Your cute ass still red from all the whippin’?” he asks out of nowhere. And this time all of sudden his gravelly and slurred voice was way louder than before, enough to get you to whirl around with a panicked expression. A lazy, cocky smirk forms on his lips when he realizes that he‘s finally found a way to throw you off course and draw your attention away from the clothings, “I bet it is… the way you were whimperin’… an’ me whipping an’ fu-” your hand darts out to clasp it over his lips, mouthing a silent “shut it!”, praying that no one heard him. But he just continues to mumble, his words now muffled by your hand. You shoot him a glare, watching how he enjoys your flustered state with a tired version of his trademark cheshire grin, standing there in nothing but white boxers – tenting big time.

You had learned a while ago that when Dean is exhausted and practically running on steam, he has four phases; First he turns grouchy and irritated. When you won’t give in, his annoyance soon crumbles and he’s desperate and pleading. Still no luck? He’ll huff and puff and grumble in frustration like a child. You’re still relentless? Dean will lose every bit of the little inhibitions he has, and turn into a tired ‘n horny mess.

He gently grabs your hand on his mouth and places a kiss to your palm before his tongue suddenly darts out to lick it. You almost screech at the unexpected wetness on the inside of your hand and instantly pull it back. Dean grins mischievously with a hint of pride at his dirty move. “Y’know… I could use some juice,” he drawls out before he pulls his bottom lip back to graze his teeth across it. You stare up at him with raised eyebrows, the realization dawning on you; Dean has entered the fourth phase.

“Heh-heh,” Dean lets out his typical cocky chuckle in reaction to your lack of response. His half-lidded eyes glint with mischief when his hand trails down your back - but you swat it away before it reaches its destination.

“Dean, focus! Not here.” You hiss in a low voice, trying to get his mind out of the gutter. But despite your slight annoyance, you can’t fight off the small amused smile creeping up on your face.

“Oh come on baby, gimmi somethin’... please.” He mutters, leaning closer again to shower your scrunched up face with little kisses now. His strong arms are loosely draped over your shoulders, still heavy as they caress your back with slow circles. “I’ll be good… I promise…” He nudges your cheek with his nose before he drops his head to your shoulder, mumbling against your neck, “I need you… please….” His voice takes on that desperate, pleading tone which for some reason always slips into a sudden extra thick Texan accent when he’s this deadbeat. “‘m serious… I’ll be good… an’… an’ I’ll try on whatever you want… an’ be yer mule for the rest of the day…”

That earned himself a chuckle of yours to which he lifts his head to look at you with a lazy smile. For some reason you can’t help but feel like this cuddly, touchy, needy and hella knackered Texan-boy version of his has got something incredibly endearing.

He goes back to pepper your exposed skin with kisses and despite his half-comatose state, he manages to hit every single right spot on your neck all the way up to your ear, sending a shiver down your spine, right to your core. His stubbles brush against your jawline while you nuzzle your nose against the side of his face, the smell of him suddenly much more intense and tantalizing. Without realizing it, you tilt your head to the side, gaining him more access. Meanwhile his hands travel down your back once more, but this time you allow him to move on, to squeeze and massage your ass. You have to stifle a small moan against his bare chest and moments later your lips start planting kisses all over his abs before you can even register it. Dean groans into the crook of your neck, his hot breath tingling your skin while his fingers dig into the fabric of your jeans.

But then you suddenly tense up and pull slightly back as you could’ve sworn you heard a noise from outside the fitting room. Wait - Shit. Right. You curse inwardly when the realization of you being in public slaps you right out of your mindless state. “Dean, wait-” you mutter in slight panic and Dean freezes instantly, his lips still pressed against your skin while he glances at you from the corner of his eyes with a raise of his brows.

“What if somebody hears us?” You continue, your rational mind clinging to your fear of getting caught.

Dean raises his head, just enough to whisper softly against your ear, his hoarse voice rumbling and reassuring despite his state, “s’okay… there’s no one else down here… nuthin’ to worry, sunny.” You raise an eyebrow at the new version of ‘sunshine’ but don’t get to comment on it, as he continues in a teasing tone. “An’ if anyone does happen to hear us, they’ll jus’ know we’re havin’ a real fun time.”

“But…” you start out, your increasingly clouded mind desperately trying to come up with some argument but ultimately giving in to the lips on your skin and the pooling heat between your legs.

It’s an interesting thing, how quickly the fear of getting caught can turn into excitement, only fuelling one’s desire to go on. The temptation to test the limits. Just a bit more. Just a kiss more, a touch more - okay, one soft moan won’t be enough to get anyone's attention, right? Yeah alright, that was a bit loud, Dean, but if we keep it down we can keep this going… just a tad bit longer.

“Nothing more than a little hanky-panky - okay?” You state between kisses.

“Nuthin’ more than a little hanky-panky.” He repeats huskily.

Minutes later that poor stool of the corner creaks under the combined weight of Dean, and you straddling his thighs, bouncing up and down on his thick cock. Your forehead drops to rest on his head, your teeth tugging at strands of his dark blond hair whenever he pulls you down by your hipbones. He groans into your shirt, his face dug between your breasts in a weak effort to muffle his sounds. You stifle a whimper when he suddenly grazes his teeth along the fabrics, pinching your nipple with his teeth. Your nails claw at the skin of his bare back and his neck, and your lips are firmly pressed against his hair as you try to hold in your own moans and your frantic panting.

The stool squeaks in protest when your rhythm picks up its pace and Dean starts to buck his hips to meet you halfway. A loud guttural moan escapes your throat when the tip of his cock hits a sensitive spot, but your sound is quickly muffled by Deans hand. “Shhh… let’s not alarm the staff…” He whispers into your ear with a sly smirk. You nod and he pulls his hand away again to clash his lips with yours, swallowing each other’s exclaims of pleasure while you both feel the need to go harder, deeper. Dean tightens his grip on your hips and you hook your feet around the stools legs. He slams you down on his cock, feeling it grow harder with each thrust when you start clenching your walls around him and feel yourself grow closer to that sweet release. A few moments later, all three of you are trembling and groaning, so close to the breaking point that - Hold on a second.

