#SPn fanfic

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Sam is having the time of his life while Dean is having an existential crisis lol. 😂

It’s Not A Big Deal

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: Dean's in for a rude awakening when he finds out exactly what you did when you got stranded in another universe.

Tropes: Fluff, Frenemies (Dean and the Reader), Awkward Situation, Multiverse Problems.

Word Count: 3.1K (I promise I didn't mean for it to happen)

Warnings: I'm gonna label this 18+ just to be sure. There is some swearing (only a few times), Heated Kiss, Sexual Innuendo, References to Sex/Past Sex (it happens quite a bit). Soldier Boy being Soldier Boy (Everyone knows he’s a warning).

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person

Main Masterlist

A/N: Okay I know that I should be working on my other fics, but I had this idea after reading an INCREDIBLE fic by @justagirlinafandomworld called "Stranded" for @jacklesversebingo and I couldn't help myself.

Sam squeals the car into the parking lot of the motel so loud that Dean and you can hear the high pitched scream of rubber on asphalt from your room on the second level.

"If he ruins those tires he's going to pay for them." Dean grumbles under his breath from where he sits at the small wooden table under the window, wiping down his gun with a clean rag. The sunlight that came streaming through dramatized the sharp angles of his jaw and the soft sleepy strands of his hair that still stuck up from when he woke up an hour ago.

"I don't know what his hurry is." You don’t look up from the worn paperback perched in your lap, gently turning the page. "If he's that eager to get back here to tell us something he should have just called."

“Maybe there was a sample sale on hair gel.” Dean laughs at his own joke and you can sense him look up from the gun to try and catch your eye, but you don't raise your gaze from the text.

“That’s pretty brave coming from someone who owns 90% of the products in that bathroom.”

“What? I do not-“

“Really? If I walk in there right now there won’t be seven different half-used deodorant sticks?”

“They’re different smells." Dean says defensively. "And shut up. I don’t comment on how many books you bring with you. Don’t know why you need to shove a million in your bag and then just buy one while you’re here.”

“Because I might not feel like reading the ones I bring. I might want to try something new. And this book,” You wave the book in your hand for emphasis. “Is very good and I don’t have it back at the bunker, and it was only two bucks!"

“But the others ones might be good too. You don’t know.” Dean sighs, looking at you like you're insane. "You just let them sit and rot in your suitcase."

Today was the last day that you would be staying in Louis, Illinois. The current case that the three of you had been working on together had been solved, which meant that the townsfolk were no longer dealing with a zombie outbreak and you were at peace to settle down on your pull out bed with a good book, taking a few moments for yourself.

You desperately needed at least five, but you also wished that you were already back in your room at the bunker.

The bed there didn't have as many springs that stuck into your back at odd angles and didn't squeak whenever you moved an inch. Your inability to find a comfortable position meant that the mattress squeaked all night long and Dean had thrown his pillow at you to make it stop. He hadn’t been pleased when you returned it back to him. Then again, you had hit him in the face with it as hard as you could when you did.

And like hell you were going to give Dean Winchester the satisfaction of sleeping in bed with him. You’d had to do that one time on a hunt where there were no extra rooms and Dean refused to let you sleep on the floor or in his car. He said that you might make it spontaneously combust.  So you'd shared the bed and learned that he was the biggest blanket hog you’d ever met, not to mention when you woke up he was spooning you and you couldn’t be certain, but you thought he had tried to cop a feel at least once.

If anything you’d maybe sleep in Sam’s bed, but the guy was so much bigger than you he took up most of the space, so you were stuck with the pull out couch.

You couldn't wait to be home. You liked going out on cases, but you liked that you had a home now, a space that was only yours, and someplace where you could shut yourself away from the world. And most importantly, away from Dean Winchester, who had been the bane of your existence since the night you met him for the first time.

Of course this wasn't too bad either. Taking a few moments of quiet for yourself while Dean cleaned his guns and sorted some of his tools in his duffle. The two of you were getting more comfortable around one another. When you’d first met there had been a lot of screaming and several "she's not going to be there is she?" and "what the hell is she doing here?" questions that Dean moaned to Sam over and over the more the three of you teamed up.

You weren't used to working with other people, well, now you were,  but before it had just been you and the endless road. But as it began to happen more and more you tried to fit comfortably into the swing of things. Dean and you would occasionally bump heads, but it happened less now than it did before. After five years you'd hoped that the two of you could be more civilized, for Sam's sake at least.

Sam and you got along much better. You didn't understand what Dean's problem was with you, or why he hated you so much. He was always correcting you, insulting you, and snatching things away from you as if you hadn't been hunting your entire life. Occasionally it wasn't that bad, like right now, but it had been much worse a few years ago.

When you'd met Dean you'd hated him, thought he was a dick, but the more the two of you spent time together on cases the more you saw that he did those things to hide what he was feeling and the more you saw how big his heart was.

You believed that your relationship now with him had progressed to a sort of symbiotic relationship, but honestly it was more like passive aggressive roommates who fight over whose turn it is to clean the dishes.

Dean still tended to get high and mighty sometimes and annoyed you without end, but you stuck around and in Sam's words "bickered like an old couple."

Sam had gone to grab some snacks and fill the tank at the gas station down the street twenty minutes ago, leaving with a joyful "Don't kill each other."

So far there were no casualties, but apart of you itched to beam Dean in the back of the head with the paperback just for a little bit of excitement.

Sam bursts into the room out of breath. "Okay I-"

"Where's the fire Sammy?" Dean sighs looking up from his gun.

"I ran into someone when I was at the gas station." Sam says it all together, as if it's one sentence.

"And?" You move your hand in a come on gesture hoping that Sam will get to the point.

"Well he's- he's-"

The man that pushes into the room past Sam is not Dean, he looks like him, but that's not why he's so familiar. He's muscular with dark brown hair that hangs a little longer than Dean's, over the top of his ears, while a few strands fall forward on his forehead. He's allowed a dark beard to cover his cheeks, but his eyes are the same piercing green that they were the last time you saw him. And if that wasn't enough for you to recognize him, the dark green superhero suit would be a dead giveaway.

Oh shit.

"Ben?" You drop your book onto the thick carpeted floor in surprise.

Two months ago you had been unwillingly transported to another reality, a reality where superheroes were real, people had powers, and where you met a version of Dean that you actually got along with better than the Dean in your reality.

You hadn't told Sam or Dean what happened between Ben and you. You weren't about to admit out loud that you actually got along with another version of Dean or admit that you found the other version of Dean aka Ben, attractive. So attractive in fact that you had spent a good amount of the time in the other universe in bed with him before you came back to your reality.

Ben doesn't respond, instead he crosses the room in several powerful strides, and hauls you up off the pull out couch.

"What are you-"

One of his hands tangles in the back of your hair, pulling your mouth against his in a furious kiss that steals your breath away and silences whatever you were going to say next. A part of you registers that Dean and Sam are still in the room, but it's quickly swept away by how it feels to kiss Ben. You hadn't forgotten him, anything but that. Sometimes you actually kind of missed him, when you were lonely or when the Dean from your universe annoyed you too much. Because Ben annoyed you too, but at least at the end of it there was a way to relieve the tension. With Dean the only place you put all your frustration was into the hunt and there were only so many times you could bash a Djinn’s head in.

Ben's tongue brushes against your bottom lip, begging for entrance, and you let him in, bringing your hands up to the back of his neck to thread into the long strands of his hair. The strands fall between your fingertips, feathering out from your grip. You moan softly into his mouth as he deepens the kiss, feeling the familiar scratch of his beard against your cheeks, and feel his hand begin to slip down your back to rest on the curve of your ass.

Well, he certainly hasn't changed.

"Fuck I missed you sweetheart." Ben murmurs against your mouth squeezing your butt to emphasize the point. "You and this sexy fucking body."

"Ben." You roll your eyes with a snort.

"What? You didn't miss me?" He raises an eyebrow, forcing his mouth into an attractive pout. "Because you certainly seemed happy to see me a second ago." His free hand gently traces your plump lower lip with the pad of your thumb.

"I did and I am happy to see you, but what are you doing here?"

"Thought so." Ben leans his head back down towards yours, ignoring your question as he tries to kiss you again, but before he can Dean interrupts.

"What the fuck is going on?" Dean shouts, standing from the table under the window, and points his gun at Ben's unprotected back. "Who the fuck are you?"

Ben half turns over his shoulder eyes flicking from the gun to Dean with a sigh. "Look the only thing that's gonna do is piss me off. And you don't want that kid."

Dean makes a face. "Who the hell are you calling kid?"

"Now why don't you two fuck off for a few hours, let me give her a proper hello." Ben turns his dark eyes back on you, cupping your chin in his large hand.

"Y/n? You want to tell us what's happening? Or who this guy is?" Sam asks, but you can't look away from Ben.

You really had missed him. Ben was even more attractive than you remembered. The day that you'd left his universe, Ben had asked you to stay, well, had asked you in his own way. He'd said that he wasn't done with you and if you had stayed he would have made it worth your while. But you had to come back. You weren’t sure how Dean and Sam would survive without you and also because the universe that Ben inhabited was more terrifying than yours, and that was saying something, given that you dealt with demons on a daily basis.

"Guys this is Ben." You clear your throat. "Ben this is Dean and Sam."

"Ben as in Soldier Boy? From the fucked up reality with the people with superpowers Ben?" Dean sputters. He lowered the gun slightly, but he's still looking from Ben to you like he's just walked in on his parents making out.

"Yes." You say it slowly, trying to find a way out, but there really isn't any way to hide this.

It's not that big a deal, is it?

Ben releases you and turns to look at Dean, eyes skating over his body. "So that's Dean?" He tilts his head to the side. "Kinda scrawny. The way you described him made me think he'd look a little more like a man and less like a fucking pussy."

"What the fuck did you just say to me?" Dean takes a step towards Ben, holding his gun steady out from his chest. You noticed that Dean did try to puff it out more after Ben's insult.

"You heard me." Ben smirks, welcoming the challenge.

"Whoa!" You step between them. "Calm down ladies there's enough Prada to go around at this sample sale."

Ben's eyes narrow in confusion at your comment, but he doesn't back down from Dean.

"I'd say that you left a few details out of your trip!" Dean shouts looking from Ben to you in disgust. "Did you sleep with me?"

"What?" You look at him like he’s crazy.

What does he mean?

"You, and him." Dean gestures wildly with the gun. "Did you sleep with me?"

"What are you talking about? No I didn't sleep with you, I slept with him and it was only once!" You shout back.

Ben clears his throat.

"Fine. A few times.” You correct with a sigh.

“But- you- him-“ Dean’s head turns from Ben to you. “Him- you-.”

“Yeah. Me and her fucked.” Ben says it slowly like Dean is a child.

Honestly he was acting a little bit like a child.

