#and that's a world where dean sucks and no one likes him

[zmediaoutlet]

Re: Jess/Sam. I remember this great meta post that goes through Dean and Jess meeting in the pilot, and how Dean is really just assessing a threat and then asserting his dominance in his relationship to Sam. Immediately Jess serves as something "getting in the way" of Dean and his family/mission. Its really interesting to think about this in terms of fic where Sam gets married. I also wish something could have been played with more in the Djinn ep dealing with jealousy or expectations.

I think I vaguely remember the post you're talking about -- that Dean is initially just kinda jokey with Sam, and then when Jess comes into the room and interrupts he goes into ultra prickly defense mode. "Asserting dominance" always puts my 'why are we over-applying psych terms to nuanced fictional characters' hackles up, lol. But it's true that Dean does that ott aggro flirting (partly, I think, just to be rude to Sam, who has still very much hurt Dean's feelings and they haven't talked about that in any kind of substantive way), and pushes Jess away so that he and Sam can be oriented inside the circle of The Secret which she's outside of. She does get in the way and Dean needs to move forward and this is his instinctive move.

More interesting to me, though, is that it doesn't work, or not exactly. Sam takes the obvious insult and goes and stands next to The Other Woman, and tells Dean that, no, she is not outside the circle -- that she and I have formed our own circle, with you outside it. And Dean goes, oh, really? Well, let's test that -- and it's Sam who understands that oh shit wait this really is about The Secret, and it's Sam who tells Jess to leave.

idk about any 'dominance' being asserted, but it's endlessly wild to me that Sam continually says that he wants (or wants to want) this good 'normal' committed life away from all that stuff, but he's not actually committing to the relationship with The Other Woman. In the pilot at least, Dean isn't really representing himself as-Sam's-brother (not least because Sam has clearly indicated that he's not interested in Dean as his brother, given that they haven't talked in two years) -- he's the call to action, he's the wild weird horror of hunting itself, he's the Not-Normal -- and Sam turns toward it almost instantly! Of course he has a sense of duty toward the family and toward making sure innocents aren't hurt, even if he's been trying to smother it with a pillow for four years -- but Sam leaps at the hunt, he's good at it, he's running away from a car with Dean and literally making a leap of faith off a bridge and lying to cops and driving cars through walls and having the best time ever. He goes back to the apartment because he's committed to the life he's told himself he should have, but he'd being lying to himself (and viewers would be lying to themselves, too) if that whole adventure were interpreted as some horrible thing Sam had to do. He had fun. He is a hunter. (And it honestly doesn't matter why -- whether he's naturally attracted to danger, whether it was all nurture, if you want to be one of those tedious familyhorror people and say he was stockholmed into it, whatever. This is who he is, and it's interesting to look at his behavior on that level.)

So like -- if Sam actually stayed? If he and Jess actually got married? Oof. That door got opened and it would never stay shut. I don't believe in taking deleted scenes as canon, but there is that deleted dialogue about how Sam looked up hunts when he was in college. And we see Mary doing the exact same thing, when Dean was a baby and she was ostensibly "out" of hunting. It's entirely believable that he'd not be able to fully stay out -- and, in the sense that hunting itself is represented by Dean, that he would also 'cheat' on Jess with his brother -- or want to, which is as close to the same thing as would make no difference.

You know, that line Constance has in the pilot? Sam says, I've never been unfaithful, and she says, you will be. Eager wincesties want to take that as a direct brofuckin' meaning, but that's an overreading, and honestly you don't need to take it that far to make it meaningful. Sam made a commitment, if not out loud then at least internally, that he was going to stay away -- at Stanford, in normalcy, with Jessica. I guess, in a terrible way, he's lucky that fate & circumstance tore him away from that life and forced him into infidelity, before he had the chance to be unfaithful of his own volition. It was coming. One way or another.

[lesbiansaaviik]

Can I be beautifully honest with you guys? I hate 91 Whiskey and So Says the Sword

[bunnysbrainrot]

A Lesson in Manners

Relationship: Dean Winchester x f!Reader

Content: Romantic tension, protective Dean, alcohol consumption, a weird guy ft. the way Dean handles it.

Summary: After a long, exhausting day of hunting, Team Free Will unwinds with drinks at a nearby bar. You're enjoying your time until a stranger decides to pester you, but that won't go unnoticed by Dean.

The signature purr of the Impala faded as Dean turned off the ignition, releasing a heavy sigh, a defeated and tired noise. Whatever nasties they have down here in Georgia have been difficult. All signs in this case were pointing to a djinn, but without getting in closer, there was no way to be completely sure.

That risk was left to Sam and Dean, as they had told you yesterday, when the research finally fell into place.

Sam's lips pressed into a thin line as he stared at his laptop screen, his brows twitching. He deadpanned and looked to his brother, "Djinn. How the hell didn't we think of that yet?"

Dean matched Sam's frustration with a scoff. He simply shook his head.

Djinn were unfamiliar to you still. Though you had done a fair bit of research, helpfully guided by Sam, and learned quite a lot. But, you also knew that research and experience were very, very different for a hunter.

"Awesome, so... what?" Dean inquired, raising a brow at Sam. You sat in the small armchair in the boys' motel room, looking between them. "We gonna go into blood-sucking paradise-dream-world again?"

Sam flashed a quick smile, "Let's just hope it doesn't come to that. Do we have any more lamb's blood?"

Dean's expression changed to annoyance, "Not after that dickbag Balthazar used it for that stupid parallel-universe crap." He crossed his arms over his chest and threw his head back in thought. "And where are we supposed to get it, anyway? We're in the middle of friggin' nowhere."

"Cas?"

"If we could even get a hold of him."

"I'm sure he's still listening, Dean. I know he's been here and there for a while, but-" Sam explained.

Whirling to face his brother, Dean countered, "'Here and there'? Sam, we basically wait three to five business days for him to give us anything. If he's so focused on Heaven right now, let him stay up there."

You had seen Dean's rising upset with his friend for a few weeks now, seeing the angel's presence less and less. Castiel didn't indulge any details, and kept recollections vague - but, the lack of transparency had been taking a toll on the group.

He’d been absent for two weeks now. Nothing.

Dean's lengthy sigh showed his stress. He brought a hand up to his brow; Sam rolled his head to stretch his neck in the passenger seat.

"I need a fuckin' beer," Dean breathed.

You laid a hand on his shoulder from the seat directly behind his - Sam was more conversational on long drives, so sitting on the left side gave good distraction in the long hours on the road. Dean craned his neck to you, looking to you expectantly.

Because as much as he didn't like to admit it, Dean craved the moments when you touched him.

You couldn’t tell if you spooked him, judging by the way Dean froze in his seat, eyes boring directly into yours. A grin spread across your face, "Let's get shitfaced."

Dean shook his head and pointed to you, "You don't wanna get to shitfaced level with me, sweetheart. Just a few beers. Plus, I’ve seen you get tipsy even after one."

Each of you started stepped out of the Impala, respectively stretching your achy legs, or arms, or backs or neck and everything else. No matter the hunt, the soreness remained the same. You released a groan as you lean backward, flexing your stiffened spine. Dean neared and landed a gentle pat between your shoulders to get you moving along.

You noticed how quickly Dean pushed ahead to open the front door, before you had the chance to lift a finger. He looked into the cracked door - an assessing glaze cast over his eyes. Always on the lookout for danger.

Who could keep you safer than Dean Winchester?

After all of his impressive feats so far, it’d be hard for someone not to admire Dean. Saving the world was easier on the drawing board, and with having been to hell and back, you couldn’t fathom the willpower he gained to push past it. Not a semblance of that traumatic experience showed in that handsome, stoic face.

Dean pressed the door ajar to make way for you and Sam. You scanned the tables and stools at the bar; patrons scattered around in clusters, each chattering and laughing amongst themselves.

The thick smell of liquor filled the air. You noticed the hints of whiskey, oddly reminding you of Dean, and the way that scent mixed with his cologne. You memorized that smell from his occasional hugs, or times where you’d sit together, and you’d wondered if he could hear your heart hammering in your chest.

Sam led the way toward a taller table in the corner of the joint, settling in a stool closest to the back emergency exit. You eyed the stool at the outer side, but a creeping feeling dawns on you - someone is staring. Settling into your stool, you took the chance to swivel around, looking for the source of that persistent feeling.

At the bar, a man with a scruffy beard had his eyes trained on yours, roving over your form in the chair. You exhaled, fighting back the feeling of disgust, and turned back to Sam, plastering on a terse smile.

“What is it?” Sam asked, his brows furrowing in concern.

You paled slightly, the man’s stare still honed in on your back, “Dude at the bar has a staring problem.”