But it’s too late, you’re both too far gone to form any thoughts now, your bodies working mindlessly to get you over that edge. At last, a deep, muffled groan echoes through the room as you both come undone and collapse on the stool, shaking and panting heavily. Unfortunately that’s the last push needed to send the stool over the edge as well; before either of you realize what’s going on, its legs give in with a row of shuddering cracks and you all three crash into the floor in a cacophony of plastic snapping, a high pitched scream, and a half-strangled “Son of a bitch!”

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Masterlist of opened windows:

1st Dec. - Sunshine 2nd Dec. - Spell Book 3rd Dec. - Lights Out 4th Dec. - Tickle 5th Dec. - Dirty UNO 6th Dec. - (TBA) 7th Dec. - Candlelight 8th Dec. - Hex Play 9th Dec. - Whip Stroke 10th Dec. - Barbie World 11th Dec. - Temptation

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Tags:

@ariasong11 @deansjacket @literallylexa @lmpala1967 @foxyjwls007 @impala67rollingthroughtown

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

The Husband Effect

Summary: The reader is struck with a love curse that leaves her feeling more than a bit attached to Dean...

Pairing: Dean x reader (eventual)

Word Count: 2,200ish

Warnings: language, angst, love curse, fluff

A/N: Y’all don’t even want to know how old this fic is. Pretty sure it was written during S13. Figured it was time for it to see the light of day!

__________

“Y/N. Y/N. Giggling woman,” you heard Dean say, clapping his hands together. “Hey! Focus.”

“She’s cursed Dean,” said Sam with a smile. “It was some harmless witchcraft. It’ll wear off soon I’m sure.”

“Is she currently trying to climb into your lap? No?” said Dean, pointing at where he was continually shoving you back from him. “Y/N, stop it.”

“I wanna sit with you,” you whined, throwing your arms over his shoulder, nuzzling your cheek against his.

“This is weird,” said Dean, trying to scoot away, Sam biting back back a laugh. “A little help, Sammy!”

“So she’s a little extra clingy. We’ll put her to bed, she’ll sleep it off and in the morning she can be completely embarrassed about this whole thing,” said Sam.

“Why would I be embarrassed about my Deanie?” you asked, squeezing him harder, Dean rising to his feet.

“Come on, Y/N. Off to bed with you. Now.”

“Good morning,” said Sam to you with a teasing smile. “Sleep well?”

“Like a baby,” you said, giving Dean a big hug when he came in the kitchen. “Good morning!”

“Oh no,” said both boys, grimacing as you smushed yourself into Dean’s chest.

“Get the jaws of life for this one,” said Dean, trying to squirm away while you clung tighter. “Y/N, please let go of me so I can eat breakfast.”

“I’m sorry,” you said releasing him, moving your hand down his arm to hold his hand. “That was silly. Your arms are huge by the way. All muscle and strong. They’re so...mmm.”

“Uh huh,” said Dean, giving Sam a death glare. “Sam, your harmless little curse don’t seem so harmless right now.”

“She should have slept it off,” said Sam, taking a seat at the table, Dean pulling you over into one, resigning himself to the fact he wasn’t getting the hand you were holding back anytime soon. “It must be a different curse.”

“No shit. Figure it out for me, would ya? It’s weird having Y/N act all...cuddly,” said Dean.

“Well, she is a girl, Dean,” said Sam.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Dean, your head resting on his shoulder.

“It means she likes hugs and you know, human affection...like a normal person,” said Sam. “You treat her like a guy sometimes.”

“Again, what does that mean?” asked Dean.

“It means when you tell her to buck up and kill the damn spider herself, she comes and asks me to do it. Or when you don’t help her with heavy stuff. She’s tough, don’t get me wrong, but I get the feeling she doesn’t think you care about her nearly half as much as she does you,” said Sam. “...Maybe that’s why she’s only sticking to you. It’s got something to do with that.”

“Y/N,” said Dean, your head lifting up with a smile. “You know I care about you, right?”

“Of course you silly boy,” you said with a smile, bopping him on the nose. “I love you different than Sammy is all.”

“See? She knows,” said Dean, giving you a smile that made your heart flutter.

“You’re so pretty,” you said, Sam rolling his eyes. 

“Hey, Y/N. Why don’t you eat breakfast and then Dean can spend the whole day with you while I figure out how to fix you, huh?” asked Sam.

“The whole day with Dean? That sounds amazing,” you said, leaning up and giving Dean a kiss on the cheek.

“Please hurry Sam.”

One Week Later

“I want Dean,” you grumbled as Sam brought your dinner by your room. “Please? I need him.”

“Dean’s researching right now, Y/N,” said Sam, locking up the door behind him, spotting your barely eaten lunch. “You need to eat, Y/N or Dean won’t be happy.”

“Why do I have to stay in my room? I’m not doing anything wrong,” you said, Sam sighing as he took a seat.

“You’re making it hard to research out there, Y/N. You...you’re kind of all over Dean,” said Sam. “He’s not used to attention like that and it’s making him uncomfortable.”

“But you love him and you get to be near him,” you said, scrunching up your face. “Tell him I’m sorry. I’ll do whatever he wants. I just want to see him. Please.”

“Sweetie, it’s the curse that’s making you all nuts for Dean, you have-”

“I always liked him and now that I came out and said it he’s scared of me. Tell him I take it back. I’ll really try to be better,” you said. 

“If you eat your dinner, I’ll talk to Dean about coming to see you, alright?” asked Sam, watching as you grabbed your fork. “Good girl.”

“Hi,” you said when you saw your door open, a pair of green eyes peeking in. Everything in you wanted to hop off the bed and run over to give him a hug but you said you’d try to keep it under control.

“Sam said you wanted to see me,” said Dean, hanging by the doorway, watching you start to fidget. “You’re shaking.”

“I’m fine. Are you okay? Can I do anything for you?” you asked, leaning forward and clenching your hands into fists.

“Just give me a hug before you have a heart attack,” said Dean with a sigh, your body responding before your brain, up and over to wrap him up in your arms. “Better?”

“No,” you said. “You don’t like it.”

“I’d rather have a hug because it’s real, not forced,” said Dean, moving your arms away. 