Sam is holding back his laughter behind a hand while Dean’s eye begins to twitch aggressively.

This is exactly why I didn’t tell him. They aren’t the same person! Dean is Dean and Ben is Ben. Someone who shares the same face. And probably the same other things that I’m not going to think about right now because that seems crazy.

"How many times is a few?” Dean demands.

"Why does that matter?”

"HOW MANY?" He shouts so loud that you think the people in the next room over were probably having a wonderful time listening to this soap opera.

Because it kinda did sound like one right? The main character never gets along with someone and then gets transported to another reality through a colorful portal and immediately clicks with another version of him. And-

Maybe I need to rethink my life.

"Well..." Your face scrunched up trying to count exactly how many times that you and Ben had sex. It was difficult. Not that it was hard to remember, you knew that you weren’t going to forget it anytime soon, but just the amount of times the two of you were together was more than you could count on your fingers.

"Well what? You were there for five days!"

"I mean..." You shrug.

“Why?” Dean groans pinching the bridge of his nose as if trying to scrub the images from his brain.

Honestly, if he’d told you that he had sex with another version of you, you probably would have had the same reaction, but you were not about to admit that to Dean Winchester of all people.

He’s not gonna win this argument. Especially not when he's waving his gun around like a psychopath.

“Because he's-“ You  glance over at Ben who winks at you. “I don’t know. He’s just kinda-.”

“Everything you’re not.” Ben raises his eyebrow at Dean.

“Sammy you gonna weigh in on this?” You look at Sam expectantly hoping that he can jolt Dean out of the never ending loop he seemed to be stuck in.

“Nope. I’m staying out of it.” Sam holds his hands up in surrender.

“I cannot believe you slept with me!” Dean shouts again.

“Stop saying that! I didn’t sleep with you! I slept with him. Can we please move on-“ You groan.

"Same thing!"

"What? How is it the same thing?” You plant your hands on your hips glaring at Dean.

"He's me from another universe!" Dean is gesturing wildly with his gun now. “How would you feel if I slept with an alternate version of you?”

“It’s completely different!”

“How?”

“They aren’t us!”

“He sure as hell looks like me!" Dean snaps back. "What did you close your eyes the whole time or something?"

Your cheeks flare bright red with Dean's question. "No I didn't!"

“And I don’t look like you.” Ben grunts crossing his arms over his chest and giving Dean a once over again.

“He also doesn’t act like you.” You add.

It was true, Ben didn’t. And for some reason you got along with him more. You didn’t understand what Dean’s problem was, but for the better part of five years he’d been treating you like you hadn’t been hunting your whole life. Not to mention the first three years were spent with Dean barely saying two words to you without some kind of insult attached.

“That’s beside the point!”

“How is that beside the point?” You demand.

“I can’t believe you did this!”

"I didn't kill anyone Dean. I didn't torture any babies or kill any puppies. We are consenting adults! We had sex-"

“No no no!” Dean puts his fingers in his ears. “Lalalalala.” He sings to himself to avoid the image.

"And we're gonna have it again. So the two of you should clear out, unless you're in to that kind of thing Deanie.” Ben wraps his arm around your shoulders to pull you into him, but you don’t take your eyes off of Dean.

“Fuck I’m gonna need so much therapy after this” Dean groans putting the gun down on the table. Which was a good sign because now you weren’t worried that he would accidentally shoot Sam in the foot.

“Really? After everything you’ve gone through that’s what pushes you over the edge?” You ask him in shock.

“Yes. Are you happy? You’ve driven me to the point of insanity!” Dean snaps.

"You're acting like a child."

"I am not! I am having a completely normal reaction to finding out you slept with Wannabe Captain America!” Dean gestures to all of Ben who looks at Dean like he can’t tell if it’s an insult or not. 

You take in a deep breath to calm your racing heart. “Why are you so upset that I slept with him Dean? I don’t understand how this is so earth shattering to you that two people had sex! You have sex with people all the time-“

“Not with you!”He snaps back, but then clears his throat when he realized what he just said.

“He is not YOU!” You shout rolling your eyes for the millionth time. At the rate he was going, you were sure they were going to roll out of your head. 

“As important as this conversation is… can we maybe put a pin in it and go back to why he’s here?” Sam asks diplomatically.

“No-“ Dean says at the same time you say.

“Yes! Ben why are you here?”

“Don’t really know.” He shrugs taking a long hit from a joint that seemed to materialize out of thin air, while tightening his arm over your shoulders. “All I know was that I was fighting Homelander and someone hit me from behind. Then I ended up here.” Ben’s eyes trace your body. “But I’m not complaining, especially not because I got to see you again doll.” He winks.

“Homelander?” Dean repeats. “That is the stupidest hero name I’ve ever heard in my entire life.”

“He’s anything but a hero.” You fight the shudder from the last time you ran in to him. “Think about Superman if Superman was a narcissistic sadist with a massive inferiority complex, no weakness, and an obsession with perfect hair.”

Dean looks Ben up and down with a heavy sigh. “I’m disappointed that I couldn’t have at least been a bit more like Batman.”

“Trust me. You don’t want to meet knockoff Batman from his reality either.” You respond.

"I guess I'll start doing some research." Sam says slowly, looking from Ben to you while hiding a smile.

He’s enjoying this way too much.

"Good." Dean frowns at Ben, before he claps him hard on the shoulder. You saw Dean fight the wince when he felt how solid Ben was. "Let's get you home buddy." His eyes dart from Ben to you. "Before you do anything else that'll scar me for life."

Thank you so much for reading! Likes, Comments, and Reblogs are not required, but are always appreciated! 😊

Taglist: @roseblue373 @mrsjenniferwinchester

[aventuras-de-andre]

this is, to me, the spectrum of humanity

[alexsoenomel]

POV: Texts from Dean

part 2

[sammyluvr]

✶ . ၄၃ . noticed — sam winchester

cw : gn!reader, hurt/comfort, implied depression, feelings of guilt and inadequacy, overall just poor mental health, swearing, 1.1K words. requested !

summary : your depression isn't making things easy for you these days. sam notices and gives you what small comforts he can.

sam can see you slipping. he can see how hard you’re trying not to, how you’re trying to hide it. he lets you, for a bit, because he knows that sometimes you don’t like for anyone else to give it any attention.

but you’re falling behind on research and dean doesn’t know why, so he’s cutting no slack. sam is soft and understanding with you, but he knows he can’t control dean and that you wouldn’t like him to intervene either. all this, and you hate to ask for help, too.

you’re in the library, stuck by your computer and overwhelmed by the amount of books on the topic for this long and tiring case. so you rest your head on the hard wood for a moment, trying to gather energy that you don’t have. then you hear the loud front door swing open, signaling dean’s return from the grocery store. you have to at least look busy, so you drag yourself back up into a sitting position and scan over the pages of a book that you’re not actually reading. 

dean passes you with arms full of plastic bags and a half assed greeting. he’s tired from last night, and anything’s fine by you as long as he doesn’t say anything passive aggressive like he does sometimes. you know he’s frustrated with you, wishing you’d find something actually helpful. you just can’t bring yourself to do much of anything at all.

when you’ve finally heard the door to dean’s room shut, after staring at the page and listening to the sounds of him putting away groceries in the kitchen, you drop your head back down, feeling useless and restless but unable to act on it. the next time you hear footsteps, they’re sam’s. you can tell just by listening for a moment or two. he’s taller, but he walks quieter than dean. though his footfalls are a little heavy now, in the comfort and privacy of the bunker.

he approaches faster than you expect and most definitely catches you with your head on the table before you sit up to look in his direction.

the smile you give him when you lift your head is unconvincing and the one he returns to you is soft and understanding. it’s clear to you that he can see you’re unwell. you sigh and your smile fades.

“hey,” he murmurs, all gentle and kind, never pitying but certainly careful. he closes the gap between your seat and the doorway, quietly shutting both your laptop and the book before placing a hand on the side of your head and pressing a kiss to your temple. “let’s take a break, yeah? grab lunch in town, or maybe some ice cream. or both. how’s that sound, honey?”

you purse your lips, feeling loved by the gesture but wanting to do anything except go out right now. you lean into his touch anyway, then after a moment of hesitation, mumble back, “i’d rather stay inside.”

“okay,” he agrees immediately, “we can do that, too. why don’t you sit in the kitchen with me? i’ll make you something simple. dean should’ve gotten the stuff for those sandwiches you like, yeah?” he holds his hand out for you to guide you away from the library.

“alright,” you accept quietly after a moment of just looking at his hand, waiting for you, reaching out to you to pull you up. when your hand lands in his, it’s a little easier to breathe, somehow. he closes his fingers around yours and gives the gentlest of tugs to urge you up. you start to stand and the hand on your head reaches down to pull your chair out for you. his hand stays in yours as he leads you to the kitchen.

he has you sit as he makes a sandwich for the both of you, talking aimlessly about a documentary he watched last weekend but didn’t have the chance to tell you about until now. his voice stays muted and constant, knowing you don’t want anything loud but shouldn’t stay stuck in silence.

he’s right, of course. the lull of his voice keeps your mind off of all else, and you find yourself actually able to pay attention to the words that fall from his lips. it’s nice to watch him, too.

sitting across from you, watching you take the last bite of the simple food he made you, spreads the warmth of satisfaction through his chest. frankly, he’s worried about you, but it’s nice to know that you’ll let him take care of you like this. subtle and easy, but essential. not too loud and not too outwardly worried, but showing he’s noticed and is going to actually do something about it. there’s no judgment in his eyes or his actions, only care and softness and love.

sam’s serious about taking a break. he doesn’t let you go back to that library table to wallow in your self-criticism of being unable to get anything done. he brings you back to his bed and holds you in his arms and kisses the top of your head, maybe more times than he needs to.

“you can tell me when you need me,” he murmurs into your hair, his arms wrapped around your middle. “doesn’t have to be out loud. but if you can, and there’s something i’m not doing that i could be, you tell me, yeah? ‘cause i’ll do it. i want to, for you, honey.”

you take a deep breath in, let it out slow. “thank you,” you whisper, “this helps, really.” and you mean that, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. sometimes, walking away from the things you should be doing just makes you feel worse, like you don’t really deserve to do anything nice. if you can’t do what you should, it feels like the least you could do is sit there and beat yourself up about it. 

sam pulls you away from that mindset. his love isn’t burdensome, he lets you believe you deserve it. his arms are a shield and his chest is a place for your head to really rest. he brings you both sleep and consciousness without guilt or anxious embarrassment. 

and when you inevitably get antsy again, he notices that, too. he tells you sternly, sweetly, to stay comfortable on the bed as he fetches your laptop and book. once back, he still insists on keeping you settled right against him, your head slotted perfectly into the crook of his neck as he reads the book aloud to you, either until you find something useful or the pages run out.

no matter what, he’ll keep you held, keep you steady in his arms.