Sam leaned casually to reach for his pocket, craning his head for a swift second. A glint in his eye told you he’d found the perpetrator. Footsteps approached from behind - a familiar pattern, one you’d heard every day, and without turning you’d known it was Dean. A careful brush of his hand between your shoulder blades eased you, a gentle reminder he was here.

“Bottoms up, buttercup,” Dean teased, placing a shot of amber liquor in front of you, himself, and then his brother.

Three lime wedges rested on a plate, along with a salt shaker. You glance at Dean with a ‘seriously?’ look, and he gave a signature Winchester grin. You did say you wanted to get shitfaced. And hell, it could help with that looming creep. You licked the back of your hand and sprinkled some salt.

“To figuring something out,” you proclaimed, raising the shot glass. The boys follow your lead before clinking them on the table, and tossing their heads back.

The tequila burns the back of your throat, but the lime helps you ignore it. Sam held a steady face while Dean grimaced at the burn.

You giggled softly, “Can’t handle tequila, Dean?”

He flashed a toothy grin, and a quick middle finger. Your giggle evolved into a bright laugh that drew one from Sam, too.

“Bet you couldn’t handle pool, though,” countered Dean.

Sam eyed you from the side and threw a knowing smirk. You’d never back down from a challenge, especially when it was Dean testing you. There was a desire to beat him at his own games, to show him you could match his skill and then some.

Then there was the chase of it - cycles of teasing comments and passing glances, but never a break in the tension.

Your voice lowers, “I’ll take you on any day, Winchester.”

The jest made Dean grin. The chase was on again.

Sam stayed behind when you and Dean claimed a vacant pool table, letting you set yourselves up for the perfect one-on-one.

Dean nodded to you and eyed the cue ball. You bend at the waist over the table, and felt the creeping feeling again. It radiated along your spine to the nape of your neck, as if your body was set ablaze under the stranger’s stare.

Until suddenly, you had company.

“Say, think you could spare me a game when you’re done, beautiful?”

The voice matched the face. It was nasally with a copious amount of douchery; another entitled asshole who got involved when he wasn’t wanted.

Across the table, Dean’s brow twitched.

“Listen bud, we’re just getting started here. Plenty of other folks in here who can play you,” the edge in Dean’s tone was a warning in and of itself.

You hitched a breath awaiting the man’s reaction.

Out of the corner of your eye you spotted Sam sliding off his barstool, slowly making his way closer to your pool table. He idly looked at his phone, but kept a watchful glance.

“I’m sure you’ll have the time for another one, right, baby?” The stranger’s words slurred stupidly. He didn’t address Dean with meeting his stare, and instead fought to have yours. He closed the gap between you two further - the smell of alcohol lingered on him, thick and nauseating.

You bark, “You’ve got ten seconds.”

“Oh…. hic… ten seconds ain’t enough for me, sweetheart..”

Dean’s voice was taunting, probably trying to pull the dickbag away from you, “It’s plenty for us.”

Finally, the man looked to Dean, straightening his posture at the height difference. He was lean, but couldn’t hold a firm stance, by the looks of it. The man scanned Dean top to bottom before turning back to you.

Before crossing a crucial line.

A foreign hand stroked your spine, making you recoil. Anger contorted your features as you warned him yourself.

“Try that again, fucker,” you spat with disgust. You could still feel the touch on your back. Gross.

The man’s lips tug into a smile, and the anger continued to brew. Of course, you were not the only one with that bubbling rage. Dean has closed the distance before you could register he’d moved at all.

Dean loomed over the man with a haunting glare. To add fuel to the fire, the man had the gall to grin at the threat, raising his hands to Dean’s chest.

“Come on, jus’ gavin’ a lil’ fun,” said the stranger.

In one swift motion, Dean collected the man’s wrists with one hand, and delivered a hook with the other.

The blow knocked his head to the side. Other patrons turned to the scene unfolding - some turned back to their drinks, some kept staring. You gasped when Dean landed another strike, sending the man tumbling to the floor with a resounding thud.

“Dean, that’s enough, he’s-“

He didn’t react to your objection.

Behind the commotion, Sam’s eyes widen with shock, though he smiles with satisfaction at the takedown.

A final shove put enough distance between you and the pathetic drunk. You turned to see the bartender giving Dean a stern look, but they return to filling a pint glass.

You panted softly while the stranger walked away, bracing his bloodied chin with his hand. You looked to Dean and found his attention back at the pool table, letting out a frustrated grunt. There wasn’t a way to thank him. No need. The man had made great strides in protecting you, enough to reassure that you didn’t have to offer thanks. It came naturally, protecting one another.

Sam made his way back to the table and returned to his stool, shaking his head in disbelief, a smile on his face.

What a night, right?

It was Dean’s voice that brought you back to your senses. That same voice that calmed you, that ignited your body to its core.

“Alright, sweetheart, you go first.”

——

“Dammit, whathefuck- that isn’t fair-“ you protested. You’d lost, but kept trying to knock the striped pool balls into the pockets, insisting that there was some sort of rule to let you go until you were fully done, including the cue ball.

Sam handed you a glass of water, which you sipped on immediately. Your fingertips slowly grew numb against the cold glass.

Dean chortled as he collected the pool balls, “Shitfaced and pool don’t mix well, do they?”

You let out a tipsy laugh and shake your head at him. The moment stilled, where the rest of the scene faded away. Dean scanned you over, and held a too-long look. A small spark lit behind his eyes.

“Let’s getcha home.”

Thank you for reading! I liked this idea, and I think it could easily have a second part. Vote in the poll or me know in the comments if you’d like to see where this goes!

[alexsoenomel]

Seven Minutes In Heaven Ruined (Dean Winchester x Reader Smut)

Summary: You and Dean are horny and Sam doesn't know how to knock.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: oral female and male receiving

Word count: 1.2k

Note: This is an old one. I made it readable because teenage me didn't know how to words.

Like/ reblog or both if you like it :)  

After finishing the last case you realized two things.

One, you were tired as fuck.

And two, you were hungry as fuck.

After a warm shower you put on one of Dean’s flannels, and went to the kitchen to make yourself dinner. Your sweet tooth was craving blueberry pancakes. While you were making the pancake mix, you felt arms around your waist pulling you closer. 

“Hey, sweetheart!” He said, and kissed your cheek.

“Hi handsome.” You smiled. You haven’t seen Dean in almost a week. He was pretty sick with a fever, so you and Sam went without him on a hunt in San Francisco – vampires, your favorite. He needed to sit this one out, even though he protested like a damn child saying he was fine while not being able to stand. When you got back he was asleep in his room so you didn’t want to interrupt whatever he was dreaming about. 

 “How are you feeling?” 

“A lot better now that you are here.” He said leaving small kisses on your neck. You tilted your head giving him more access. His kisses would always make you shiver. “I missed you.” 

“Missed you too, handsome. Are you hungry? I’m making pancakes.” 

“I am hungry.” Dean’s hand went on your inner thigh until it reached your panties slowly rubbing you, making you sigh. Cheeky bastard – you thought. “But I don’t want pancakes.” He whispered into your ear. "I love when you wear my clothes.”

“Sleeping.” 

You tried to mix flour, eggs and whatever else that was in there but the urge for Dean’s touch grew and you suddenly had another need to fulfill. You turned around to face him, putting your arms around his neck.

“Where’s Sam?” He asked. 

“Good.”  He lifted your chin, forcing you to look at him, making you blush. You pulled his shirt only craving the softness of his lips on yours.  Seven long days without him felt like an eternity, especially at night – he was your home, your habit and your sanctuary. You kissed him softly and soon enough he deepened the kiss making you moan. When he stole the last breath from your lungs you broke away, resting your forehead on his. 

“Bedroom?” You smiled. 

“Hell yeah.”

His clothes hit the floor in seconds. Seven days without each other turned you into horny teenagers. He was only in his boxers laying on the bed looking at you, admiring the view and wondering how the hell he got so lucky.  You climbed on top of him as he slowly started to undo your shirt – taking his sweet time savoring you. Infatuated by you, Dean’s eyes spoke louder than words and in that very moment you only existed for him. You kissed him like it was the end of the world, and funny thing was, at one point it was actually the end of the world, so nothing mattered anyways. The world could be burning and you wouldn’t care.

Once he exposed you completely, we flipped you over and you were now completely under his control. His hands could kill and yet he was so gentle with you, trying not to break you, even though you wouldn’t mind being broken by him from time to time.

“Dean, don’t tease.” You sigh. 

Dean consumed you in every way there was. His lips needed to touch you, to feel you and you were desperate to feel him on your skin. Starting from your neck he kissed you, sucking and slightly biting, leaving light bruises all over. He then moved his lips lower and lower.

You became inpatient, needy and a little bit frustrated. His kisses had you under his spell but you wanted more. He kissed you through your black panties a few times, driving you mad.

You could feel him smirking while resting his lips on the fabric of your soaking underwear. 