“It is real,” you said, cocking your head up at him. “I want to hug you.”

“No, the curse is making you think you want to hug me,” said Dean with a smile. “There’s a slight difference there, sweetheart.”

“But I love you. Everything I’ve said or done, I always want to do,” you said. “I just...don’t have a filter to say ‘don’t do that anymore.’”

“It’s a curse and we’ll solve it, alright?” said Dean. “I don’t want you to get upset about it. We’ll figure it out and get everything back to normal around here.”

“Dean,” you said, moving forward again, Dean already with a hand on the door.

“I promise, Y/N.”

“I don’t know why it didn’t work but you shouting at me doesn’t fix it!” yelled Sam, both boys in the middle of screaming at one another as you sat in the library, doing your best to stay in your seat.

“It’s been two weeks, Sam. Look at her. She’s barely keeping it together,” said Dean, waving over in your direction.

“If I was under a love curse and the other person resented me, I might start to get upset too, Dean,” said Sam. You got to your feet, forcing them to move away and for your bedroom, your movements slowing as you hit the edge of the library. “See?”

“I’m just going back to my room, Sam,” you said over your shoulder, frozen in place with the need to stay near Dean. 

“It’s got to be that spell. Figure out what you screwed up,” said Dean, his hand on your arm melting away your bubbling anxiety, replacing it with something soft and warm. Dean didn’t immediately leave when he got you back in your room, instead laying down on your bed, turning on your TV and throwing an arm behind his head.

“What are you doing?” you asked, sitting down next to him, curling into his side with a smile.

“I miss you,” he said, moving his arm around your shoulders, a rush of relief flooding you. “...I’ll take care of you. I know it hurts and yeah I’m not used to all this lovey dovey crap but I’m going to help you through it. If letting you crawl all over me makes you feel better, we’ll do that.”

“Hey, bozos,” said Sam, standing at the end of your bed, stirring you awake. “I didn’t mess it up. It’s on a time delay.”

“Well,” said Dean with a yawn. “How long until it works?”

“Judging by the look on Y/N’s face, it already did,” said Sam. You were glancing at your lap, sitting as far away from Dean as possible. “Are you...”

“I want to be alone, please,” you said, Sam nodding his head and leaving. “You too Dean.”

“It’s okay, it was just a curse,” he said, rubbing a hand up and down your back. “Nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“I told you two weeks ago, Dean,” you said, turning your head over your shoulder. “I don’t love you and Sam the same way. It was a love curse, Dean. All I was trying to do this whole damn time was to make you feel loved.“

“I do feel loved,” said Dean.

“You don’t get it. This isn’t something I can explain to you, Dean. Either you get it or you don’t and you obviously don’t so please give me some space today,” you said.

“I get it,” said Dean, grabbing your wrist and spinning you to face him. “It’s been very clear to me since this whole thing started. I don’t want you to want me though.”

“You don’t get to decide that for me. It’s my life,” you said, trying to shake him off. “Dean...”

“It’s different when’s it’s staring you right in the face and you can’t run away, right? To know that deep down that what someone is saying is true?” he asked.

“If you got hit with that curse, what are the odds that everything you’re spewing out is bull and you do want me but are too scared to say it,” you said. Dean was silent, dropping your hands as you nodded your head. “So what do you want to do about this?”

“If you want to...try, I guess I’m cool with that,” said Dean, shrugging like you were discussing dinner.

“Cool with it?” you asked.

“I ain’t turning into a Hallmark card anytime soon,” said Dean, holding up his hands. “But...your hugs aren’t so bad.”

“Ah, yes. Your definitely wooing me, Dean,” you said, shaking your head.

“Y/N, I’m trying,” said Dean.

“I know. We’ll...take it one day at a time.”

One Year Later

“Hey, you guys remember that freaky curse that made Y/N stick to you like glue?” asked Sam at lunch one day. 

“Yeah,” said Dean. “What about it?”

“Well...I translated another spell that references it,” said Sam. “It was used back in the day to help men find wives.”

“That seems like a douche move,” you said, leaning back against the wall, tossing your legs in Dean’s lap.

“No, no. Not like that. It was meant for when a guy loved somebody but was too shy or insecure to say something. If the person didn’t have a reaction, they didn’t feel the same way. If they did, then it sort of proved there was something there,” said Sam.

“It took you a year to find this out?” you asked, Sam shrugging. “Why do I feel like you’re lying Samuel...”

“You know, we never did find out who put such a strangely harmless curse on Y/N either,” said Dean, crossing his arms. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you Sammy?”

“Not a clue,” he said with a smile, glancing back at forth. “Weird, right?”

“I’ll get my fiance to kick your ass you ever pull something like that again,” said Dean.

“I’m really good at kicking ass,” you said, Sam shaking his head.

“I got no idea what you guys are talking about,” said Sam, standing up with a stretch. “I think I’m going to go for a second run while I think about who could have ever done this to you two.”

“Want to destroy him later?” asked Dean, wearing a smirk once he was out of earshot.

“Of course. Not too badly though,” you said.

“Just a touch of destruction for our devious Sammy coming right up,” said Dean with a chuckle. “While we’re at it, it’s been a year since our first date tonight.”

“You got something special planned?” you asked.

“Obviously,” he said. “Mess with Sammy first though?”

“You read my mind.”

[supernaturalfreewill]

Dean's mouth was hanging open as he stared at you across the room. He watched you swipe a hand across your eyes and flick the gore off your fingers down onto the floor. "Oh shit. Oh my God. I'm so sorry," he said in a rush. He crossed the room toward you and looked you up and down. You were completely covered in blood and guts; vampire blood and guts. Dean stared down at the weapon in his hand, agape. "I didn't realize that would happen. I didn't know it would—would—"

You wiped at your mouth and spit onto the floor. "—explode him all over me?" you finished for him.

"No," he said, shaking his head. His green eyes were wide. "I'm so sorry," he said again. "Uhh—here—" He hurriedly tugged off his flannel and handed it to you with an apologetic look.

You mopped at your face, wiping the gore off as best as you could. Your eyes met Dean's again. "You owe me a dinner. A very nice dinner. At least."