[winchestersisterimaginessss]

Request: John is being an abusive jerk as always, but can you set this in season 1 idk make up your own scenario but I imagine them being season 1.

Sam and Dean Winchester x Sister!Reader

Warnings: Abuse? Asthma Attack kinda?

A/N: Okay I think I actually hate what I did for this UGH. Please lmk if you guys like it. I also have asthma so I added that little part in there it just came to me when I was writing so I was like okay let’s make it even more angsty.

A hunt had gone wrong and your dad was currently driving you and your siblings to where you had left Dean’s car before the hunt. The tension in the car was thick and it felt as though you couldn’t breathe. You had your long sleeves pulled out and had your hands tucked inside of them as you bundled the ends of them. You had them tucked under your chin as you rested your head on them— something you’ve always done to comfort yourself. Your leg was bouncing rapidly— something you’ve always done when you’re anxious and you’re trying to self soothe.

“Would you fucking knock it off? You’re shaking the whole damn car.” John grumbled angrily. You immediately jumped at his harsh voice piercing through the quiet car and quickly stopped bouncing your leg.

“Yes sir, I’m sorry.” You said quietly. Dean sent you a sympathetic glance through the rear view mirror knowing that’s how you comforted yourself. His first instinct was to protect you and stick up for you, but your pleading eyes shut him up. You bawled up the ends of your sleeves even tighter and subconsciously started wiggling your toes. Your anxiety was on high alert around your father and you hated that the most. You felt safe with your brothers, but when your dad was around you felt as though you could suffocate. Your thoughts of worry were interrupted when you felt a hand on your knee. You looked up and Sam sent you a sad smile. You knew that your dad was going to blow up any second about the hunt gone wrong and the future of that was terrifying you. You couldn’t handle more yelling and the dreadful feeling of your family falling apart in the aftermath. When you turned down the random dirt road you almost sighed out loud in relief. Dean’s car in your view made you feel calm. As soon as your dad stopped the car, you practically leaped out. It was like the weight lifted off of your chest and you could finally take a deep breath. Sam followed behind you and put his arm around your shoulder and you instantly felt better. Your brothers knew you better than you knew yourself.

“We’ll meet you at the motel.” You heard Dean say before you heard the car door shut. You got into the impala and as soon as all the doors shut, you spoke up.

“Dad’s mad.” You stated, quietly. Dean snorted and you snapped your head in his direction.

“What’s new.” He shrugged before turning to face you.

“Don’t let him get to you kiddo.” He said softly. He was concerned for you. He knew that their dad spiked your anxiety and he wanted to make sure you were okay. Your dad was always especially hard on you. Since Dean always had your back, it often led to even more problems and you didn’t want him to have to deal with that.

“Well- I just-“ You started, unsure of how you wanted to word it.

“I just hope he’s not going to blow up. I- I don’t know if I can handle that right now.” You finished weakly, knowing anything could set your father off.

“Everything’s going to be okay, bug. I will take you somewhere else no problem if you don’t feel comfortable going back to the motel. Just say the words.” Sam stated strongly, wanting nothing more than to protect you from your father’s wrath.

“Yeah kid. You can go with Sammy and I’ll go back to the motel and deal with dad.” Dean said, glancing back at you through the mirror.

“No, no it’s okay I didn’t mean to cause a problem. I’ll be fine, I promise.” You said, not sure if you’d be able to keep that promise, but you’d never let Dean deal with dad alone.

“We’ve got your back kid, always.” Dean reassured and just then you noticed you were bouncing your leg up and down. Your breath hitched and you immediately stopped.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t realize I was bouncing my leg. I’m sorry!” You said, panicking. The last thing you wanted to do was annoy your brothers. Before you had another second to even think, Sam spoke.

“Sweetheart, don’t apologize for that. Sometimes we just need to move a little when we’re anxious and it’s totally normal. It doesn’t bother us in the slightest okay?” Sam asked. His heart hurt at the thought that you were now hyper aware of your anxiety tic because your dad had yelled at you and called you annoying for it. It’s something you’ve always done and your brothers are fully aware of it. When they see your leg bouncing, they know there’s something bothering you and it helps them know where you’re at mentally.

“Oh okay. I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t annoying you too.” You said quietly, now feeling embarrassed.

“We’re here for you bug alright? You know you can always be comfortable around us.” Sam said softly.

“Yeah I know.” You sighed. Your brothers hated how you became panicky and scared whenever your father was around. When it was just the three of you without your dad, you were a completely different kid. As the motel came into view you let out a loud gasp.

“What’s wrong?!” Dean asked panicked at your fearful outburst.

“I couldn’t find my inhaler before we left and dad was mad that I was taking so long so he left the room to go help load up the car with you two so I was rushing around and I ripped all my clothes out of my bag and I left the room a little bit of a mess and it’s going to set him off. He’s going to get so mad and he’s going to yell at me.” You explained as fast as you could, hoping you’d have enough time before your dad got back to clean up.

“Okay we’re a few minutes ahead of him so it’s okay. Just go inside and shove everything into your bag real quick. It’s alright.” Dean reassured you as he whipped into the parking lot. You didn’t even wait for him to fully put the car in park before you were running to the room. A few drawers were open and your bag was torn apart all over the floor. You were just starting to shove things into your bag when the door burst open. You looked up in panic and saw your dad. You turned back towards your clothes and tried to throw more into your bag before you set your dad off.

“What the hell is this fucking disaster?” Your dad barked, charging at your bag that was in the center of the room and kicking it at you. Before you had time to answer, Sam and Dean walked into the room. They immediately noticed your terrified expression, but you knew if you acknowledged them before your dad then you would get into even more trouble.

“I-I-I couldn’t f-find m-my inhaler. I-I’m sorry.” You said, scared. Dean started making his way toward the both of you, seeing the anger in his dad’s eyes and the terror in yours.

“I-I-I don’t give a shit! Clean this mess up!” He yelled, making fun of your nervous stutter. The only reason for even having one was because of him. You only ever had one around him. You were cowered on the floor with your dad getting closer to you. Dean immediately placed himself in front of you and put his hand on his Dad’s chest.

“Back up.” He said, firmly.

“No Dean, this is bullshit!” Your dad yelled back at him. Dean looked towards you and your eyes immediately shot to the ground.

“You need to frigging chill the hell out right now.” Dean warned. Your heart was pounding and you knew that it was only going to get worse. You scrambled to put your clothes back in your bag as tears stung your eyes, but you couldn’t let them fall. Crying would be a sign of weakness in your father’s eyes and another reason for him to berate you. You heard a pair of footsteps walking towards you and you looked up to see Sam. As he squatted down to help you pick up your clothes, you saw Dean walking your dad out of the room.

“Oh so you wanna play the role of daddy now?” Your dad asked, stopping in his tracks.

“Stop. Don’t you dare go there.” Dean warned once again.

“That hunt was a fucking disaster, this room is a fucking disaster, she’s a fucking disaster so have fun taking care of that.” He yelled before he stormed out of the motel room. You flinched as he slammed the heavy door shut, but you continued to force your eyes on the floor. You were fighting back a river of tears and were biting the inside of your lip so hard that you started to taste the metallic blood pool in your mouth.

“Y/N/N.” You heard Dean say.

“Hmmm?” You asked, still not looking up from the floor as you continued to shove your clothes in your bag.

“He didn’t mean that.” He said softly, knowing that you would never believe that he didn’t mean it and that the damage was already done.

“Oh I know, I’m okay.” You said unconvincingly and looked up at them for the first time to send them a quick smile that immediately faltered.

“Bug,” Sam trailed off before you burst into tears. Sam who was still on his knees from helping you put your clothes away, immediately scooted over to you and embraced you. You gripped onto his shirt and buried your head into his chest as sobs wracked through your body.

“Shhhh, shhh, I know, I know, I’m sorry sweetheart.” Sam said, knowing all too well.

You sobbed harder, gripping his shirt tighter, afraid that he’d somehow disappear from under you.

“I’m here, I’m here bug, I’m not going anywhere.” He said, feeling you grip his shirt tighter. Sam looked at Dean whose jaw was clenched at the scene before him.

“I-I’m trying my best!” You sobbed, your father’s words of him mocking you and calling you a disaster ringing in your ears. Dean couldn’t handle seeing you in this kind of distress any longer.

“Kiddo.” He said as he put a comforting hand on your back. You tearfully turned away from Sam’s chest and looked towards him.

“Don’t you ever let him make you feel less than you are, especially not when it comes from his own frustration and you certainly don’t deserve to carry that weight.” He said, his eyes piercing through you to make sure you understand.

“B-but De!” You sobbed. “Y-you don’t deserve it either! None of y-you do! I’m sorry, I-I’m just so s-sorry that I’m a-always causing problems with d-dad and y-you’re f-forced to fix it.” You cried, trying to catch your breath.

“Those problems aren’t because of you and they will never be because of you, kid.” Dean reassured, bringing your shaking body into his. You cried harder into his chest.

“I know, I know.” Dean said softly, knowing you needed to get these emotions out. With every cry, it got harder to catch your breath and Dean immediately caught on.

“Hey, hey, hey, breathe for me kiddo.” He said, rubbing your back, but you continued to gasp for air.

“Sam, grab her inhaler. She’s going to give herself an asthma attack.” Dean said calmly, supporting your weak body. Sam rushed to get your inhaler and puffed the medicine into your mouth. As your lungs opened up, you visibly relaxed into deans arms.

“Atta girl.” Dean said, sighing in relief. Your face was stained with tears and your eyes were bloodshot.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, resting your head on his chest.

“Don’t be sorry. I’m always here for you, and I’ll always have your back, no matter what. You’ve got so much to offer kid. Sammy and I believe in you more than you can imagine. You’re not alone in this.” He said. You lifted your head up to look him in the eyes.

“Thank you.” You said before looking towards Sam.

“You two mean so much to me and I don’t know what I would do without the two of you. Thank you for always having my back. I love you both so much, more than you’ll ever know.” You finished.

“We love you too bug.” Sam said, coming over to you and kissing the side of your head.

“Grab your stuff, I’m getting us a different room from dad.” Dean said, walking towards the door.

“Okay.” You said, not arguing with that.

“We should probably get some candy too for our big movie night we’re going to have.” He said. You snapped your head in his direction with a big teary smile. He shot you a wink and walked out of the room. You smiled to yourself. No matter what your brothers would always be there for you and pull you out of the dark.

[perlukafarinn]

Finally finished posting my Assorted Tumblr Ficlets (Dean/Cas) on ao3!

It's a collection of Dean/Cas ficlets I've written throughout the years, starting in 2014 and ranging around 200-1900 words each. It's not everything I've posted on here - if a ficlet actively made me cringe, I left it out - but it's most of it!