“Dean!” You blissfully moaned. “ Oh my god!” 

“Just a little bit. “ He smirked and then took off your panties. You lifted your legs as he did it. His face went between your legs yet again and now you could only feel his warm tongue on your already wet cunt.

You closed your eyes, surrendering completely.  

“Shhhh we don’t want to wake up my brother, don’t we sweetheart?”

“No, but you’re going to kill me.” 

The wet sounds of your cunt filled the room as he added one finger first, pumping in and out slowly before adding another. He was aware you were addicted to his thick fingers, always so needy and desperate to have them in your pussy or in your mouth. You gripped the bed sheets as your breaths became heavy, feeling your climax deep in the lower part of your stomach. Before Dean it would take you ages to cum, and you always thought maybe the problem was you and not the other person you were sleeping with. After Dean, you realized that was bullshit and you just had a shitty taste in picking partners. 

His name was like a prayer you were reciting over and over again until you couldn’t take it anymore. The orgasm took over your body completely as you screamed his name one last time before his hand violently covered your mouth. 

He got up, face shining from your juices with a smile on his face.

“You’re crazy. Sam’s going to hear you!” 

“You are so…” You said, trying to catch your breath. 

“Amazing?” He laughed. 

“And full of yourself Winchester.” You rolled your eyes, still painting.

“Oh well thank you.” Dean said moving next to you. 

“Where is the damn condom?” Dean asked, searching through the drawer of his night stand. You giggled. The man never assumed or expected you to return the favor. Your pleasure was far more important than his own and taking care of you was his job and duty. You loved that about him, you loved being taken care of, but you also loved making him fall apart under you.  

“Dean?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Come here.” 

He turned to face you. “Huh?” 

You kissed him. “My turn.” Dean bit his lip as you rubbed him through his boxers. 

“S-shit!” He moaned. “Baby!”

You placed light kisses all over his body before your lips reached the hem of his underwear. You took them off, drooling over his already hard cock. You licked the tip a few times as Dean groaned.

You smiled loving the effect you had on him and then took him in your mouth as much as you could. 

His heaven didn’t last long because Sam decided to interrupt the pure bliss of having Dean’s cock in your mouth...yet again.

“Hey Dean can you- AH CRAP.” He said and immediately turned his back allowing you two to cover yourself.  “I’m sorry.”

“Fuck not again.” You laughed.

You jumped under the covers with Dean. “SAMMY I SWEAR I’M GONNA KILL YOU!”  

“I’m sorry.” Sammy said awkwardly, still refusing to turn around. “But I found us a case.” 

“I thought you were sleeping.” You said. 

“I couldn’t….you were…a little bit…..loud.” 

“So you heard her making happy noises IN MY ROOM and you still decided to come in?! WITHOUT KNOCKING? AGAIN?” 

“After 10 minutes I thought…you were…finished.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I will wait in the living room.” He then slammed the door. 

“I will kill him.” Dean said and got off the bed. 

“Wait.” You said pulling his arm. “He can wait. I’m not done with you!”

“I love you. “ Dean said and kissed you again.

[castiwls]

peter - d.w

Paring; dean x reader

Prompt; 'Said you were gonna grow up, then you were gonna come find me’

Requested; anons

Notes; this is long (for me) and sad :( reqs and inbox are open !

Masterlist | Taylor Swift masterlist

Dean Winchester was a man you’d never be able to understand. You’d only been 18 the first time you’d met him. You’d been bright-eyed and optimistic about the world, freshly out of high school and enjoying your newfound freedom when you’d stumbled into a dinner drunk on cheap vodka and craving some sort of food.

He’d caught your eye almost immediately. Your drunken confidence led to you finding yourself in the seat opposite him, a small smile pulling at his lips as he watched you ramble almost incoherently before falling silent.

That meeting alone led to a six-year relationship. For a moment you’d believed that Dean may have been the one. That you’d been one of the lucky few to find your soulmate at a young age meaning you’d get to live your life out with him.

And then everything seemed to unravel right before your eyes and you were hopeless to do anything. Dean quickly went from someone you saw your future with, to someone you’d seemingly outgrown - even though you were two years younger.

By 25 you were ready to settle down, traveling around the country had been appealing when you were 18 yet it began to feel like a chore. You wanted a home, a place you could go back to after a long day and feel safe.

You’d argued about it until once you’d had enough. You’d left with nothing more than a note explaining yourself.

It had been years since you’d even thought about Dean Winchester yet now you found yourself face to face with a man you’d long since given up on.

Dean’s smile was the same. His eyes still held that sparkle that you’d loved yet it had dimmed slightly, his eyes more tired.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He leaned against the door frame, his arms crossed over his chest. You swallowed watching him. “Why are you here?”

“What. I can’t stop by and say hello?” He pushed off the door frame stepping slightly closer. He continued to smile yet you’d noticed it failed to reach his eyes. A small frown pulled at your lips as you placed a hand on his arm.

“Dean. What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing wrong.” He shook his head. “Dean, I’m not stupid. Somethings wrong, and where is Sam?” You ran your hand up his arm before placing it on his shoulder. His face dropped slightly at the mention of his brother. He sucked in a breath, his body seeming to deflate slightly.

Oh

“Dean i…I’m so sorry.” You sighed pressing your hand to his cheek. He stayed quiet simply leaning into your touch his eyes fluttering shut. 

You’d once promised yourself you’d never let Dean Winchester back into your life unless he finally agreed to grow up. Yet standing there in that moment you still saw that 18-year-old you’d met at the dinner.

Moving your hand from his cheek you stepped back. 

“I have a guest room.”

–

“He’s alive.” Your tone was dripping with disbelief as you stared at the man opposite you. Dean nodded his back against the counter. “Yeah.” He sighed running a hand through his hair. “He has been for a while.” Dean was talking as if this was the most normal thing in the world, he was using the same tone he’d use whenever you’d discuss dinner, or whose turn it was to take the trash out.

This was utterly insane. Even after he’d filled you in on everything that had happened since you left you still found the whole thing insane. Yet it was Dean so you’d believed him. You’d allowed him back in your bed and over the past year you’d fallen right back in love with him.

You’d finally got what you’d wanted. The life you dreamed of with him was a reality and you’d grown so comfortable that you’d almost forgotten what he’d told you years ago.

“I love you. But I can't leave hunting behind, It’s my whole life!”

The words had stung then and they stung more now as you stood opposite him in your kitchen. 

“So your going with him.” You crossed your arms and swallowed back the hurt which lay heavy in your chest. “You're going back.”

Dean watched you for a moment, his eyes downcast for a moment. “Sweetheart I have to-”

“No, you want to.”

Dean paused as you cut him off, taking a small step forward. He placed a hand on your arm. “I’m sorry.”

You looked at his hand for a moment before pulling back and turning around. In doing so you missed the look of hurt which flashed across Dean’s face before he followed you out of the room.

Walking into the living room you grabbed a blanket off the floor, folding it before turning back to him. “I know you're not sorry. I know part of you is glad, glad that you’ve finally got your get-out-of-jail card.” You placed the blanket down as he crossed his arms. “Thats no-”

“You don’t have to lie Dean. I know you well enough to know damn well that you could never walk away from hunting.” You let out a breath sitting down on the couch.

“I’m not mad. I just…” You ran a hand through your hair, leaning forward on your knees. “I really thought that maybe you’d finally grown up. That you’d realised that hunting isn’t a forever thing. But I guess I was wrong.” 

Dean sat beside you, his hand grasping yours in his. “That’s not true.” He shook his head. You turned to look out the window, your eyes closing for a moment as tears burned at your eyes.

Dean watched you for a moment before gently grasping your chin and turning you to face him. “This year…This year proved to me that maybe hunting isn’t my be-all and end-all. But I miss it.” He admitted quietly. “And I can’t let Sam do this alone, I couldn’t live with myself.”

Your eyes stayed on his as he cupped your cheek with his hand. “I love you.”

You sucked in a breath before swallowing. “Yet you still broke your promise.” 

Dean frowned, squinting slightly as he tried to figure out what you could mean.

“The note.” 

His eyes flashed with realisation before he opened his mouth to speak but you cut him off. “I told you to come back when you had grown up and were ready to walk away, and only when.”

His face dropped. “When I came that was true. Sam made me promise that when it happened I would follow through on that promise and I did. I did for you and for him.” He moved closer stroking your cheek. “Sweetheart you have to believe me.”

“I do believe you. But you still broke that promise.” You took a breath to compose yourself. “And I can’t wait forever, Dean.”

[webslingingslasher]

you did reader having a bad day and going to see frat!peter but can we get him having a bad day and going to see trouble?

*cleaning out my inbox.*

three loud knocks at your door had you jump from your seat, you were so in the zone that the sharp sound had you frozen for a second.

making the short walk and pulling it open, peter forced his way in and ripped his backpack off before slamming it down. there was no reason to ask if he was mad because he was pissed.