He nodded, giving you a boyish smile. "Does it help if I tell you how badass you look, even covered in—"

You held up a hand to stop him and squeezed your eyes closed.

"No—yeah, okay..." he muttered.

"Get me to a shower. Now," you said, thrusting his shirt back at him.

"Yeah, you got it," he said. "Uhh—you know maybe we should walk? Baby's upholstery, you know?" You glared at him and your eyes seemed to smolder. "Yeah, you know what? You're right. It's fine. I'll just clean it after—yeah... my bad. Let's just get you to the hotel and—yeah..."

Prompt: "You owe me a dinner. A very nice dinner."

[justwhisperingfantasies]

Always

Characters: -Reader - Dean Winchester - Sam Winchester- Bobby Singer- Emily- Town folk of Burkittsville. Mention of John Winchester.

Warnings: Fluff, Language,Talking on the phone while driving, Cannon Violence, Supernatural Spoilers,

Summary: What starts off as Dean ranting to his best friend turns into something more.

A/N: So, I just rewatched Scarecrow recently. This got stuck in my head and I had to get it out

Hope y'all enjoy it.

Please don't copy my work

Like, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated

If you would like to be added to my tag list click here

You could feel your eyelids getting heavy as the rain made a pelting noise on the windshield. Damn, it felt like Bobby’s kept getting further away. You rolled the window down and the radio up hoping the cold air with the sound of Zeppelin would help. Just as you started to sing along with the lyrics, worry crossed her face when her phone started to ring.

A smile spread across her face as she read the name. Flipping open the phone she bringing the phone to your ear you said “Well. Well, you calling to apologize for Tulsa Winchester?”

“There were lives at sake sweetheart. I had to.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You chuckled. “Not many girls would pick up the phone after being left blue balled and naked in a motel room.”

“Trust me, you’re not the only one that had blue balls.”

“Good.” you sneered making him chuckle.

“So, what’s my favorite girl up to?” he asked.

“Driving.”

“To?”

“Sioux falls”

“What’s in Sioux falls?”

‘A bed with my name on it?”

“You gonna share?”

“Maybe.” She teased.

“Come on you can’t stay mad at me forever.”

“I don’t intend to.”

“So, the how long do you intend to?”

“Until you're begging at my feet," you said with a playful tone, making him chuckle “Where are you?”

“Headed to Burkittsville, Indiana”

“For?”

“A case.”

“Obviously.”

He smiled. “Dad called this morning an.”

“Excuse me? Is he ok? Where is he? Why hasn’t he.”

“I was gonna get there darlin’” Dean said with a smile. “He’s in California. He said he’s ok, but it’s not safe for us to be with him right now. He’s going after the thing that killed mom.” He sighed. “He said it’s a demon.” You could hear his radio playing in the silence. “Of course they got into it. they always get into it.”

“Sam and John?”

“Yes, Because Sam can’t just trust Dad when he says something. He must know every little detail.”

“Not really a bad thing.”

He exhaled sharply. “If dad says it’s not safe it’s not safe,”

“I hear you, Go on.”

“I snatched the phone; I couldn’t take hearing them bitch anymore. Dad told me to write these names down. 3 couples all went missing, all from different states, none of them arrived at their destination, none of them ever heard from again.”

“And John thinks there’s something there?”

“Well, each one’s route took them through the same town.”

“Let me guess, Burkittsville?”

“How did you know?” he said sarcastically making you laugh. “And they all disappeared on the second week of April one year after another.”

“Dean! This is the second week of April!!”

“No shit smartass.” He laughed with you.

“So, John sent you guys to Indiana…”

“Yep.”

“So is Sam sleeping and you just needed someone to talk to?”

“Well,” He hesitated “Sam’s not with me now.”

“What happened?”

“We were on our way here. Sam was driving, we were going over the case, and he just started being Sam. Question everything little thing Dad said. He noticed Dad called from a Sacramento number. He tried to talk me into leaving the hunt and going after dad.”

“He did just lose Jess.”

“Yeah, he threw that in my face.”

“Dean.”

“Don’t Dean me. And you’re my best friend. You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“Dean, I am always on your side. I’m just suggesting to give the kid a break.”

“Yeah, I’ll give him a break alright.” you rolled her eyes. “Anyway. So, Sam and I get into it. He says he doesn’t understand why I always have to listen to Dad. Why I have so much blind faith in him.”

“Does he know about...”

“No.” he cut you off. “And the less people that know about me being a screw up the better.”

“Babe you were a kid.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

She sighed. “Alright. Continue.”

“He stopped the car and got out. Said he was going to California to find dad. I told him I wasn’t going. One. Another couple is probably going to die this week. We need to kill it before that happens. Two. if dad wanted our help, he would have told us to come to California. So, he gets all his stuff and storms off.”

“That’s it?”

“I might have said he wasn’t a good son,” he clicked his tongue, “and a selfish bastard.”

You sighed again. “Dean.”

“Would ya stop Deaning me. He isn’t acting like a good son, and he is a selfish bastard... sometimes. People are gonna die.” He huffed. “I told him I would leave. He didn’t care, he kept walking. He said that’s wHaT I wAnT yOu tO Do.” You couldn’t help but smile at his mocking tone. “So, I said goodbye got in my car and drove off.”

“Do you want my advice?”

“I’d rather you tell me I was right.”

“Do you think you were right?”

“Yes, I have to save these people.”

“Maybe Sam knows you can handle this, so he went to go get the answers he needs.”

“Yeah, I guess I don’t know what it’s like to lose someone like that. I couldn’t imagine watching the girl I love burn on the ceiling. The mere idea of his best friend on the ceiling caused a sensation of unease in his stomach.

“You’d have to actually love someone first Dean,”

“Maybe I do.”

You rolled her eyes again, “Doubtful.” He stayed silent.

“Deanie.”

“I told you not to call me that.”

“Deanie,” he rolled his eyes with a smile. “I think you should call him.”

He scoffed. “Right. That’s not happening.” She signed. “How close are you to that bed?”

“Pulling in now.”“About 10 mi .”

“Good. I don’t need you falling asleep at the wheel.”

“Awe look at you all worried about me.”