The first chapter is an index, with short descriptions of each ficlet, word counts and links for ease of browsing. They're posted in chronological order and there's a tiny bit of commentary at the end of each year. I also labeled my personal favorites in the author's notes, just for fun 😊💞

[platonic-soulmates-gencest]

Relationship: Sam Winchester & Dean Winchester

Additional Tags: Gencest | Emotionally Incestuous but Non-Sexual Dean Winchester and Sam Winchester

Word Count: 4,783

Summary:

“How did your father and brother react when you left for college?” “Dad was angry I disobeyed him. Dean was more upset with the fact I was leaving than the reason why I left.” She smiled wryly. “Oh. Younger siblings often have trouble when their older siblings leave home. I remember being angry when my older sister left for college. Is Dean much younger than you?” “He’s twenty-four.” “Oh.” OR On Jessica's insistence, Sam decided to use the free therapy service Stanford offered with varying results.

Inspired by this post by @sammygender

Also the winner in this idea poll. Thanks for anyone who voted! (Expect a return of it with the rest of the fic ideas soon ^^)

Tagging those who expressed interest: @biggentlemenking , @dont-open-dead-inside-25 , @dark-dragon-8 , @roadtripheartbreak, @schizosamwincester

Also others who showed interest in the poll in general (sorry if you aren't interested in this specific one): @sparktoafire , @quietdiscerning , @ayowhatscrackin , @theboykingsmichaelsword , @jinkieswouldyoulookatthis

[supernotnatural2005]

Omg i do apologise 😂 but i will take that as a very lovely compliment! i’m glad you enjoyed it! 💕

'Ride em' Cowgirl'

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word count: 3.3k

Warnings: SMUT!!! 18+ ONLY, swearing, fluff.

AN: Here it is, the requested part 2 of my 'Giddy up Cowboy' Drabble. I'm blown away by all of the love and support on my work lately and had to give you something tasteful in return for all your lovely appreciation. I hope you enjoy ☺️

Tagging: @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog and @rizlowwritessortof

Main Masterlist

The ride back to the motel feels like an eternity. The engine of the Impala hums beneath you, a comforting sound you’ve grown used to over the past few months of hunting with the Winchesters. But tonight, that familiar hum does little to calm the storm that’s building in the air between you and Dean.

Sam sits in the passenger seat, blissfully unaware of the electricity crackling in the space between you and his older brother. His head is turned slightly, eyes focused on his phone as he scrolls through something, probably researching the next hunt. He’s completely oblivious, lost in his world, but you and Dean? You're both caught up in something far more dangerous.

You shift in your seat, the leather of the Impala's interior squeaking slightly beneath you, but it’s nothing compared to the way your body is reacting to the proximity of Dean, to the memory of the words you said back at the bar. "I think I can ride him better." The double meaning of the comment, the tease that you’d laid on him, was still hanging heavily in the air.

You glance at him, his profile visible from the corner of your eye. His jaw is tight, his hands gripping the steering wheel a little too hard, and you can’t help but notice the way his bicep flexes with the tension. The urge to reach over and touch him, to bridge that last bit of space between you, is almost overwhelming.

Sam’s voice pulls you from your thoughts as he glances over his shoulder, a slight grin on his face. “You two are awfully quiet. You sure everything’s alright?”

Dean clears his throat, his voice low, a little too steady. “Yeah, we’re fine, Sammy. Just tired.”

Sam nods, not catching the edge in his brother’s voice, and goes back to whatever he’s reading on his phone. You, however, catch the way Dean’s eyes flicker to you—a brief glance, but enough to make your pulse quicken. You feel that familiar heat rise between you both, the kind that only the two of you understand.

Every mile feels like it stretches on forever. You catch Dean’s gaze again, and this time, his eyes linger a little longer, something raw and unspoken in them. You know he’s struggling to keep his composure, just as you are.

Finally, the motel comes into view. The neon lights of the sign flicker, the soft hum of the parking lot filling the quiet car. Sam lets out a loud yawn and stretches, oblivious to the way the tension between you and Dean has reached its breaking point.

“Man, I’m pretty beat.” Sam says, giving you both a tired smile as he climbs out of the car. You and Dean follow suit, both of you stepping out with a quiet but unmistakable urgency.

Dean’s hand brushes against yours as he walks you to your room—just a few doors before his and Sam’s, and it’s enough to send a shiver down your spine. You both stand there for a moment, looking at your motel room door in front of you, the unspoken weight of everything you've both been avoiding for so long finally sinking in. 

Sam walks on ahead, muttering something about needing to “hit the hay,” and you both watch as he disappears into the room before Dean turns to you, his voice low and controlled. 

"You weren’t kidding earlier, huh?”

"No," you say, your voice just above a whisper, because you can’t take it anymore, and it’s enough to send the heat between you two spiralling. "I wasn’t.”

Dean doesn’t need any more encouragement. He moves first, closing the distance between you two with a single, decisive step. His lips crash against yours, hard and desperate—like he’s been holding back everything he’s been feeling for far too long. 

His mouth is warm and insistent, and you open up to him instinctively, your hands finding their way to the open fabric of his flannel, pulling him even closer. 

You moan into the kiss, clinging to him as if he were your last source of oxygen. Consuming what he was willing to give as long as he was willing to give it. Dean’s hands slide down to your hips, gripping hard enough to leave small fingerprint indents when your tongue slides past his lips. His responding groan is low, bordering on a growl, and he walks you back against your door, his hands unable to stay in one place for too long. 

His touch, his scent, and his delectable mouth were quickly descending you into a state of ecstasy. You were already hooked and desperate for more. 

“Inside.” You mumble against his lips, and he offers you a curt nod before he breaks the kiss, allowing you a moment to breathe as you turn to unlock your door. He’s already pressing himself against you from behind, his hands wandering from your hips to boldly cupping your breasts over your thin t-shirt, beneath your jacket.

It takes you until your third try before you finally stumble inside. Dean quick to kick the door shut with his foot as he ravishes your neck with wet kisses and thumbs at your pebbled nipples poking through your lace bra, risen from both his ministrations and the cool air.

You push back against him and gasp at the feel of his obvious arousal through his jeans. His reaction to you sent a thrill of excitement through you as well as a feeling of pride swelling in your chest. 

"Fuck, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted this. Wanted you.” Dean pants into your neck as you roll your hips against him. He presses into you with each roll, making his eyes roll back and his hands move to find purchase on your hips again. 

“I think I have some notion.” You quip with one last push back against him before turning in his arms. You offer him a sly smile and look up at him through your lashes as you trail and hand down his firm chest and over his toned stomach before cupping him through his jeans. His hips instinctively thrust into your palm, and you grant him some relief by adding pressure and rubbing your hand along his length. 

His gaze is stormy as he looks down at you, watching you watch your own hand grope him in wonder. It was one of the hottest things he’d ever seen. Suddenly, he pulls your hand from him, the feeling both incredible yet frustratingly not enough, and you look up at him in question, but he’s quick to reclaim your lips again. 

The urgency from before is back with a vengeance as you claw at each other’s clothes, peeling away layers upon layers between heated kisses, until finally, you’re left in nothing but your panties, and Dean in his boxers. 

His gaze roams over you unapologetically, taking in every curve and scar; your heaving breasts on display with a hunger you’d never seen in another man's eyes before. But there was more behind his desire. There was a look of longing, of wanting this for so long and finally having it, simmering within those pools of green. And you understood. Because you felt the exact same. 

As if in sync, you reached for one another again. Dean’s hands framed your face as he dipped down to kiss you again. This time softer, more tender, making you all but melt into his arms. He walked you backwards, never parting his lips from yours, until the backs of your thighs met the edge of the mattress. 

You pulled away from him then and climbed up onto the bed, with him quickly following, crawling up and over you like a predator stalking his prey. Your head fell back onto the pillows as his firm body covered yours, his mouth quickly attaching itself to your neck, kissing, sucking, and nibbling at the tender flesh until you were bucking your hips up against him. 

He smirks into your neck, loving the fact you were so reactive to him, even by the simplest of touches. He decides to give you some relief and trails his mouth down your body, stopping at your chest. He waited for you to look at him, his warm breath fanning over your perked nipple, and only when you finally meet his gaze does he wrap his lips around your pebbled nub. 

Your mouth fell open in a silent scream, watching his eyes fall shut as he sucked and nibbled at your nipple. The sensation was almost overwhelming, and your hips ground for any kind of friction to relieve the building ache between your legs. Your hand slid into his hair, pulling harshly at the soft spikes atop his head, making him groan, and the vibration sent tiny shocks of pleasure throughout your nerve endings. 

He moves onto your other breast, the wetness of your abandoned nipple cooling against the air conditioning unit, softly buzzing in the background, the feeling only adding to the incredible pleasure his mouth was giving your other breast. 

“Fuck, Dean.” You gasp, just as his left hand trailed down your side and sneakily slipped into your panties. Two of his thick digits were quick to find your clit and you shuddered from the contact. He begins to circle your bundle of nerves slowly, much like the motion of his tongue against your nipple. 

You fist his hair again, moaning loudly as he dips an experimental finger into your soaked hole, gathering your wetness and resuming his attention back on your clit. 

“You’re so wet, baby.” He grunts against your chest, frowning in concentration as he picks up his pace. “That all for me?” All you could do was nod and then cry out as his fingers rubbed you faster, sending jolts of pleasure down to the tips of your toes, which soon curled as your body began to tense. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You repeated it like a mantra, the coil in your belly wound tight and ready to spring. 

“That’s it, baby. Cum all over my fingers.” He husks in your ear, and you look down your body, watching the muscles in his forearm dance with effort from the maddening pace of the hand buried deep in your underwear. The sight was your undoing, and your whole body stiffened. Mouth dropping open in a silent scream, the sound trapped in your throat as your body convulsed and shuddered against him. 

Dean’s hand began to slow with your descent into bliss, coming to a complete stop once you deflated back onto the mattress, completely boneless. 

“Holy shit.” You huffed with an incredulous chuckle because, holy shit. You’re not even sure you’d ever come so hard with your own hand. And if just his fingers could bring you so much pleasure, it left you wondering what else you were in store for. Although you didn’t have to wonder for much longer when Dean shifted beside you and you felt the straining press of his cock against your thigh. 

You turned to him and cupped his cheek with your right hand, pulling him into a slow and sensuous, grateful kiss. He hummed happily against your lips as you rolled him onto his back. His arms coming up to wrap around you, to keep you close as you took his breath away. 

With him distracted, you grasped his tented length, massaging him as best you could through the fabric of his boxers. He broke the kiss and dropped his head back against the pillows, eyes shut tight as you relieved some of the pressure. 