'hi.' you try being gentle, even softly closing the door before peter points at you. 'i was sick, wasn't i?' you blink fast, 'wha-'

'i was sick! last week, i was sick!'

you have no idea where he's taking this, but you're in for the ride. it's not you he's mad at and that's very clear, he's just trying to share his frustration. 'you were sick. you were throwing up.'

'thank you! i was! it was awful!'

you nod with him. 'yeah, throwing up sucks.'

'it does! and guess the fuck what, i missed a quiz and this stupid fucking prick of a professor won't let me retake it. he tried blaming me and said i needed to be more serious, trying to insinuate i was hungover when he knows for a fact i've shown up on my fucking deathbed before!'

you feel anger build for him, peter takes his academics very seriously. so if saying he doesn't take it seriously feels like a slap in the face to you, you can't imagine how it feels for him.

'oh, that's fucked, petey. if you want i'll draft a letter to the dean and we can-'

peter laughs and shakes a finger in the air. 'already did it. and guess what, i got to retake it. but he couldn't handle the fact i went over his head and he called me immature and unequipped to handle the real world.'

you gasp, peter nods with exaggeration. 'yup! so fuck that class, fuck that prick, fuck the guy that got cheese on my shoes-' your eyes look at his nikes, true to his words there's splatters of orange on the tops. "- fuck ethan for getting me sick, fuck everything and everyone!'

a gulp of air, he calms himself down. 'except you. i still like you.' the room goes quiet when he sits on the edge of your bed. it's just one of those days where nothing you say will fix it and he just needs to feel sorry for himself and have someone do it with him.

you stand in front of him and hold his head to your torso. peter buries his face in your shirt and breathes deep, you're worried he might be suffocating himself. you take his snapback off and lightly scratch his scalp.

'i'm sorry everything and everyone sucks, petey.' you can feel a rumble when peter talks but you can't hear him at all. 'what's that, mumbles?' he has a slight blush when he pulls back, 'except you.' he hides his face again, holding you even closer.

'wanna look at me?' a thrash into your stomach, he's anchored around your waist. 'please?' another silent no. 'i wanna tell you something.'

a squeeze, he's listening. 'no, c'mon, look at me.' peter shouts into your shirt, it still comes out muffled. 'no. you just wanna see me all blushy and shy.'

you tickle behind the collar of his shirt, he jolts into your touch. 'just look at me, please?' a few deep breaths, he's not so pink cheeked anymore. you try to mimic peter when you're upset and cup his face, you get why he does it, he's so delicate under your touch.

'you are insanely smart, peter. i've seen the effort you've put into your work. remember one time i tried to see if i could help you finish but your math questions are like three miles long?' a small smile, your heart picks up. you're helping!

'and you're way more equipped than anyone i know, and you have the cleanest room in the house. oh, and you're a really good nephew.' there it is, that's what you were searching for. peter warmed under your touch, watching him transform into bashful had you soaring.

'not to mention how handsome you are. i mean, i totally get it, petey. cause you're my baby.' red, red, red. he turned red. peter dove for your chest, he can feel his heartbeat in his throat.

'you're being mean when i'm sad.' you pat his head before tangling your fingers in, 'i just wanted you to know that your professor sucks and is the dumbest person to ever talk to you. he's wrong and today sucked and that's all it should be.'

you bend to press a kiss to the crown of his head. 'wanna lay down for cuddles,' you wait until he shuffles away, 'my beautiful, handsome baby boy?'

another flush, you never noticed how good peter looked in red. 

[deanwritings]

The Guest House - Chapter 9

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Series Summary: Dean Winchester is going through a nasty divorce. He doesn't have much left to his name, but what he does have is his house. Leave it to his soon-to-be ex wife to find a way to even ruin that for him. Enter Y/N, who is looking to get away from life for a bit, and stumbles right into the middle of it all.

The Guest House Master List

Word Count: 3,474

A/N: I can't tell you how much I appreciate everyone's kind words and support these last few weeks. It was a very tough time but I've finally given myself time to rest and recover and starting to feel better again. I'm so happy to be back at this story and hope you all enjoy 🩵🩷

“I WHAT?” You stammer as Dean leans back, out of your space, still grinning. 

After you had told him about your dream car, he had texted Rick, asking him if he would bring the ‘73 Mustang along for you to drive while he worked on Rick’s show cars. He initially was going to leave you at home with his mom, but thought you would enjoy this a lot more.  

Plus, Rick loved showing off and racing his collection–the ones he didn’t plan to put up for auction–so he was more than happy to oblige. 

“Hey, Dean!”

Speak of the gray-haired devel. 

Dean turns to see Rick jogging from the garages, his arm outstretched above him as Dean waves back. 

A few seconds later, Rick steps into the circle you and Dean had created, his hands on his hips as he catches his breath. 

“Y/N,” Dean points towards the newcomer. “This is Rick. Rick, Y/N.” Rick reaches out his hand and you take it, giving it a firm shake as Dean raises an eyebrow. 

“Nice to meet you,” you greet Rick with a smile as you drop his hand. 

“You as well.” Rick returns. “Heard you had an interest in Mustangs.” 

Dean’s eyes dart to you, his smile growing as the color rushes to your cheeks before you sneak a glance at him.

“Really just one Mustang.” You admit, your attention back to Rick. “My dad tried to get me a ‘74 for my first car but my mom shot that down pretty quick.” 

“Ah,” Rick snaps. “That’s too bad. Beautiful machine.” And you nod in agreement. 

“Well,” Rick’s hand lands heavy on Dean’s shoulder. “Dean here has some work to get to for me, but while he works, you and I will play.” Your lips pop open at Rick’s words and you suck in a breath as you quickly turn to Dean, panic in your Y/E/C eyes as your gaze darts across his face. Dean can’t stop the smirk that appears as you look up to him to save you.

“He’s harmless, I promise.” Dean assures you with a wink, his hand coming to rest on your upper arm. The color returns to your cheeks, and Dean’s smirk relaxes, just one corner of his lip raised as his heartbeat slows. 

Fuck. He drops his hand away from you and straightens out as he clears his throat. Touching you while you were looking up at him like that, through your thick lashes, was a bad idea. And he takes a step away.

“Well, I’ll leave you kids to it.” Dean turns, walking backwards to keep his eyes on you and Rick. And you. “Have fun.”

This time, he fully turns, away from you as he hears Rick starting his spiel about Mustangs and how they were first introduced to the public at the World’s Fair in 1964 and since then, it’s been one of the most desired cars of our time. 

Dean smirks. He’s heard this history lesson more times than he would have cared to, but Rick’s a good guy, who pays well. Really well. Just for today's work, he was going to take home $6K, which was definitely over market value for Dean’s work, but Rick liked and trusted Dean, and for a man where $6K was nothing, he was more than happy to pay extra to keep Dean around. 

Dean steps into the garage, welcomed by Rick’s Datsun 240Z, Pontiac Firebird, and of course, Rick’s pride and joy, his 1969 Corvette Stingray. The first two were going up for auction tomorrow, while the Stingray was just here for a general checkup. 

Despite the beautiful cars in front of him, his eyes are drawn a few stalls down, where she’s waiting for him. 

That sense of excitement and pride bubbles up in his chest whenever he lays his eyes on her. But she would have to wait for now. 

Tearing his eyes away, Dean claps his hands together and gives them a rub.

“Let’s get to work.”

Your heart is pounding in the best way possible as Rick crosses the finish line for the seventh time. This is the most alive you’ve felt in a long time. 

He had expertly raced you through the course, taking every curve so smoothly, you barely slipped across the benched, leather seat. When the speedometer first hit 120MPH, your eyes widened and you suddenly realized you were sitting in a steel deathtrap, going at a speed that would surely kill you if you were to crash, with a man you had met only two minutes prior. 

It was insanity. But here you were, loving every moment of it. 

“Whatcha say? Wanna take a ride in the driver’s seat?” Rick turns in his seat once the car slows to a stop. 

You take a deep breath, calming your racing heart.

“God I wish.” You’re practically breathless. “But I never learned how to drive stick.” Rick snaps for the second time today. 

“Well that’s a damn shame.” The older man shakes his head, his unstyled hair following the movement. “I would offer to teach you, but this isn’t quite the type of car you learn on.” He smiles while he pats the dashboard affectionately. 

You swat your hand through the air.

“Oh don’t even worry about it.” You were glad he didn’t offer to teach you. You would have been terrified of learning on such a beautiful car. You would probably find a way to crash it or ruin it. And you didn’t have the funds to fix a classic car at the moment. 