“Always sweetheart.” She smiled. “Enjoy your bed.”

“Sweet dreams babe.”

“Alright Bobby, it’s probably nothing, but I’ll check it out.” you yelled into the library as you watched the hamburger patties on the stove. “After lunch.”

“Here.” Bobby walked in holding your phone out. “Damn thing has rung like 7 times.”

“Thanks B.”

You flipped open the phone as it started to ring again. “Dean,”

“Don’t you ever do that to me again!” he scolded you. “I have called you like 10 times. I thought you were dead.”

“I’m sorry I was making food.”

“Well keep your damn phone in your pocket.”

“Alright Dad.”

“Don’t even you’d have my balls if you called 10 times, and I didn’t answer.”

You looked to see if Bobby was close. “Tell me more about me having your balls.”

“Don’t be cute right now. I’m pissed off.”

“I said I was sorry.” He sighed. “What do.”

“What the hell?” he exclaimed. “Hold on. My emf is going off.”

You could hear something ruffling “You, ok?”

“Yea. Just digging it out of my bag. I was driving though this orchard and this damn thing just started going off.”

“Maybe there’s something in the orchard.”

“Thanks Sherlock.” You smiled. “I’m gonna go check this out. Can you answer the phone when I call back?”

“Yes sir!” he laughed. “Dean, be careful. K?”

“Always am.”

“Hey pretty lady.” He said answering his phone.

She smiled. “Just making sure.”

“Awe look at you all worried about me.”

“Always Dean.”

He chuckled. “I was just about to call you. I got a pretty big lead.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, so I went and checked the orchard. Found this nasty looking scarecrow. Who happened to have the same tattoo in the same spot as the guy that went missing last year. I went back into town. Talked to the niece of the couple that owns the gas station. There was a car getting serviced there. A couple road tripping. They were at the bakery, so I went in had some coffee. Turns out they stopped for gas and the mechanic found something wrong with their break line. Said it would be fixed at sundown.”

“Hmm shady.”

“I know. It’s almost sundown now. I’m on my way there. Can I call you later?”

“Yes. I planned on staying up any how.”

“What are you doing.”

“Tracking a shifter I think.”

“Babe.” He warned.

“Don’t worry I already called for reinforcements.”

“Just please be careful.”

“Always.”

“Dean?” She answered her phone with a groggy voice

“Heya sweetheart. Did someone doze off?”

“No, just resting my eyes,”

He chuckled. “So, the fucking scarecrow came to life.”

“Well, I saw that one comin’.” She retorted “Everyone ok?

“Yes, you’re such a grump when you wake up.”

“I am when someone wakes me up.”

He chuckled “Well I’m sorry princess you said you’d be awake.”

“So, a couple, every year, Scary ass scarecrow.”

“And they were just stuffing this couple full of food while they were fixing their car.”

“So, you thinkin some kind of God?”

“Yup. Sounds like a Pagan God to me.” He yawned. “I’m gonna call the university first thing in the morning. See if I can get an appointment with this professor.”

“Have you heard from Sam?”

“Nope.”

“Maybe you should call and see how he’s doing.”

“Maybe. In the morning. I am beat.”

“You called me.”

“Didn’t wanna hear about it if I didn’t.”

“Whatever Winchester, Get some sleep.”

“Night sweetheart”

“Hey.”

“I talked to Sam.”

“You talked to Sam?”

Yea. And that professor got me in. I’m on my way there right now.”

“Awesome. How did it go with Sam?”

“Darlin’, Why are you whispering?”

“Found the shifter.”

“Are you kidding me?! why did, never mind just call me back and be careful"

"Always."

“Hey there...”

“Sam, have you talked to Dean?” You asked frantic

“Earlier. Is everything ok?”

“Well, he told me to call him back, now he’s not answering.”

“Maybe he’s still at the college.”

“I don’t know Sam I got a bad feeling.”

“Let me try I’ll call you back.”

“Sam. Its been 3 hours. I’m on my way there.”

“Me too. I should have listened you to earlier.”

“Its fine. Can you get there before sundown?”

“Yea I think so.

“There’s an orchard.”

“I know we’ll meet there.”

It was just after sundown; you had just pulled up to the orchard when your phone started to ring. “Sam, where are you?”

“Right here I see your car.” Sam walked up, you tossed your phone and grabbed your shotgun. You got another out of your trunk and handed it to Sam. “Let’s go.”

“Do you have a plan?” a quivering Emily asked Dean.

“I’m working on it.” Dean said, He looked around not be able to see much with his hands tied above his head. “Can you see? Is the scare crow moving yet?”

“I can’t see.” Emily said. “Wait what’s that?”

“Dean?” Sam yelled.

“Sam.” You walked around the tree to untie Dean while Sam stood guard. “Heya sweetheart.”

“Thought you didn’t like being tied up?”

"I don’t.” he stayed serious “Come on that scarecrow can come to life any minute.”

“Uh What scarecrow?” Sam asked Dean.

You passed your gun to Dean and headed over to free Emily. Taking her hand, you joined the guys. Just as you were about to leave the orchard, five more guns pointed at your group. Dean lowered your weapon. “We’re outnumbered, Sam. Just put it down.” Sam complied with hesitation.

“Please let us go.” Emily begs.

“It will be over soon.” Her uncle tells her. A scythe suddenly slices through his chest. Emily lets out a scream and clutches your shoulders, burying her face into your back. The scarecrow drags her aunt and uncle away while the screams echo all around.

Dean pulls you along, urging, “Let’s move!” He takes off running, and the four of you dash to the road.

“Never a dull moment with the Winchesters.” you say, catching your breath. Dean pressed a kiss to your cheek and pulled you into a warm embrace.

You flopped down on your bed after finally making it back to the motel. Just when you closed your eyes, there was a knock on the door. “It’s open!”

“Seriously? You’re just gonna leave the door unlocked and not even check who it is before inviting them in?” Dean said with a grin.

“Eh, I’ve got a shotgun nearby. I’m all set.”

You kept your eyes shut feeling his weight on you as he nuzzled his head on your chest.

“You were worried about me today. So much that you drove 10 hours.”