You smiled devilishly at him and rose to your knees beside him. He watched you in wonder as you peeled the last item of clothing from him, helping you by lifting his hips. Your eyes widened in both shock and amazement at the sight of him. Your mouth watered and pussy throbbed, desperate for a taste, for the feel of him inside you. 

You gathered him in your hand, relishing in the warm weight of his impressive cock. Dean released a deep sigh at the feel of your delicate hand slowly, teasingly pumping him. He was as hard as granite, throbbing in your hand, and you marvelled at the way your simple movements had him panting, wanting and desperate beneath you. 

Laying comfortably between his parted thighs, You ran your tongue along the length of him. The deep, responsive moan from him giving you the encouragement to do it again and again until he was slick with your saliva and fisting the sheets beneath him tight. 

“Holy.. shit.” Dean gasped as you took him into your mouth, swirling your tongue around his silky head before sinking your mouth onto him. The action brought with it a salty tang and a variety of praises and profanities. Between your legs, a new wave of wetness coated your already ruined underwear as you worked him over in your mouth and with your hand. 

Looking up at him, he was a sight to behold. His skin glistening, chest heaving, sinful lips parted, and eyes squeezed shut. He was beautiful in every scenario it seemed. 

“Oh God.” Dean’s eyes snapped open then, his body tensing, and he quickly sat up, pulling you from him. You looked at him alarmed, wiping at the spit collected at the corners of your mouth. 

“What? What’’s wrong?” You lay a comforting hand on his shoulder, waiting for him to take a few deep breaths before he released a breathless chuckle.

“You were about to make me cum.” He told you honestly, and you blushed a little, but wondered why he’d stopped you? 

“And?” You giggled softly, though squeaked, when he suddenly manhandled you into his lap. You had to bite back a groan at the feel of his hard length bumping against you through your panites. 

“And? I was promised a ride.” His voice is low and sultry, but his face is filled with his usual boyish, giddy excitement. You giggled and shook your head, realising you’d somehow fallen for a complete dork. 

You cup his scruffy cheeks in your palms and plant a warm kiss against his lips, the smiles on your faces quickly fading as your tongue swept against his, reigniting the ache between your legs and the need for more. 

You reluctantly pull away and slide off of him, removing and kicking away your underwear before climbing back onto him. He welcomes you eagerly, claiming your mouth once again with a kiss filled with passion and ignition. 

You slowly guide him onto his back and pull away breathless. His hands slide from your back to your hips as you sit up, grinning down at him. His green eyes look up at you, dark and entranced, roaming over every inch of you in amazement. 

You bite down on your lip as you settle against him, the wet seam of your pussy covering his length, making you both groan at the contact. You roll your hips experimentally, your head falling back as you steadied yourself against his firm stomach, picking up your pace until you were slick and ready. 

“Fuck sweetheart. You’re a dream.” Dean says breathlessly and with an honest gaze. You smirk down at him, slowing your roll, and he watches you. 

“I think it’s time I make do on that promise.” You tell him. “Think I can last the full 90 minutes?” You tease, and Dean chuckles, rubbing lovingly at your thighs, hips, and up your sides. 

“I have no doubts, baby.” 

In one swift movement, you rise up on your knees and grasp his length, angling him just right before you sink down onto him. Both of your mouths drop open in respective pleasure. You’re slick enough to take him most of the way, only rocking gently a few times until he’s fully sheathed. 

“Fuuck.” He moans, and it’s long and drawn out because Dean can’t quite fathom the feeling of you wrapped tightly around him. He’s been to heaven, hell, and everything in between, but this was something else entirely. The best pie he’d ever tasted, the feeling he got behind the wheel of baby—all things paling in comparison to this moment.

Once the initial stretch of him blurred from pain into pleasure, did you then rise up and slowly slide back down, gasping in almost disbelief at the incredible feel of him inside you. You repeated the movement again and again until you built up a steady rhythm, rocking, rolling, and grinding your hips to find the most intense spots of pleasure. 

All the while Dean let you ride him, watching in awe as you did in fact “ride him better." However, to give you a challenge, he bucked his hips up into you, meeting you thrust for thrust. You held on tightly, eyes rolling back at the much harsher thrusts hitting you just right, but you weren’t about to let him win. 

With one hand firmly planted on his chest, you leaned back, reaching your arm around to fondle his balls. Dean jolted in surprise but moaned deep and loud as you gently caressed them in your palm. You smiled in triumph as he relinquished his thrusts, and you sped up your movements, feeling his balls draw tight. 

“Oh, fuck, oh shit.” His words were breathless and strained as his body tensed, brow furrowing, hands gripping tight onto your hips as he came. Hard. You felt his warm seed coat your walls along with a long, deep groan as you circled your hips, milking every last drop. 

You grinned down at him as he collapsed back onto the bed, panting hard and weightless. You could feel him still twitching inside you, and you involuntary clenched at the sensation, making his head pop back up to look at you. 

His eyes were wild, his chest flushed red, and wordlessly he slid a hand over to your lower stomach, his thumb pressing against your sensitive clit, making you gasp. Dean’s eyes closed at the feeling of you clenching around him but began circling your clit with the digit, watching on in admiration as you slowly rocked your hips into his hand, chasing your own sweet release. 

Dean was a generous lover, but you’d given him a run for his money in that department tonight. It was only common curtesy he had you come again. Even if your pussy was all but strangling his sensitive cock, it felt incredible—a sensation he’d never felt before. He could feel himself hardening again at just the sight and feel of you, surprising you as much as himself. 

“Oh God.” You cried out, your walls fluttering around him as you ground into his hand, his thumb flicking against your clit, harder and faster until you were shaking above him. Then he thrust his hips up, once, twice, three times, and you were falling apart. Your body tensed and twitched above him, your mouth falling open in a silent cry as the white hot pleasure of your orgasm rippled through you.  

“Shit.” Your eyes popped open when you felt it. Warmth spread inside you for a second time as Dean cried out in painful pleasure. Holy shit was all that you could comprehend as he tensed beneath you. 

Shocked silence filled the room as you both stared at one another, catching your breaths, until a chuckle of disbelief slipped from his lips, triggering your own laughter.  

You fell onto his chest, letting his soft cock slip from you with a slight hiss from him. You soothed a hand a long his chest, planting a sweet kiss there before leaning up and coming face to face with him. 

"So, was I…Better?” You wondered curiously, whilst absently playing with his mused, sweat slicked hair. Dean grinned in response and cupped your jaw tenderly. 

"Oh, you so were." He replied before pulling your lips to his. 

AN: Okay so this one was just pure smut! 😂 but let me know what you think? Was this a good tie up for these two 👀

[follows-the-bees]

In order to keep all my meta together, below are links to all my SPN fics, analysis, etc.

Meta Analysis

Let's talk about the two Dean and Cas hugs in S11 & 12.

Weekend at Bobby's analysis

On the Head of a Pin character/plot analysis

Second On the Head of a Pin analysis

How lighting and framing in On the Head of a Pin show Cas' emotional journey

How windows are used to show the growing friendship of Cas and Dean in Free to Be You and Me

Changing Channels analysis

Dean's emotional journey in season seven and the symbolism of Bobby's flask and Cas' trenchcoat

Trickster Episodes — Green Cinematography

How the flipping of Cas' tie in The Man Who Would Be King (6.20) is used to show Castiel's mindset/allegiance

Blocking in Byzantine

Camera angles foreshadowing the end of Sacrifice

Parallels between Spike from Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Castiel from Supernatural

Character Analysis

Carving initials

Fic links (I have around 25 fics so far so this isn't a link to all of them, but the ones I shared on Tumblr. Check out my AO3 for all fics.

Sentinel

Stones at the Stars

Dead and Seek

Hunger Pains

Shaded Verbena

On Wayward Tracks

Little Lights Shining

The Drive-in

Grumpy Whiskers

This is ever growing! (I have at least ten more metas and numerous fics sitting in drafts!)

[zepskies]

Now i have an ask 😂🙏🏻 any chance you could do a one shot based on this image i found on Pinterest? (If anyone on tumblr knows the creator of it please credit them!)

If can be fluffy, smutty, general happiness or whatever.. please please 🙏🏻

Hey there, lovely! ❤️ This pic is adorable! loll

Normally my requests are closed (except for my Patreon subscribers), but because the Christmas season is soon upon us, I've started working on this one for ya -- and as part of my Secret Santa fic exchange for @spnfanficpond.

👀 Sneak Peek: 'Twas the Night...

You padded out of the bedroom and down the long hall…and became distracted by the Christmas tree in the common room. It really was beautiful all lit up. The lights softly flashed in green, red, purple, and gold. Traditional red and gold ornaments hung beside the Scooby Doo themed ones, with Fred and Daphne front and center, along with the rest of the gang scattered throughout.

And then you found Dean.

“Damn it…friggin’ piece of shit ribbon…” 

Dean’s muttering drew your attention to his hunched figure kneeling at the base of the tree. Your head tilted in wonder as you broke into a smile.

What the hell is he doing?

Look out for this on December 3! ❤️💚

[sammyslovergirl]

Sam was laying in his motel room tossing and turning because he couldn't sleep without you. He remembered before he left he grabbed a pair of your red lace panties from the top of your laundry basket. Sam was glad that Dean was gone for the night. Sam got up and grabbed your panties from his jacket pocket. He sat on the bed and brought your panties to his nose. He let out a loud groan, his hand going down to his boxers and pulling his hard cock out. He wrapped his hand around his length and began stroking up and down as he breathed in the scent of your sweet cunt. He put your panties in his mouth and moaned at the taste of your cunt, rolling his eyes back and jerking his hips as thick white ropes of cum came from his cock and landed all over his hand and shirt. He then took your panties out of his mouth and lay back on the bed, panting.

[studiogrimm810]

A Song of Glass

pairings/characters: sam winchester x gn!you, dean is also there

summary: the impala gets t-boned by a drunk driver

warnings: blood/blood loss, car crash, head trauma, slightly graphic depictions of injuries sustained in said crash, loss of consciousness

word count: 2,345

A/N: any and all feedback is appreciated ^.^

———————

You toned out whatever Sam and Dean were arguing about, it was something minute and brotherly that was more annoying than angering. You leaned your head back into the firm leather headrests of the backseat of the impala. it was late, you're pretty sure the boys are just tired and easily irksome so you chuckled to yourself at certain comebacks they flew at each other.

“Dean, come on, it’s not a big deal,” Sam sighed, running a hand down his face.

“It is, Sam! Just because we share a lot of things does not give you the right to finish off Sandy's Apple Pie!” Dean thunders, his right hand on the steering wheel and his left arm resting outside of the window, drumming his fingers against the outside of Baby anxiously.

“We can just drive back and get more,” Sam argues, trying to hold back a laugh at how worked up Dean got about simple things like this.