“But thank you for taking me. That was one of the coolest things I’ve ever done.” And it was true. The last time you had done anything this crazy was when you were in college, and did the Sky Coaster with Sydney while on spring break in Myrtle Beach. The two of you squeezed each other’s hands as you laid in the harness as you swung almost 200 feet in the air over the boardwalk. Since then, it’s been calculated and controlled decisions as you focused on growing your career above all else.

Without another word, Rick steps out of the car, and you follow.

“So what brings you up to Bolton?” Rick rests against the hood of the car, looking across at you. “Besides Dean?” He smirks. Something tells you he’s fishing, but unfortunately for him, the pond is empty.

“Well, I’m only here because of Dean, but I live in the city and recently quit my job so I decided to take a little vacation before I jumped back into the rat race. I’m renting out Dean’s guest house.” Rick wrinkles his nose and looks away.

“Dean’s renting? Can’t imagine he’s liking that too much.” Rick snaps his cobalt gaze back to you, holding up a hand. “No offense.”

“None taken,” you smirk. “He wasn’t the most gracious host when we first met,” you chuckle at the memory of Dean storming you with a gun as you had lounged in the hot tub. “But we’re getting there.” Rick just shakes his head, looking like he has a comment on the tip of his tongue, but bites it back.   

“Well, I’m glad Dean brought you along today.” Rick taps the hood of the car before stepping around towards the front, and you follow. “Always nice to meet a new face.” 

“Well, I appreciate it.” You smile up toward Rick as you walk in tandem towards the garages Dean had disappeared to before Rick whisked you away in your dream car. 

“I hope you’ll be joining us at the auction tomorrow?” Rick glances down towards you, and you nod.

“I’ll probably be the most useless person there, but I will be there.” You chuckle, and Rick joins in with you.

“Don’t sell yourself short.” Rick steps in front of you as you approach the door. “Besides, I’d love to introduce you to my wife, Addie. She’ll be so happy to have someone else who knows nothing about cars.” He pulls the door open for you. “She says Dean and I are incorrigible at these things.” He shoots you a wink and you smile and give him your thanks as you step inside. 

The garage is set up similar to a classic mechanics’ shop, several work stalls running down the lengthy hall, each with a car quietly parked within them, but everything in the rectangular space screams modernity. Before each stall is a glass garage door, framed in shining black chrome. Lifts glisten in their near-pristine condition, whether because they’re new or because they’re so well kept. The floors are a polished cement, the wall color made to match.  

It was definitely designed by someone with a lot of money.

You glance over your shoulder at Rick.

“You don’t happen to own this racetrack, do you?” You pose the question, the lightbulb having gone off in your head as you take in the gleaming workspace and the proud man smiling behind you. 

“Bought it about a decade ago.” Rick rests his hands on his jean-clad hips. “Was a lifelong dream of mine. I grew up a few towns over and my dad used to take me here all the time growing up. He was a car guy too.” Rick motions to a couch along the side wall and you take a seat. 

“It had shut down back in 2009 when the original owners couldn’t keep up with the payments anymore after the economy crashed.” Rick settles next to you at a comfortable distance. “I was living in the city at the time and had no idea it was on the market. I was in the area for work and decided to take a detour to visit for old time’s sake and was shocked to find it was shut down. I was getting ready to retire, and Addie had been trying to help me find a retirement project so I wouldn’t drive her crazy,” he chuckles. “This wasn’t what she had in mind, but it gets me out of the house, which is what she wanted, so I tell her she can’t complain.” You laugh softly with him, wondering briefly what Addie looked like. Though if she would be at the auction tomorrow, you would get your answer soon enough. 

“Well it seems to be working for you. If you’re this happy coming here everyday, you’ve clearly done something right.” Rick hums and dips his head.

“You’ve got that right. I used to manage wealth portfolios for almost 30 years. I liked it, liked how important and successful it made me, but I wouldn’t say it ever made me happy.” His smile fades off. “Not like this place.” His eyes leave yours and he looks around the space. 

“And the only way I’m ever leaving here is in a body bag.” He turns back to you, a smirk reappearing. “I already told Addie to bury me here when I die.”

The absurdity of his comment catches you off guard, and you burst out with a laugh, but it doesn’t drown out his words, especially when the ring inside you like a damn war bell. 

Even on the best days, you wouldn’t say your job made you happy. Like Rick, your success was what drove you; being promoted and recognized for your work was your greatest focus, and happiness wasn’t something you ever considered. Your work was interesting to you, and a challenge at times, and that had been enough. 

But maybe it was something to consider with your next job: what would you actually be happy doing?

Before you can think on it further, a frosted glass door pushes open from the back wall, and out steps Dean, wiping his hands on a rag before shoving it into his newly adorned, black coveralls with a LRR emblem on his left chest, with his name scripted underneath. 

“Well look who's back,” his smile widens as he catches sight of us on the couch. “Thought he would have had you out there taking a few spins on the track yourself.” Dean points out one of the garage doors towards the track. 

“Turns out Y/N here can’t drive manual.” Rick gives you a few pats on your shoulder, almost like he was comforting you on the fact that you couldn’t drive an outdated system. 

Dean’s lips tick upward.

“Well color me shocked,” he drawls, not a hint of surprise in his words as he smiles down at you, his green eyes glistening. 

Stupid, handsome prick. 

If Rick wasn’t sitting right next to you, you’d probably would have flipped him off.

“Hilarious,” you deadpan instead, opting for the more civil route. 

“How are the cars looking?” Rick stands, moseying over to the car parked in the closest stall, a shimmering moss green classic beauty with a sloping front hood and concave headlights. 

Dean’s eyes linger on you, something stirring within you as he watches, before he turns away, approaching the same car and stepping on the opposite side of where Rick stands, assessing with crossed arms and a leaning posture.

You hadn’t noticed until Dean looked away, but you had stopped breathing. Your heart palpating in your chest desperately reminding you to take a breath.  

You huff heavily, letting the ache in your chest ease. The sound seems to catch Dean’s attention for just a split second before he continues on with his report, and you’re grateful his gaze didn’t hold you again. 

The two men chat for a minute before Rick walks over to Dean and shakes his hand, giving him a firm pat before breaking away. 

You stand as Rick approaches you, his arm outstretched towards you.

“Great meeting you, Y/N. Looking forward to seeing you again tomorrow.” Rick gives you a genuine smile with a firm handshake. 

“You too,” you fully return. “And I’m looking forward to meeting Addie.” Rick’s smile grows wider at her name.

“She’ll be happy to have a friend tomorrow.” 

It only takes another moment for him to disappear out the front door, leaving you and Dean alone in the garage. 

You look over to Dean, who is watching you with a relaxed smile, waiting for you to make the next move. 

You shove your hands into your back pockets and rock on your heels.

“Sooo,” you start, your teeth catching your lip on the last letter as you try to cut through the silence. “Are you done?”

Dean breathes out a laugh and looks down. 

“Not yet,” he looks back at you, holding your attention. “I just need to check out the Pontiac,” he throws a thumb over his shoulder to a sienna machine with a giant eagle emblem spread across the entirety of the hood. “Which shouldn’t take long, and then give his Stingray a tune up. Shouldn’t be more than an hour.”

You step away from the couch, heading towards the Pontiac and grimace at the tawdry design sprawled across the otherwise pristine classic car.

“People actually like this?” You point to the logo that looks very similar to Journey’s crest. Dean laughs and steps up next to you. 

“Believe it or not, a similar one went up to auction two years ago and sold for $220,000.” You whip your head towards him, your mouth hanging wide.

“You’re kidding.” You gape, looking back to the very eighties looking car in front of you. Sure, it was in good shape, and obviously people had an interest in this type of stuff, but to spend that much money on a car, a car that was really only fourty or so years old, hardly seemed worth it to you. 

Dean steps away from you, grabbing a tool box from the last station and setting it up next to this car. 

“This one won’t go for that, it’s not as rare, but if it sells tomorrow, which it should, Rick will probably get around $100,000 for it.”

“Jesus.”

Dean just smiles as he sets up his station, pressing a button by the garage door, sending the car slowly into the air, just a couple of feet, before coming to a stop.  

Dean walks back over to the first station, kicking over a some sort of roller, that you assume he uses to get underneath the cars.

As he walks past you, you can’t help but admire the broad shoulders under the fitted coveralls, the way the fabric stretches rather deliciouslily over arms that you were suddenly very interested in. 

“Any chance you know much about tools?” His deep voice rumbles through you as he turns to look at you with curious eyes.

“I know the basics.” You admit, stepping out of his gaze. You may be a renter, but you had your own mini toolbox for some decoration projects or when you needed something simple done and didn’t want to bother your landlord. You were all for independence when the moment called for it. 

“That’ll work.” Dean grins as he squats down onto the roller, his thighs pressing tight against his work pants. Your heart flutters again. 

He pulls a headlamp from his pocket and positions it on top of his forehead before he lays himself flat, one hand grasping onto the front bumper.