“Don’t flatter yourself Winchester. I was in Burlington. More like 3 and a half”

“You love me.” He chuckled as you let out a hefty sigh. He raised his head and rested his chin on your chest. You cracked your eyes open a bit, catching a glimpse of his bright green eyes. “You know I love you too, right?"

Tag List

@idk6505

@jackles010378

@mqdhvtter

@nightxcreature

@kamisobsessed

@perpetualabsurdity

@barnes70stark

@wonderland2022

@quietgirll75

@hobby27

@madebyhappymeals

@hunter-or-the-hunted

@nancymcl

[lucidlivi]

Fur and Fate

Requested: @deans-spinster-witch

Tag List: @jc-winchester @mrsjenniferwinchester @perpetualabsurdity @antisocialcorrupt @heavenlyackles @anixiiee @jackles010378 @suckitands33 @k-slla @alternativeprincess @spnbaby-67 @cevansbaby-dove @cutedisneygrl @hzllxhoundxx @kmc1989 (I have my tag lists all messed up lol I'm very sorry if I missed you!)

Warnings: PTSD, Violence, Language, Service Dog Use, Trauma, Demonic Possession

switching point of view will be indicated with italics

*I just want to state a disclaimer that I am not an expert on PTSD or Service Dog Use, I did consult with someone who knows more than I do in order to write it to be more real/fair representation!

I took a deep breath trying to calm my erratic heart rate. I stared at the hooded figure walking in the grocery store parking lot. I felt a nudge against my hand, then another, a little more forceful this time.

I looked down just in time to see my service dog Sammy nudging me with his nose, trying to get me to walk away from the window. He puts his paw on my leg, trying to give me a forceful push.

I let Sammy lead me away from the window to one of the aisles. I once again tried to calm my breathing. I was trying to remember the mindfulness exercises that my therapist had taught me, but I was already spiraling at this point.

I shut my eyes tight trying to block out the images of that fateful night.

"goodnight mommy." I whispered as she tucked me in.

"goodnight my love."

"mommy?" I called before she could leave.

"yes my love?"

"when's daddy coming home?"

At eight years old I didn't understand that Daddy left for good and he wasn't coming home. He didn't love us anymore.

"I don't know my love, let's just try to get some rest." Mom said kissing my forehead once more.

I pulled the blanket up to my chin, giving my mom one last smile. I saw her switch on my night light as she exited my room. I never had a problem falling asleep. I was out within minutes, dreaming of princesses and unicorns.

I jumped hearing a loud thud coming from downstairs. I sat up rubbing the sleep out of my eyes.

"mommy?" I called out in the darkness.

I heard more thumping coming from downstairs. I got up, grabbing my unicorn night light, before descending down the staircase.

"mommy?" I called again.

I walked in to the living room, seeing a man standing over my mom. He wore a black hooded sweatshirt so I couldn't see his face.

"baby run!" I heard mommy call out weakly.

I couldn't run.

I felt like my little legs were glued to the spot.

I watched in horror as the hooded figure stabbed my mom with a knife. I felt blood splatter on my face as the figure yanked the knife from her body before plunging it back in. In an instant mommy was thrown against the wall, and her body became engulfed in flames.

"mommy no!" I cried.

I'll never forget what happened after, and to this day, nobody believes what I saw.

I backed up in fear, my back hitting the bookshelf. I watched the hooded figure turn around, giving me a chance to look at his face. I tried to get a good look at him, but the only thing I saw were his eyes.

Black, and not just the irises.

No, the entire eye was pitch black.

He stared at me giving me a sickly sweet smile.

"I'll be back for you."

Those were the last words I heard before the figure disappeared.

I sat frozen in fear until I was being pulled out of the house by police officers.

I knew my mommy was gone.

I lived every day in fear of the man, his words haunting me.

I was asked to come to the police station to make an id on the suspect police were sure committed the crime, but it wasn't any of the men they brought in.

I didn't see black eyes.

Of course nobody believed the testimony of a terrified eight year old.

Mom's case ran cold, and was eventually forgotten about altogether.

Not by me though.

I felt like any day the man would be back for me.

I got the hell out as soon as I turned sixteen.

I've been living on my own since.

I eventually met a friend who told me to seek out therapy.

PTSD is what they call it. It stands for Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I was the poster child for it, it seems.

I witnessed my mother being murdered by a black eyed man.

I couldn't go out anywhere without feeling like I was going to run in to the man with black eyes. I feared for my life every second of every day.

I felt exceptionally triggered any time I saw a person with their hood up.

I felt paws digging in to my leg again. Sammy was pushing on me, alerting me that I needed to sit down so he could help me. I sat down, leaning my back against the shelf. Sammy climbed on to my lap, and leaned in to my chest, putting pressure on me. I wrapped my arms around him, squeezing tightly.

I worked on controlling my breathing, reminding myself that I am safe. It took awhile, but I eventually calmed myself down with deep breathing exercises. Sammy, noticing I was much calmer now licked my face before climbing off my lap.

I got up stretching my muscles. I was always so exhausted after an episode.

I just wanted to pay for my groceries at this point and go home. I grabbed my basket that I had dropped in my episode. I went to turn around, accidentally clamoring in to a hard chest.

"oh gosh, I'm so sorry." I heard a deep voice say.

I looked up, my eyes landing on the most beautiful man I had ever seen.

Green eyes pierced my own, as I gazed at his facial features. Freckles dusted his nose and cheeks. He licked his lips, bringing my attention to them.

"no, I'm sorry I wasn't watching where I was going." I managed to squeak out.

I was weary of most people, but this man seemed gentle, and harmless. I couldn't deny there was something about him that just seemed safe.

"are you okay?" the mystery man asks.

I chuckled softly.

I don't think I even knew the meaning of being okay.

I haven't been okay in awhile.

I was about to respond when Sammy went over to the mystery man, sniffing him, before nudging his hand. Sammy was specifically trained not to do this when he was working, but for some reason he really wanted attention from the mystery man.

"well hi buddy." the man said leaning down and scratching under Sammy's chin.

Sammy's tail wagged with delight. It seems that Sammy thought he was harmless too.

"I'm sorry, he doesn't ever do that, he's trained not too." I said, my cheeks going red.