“It's a two day drive and you know we never make it up to Maine,” Dean glares over at his brother, still gripping the steering wheel. Sam just scoffed and looked out the window, which pissed Dean off more due to Sam's apparent lack of caring.

You chuckle to yourself, stealing glances between you and Sam. You didn’t want to get him in more trouble so you just looked back out the window and watched the moon in the sky follow the car.

The sound of shattering glass is an odd sound, something that most people know how to identify easily. it’s often you hear glass shatter in a TV show or movie and even sometimes in a kitchen. Something about that glass, though, is that it’s muted, small and quick, but now you hear the instant crackle that veins through the Impalas windows and something about hearing it in person right next to your eardrums makes you recoil.

Shards of glass spray past your face, biting at your cheeks. The window on the side of the Impala shatters first and the windshield follows suit like a wave.

The pitch of the glass cuts through the car like a bell.

Or maybe that was just your ears ringing.

You don’t have time to discern either or because the crunch metal rings along with the staunch melody of glass singing through the air.

You gasp, a sharp intake of breath that pulls in a few small shards that now make your mouth taste of iron, and your body is punched by the hood of some shitty pickup with unnecessarily bright lights that make your eyes sting. Your body is punted to the other end of the back seat and you land on your shoulder with a loud crack, waiting for the feeling to erupt. However, the horn of the truck starts blaring and now your ears are really feeling the effects of the awful sounds around you.

Your ears are ringing, your vision is lagged, your face stings, you taste metal and- Oh God, your shoulder really hurts now.

You cry out, it’s all you can do because the collided vehicles are skidding across the intersection. burnt rubber and gas fill your nostrils and it makes you nauseous. You can see movement in the front seat - the boys being jostled by the truck as well - but you can barely hold onto a point of focus so you just see shadows and glimpses.

Finally, the cars screech to a halt and Baby sounds rough. Her engine is groaning and making some sputtering sound that Dean could kill the other driver alone for causing if he was awake. The pickup's horn is still blaring, probably signaling that the driver is also unconscious. You can hear someone moving around in the front but you can make no effort to get up.

Sam is shaking Dean, trying to get him to wake back up but a drip of blood down his temple makes Sam sick. He quickly yanks out his phone and calls for an ambulance, making the conversation quick as he moves to lean over the back seat to reach you.

Being the person who usually rides in the back seat, you’ve gotten used to your own setup. Usually, you have a blanket and some sort of entertainment and you often take your shoes off. Point is, you got very comfortable- so comfortable that you often didn’t wear a seatbelt due to the restriction of movement and Sam always bothered you about it but he often gave up. He just might regret that choice for the rest of his life.

Sam looks back to see your body laying in the backseat, almost like you were sleeping. your dislocated shoulder was the one you were laying on- but he didn’t know of  the injury. Sam just saw the blood running from the multiple cuts in your face and a few shards of glass stuck in your skin. He called out your name next, begging for one of you to wake up.

You groan, your head throbbing and the truck's horn is still blaring, making you want to scream.

Sam is still talking, talking about something you can’t hear because of that fucking horn slicing through your ears. it reminds you of the sharp, nasty sound of glass shattering just won’t stop. That's all you start to hear, glass. The glass. That’s it.

That’s all you feel. The glass slicing your skin and raining over you like beads of acid.

That's all you see. Glistening specks like sparkles that reflect the God-awful LEDs of the pick up, littered around the Impala.

That's all you hear. Piercing car horns and Sam's distraught calls for you or his brother. Then, the distant sirens of the ambulance that Sam called.

Your senses start to fade back in, the pain in your shoulder being the focal-point, but when you try to lift your head up they fade back out until you’re dizzy again and your ears are ringing.

“Hey- hey, can you hear me?” Sam is calling for you from the front seat. When he sees that you’re (somewhat) conscious he shoves himself out of the car and around to open the back door to get a better look at you. “Roll over but just- be careful,” he places his hands on your shoulders to adjust you on your back but your cry of pain makes him stop immediately. “What? What is it, honey?” He asks and you look up at him to see three of him, his puppy-dog eyes shimmering like the glass around them and his face showing the tracks of the shards. He was obviously heavily impacted by the crash, but he seemed to have enough adrenaline to push past his non-life threatening injuries.

“Sh-“ you start to speak, “shoulder- my sh-“ you hope he could hear you well enough, talking felt like it took all the oxygen in your lungs plus some extra muscle.

“Okay,” he says with a few nods, his hands ready to aid but his mind blank on what exactly to do.

The horn finally goes silent and you worry that maybe you’ve gone deaf or maybe you’re unconscious, but the sound of the truck door squeaking otherwise signals that the driver is now awake.

“Oh shit- fuck, man,” a gruff voice slurs out, “I- I didn’t see ya, honest!” The man stumbles around to Sam crouched at the back of the Impala. “Damn…” he sways- drunk. He’s fucking drunk.

Sam would see red if he could afford to, but he chooses to try and ignore the bubbling anger and instead focus on you. You both could now hear sirens and a small wave of relief washed over sam.

“Okay, honey. If your shoulder is hurt then I need to turn you over and off it, okay?” Sam says, his tone regrettable but knowing he needs to do this. You groan at the thought but let Sam do what he needs to. You give him a small nod as a go-ahead. Sam slips one of his hands along your back to avoid your hurt shoulder and one on your good shoulder to position you gently and slowly on your back. You whimper pathetically as he maneuvers you and you’d be embarrassed if you cared at all. He mumbles soft reassurances followed by your name to coax you back to full awareness, but the blood loss is getting to be too much.

Now on your back, Sam gets a good look at your shoulder that is grossly misshapen and he immediately can tell that it's dislocated. he winced at the injury before his face fell completely at the deep patch of blood staining your shirt. He felt like he was going to be sick.

His brother was completely unconscious, the person he loved was bleeding out in front of him and this drunk idiot behind him wouldn’t stop blabbering about nonsense.

The sirens approach closer, the lights flashing around them, a whirlpool of red and white and bouncing off of the crystals of glass scattered around them.

Sam can’t help the sob that escapes him, trembling through his body as his hand caresses your cheek. He's looking down at you, and the way you're laid out in the backseat would make a good spider-man kiss moment, but you keep that thought to yourself. 

Sam's face starts to blur and the edges of your vision start to cone, narrowing your sight. You look up at him for as long as you can but your body soon goes limp from exhaustion and pain.

———

A steady ping of a machine annoys you awake, the constant beep becoming tedious. Before you can even open your eyes though, you feel an aching ring of pain wrapped around your skull and a dull throbbing in your stomach and shoulder. You whimper softly at the feeling, trying to pry your eyes open.

You then hear rustling nearby and feel a warm hand envelop your own.

“Can you hear me?” The voice is muffled, saying quite a few things but you can only make that out.

You finally get your eyes pried open and you look up at the same blurry face you had just closed your eyes on, Sam.

“Hey, there you are,” he smiles, his voice low and soothing. it sounds more like he’s speaking for himself than for her to hear him. He sounds so relieved but so hurt at the same time.

“How’re you feeling, honey?” He asks, almost like a hum, all low and full of love, and it makes your stomach flutter.

You open your mouth to speak but your throat is dry and scratchy, you end up coughing instead.

“Here, hold on,” Sam stands and walks over to grab a cup of water and bring it back to you to drink. You get to see the full extent of his injuries and your heart squeezes with worry. He has a cast on his right wrist and a set of stitches on his cheek. The t-shirt he’s wearing has exposed thick gauze wrapped around his bicep.

You take a few sips and the first thing you can mutter out is “are you okay?” which makes sam chuckle lightly. He reached back for your hand before speaking again.

“Don’t you worry about me, baby, I'm fine,” he reassures, but you can’t help it.

“No,” you shake your head softly, “Sam, you’re hurt.”

“But I'm standing, you on the other hand,” he tilts his head softly to the hospital bed you’re in. You look down at yourself to see sling on your hurt shoulder. Then, you slowly lift up your blanket to look at the patch of bandages on your abdomen. “You had a piece of glass deep in your stomach, you had surgery,” he explains, the previous lighthearted humor fallen from his face and melted into worry and exhaustion. “You'll be okay,” he nods softly, “but you gave me one hell of a scare.” He's trying to be nonchalant again but he fails miserably and you can tell the toll this whole ordeal has had on him.

“How long was it?” you ask, your voice still rough but getting stronger.

“3 days,” he says, rubbing your hand softly. You take in the information, letting it all sink in for a moment. a thought pushes all other thoughts aside.

“Dean,” you blurt out, unable to form a sentence quick enough. Sam's face softens to a hint of relief for a moment.

“He's okay,” he nods quickly, “he’s back at the motel. He had a concussion and a few broken ribs but he’s fine. We were both discharged the day after the crash,” he explains, looking down at your intertwined fingers, guilt pooling in his stomach. “You got it pretty rough, all ‘cause of that damn seatbelt that I didn’t-“ he stops himself, his voice cracking.

Your shoulders slump slightly, heartbroken that he’s found a way to blame himself. “Sam, no, don’t do that,” you shake your head softly, rubbing his knuckles. “I should've been wearing it, it’s not your fault,” you assure.

“But I-“

“No, sam. I won't let you feel guilty over this. I'm the one who should’ve been wearing it and I've learned my lesson,” you try to joke, but Sam doesn’t look up at you.

“I could've lost you,” he murmurs, keeping his voice quiet because he’s afraid for his words to shake or crack.

“But you didn’t,” you say, squeezing his hand. “I'll be okay and I'll make sure to wear my seatbelt from now on,” you smile softly, trying to get him to lighten up a bit, hating that he’s feeling guilty.

He stays by your side all day, talking with you and keeping you company. you can tell that he still feels guilty but you continue to assure him that you’re already feeling better. It takes a few days before you’re released from the hospital and Sam is insistent on staying with you the whole time. His consistent love and support powering you through your recovery.

———————

>pictures are not my own, i have the originals linked here (pinterest)

[aylacavebear]

Soulmates? Yeah, right, pft. - Ch. 31

When you turn sixteen, and your soulmate's name doesn’t appear anywhere on your body that you can find, you figure you had to be the only person on the planet who didn’t have one. Most of the town shuns you, so you stick close to family. Your Aunt Ellen raised you after your parents died in a car crash when you were two, but what happens when the Winchesters return to town and buried secrets begin to come to light?

Pairing: Mechanic Dean Winchester x OC Reader/You

Word Count: 3380

A/N: This chapter is from several different perspectives.

Warnings: The Angst is back, Dean being Dean, navigating being an empath, suggestive thoughts, longing, Fluff, Premonition, Talk of Bonding (This is something specifically for this AU. I do not see this as a "requirement" to fully connect to someone, but for this story, it is needed).