His words finally catch up with you.

“Wait,” he starts to push himself under, but quickly catches himself at your words. “What do you mean?” 

He smirks. The smirk that makes your heart beat in a different way. In a way that makes you want to punch him. 

“You’re going to be my assistant.” You laugh dryly. 

“I’m sorry, have you forgotten that I know nothing about cars?” Your hands flair with your words. “I am not touching any of those.” You point to the car in front of you. “I’ll probably break them.” 

“I’m aware of that.” He annoyingly agrees with you, and you glare down at him. “I just need you to hand me some tools while I’m down here. It will make everything move much faster.” 

“Oh.”

“Yes, ‘oh.’ Like I would ever let you work on one of these.” He mumbles, though still loud enough for you to hear before he disappears under the car, a light suddenly illuminating from the undercarriage. 

You walk towards the toolbox, making sure to accidentally kick his exposed work boot on your way. He grumbles something at the contact, but the words are lost with the rest of his body under the car. 

You open up the toolbox, a multi-level contraption, and see some familiar instruments, and others that were completely new to you. 

“Think you can handle getting me a 9/16 wrench?” He yells out to you. Your eyes scan the box, finding the wrenches and reading each handle until you see the size he asked for. You pick it up, but an idea hits you. 

You walk over to the car and lean down, reaching under to give him the tool. 

You smile as you hear him cuss and then the light goes out before he slides himself out from the car, pushing himself upright. This time sans headlight. 

“Everything okay?” You ask with fake concern. 

“Fine,” he responds politely and makes his way to the toolbox with the wire cutters you had handed him. His hand grazes over the container, landing at the wrenches, his brow furrowing when he notices the empty space where the wrench he requested should be. 

“Looking for this?” You hold up the wrench and give it a little wiggle. He turns towards you, his face falling as he notices the tool.

“And you gave me the wire cutters, why?” He huffs, dropping the wrong tool unceremoniously into the box as he walks over to you.

You hold his gaze, even as it makes your throat dry as he towers over you. 

“You didn’t say please.” You see the light flash in his eyes, his lips twitching up as he leans in, so close you involuntarily stand up straighter, his warm breath fanning over you as he refuses to break his stare. He holds your gaze for a moment. Then two. Before he leans to your right, his lips so close, you can practically feel them against your ear.

“Please,” he whispers, sending goosebumps chasing down your skin as your arm drops heavily to your side. 

He pulls back, still smiling as those damned viridescent eyes seem to own you. 

His hand then brushes against yours, and before you can react, he plucks the wrench from your grasp and leans away, that satisfied, smug smirk brightening his face. 

“Thanks,” he fucking winks at you before finally stepping away and dropping back down onto the roller and disappearing underneath the car. 

It’s only then you can breathe again, and with your first breath you mumble, “bastard.”

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[420technoblazeit]

was thinking recently about an au where crowley fully commits to becoming human and takes the cure and like. i mean he'd probably be a witch right. we've seen him use spells and rituals and hex bags so i assume he'd learn more advanced witchcraft without his demon powers

and i'd like to add that despite rowena being one of the most powerful witches in the world i think he'd definitely have too much pride to ask her to tutor him. like what you're 400 years old and you're going to go to your mom to learn magic? absolutely not. i think he'd just suck it up and comb through the bunker's library looking for different spells to learn. and it'd take him a while to figure out it out but eventually he gets the hang of it and starts practicing a completely different branch of magic to rowena's and even making his own spells

but i also think that with sam being rowena's apprentice and also the most type a bitch alive he and crowley would get SO competitive about it and it'd devolve into a rivalry where they try to one-up each other with increasingly convoluted dangerous spells. and eventually this escalates into a full on witch battle where dean and cas are cowering in the corner as crowley and sam hurls spells at each other and completely destroy the war room casting shit like oblivion laser or smth. dean is frantically calling rowena for help. little does he know that she's watching the whole thing with a scrying spell and placing bets with some other witches on who's going to win. she's got 200 bucks on sam, he's just been turned into a rat and he's going for crowley's ankles

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

She Stays (Part 3)

Summary: Could you please write one where student!reader appears in Supernatural universe taken from normal life and becomes an angel? Pairing Sam/reader?

Part 1 Part 2

Pairing: Sam x student!/angel!reader

Word Count: 1,800ish

Warnings: language, implied smut

A/N: Wow this is only how many years late? I know it’s been asked for many times for more of She Stays and here it is! Please enjoy this final part!

________

“Ow,” you heard Dean shout from the kitchen. When you came in he was sucking on his finger. “Cut it,” he mumbled, moving to the sink to run it under some water. He hissed as the cold hurt and you yanked his hand away.

“That needs stitches,” you said, Dean letting you twist his hand around. He smiled as he nodded approvingly.

“Yes it does,” he said, your hand reaching out and pulling a fresh towel to wrap it in. “You’re coming up to speed on the medical side of things,” he said. “Sammy’s been a good teacher.”

“I like when Sam teaches me,” you said, pulling him along to grab a first aid kit. “You on the other hand...”

“I’m an asshole who doesn’t give you an inch of slack, right?” asked Dean, putting on his mentor face. “Sam would go too easy on you in fights and target practice. You know it too.”

“I know, Dean,” you said, fiddling through the bag to find a needle and thread. “I don’t feel like I make any progress with you though. Sam tells me I’m doing a good job at least.”

“Kid,” said Dean, grabbing your wrist before you grabbed the supplies you needed. “You’ve come a long way in two months. I might even let you go on a salt and burn by yourself.”

“Really?” you said, eyes lighting up. 

“No, but only because Sam would kill me,” said Dean, chuckling as he moved your hand to the towel. “I know you can stitch and blood doesn’t bother you. Go ahead and try.”

“No, Dean,” you said, jerking your hand back. He frowned and feigned sorrow.

“Guess I’ll just bleed out since, Fledgy wouldn’t help me,” said Dean, holding up his finger.

“I need Cas,” you said, Dean scowling hard as he hoped onto the counter. The hunting stuff, that wasn’t so bad compared to knowing you had these abilities. You were still too scared to use them without Cas close by, afraid of hurting someone. 

“I trust you,” said Dean, holding out his hand. “I’m in worlds of pain here, Kid. Help a guy out.”

“Dean, I don’t want to,” you said, reaching for the medical bag again. “Angel stuff is not your area, remember, it’s Cas’.”

“I’m also bad cop,” said Dean. “Now try or I’ll work you so hard today so you’ll be too tired to go on your first date with Sammy.”

“Thank dad you’re not my soulmate,” you said, Dean chuckling as you grabbed his wrist. “Just don’t move or anything.” Dean stopped playing as he moved the towel back and you saw it still gushing blood. You thought of how big a cut it was, how it was deep and throbbing. You pictured it in your mind and then how it was supposed to be. 

Dean shut his eyes as you let warmth trickle from your fingers and told your grace to heal him. Dean jerked a little but when you pulled back he was good as new.

“I didn’t tell you about the bruise on my knee,” said Dean, shoving his pants up and seeing the black and blue mark missing.

“I wanted it to heal whatever was wrong with you,” you said a little timid. It felt intimate to heal someone, like you were touching their pain for the briefest of moments.

“I won’t tell Cas if you won’t,” said Dean, hopping off the counter. “Now it’s time for your surprise.”

“Please no more push ups today,” you said, Dean chuckling as he pushed on your shoulders.

“You’re going on your first date with your soulmate tonight, kid,” said Dean. “I’m taking you to the mall to go pick out whatever you want to wear. Then I’ll tell you a bunch of horribly embarrassing stuff about Sam you can bring up at dinner if you feel so inclined.”

“You’re such a good big brother,” you said, Dean already moving the two of you towards the garage.

Dean had surprisingly been a good shopping buddy. You picked out a few simple black dresses but Dean had found one with an open back that you fell in love with. You weren’t sure at first how it would look on you but once you were in a pair of heels even you couldn’t help but think you looked hot.

Leaving your room wearing it that night, knowing it was just you and Sam in the bunker, you felt a little silly. You weren’t going out or anything, it was dinner at home. But Sam had asked if you could wear a dress so your first date wasn’t in flannels and ripped jeans and you wouldn’t deny him that request.

“Hi, Y/N,” said Sam, working over the stove. “Could you grab...” he trailed off when he spun around and saw you. You could feel him light up as he lost the ability to speak.

“Plates?” you asked, Sam nodding, his eyes glued to every part of you. “Sam, I’m not that pretty.”

“You’re gorgeous,” said Sam, a little breathy. “You’re always beautiful but...I’ve never seen you dressed up before.”

“Slight improvement over you sweats and tee from that first day,” you said, stepping beside him to reach plates from the cupboard.