He probably thought I had no control over my service dog.

"oh, should I not be petting him? I apologize, I didn't know." the man said standing up quickly.

"no, no its okay, he likes you." I laughed as I watched Sammy lay down so the stranger could scratch his belly.

"well I would love to know his name, and yours?" the man asked, once again giving Sammy the attention he craved.

"I'm (y/n), and this is Sammy." I said.

I watched the strangers eyes light up with amusement.

"Sammy huh? I have a Sammy too."

"you have a dog named Sammy?" I asked.

"well he's sort of like a dog, doesn’t sit or stay very well." the stranger answered, making me confused.

"Dean, what the hell I've been...." I heard a voice start to say but he tapered off when he saw me.

"meet my Sammy." the stranger, who I'm now learning is named Dean says with a laugh.

I saw the other man roll his eyes in annoyance.

"Hi, I'm Sam." He said shaking my head.

"(y/n)." I answered returning his hand shake.

Sammy didn't brush against his hand for a pet. It seems that he only did it for Dean.

"I should uh be going gentleman, sorry again for bumping in to you Dean." I spoke grabbing Sammy's leash.

I never stayed in one place for too long, it was far too risky.

"It was my fault." Dean was quick to defend.

Sammy nudged Dean once more earning a scratch behind the ear.

"see ya Sammy, take care of your mom." Dean said giving Sammy one last pet.

I smiled at the pair, heading to the front to pay for my groceries. I was relieved to see that the hooded figure was gone. I put my groceries up to scan, glancing around furiously at my surroundings.

It was something ingrained in me to do. It was my flight or fight response.

I had to make sure I had a way out of every situation.

I took note of all of the emergency exits.

I handed the cashier my money, quickly collecting the bags in my arms. I grabbed Sammy's leash heading towards my pickup truck. I saw Sammy stop abruptly, his hackles rising to signify something wasn't quite right. I glanced around the parking lot, but nothing caught my eye.

"what is it boy?" I panicked.

Sammy started to whine, putting his head in the crook of my knee to push me towards the truck. I felt my heart start to race. I quickly got in the seat, allowing Sammy to jump in beside me. As I started the truck I saw a figure illuminated in the headlights. I felt fear course through my body.

It seemed like the figure was staring directly at me.

I put a hand in Sammy's fur trying to calm my heart rate.

I saw the figure step closer, the light illuminating more of it's features. I felt my heart sink to the bottom of my chest.

Black Eyes.

"no, no." I started to cry.

He had found me.

I jumped as a hand started banging on my window. I snapped my head to the side seeing Dean standing there. I quickly turned my head back to where the black eyed man stood but he was now gone.

"(y/n) are you okay?" Dean asked opening the door.

I felt the air leave my lungs as I stared at the empty spot. I felt like my chest was burning from the lack of oxygen. Sammy noticing my breathing become heavier made his way to my lap, putting pressure against my chest. I dug my fingers in to his fur trying to calm my erratic heart rate.

"you saw it before didn't you?" Dean asked, voice laced with concern.

"my.mom." I managed to choke out between heavy breaths.

Dean ran a hand down my back trying to help me calm myself. I would've thought it a sweet gesture if I wasn't completely losing my shit right now.

I didn't know what got me more scared, the fact that it found me or the fact that it was real.

I wasn't crazy, at least I got that closure.

I buried my face in Sammy's fur going through my deep breathing exercises once again trying to calm myself. It felt like hours but I was finally able to slow my breathing down to an even rhythm. I looked over to see Dean still sat with me.

"that thing killed my mom, and now I think it wants to kill me." I voiced my concerns.

Dean gave me a look, like he knew more than he was letting on.

"it's called a demon." Dean spoke.

A demon? I didn't know what I expected but it certainly wasn't that.

"like one of those things from hell?" I scoffed.

"exactly that, look I know it sounds crazy but I can help you." Dean said.

"you're right you sound completely crazy." I growled looking at him.

I thought Dean looked gentle and safe but in reality I didn't know him at all. He could be insane for all I know. He was sounding that way with all this talk about demons.

"look you don't live in the world you think you do, okay, there are things out there, things that you wouldn't think exist but I promise you they do." Dean said.

"Dean I really can't do this right now." I said trying my best to leave the situation.

"you know in your heart that this is something more, you just don't want to believe it." Dean said adamantly.

"please, let me go." I cried.

"that's why you told the police a black eyed monster killed your mom." Dean spoke not daring to look me in the eyes.

"how the hell do you know that?" I growled, suddenly fearful of this stranger.

"I read the police report." Dean said looking suddenly guilty.

He's read about me.

He knew me.

I thought running in to him was fate, but that wasn't the case at all.

It was planned.

"go to hell Dean." I spit at him.

Dean sighed backing away from the truck. I slammed the truck door, leaning my head on the steering wheel. I sobbed, feeling like the world was slowly closing in on me.

Dean was right.

I knew this was something more.

But a demon?

No.

It can't be.

Can it?

Plus who the hell even was this guy?

He read my file.

Was he a detective?

Why help now?

Surely detectives don't believe in demons.

I pulled out of the parking lot, wanting nothing more than to get the hell out.

Dean

"way to go genius why'd you bring up the police report?" Sam asked stepping out of the shadows.

"I don't know, I was trying to help." I said running a hand through my hair.

I didn't know why this girl was having such an effect over me.

Maybe I did.

"Dean, we had a plan why didn't you stick to it?" Sam grumbled.

"you didn't exactly follow through to your part either, considering the bastard got away." I growled at my baby brother.

"Dean, I get you want to help this girl but..." Sam started but I cut him off.

"Sam, that's just it, you don't get it! I watched mom die, okay, I know the pain she feels every single day. I watched her die and there was nothing I could do." I yelled, feeling the emotions wash over me.

"Dean you were just a kid, what were you supposed to do?"

"I couldn't do anything then, but I can do something now."

Sam nodded his head in understanding.

I had a good feeling this demon could lead us to the yellow eyed demon that killed mom.

I expected to meet her, I planned it.

I knew she could help us catch this thing.

I didn't expect her to tug on my heart.