A/N: This is my non-Supernatural fic I'm attempting. Please let me know what you think, as I always love hearing from my readers.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 31

Even though it had happened near four in the morning, neither of you could go back to sleep. The images that bombarded Dean’s mind had his nerves on edge just as badly as if he had had the nightmare himself. He must have held you for an hour before the both of you finally made your way to the kitchen for coffee, then lots of cuddles on the couch. Calling Crowley had gone far easier than you had pictured it. 

You explained the first nightmare, then the second one, adding what Pamela had told you. At first, you weren’t sure if Crowley was going to be of any help with as silent as he got on the other end of the line. Then, he said something that brought both hope and fear. “You’ve had two, both involving Cole. I’ll take care of it.” He didn’t give you more than that before he hung up.

With a sigh and a frown, you looked up at Dean, who placed a soft kiss on your forehead. “It’ll be alright,” he tried to reassure you, even with the knot in his stomach.

“It’s not fair. Why can’t they just leave me alone?” it was a question you both already knew the answer to, but neither of you wanted to speak it out loud. You were partially relieved that you didn’t know more of what was going on with Cole, but only partially.

Dean set your cup and his on the coffee table before he pulled you into full-on cuddles on the couch, something you both needed. There was so much he wanted to say, but none of the words that went through his head seemed right. The last thing he wanted to do was brush off what you were going through. —------------------------------

Crowley had spoken to Pamela the day you had visited her. Now, he was sitting in one of his studies, leaning back in the chair and sipping his drink. The computer in front of him was on, but his gaze was elsewhere. Cole had been released only a day ago. There wasn’t enough against him to hold or charge him with anything. Abaddon had made sure of that.

He was currently debating how he wanted to deal with this. It wasn’t like the authorities did anything in a timely manner, and Crowley hated red tape. “Sir, Mr. Winchester is here,” the butler stated, standing in the doorway.

“Show him in,” Crowley sighed. With Meg staying in Sioux Falls, he was down one of his best helpers. He knew Ketch could easily handle this job, but that was far riskier. Ketch had a tendency to enjoy his work far too… deeply.

After Dean’s phone call almost a week ago, Sam had been trying to help Crowley find a way to keep Cole locked up. That had led from one dead end to another. Since Cole hadn’t left any sort of paper trail, there was literally no evidence that he was anything more than a victim of what his father had started over twenty years ago.

“Alright, Crowley. What the hell is going on?” Sam demanded as he burst into the study past the butler, who hadn’t even had the opportunity to announce him.

“Nice to see you too, Moose,” Crowley muttered before sitting up. “She’s had another premonition, and Pamela confirmed it.” The bombshell hit Sam hard, causing him to sit in one of the chairs as his mind began racing. “Where’s Cole now?”

“According to my informants, he’s in Madison. His jeep is parked outside a Super Eight motel off Second Street. I’ve already confirmed that he’s there, room seven,” Crowley replied, still figuring out how he wanted to proceed and the repercussions of his options.

All Sam could do was stare at Crowley in utter disbelief. Cole’s location was only an hour from Sioux Falls. The silence stretched between the two, neither ready to speak the things circling their thoughts. “Coffee, Mr. Winchester?” the butler asked from the doorway, pulling Sam from his thoughts.

“Uh, yeah,” he answered absentmindedly, then turned back to Crowley. “So, what are you doing to stop him?”

Crowley looked over at Sam, debating just what information to share and what to keep to himself, then leaned back in his chair. “I’ve already alerted the main office here. They said they would take care of it, but I don’t trust them.” He paused, taking a sip of his drink, studying Sam. “I contacted a few other places, to speed things up. Ketch will be flying out in a few hours.” Sam didn’t have to ask who Crowley contacted. There was an intricate system in place for those who had premonitions, and Pamela was well-known within that system. Ketch had already packed, and he was waiting to board his flight. His assignment was simple: follow Cole and keep Y/N and Dean safe.

“Then why am I here? You could have told me all this over the phone,” Sam finally asked Crowley, quite bluntly as the butler returned with his coffee.

For a moment, Crowley let the silence stretch between them as the tension built in the small room. It was cases like this that got to him, even if he never let it show. He had a reputation to uphold. “Pamela wanted me to pass on a message. Don’t go to Sioux Falls till after your brother’s birthday.” With a sigh, Sam leaned back in the chair. He knew what that meant. Pamela had seen something, and had been cryptic on purpose. Running a hand down his face, he sighed, lost in thought. This was supposed to have been easy. Cole was supposed to go down with his father and grandfather, but Abaddon had found enough of a loophole and gotten him released. Now, you and Dean were in danger, again. “I’ll reschedule my flight,” Sam finally mumbled out before heading for the door. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

“It’ll be taken care of, one way or another,” Crowley muttered, causing Sam to pause for a brief moment before leaving. 

—-----------------------------------

When the plane touched down at the Sioux Falls airport, Ketch was attempting to stay patient. Flights always took far too long, but they were faster than driving, and right now, time was of the essence. He had wanted to follow Cole the moment he’d been released, but Crowley had forbidden it. 

Going through the airport, he paid no attention to the people passing by, living their lives in their own bubbles. Ketch was focused on his current assignment, bag slung over his shoulder. It was already early afternoon, and he still had driving to do. At least his contact was parked outside in a relatively inconspicuous black car. Ketch didn’t even bother noting its make or model as he placed his bag in the trunk and then slid into the passenger seat.

“Your rental is already at the motel, waiting,” Mick began before popping the glovebox and handing him several items. “That’s your new ID-” but Ketch cut him off.

“Just drive, Mick. I don’t have time for this. I know the drill,” Ketch’s words were pointed, taking the papers and giving them a quick once over before slipping them into the inner pocket of his suit.

Mick was more talkative than Ketch preferred, wanting to make small talk. Ketch’s focus was on his next ten moves, like in chess, letting his thoughts drown out Mick’s voice on the nearly forty-five-minute drive to his motel. He didn’t need anything fancy. He was there for an assignment, and the less conspicuous his accommodations were, the better.

A slight smirk formed when he saw the motorcycle parked in the lot outside the motel. It would serve his purpose perfectly, allowing him to go off-road if he needed to in order to follow Cole. Even as Ketch got out of the car, Mick was still talking, something about a tracking device on Cole’s Jeep. “I’m aware,” was all the reply he gave, closing the door and grabbing his bag out of the trunk. Mick sighed, then held out the key to Ketch’s room. “I think you’ll need this.”

Ketch gave him an annoyed look, grabbed the key from Mick’s hand, and went to his motel room, ignoring Mick’s amusement. The motel room was basic, but Ketch wasn’t concerned with creature comforts. He had a job to do. 

The sounds of engines came and went outside with the traffic, but his focus was on his laptop, now watching as the tracker made its way along a backroad toward Sioux Falls. With the roads Cole was choosing, Ketch made a projected route to your house. About two more hours. He glanced over at his bag as he leaned back in his chair. Time to go.

His focus was on his assignment as he made his way through town. The chill of January not bothering him through the layers of clothing he had adorned before heading out. Ketch didn’t go directly to your home. He pulled off the side of the road, heading into the forested area. This was a stealth mission. Once his bike was hidden well, he went back, covering his tracks, his tactical bag slung over his shoulder. It was well past noon, nearly evening, and the sun would be setting soon. Good. The night would be his friend. Ketch weaved through the forest toward your home, the only sound was the crunching of the leaves under his feet and the occasional bird. The trees had already lost their leaves, making the area look desolate. 

Ketch stopped just inside the treeline and pulled out his phone. Cole wasn’t far now. He turned off his phone after setting it to silent, then slipped it into one of his pockets and zipped it shut. This way, even a simple notification wouldn’t give him away. Ketch took in the area, needing to find not only a decent location to keep an eye on Cole but also a place he could easily slip inside your home if need be. 

The shed in the back was a no-go, as it was too far away from the front, and he wouldn’t have a clear line of site. The tree line was too far away, and it would take too long to get to one of the doors if Cole went inside. Ketch let his gaze fall on your home. The roof was typical for places with snow, and it clearly had an attic. Crossing the distance in quick strides, he listened carefully to the sounds that seemed to echo in the area. So far, though, no indication that Cole’s Jeep was nearby. Using your porch, he climbed up on the roof with ease, using skills he’d perfected over the years. Ketch carefully inspected the roof, finding two different ways inside if he needed to. One of those was your bedroom window, which he could easily slip down to.

Ketch crouched down, watching your driveway as the early moments of twilight set in. With you living outside the city, he could hear things for what felt like miles as they echoed off the sleeping forest. It wasn’t long after that when an engine rumbled in the distance. Ketch lifted his head slowly in the direction of the sound. It was coming from the opposite direction he had taken. Clever.

Setting his tactical bag down in front of him, he opened it, then went through the motions he’d done hundreds of times as he assembled the sniper rifle. It was only a precaution. His sidearm was what he knew he’d probably end up using. Ketch stowed the empty bag near the chimney before nestling himself behind it, watching the driveway that weaved through the forest.

—---------------------------------

Dean had heard the alarm go off, quickly making his way to the security room before you and sliding into the seat. Just as you were about to join him, having only made it to the doorway, he got right back up and blocked you from going further. “Let’s just go watch another movie,” he suggested, wanting to shield you from what was taking place outside.

You could feel that he was hiding something, his worry trickling through the connection between you. “What are you hiding from me?” It was a simple question, but your fears were creeping in again.

He sighed and pulled you into his arms. “Please, Sweetheart. Can we just go watch a movie and cuddle?” Dean asked again, and even though his tone was soft, you felt the plea within his words. 

Reluctantly, you gave in, even with that nagging fear, and let him guide you back into the living room. It had already been a long day after the nightmare you’d had, and now Ketch was here, on the roof. Dean knew that could only mean one thing- Cole was on his way. Trying to push his thoughts away, he focused on the movies, needing one that would completely distract you and him from everything. Batteries Not Included it is.

Dean steadied his emotions as he slipped the VHS into the player and joined you on the couch. You kept trying to feel what he was trying to hide, but he was doing a far better job of it than you cared to admit. Something was going on, and whatever it was, he knew. Even as the movie began playing and you snuggled against him with him holding you close, he felt… off. 

I wish you’d just tell me.

Please. Just be here with me, in this moment.

As those words whispered through your mind, that knot returned to your stomach, the fear that never seemed to truly leave you. Dean felt it, twisting his insides. Relax. We’re safe. There’s nothing to be afraid of. It took everything in him to calm his stomach, letting out several shaky breaths. You wanted to apologize but didn’t, remembering what he’d asked of you in the beginning. So, instead, you focused on the movie, on being in his arms, and how his heartbeat finally evened out in a steady rhythm. That finally allowed Dean to relax, just not all the way. He didn’t need to be in the loop to know what was going on. Cole was on his way there, for you, and Ketch had been sent to stop him. Which also meant that the authorities that were supposed to take care of this, hadn’t moved fast enough. Or, they simply hadn’t thought it was a high priority.