“You’re comparing apples and oranges babe,” said Sam, reaching up and grabbing the too high plates for you, an excuse to get you close dawning on you. “I love both those outfits. Anything really. I can almost see your wings in your back like that.”

“Sam,” you said, looking down shyly. “I don’t have my wings yet.”

“Yes you do,” he said, ignoring the cooking and running a hand up to the back of your neck. “They’re just very small right now,” said Sam, his hand moving lower and lower until his long fingers scrapped over the ridge of your shoulder blade.

You giggled as it tickled, the motion pulling something from you that you hadn’t quite felt before. 

“Beautiful snow white,” said Sam. “They’re right there, just under the skin. I can’t wait to see them when you’re full grown.”

“How do you know what they look like if you can’t see them?” you asked, resting your head on Sam’s shoulder. You would stay like this forever, him touching this vulnerable spot you didn’t know you had, making you tingle and smile all over.

“I just know,” said Sam, tilting your head back so he could cup your cheek. “I’m glad we took it slow. Got to be best friends first before trying this.”

“There’s no trying, this is...” you said, letting your angel side take over for a minute. “Cas told me something, about fledglings.”

“You’re very pure creatures,” said Sam. “It’s okay, Y/N. He told me too.”

“Then you know we can’t get frisky or anything like that at all,” you said, backing away from him, seeing the hurt on his face. “Where I came from, it didn’t matter but here...you’ll be stuck with me forever.”

“Spending forever with my soulmate? Yes that does sound awful,” said Sam, taking a step closer wrapping his arms around your waist. “I’m not scared, Fledgy. I will never pressure you one way or the other. It doesn’t mean I don’t have a preference for how things will turn out between us.”

“I’m not too young?” you asked, Sam unable to fight back a laugh.

“That’s...that’s what you’ve been worried about?” asked Sam with a smile. “I’m barely older. Fledgy, I love you. Nothing, absolutely nothing will ever stop that. Before you ask, I love you for you, not because of this soulmate thing. I’ve felt that perfect at home feeling with you every second I’m with you since the start, before we touched.”

“Can we eat dinner later?” you asked, the burnt smell of chicken filling your nose. “I’d like to do something with you first.”

“Make me yours, Y/N.”

Dean got home after midnight, only slightly buzzed as he found you and Sam eating pizza on the counter in pajamas.

“How’d the date go you two?” asked Dean, stealing a piece of your leftovers. “Going to be a second one?”

“Yup,” you said, Sam eyeing you up and down.

“Yup,” said Sam, a smirk on his face.

“Is this some couple thing or some angel thing?” asked Dean, watching the both of you. “Or did you two do it finally?”

“All of the above,” you said, Sam smacking your arm playfully. “Hey, someday I’m going to be stronger than you ya know.”

“That’ll be fun in bed,” said Sam, winking as Dean looked ready to gag. “Fledgy’s growing up,” said Sam, holding up a single perfect snow white feather. Just like he’d said it be.

“Angel’s getting her wings, huh? All you two had to do was go at it?” asked Dean, genuinely curious about the fledgling rules as they seemed to differ than a normal angel.

“Actually, it kind of...made me more human in certain areas,” you said, wondering if Dean would be angry. “Mating as a fledgling, with a human, it turns off that angel bit that let’s me...live forever. Normal life expectancy for me now.”

“Makes sense,” said Dean, both you and Sam raising an eyebrow. “Why would Chuck make soulmates that don’t get to be together when it’s all said and done? You two must really like each other to do that.”

“He’s okay,” you said, bumping into Sam’s ribs with a smile.

“It’s not so bad having an angel looking out for me,” said Sam, holding onto your feather like it was precious. 

“So you get anything else new while I was out beside some feathers?” Dean asked, silently reaching out to Sam asking to look at the one in his hand. Sam handed it over carefully as Dean inspected it. “Okay, I’ll admit that’s kind of cool.”

“Too bad you can’t see them like Sam,” you said, moving your left wing to tickle his arm, still so small it didn’t jut out past your back, Sam smirking and Dean looking on confused.

“Don’t stay up too late having angel sex, we’re going to work on werewolves tomorrow,” said Dean. “Night Sammy. Fledgy.”

“Sounds like you’ve got a full day a head of you,” said Sam. “Make sure to carve in some time for your boyfriend if you can.”

“I can always make time for him,” you said, brushing your wing up against his arm again, making Sam laugh. 

“Let’s go to bed,” said Sam, hopping off the counter and picking you up.

“I’m not tired though,” you said, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“I said go to bed, not sleep, Fledgy,” said Sam with a wink. “I got too much energy I need to burn off before I even think about curling up with you all night long.”

__________

[rewrittenreality]

Sweet Cherry Pie

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 621

Warnings: A little cursing but not much at all

Summary: You are taking care of your sick boyfriend

A/n: Hi! Hello! It has definitely been a while! Life has been so incredibly busy. I wrote this while I was sick because it kept me happy and busy. I have a little something planned for Valentine's day this year! Love you all!

Dean never got sick, his immune system was steel. You, however, got sick more than him. He was used to being there to baby you when you got sick and he enjoyed it. Now, here Dean was, sick and confined to the bunker while you and Sam went about your daily routines. You stayed home with Dean in case he needed anything while Sam was out getting food for the 3 of you. 

 Things had been fairly slow hunt wise so you knew you could be there for Dean. He was laying on the couch letting out frequent coughs as he watched the Tv. When he went into a coughing fit, you stood up from where you were in the other room and made your way to your sick boyfriend.

“You need to sit up, Dean. Laying down makes your coughing worse.” You tell him, helping him sit up as he coughed.

“I hate being sick, it sucks! I feel like I’m gonna die! AGAIN!” Dean whined as you rubbed his back to soothe his coughing fit.

One thing about Dean on the off chance that he did get sick, he was a whiner. He acted like the world was going to end and you found that funny. You, on the other hand, somewhat enjoyed it because it meant that you could baby him for a change. 

“You’re not gonna die. You have a cold.” You stated, trying to hold in a giggle. 

Dean glared at you, huffing in annoyance at the truth of your words. You ignored his glare as you got up to get him a blanket and some medicine. You covered him in the blanket when you came back and tried to give him the medicine.

“I’m not taking that.” Dean huffed, turning his head away from you. 

“Why not?” You questioned, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Because it tastes gross.” Dean said, still keeping his head turned away from you.

You grabbed his chin and pulled his head to turn back towards you. Dean glared at you again, acting like such a drama queen. His cheeks were flushed and his nose was red because of his cold. It was cute to you in a way. 

“I want the cherry stuff. It tastes better.” Dean whined, trying to push your hand away.

“You want me to go all the way to the store to get different flavored cough syrup?” You asked, your eyebrow still raised in a questioning manner.

“It tastes like that sweet cherry pie you make for me! It’s better than that grape shit!” Dean argued, giving you his puppy dog eyes.

“Are you saying my pie tastes like cold medicine?” You questioned, putting your hands on your hips while giving him a look.

“No!” He tried to sit up, but started coughing. You sighed and lightly pushed him back, so he is laying down again. “I promise your pie doesn’t taste like cough syrup.”

“You’re lucky I love you.”You sighed, not even trying to hide the smile on your lips. 

You laughed softly as he gave you those eyes you simply couldn’t say no to. He really did act like a big baby when he was sick. You sighed with a small smile, pressing the back of your hand to his forehead as you thought about it. You just couldn’t say no to him, not when you had the chance to take care of him for a change. Dean smiled all big at your words, proud of himself for immediately convincing you. He wouldn’t admit it, but he secretly loved when you took care of him like this. He knew that he could ask for just about anything and you’d say yes to it. 

[saphronethaleph]

Stare Decisis

“All right, that’s all the spells I can think of,” Hermione said, lowering her wand and inspecting their new camp in the Forest of Dean.

“Which probably means there aren’t any spells left to cast,” Ron noted, wincing. “Ow. I hate splinching… so, uh. What do we do now?”

He frowned. “You know, we’d better win at this point, right? Because I bet Hermione could pass exams anywhere in the world, but you and me, Harry, we’re comparatively buggered.”

“If we don’t win we’re absolutely buggered, not just relatively,” Harry replied, groaning. “So, we’ve got a horcrux… now we need to destroy it, right? And find the rest.”

He looked up at Hermione. “How do we destroy them?”

“We need to use something powerfully destructive, powerful enough to break the magical protections on the horcrux,” Hermione replied, considering the locket they’d retrieved at such peril. “Unfortunately, there aren’t many such powerfully destructive kinds of magic – the only one we know is basilisk venom.”

“Oh, we’re fine, then,” Harry said, relieved. “Sidney can help.”

Both his friends looked at him in some confusion.

“...Sidney?” Hermione asked, eventually.

“Yeah,” Harry agreed.

“Who’s Sidney?” Ron said. “Is he one of your cousin Dudley’s mates?”