Sam and I hopped back in the impala driving back to the motel. I couldn't shake this feeling like something bad was going to happen. Although lately I felt that way all the time. It was like I was living in a nightmare, and no matter how hard I fought I just couldn't bring myself out of it. I threw my jacket down angrily.

"I feel like this bastard is always a step ahead of us." I growled, crashing on to the uncomfortable bed.

Sam was about to respond, but we heard a light scratching on the door.

"what could that be?" Sam wondered aloud.

"one way to find out." I said grabbing my pistol.

Sam grabbed his, slowly opening the door.

I was shocked to find Sammy. I looked around, noticing (y/n) wasn't with him. I felt fear in the pit of my stomach. Sammy was whining, circling around.

"I think he wants us to follow him." I said to Sam.

Sam gave me a look of concern before nodding his head. Sammy started to walk away, Sam and I hot on his trail. He led us down the road to a worn down apartment complex. I instantly noticed her truck. It was still running, and her groceries were on the ground.

"Dean this doesn't look good." Sam said noticing the scene too.

Sammy whined, pawing at my leg. I bent down wrapping my arms around him.

"I promise boy I'll find her." I said giving him a hug.

Sammy wiggled out of my arms, going towards a door and starting to paw at it.

"I don't like this Dean." Sam warned as I walked towards the door.

I ignored him, hesitantly trying the handle. It was unlocked.

I swung the door open, but the room was pitch black, leaving no visibility.

"Dean." I heard her voice say.

"I'm here, where are you?" I asked whipping around in the darkness.

I heard a sickening chuckle as the room illuminated. (y/n) stood in the corner, but I could tell it wasn't (y/n).

"leave her body now." I growled, as her once beautiful colored eyes flashed black.

"I don't know what you're talking about Dean? It's me."

"leave her body." I growled once again.

"or what? I mean you can't kill me, no because that would mean she'd die too, and you don't want that do you Dean?" the demon taunted.

the demon was right.

If I tried anything she'd die too.

"besides, I can help you."

"yeah like I'm stupid enough to trust you." I growled as the demon possessing her body started to circle me.

"I mean if you don't want to know why your mom died I guess that's your loss. I can tell you though, this one, her daddy made a deal he couldn't cash, and would you believe he traded the lives of his wife and his daughter, what kind of a man does that? I mean your mother wasn't innocent either."

I felt my blood boiling in anger.

"you don't know what the hell you're talking about." I spit.

I tensed as the demon came up, using her hand to rest on my cheek.

"oh but I do."

I grabbed her by the throat, pinning her to the wall. It hurt me to do, but I had to remind myself she wasn't herself right now.

"shut up, and let her go." I growled.

"you know you're hot when you're angry."

In a split second she had her hand on my throat throwing me to the ground. I landed with a thud, causing her to laugh.

"oh Dean this is just too easy."

"where's the yellow eyed demon." I growled.

"in a place you'll never find."

"so he's sending you to do his dirty work, is that it?" I growled.

"kind of like that, but we all have our own personal vendettas."

I could see out of the corner of my eye Sam drawing a devil's trap. I needed to lure her out there.

"let her go, or else."

"or else what, you can't kill me, I thought we were past this."

It was now or never.

I stood up slowly as she paced around me.

"you're right, I can't kill you, but that doesn't mean I can't trap you."

As soon as the words left my lips, I tackled her body out of the door, right in to the trap. I moved out of the way as the demon stood up angrily, unable to move.

"what did you do to me?"

"it's called a devils trap, and now we're going to make you leave whether you want to or not." Sam growled.

I started reciting the latin words that would exercise the demon from her body. I felt a pang of guilt as she thrashed around with each word I spoke.

I spoke the final line, and the demon left her body, causing her to collapse to the ground. Sam took the book from my hands reciting the next part of the exorcism to send the demon back to hell where it belongs. I ran into the devils trap picking up her body, just as Sam spoke the last line sending the demon back to hell.

"Sam get me a cold washcloth." I yelled cradling her limp body.

Sam ran inside the apartment, returning quickly with what I asked for. I put it to her forehead dabbing lightly while shaking her awake.

"come on, wake up." I pleaded shaking her harder.

Reader

"I won't take your life, just your soul."

I could only remember those words being spoken before I awoke with a jolt. I touched my body making sure I was still alive, and most importantly still me. I glanced up seeing the concerned eyes of Dean.

"Dean?"

"Oh thank god you're back." He sighed in relief.

I tried to sit up but it felt like my joints were on fire.

"Easy, you'll be sore for awhile, I uh kind of had to tackle you." Dean said rubbing his neck nervously before helping me sit up.

"what the hell happened to me?" I asked.

Dean explained everything.

Demons, possession, exorcisms.

It would have been pretty unbelievable if I hadn't just lived through it. He explained the deal my father made.

A deal with the devil.

I couldn't believe that my mom was gone because of him. I just hoped wherever he was, he was paying too.

Dean explained that he saw his mom die at the hands of a demon too. I felt my heart sink as he explained that he's spent all this time looking for the thing that killed her.

I gazed at him, seeing the broken person that lay underneath this tough facade.

Dean watched his mom die too. He was just as broken as I was.

I put my hand to his cheek gently caressing it with my thumb.

"Dean, you saved me."

"I had a little help." Dean said glancing towards the truck.

Sam opened the door, allowing Sammy to run out into my arms. He was wagging his tail like crazy, licking over my face.

"I missed you too boy." I smiled hugging him tightly.

Sammy jumped on Dean causing Dean to chuckle. He reached down scratching him.

"I guess it was a little bit of fur and fate." I whispered biting my lip.

"fur and fate huh?" Dean whispered, suddenly much closer than before.

"I didn't really believe in fate, but then again I didn't really believe in demons either." I said.

"and what now?"

"now, I believe I want you to kiss me." I whispered taking in his intoxicating scent.

"I can do that." Dean whispered leaning in.

I don't know if it was fur or fate, but whatever it was, I was thankful.

and for the first time since I was eight years old, I felt okay.

Author Note:

I'm sorry it took me so long to finish! I really hope you liked it! I'm forever grateful for all the love!

xoxoxo

Liv