You allowed the movie to completely distract you, remembering how Pamela had told you that you let fear run your life. Even if it was hard, you’d been trying to push past it, to truly hope for a normal life with Dean. His presence steadied you. His embrace comforted you. And halfway through the movie, you were finally able to let go of the fear that had gripped you earlier. 

—--------------------------

Ketch watched as Cole parked twenty feet from your porch, then sat in his Jeep after turning everything off. Cole’s movements inside the Jeep were easy to watch with the overhead light on inside. He has a handgun. Ketch cocked the sniper rifle but knew he would need a damn good reason to use it. For now, neither of you were in direct harm. He watched Cole slip on a bulletproof vest, then a heavy jacket, and double-checked his gun, keeping it in hand.

Just as Cole stepped out of his Jeep, Ketch heard the sound of several vehicles in the near distance, pulling his attention to the darkness beyond the Jeep. Six sets of lights were rabidly approaching down your winding driveway. He quickly looked through the scope, keeping it trained on Cole. The moment Cole went to move back to his Jeep, Ketch fired a warning shot at the ground, effectively keeping him from going further.

Cole glared up toward the roof of your home, making Ketch smirk. He would have happily shot him, but now he wouldn’t have to. The six vehicles surrounded the Jeep and Cole before over a dozen people quickly got out with weapons drawn.

“Cole Vaught, put the gun down and put your hands behind your head,” one of the men barked the order at him. 

He did as they told him, knowing they’d shoot him without a second's hesitation. Ketch just smirked at Cole’s predicament but kept the sniper rifle trained over the man’s face. Four men rushed Cole while another retrieved his gun. With Cole in handcuffs, they hauled him toward one of the vehicles, and Ketch watched as he disappeared into the back seat. 

Ketch stayed there on your roof, even after they had driven away, one of them driving Cole’s Jeep. Silence had fallen on the area again before he disassembled his rifle and placed it back into his bag. With a disappointed sigh, he pulled out his phone, “Looks like they weren’t completely incompetent. Cole has been taken into custody.”

“Stay there for a few days, just in case. I don’t trust those people,” the voice on the other end replied before hanging up.

He had no plans of staying on your roof all night, so he made his way back to his bike and then back to the motel, already planning his next moves off of numerous possibilities. He had one job, to keep you and Dean safe.

—----------------------------

The following day, you woke to those beautiful green orbs watching you, pulling a smile to your lips. “Morning, beautiful,” he said softly, leaning down, placing a tender kiss to your forehead.

“Mmmm…” you hummed, snuggling a little closer to him. “How long have you been awake?” you asked sleepily, enjoying the warmth of his body and the comfort of his embrace.

“Not long,” he murmured, letting his hand slide down your back before finding your hip.

You tried not to let your mind wander, but his hands always felt so inviting, and he had always been so considerate that it was getting harder and harder not to let go. “Tease,” you mumbled, a bit playfully.

Dean loved mornings like this, when you were completely relaxed, and the weight of everything was far from your thoughts. You were playful, receptive, and the love in your eyes when they met his had his heart racing. That smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, tightening his grip on your hip just a little before he pulled you flush against him.

“And that’s all I’ll be, till you’re ready,” he teased before kissing you. 

When his lips met yours, you closed your eyes, getting lost in the way your emotions danced with his. You set your hand on his side, taking a deep breath through your nose, but allowed yourself to let go of everything but what you felt at that moment. His lips teased yours, occasionally letting his tongue taste you, and you didn’t pull away. He stifled a groan when you reciprocated his movements, and he shifted his body so he was lying more on his side as you let him lie you more on your back. The feeling of safety enveloped you like a warm blanket. These were the moments you wanted just to let go in, but the outside world always seemed to interfere as your phone began ringing on the nightstand.

You groaned, loudly at the interruption while Dean just sighed, lying back and staring at the ceiling, attempting to hide his frustration. It was a number you didn’t recognize but answered it anyway; it could be important.

“Hello?” you asked, sitting up in bed.

“Y/N, I know you’ve been told not to leave your home for at least four more days. Cole is in our holding facility. He’ll be transferred to the main security hold this afternoon. I’d like to meet with you today. Would it be okay if I came by?” the woman with a southern accent explained as your anxiety spiked.

“Who is this?” was all you could get out while Dean quickly shifted in the bed so he was now sitting up and as close to you as he could get.

The woman let out a sigh, “I’m Missouri. We need to meet. Pamela gave me your number.”

----------------------------------------- Chapter 32

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[supernotnatural2005]

A Christmas Miracle

Paring: Dean x Reader

Summary: An imaginative and innocent request to Santa leads to a Christmas morning revelation that brings a new level of joy and excitement to your family.

Prompt-Mas - Day one: “All i want for Christmas”

Word Count: 1K

AN: This is my first tackle at @chevroletdean Prompt-Mas for the Supernatural Writers Community. It’s short and sweet but hopefully some fluff overload to start December off 💕

Warnings: Just tooth-rotting fluff!! Daddy!Dean

Main Masterlist

It was the eve of Christmas Day, and you found yourself basking in the ‘calm before the storm’ as you sat at the kitchen table opposite Dean, nursing one of your herbal teas. 

“All I want for Christmas,” Dean began, his eyes flicking between you and the piece of paper in his hand with a raised brow. You gave him a small nod to continue, and he did, his lips twitching at the corners as he read the letter aloud.

“All I want for Christmas is to have a little brother, just like my daddy. I promise I’ll be his best friend and watch over him, just like Daddy does. I’ll be good and never be on the naughty list. Please, Santa. Will you help me? Olivia.”

Dean’s gaze lifted from the paper to you, his expression a mix of surprise and mild amusement. 

“Wow,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief. “So, we’ve got our four-year-old already planning out our future, huh?”

You chuckled, your gaze dropping to your cup. “You know how she is. Once she gets an idea in her head, it’s hard to shake. A little brother is all she talks about lately.”

Dean stared at the letter a beat longer, clearly considering the implications. "So... she wants me to get her a brother for Christmas? I work fast, but not that fast,” he scoffed, and you burst into laughter.

“Well, maybe not exactly,” you teased, a sly smile tugging at your lips. “I do have something I—”

Before you could finish, Olivia came charging into the room; her face lit up with excitement. “Mommy! Daddy! I wrote Santa a letter! Do you think he got it? Do you think he’ll get me what I asked for? I’ve been really good, I promise!”

Dean looked from you to Olivia, his expression shifting from humour to something a little more thoughtful. 

“Uh, sweetheart, I don’t think it works exactly like that,” he began gently. “But maybe, one day, you’ll get that brother.” 

His eyes flicked to you, noticing the slight shift in your posture, the way your lip caught between your teeth, a trace of worry in your eyes. But before he could ask, Olivia was bouncing again, caught up in her excitement, and the moment passed.

Christmas morning arrived with the usual flurry of activity: wrapping paper flying, laughter echoing through the bunker’s library, and the warm, familiar scent of cinnamon and pine filling the air. Olivia couldn’t contain her excitement, bounding from one present to the next, her face a blur of joy and holiday cheer.

Dean, in a particularly good mood this year, was handing out gifts with an easy grin, his eyes softening as he watched his daughter. You exchanged a quiet look with him, your heart swelling at how much he adored Olivia.

Sam had been on the receiving end of several hug attacks from his niece. Every gift he gave her was the best one she’d ever received, while Dean playfully sulked in the background.

“I think this one’s for you, Liv,” Dean said with a slight frown, handing her a small box wrapped in sparkly paper. He didn’t recognise it as one you two had gotten.

“Actually, it’s for both of you,” you corrected with a small smile, and Dean’s confusion deepened. Olivia’s eyes met Dean’s in a silent question, asking if she could open it. He nodded; his curiosity piqued.

Olivia’s hands flew over the wrapping, her excitement palpable, until she uncovered a neatly folded piece of tissue paper. As she unfolded it, her gasp made both you and Dean pause.

“What is it, Mommy?” she asked, holding up the small velvet box, looking at you in confusion.

You took it from her, your heart thudding as you carefully opened it. Inside, nestled in the soft velvet, was a pregnancy test.

Dean froze. His eyes moved from the test to you, then back to Olivia, still staring at the little box with innocent curiosity.

"You… you’re telling me…" Dean’s voice faltered as he processed the situation. His eyes widened, and he slowly reached out to grab the test from the box, inspecting it for confirmation. 

“Baby, you’re pregnant?” Dean asked in disbelief, a wave of emotion creeping into his voice. 

You nodded, tears pricking at your eyes. The weight of the moment settled over you, a mixture of nerves and joy. 

Dean’s expression softened, and before you could even react, he was pulling you into his arms. He whispered words of joy and relief into your neck, his own eyes misting over as he held you close. 

Olivia perked up, her face lighting with realization. “Does this mean I’m getting my baby brother? ‘Cause Santa really did it!” She squealed, clapping her hands together in excitement.

Tears welled up in your eyes, half sobbing, half laughing as you pulled away from Dean’s embrace. Dean, still holding Olivia in his arms, blinks away his own tears and kisses her forehead.

“Yeah, kid. Looks like you’re getting that little brother after all.”

A beat of silence passed as Olivia processed the news, and then she threw her arms around both of you, shouting, “I’m gonna be a big sister!” as she practically jumped in Dean’s arms.

Dean chuckled, his voice warm with affection as he looked over Olivia’s head at you. “Well, looks like I’m in for a whole new level of trouble.”

You laughed, your heart full of love, the warmth of the moment filling the room. “You wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Congratulations, guys,” Sam said, his voice thick with emotion as he stepped forward, pulling you into a tight hug. Dean rose to join in, accepting his own warm brotherly embrace, before Olivia broke them apart, demanding a hug from her Uncle Sammy.

Dean smiled as he watched Sam lift Olivia into the air, her infectious giggles echoing through the room as he spun her around. Sam, ever the strategist, tactically gave you and Dean a moment of peace.

When Dean’s eyes finally met yours, a quiet understanding passed between you two. You were the woman who had given him everything—his family, his purpose—and now, a little more love than either of you ever thought possible. No matter how chaotic things had gotten or would get, he knew one thing for sure: the road ahead, though unpredictable, was going to be filled with more love than either of you could have imagined.

The End.

AN: So I hope everyone enjoyed this little one shot, I want to try and commit to everyday posting for the prompt-mas, but I won't promise anything... we'll see what my mind can conjure 😅 Anyways let me know what you think 💕

[nguyetdahuong]

Looking good there, I'm smelling angst and pining Sam, both are my fav tags 💓💓💓

This week’s word is…

✨ FAMILY ✨

Find the word in any WIP and share the sentence containing it. Reply, reblog, stick it in the tags, tag us in a new post, or keep it private. All fandoms, all ships, all writers welcome.