“What?” Harry asked. “No. Why would my cousin be friends with a basilisk? You’ve met him.”

“Have I?” Hermione asked. “I don’t think I have. If I did, it was so brief I don’t remember it.”

“I think we need to go back and start this conversation back at a bit where I understood what was going on,” Ron suggested. “I hate splinching. What do we do now?”

“Sidney,” Harry said, firmly. “Sidney is the solution to all our problems.”

He rethought.

“Sidney is the solution to some specific problems, one of which we have right now.”

“Who is Sidney?” Hermione asked. “Please, let’s not get distracted.”

Harry rummaged in his pockets, paused, rummaged in a different pocket, and pulled out a small red and gold bag.

“Alohomora,” he said, touching his wand to the knot, and it unravelled in a trice. “I still love that I can just do that instead of spending a minute undoing it.”

Smiling slightly, he pulled open the bag, and poured out approximately six inches of greenish snake.

The snake hissed slightly, mumbling something about nap time, and rolled over.

“...Harry?” Hermione said, slowly. “Is that a basilisk?”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed.

“Why?” Ron said, not unreasonably.

“Well, I had this idea,” Harry explained, making sure not to look at the serpent in question while actually talking. “See, after I had to kill the basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets I got to thinking about how it actually really sucks that there was someone a thousand years old in the school and I had to kill her, and also how actually there can’t be someone who’s just evil because of how they’re born, because there can’t be someone who’s just good because of how they’re born either, and I know people in the magical world think snakes are evil but they’re clearly wrong because the first snake I ever met just wanted to visit his homeland.”

Hermione and Ron looked at him, then each other, then back at him.

“You realize that’s enormously illegal, right?” Ron said, in an interested voice.

“Yeah, I didn’t tell anyone at first because of that, but at this point what’s one more crime?” Harry asked. “I’m already guilty of Being Harry Potter in the first degree.”

He stroked Sidney’s spine with a fingertip, then glanced up. “And, honestly, he’s been kind of helpful in my not going completely insane once or twice.”

“Not going completely insane?” Ron asked. “So, um, how come this Sidney is still alive, anyway? Hagrid’s got his cockerels back.”

“Silenced bag,” Harry explained. “It’s got a warming charm too, he likes it in there. I’ll probably have to get a bigger one or expand the inside in a decade or three.”

“...um,” Hermione said. “I was actually hoping for this topic to come up, but how old is Sidney?”

“About… four?” Harry said, frowning. “Yeah, he turned four not long ago. He’s a lot smarter than a human four year old, I assume, I haven’t actually met many of them but he’s better conversation than I was at eleven.”

“Oh, I see,” Hermione realized. “Didn’t you say the basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets was fifty feet long?”

“Easily that!” Ron said. “I don’t see.”

“Fifty feet long, but nearly a thousand years old,” Hermione pointed out. “So that’s about twenty years a foot.”

“Say what you like about Salazar Slytherin, but he was a long term planner,” Harry noted. “Though he did hatch out at about four inches… all right, sleepyhead, wake up!”

Sidney mumbled something, burrowing into his own coils.

“Can’t basilisks kill you with their gaze?” Ron asked. “I assume you’ve got some kind of answer for that, just saying.”

“Yeah, at this point a prolonged staring match causes a headache,” Harry replied, as Sidney finally accepted that he wasn’t going to get back to sleep any time soon and yawned. “Hey there, mate. Got something for you to bite, it’d be a real help.”

“You’re sure it’s okay?” Sidney asked, tilting his head and yawning again. “Because I remember you were quite firm about the rules.”

Harry nodded.

“I know,” he agreed. “This is an exception because it’s a bit of the soul of that person who tried to kill me about… it’s got to be at least a dozen times by now.”

“Oh, that’s probably all right, then,” Sidney decided.

“Hagrid is going to love this,” Ron said, as Harry held out the locket and Sidney gave it a determined nibble. “Once you tell him, anyway.”

There was a sharp crack, and a kind of black mist flew out of the locket before dispersing.

“Ew,” Sidney said, doing the snake version of making a face. “How many more pieces are there? Because that didn’t taste very nice at all.”

“There might be a few more, but not many,” Harry said. “Want to go back and have a nap, or meet my friends?”

“If you’re being open about my existence, why not?” Sidney said, flicking his tail in something like a shrug, then coiled up into a little spiral.

“I’m almost sure I recognized one of those words,” Ron muttered.

Hermione was already on her second page of notes.

(so I saw a post about something similar to this, and decided to one-scene snippet it)

[waywardxwords]

Chapter 9 - Stay (Taking Chances)

Summary: After a random encounter introduces you to Dean Winchester, you can't shake the magnetic pull you feel towards him. For years, you've felt like everything in your life is under control--a promising career, financial stability and no real responsibilities. Dean's a hunter; it's his life and job. But somehow when you meet, your worlds are flipped upside down and you have to decide if it's a chance worth taking.

Chapter Warnings: Slight language

Pairing: Dean Winchester x female!reader

Word Count: ~3.4

[1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8]

One blink, then two. The hum of the engine and vibration in the seat of the car reminded you where you were. There were so many emotions that coursed through you as you remembered: demons, monsters, Dean. 

Your nose twitched as you smelled the air and your eyes were drawn over to Dean. The sun was out now–high in the sky.

“Dean?” You cleared your throat as you shifted in the passenger seat to sit up fully. He did a double take before he smiled.

“Morning, sunshine,” the gruffness to his words and the look on his face made your stomach flip–or was that hunger? You settled on a mixture of both. 

“What time is it? Where are we?” You asked as you blinked a few more times to try to take in your surroundings. 

“It’s about 8:30,” Dean answered as he glanced at the clock. “And we’re about an hour outside of Louisville, Kentucky.” 

“Jesus, I slept for eight hours, Dean! You should’ve woken me up,” you rubbed the sleep from your eyes and felt around your hair inconspicuously. You didn’t want to give away that you were slightly concerned with what you looked like after passing out in the passenger seat. God, what if you drooled?! You swiped your fingers across your mouth quickly. 

“Nah, you needed the sleep,” he answered simply. “You had a rough few days there.”

“Thanks,” you breathed. Suddenly your stomach groaned and you hoped he couldn’t hear it. “I’m starving. How about we stop and switch off again?” 

“Sounds good to me,” he answered as he eyed the next exit. 

“Let’s do fast food,” you said as he took the exit. “We can do a bathroom break and get it to go so we can get back on the road.” 

It was a quick stop; you both used the bathroom and ordered breakfast sandwiches and hashbrowns to go and got back into the car to hit the road. You were thankful you felt fully rested. 

“You should really try to get some rest,” the dark circles under Dean’s eyes, paired with how his eyelids looked super heavy, gave away that he was exhausted. 

“You sure you’re good?” He gave you a side glance. You smiled and tapped the navigation system between you. 

“I’ve got the map right here. I’m good,” you encouraged. He nodded once before he leaned back and closed his eyes. 

The music played softly around you as you drove. You had tested it briefly about an hour after you had stopped, certain Dean had found a deep sleep by the sound of his soft snores. 

You had to stop about four hours in for a quick bathroom break, but Dean hadn’t stirred. According to Google maps, you had just about two hours left now until you’d reach Lebanon. 

“If you want it to be good girl, get yourself a bad boy,” you sang softly to the music that came through your speakers. 

“What are you listenin’ to?” Dean’s voice was deep and gruff, still laced with remnants of sleep. 

You felt like you jumped out of your skin and clutched at your chest as you sucked in a gasp of air. 

“Jesus,” you muttered as you looked between him and the road. “Don’t do that!”

Dean chuckled as he pulled his hand over his face to wipe off the sleep. “Do what?” His lip picked upwards in a smirk. 

“Scare me like that, you about gave me a heart attack,” you breathed as you tried to calm your heart as it thudded against your sternum.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he grinned as he adjusted his position on his seat. “But seriously, what is this noise?”

“The Backstreet Boys,” a smirk tugged at your lips as you drove. Dean wiped the sleep from his eyes and you stole a glance. “I told you I’d get you listening to some boy band classics.” You remembered back to when you first saw Dean again and you had walked around town, talking about all of your favorite things. 

Dean audibly groaned. “How is this on your list of favorites?”

“Oh, this song did things to me back in the day,” you laughed softly. 

“What kinda things?” Dean almost wiggled his eyebrows as he watched you. You just smirked and nibbled on your bottom lip with a shrug. “Uh uh,” he muttered, and without another thought he reached over and pulled your lip free with his thumb. “Keep that lip outta your teeth. It’s dangerous.”

Laughter bubbled in you once more. While you fully trusted Dean, there really hadn’t been any conversation about what this was between you now. Not after everything that had happened. It felt safer to change the topic. 

“Only a few hours out now,” you glanced down at the navigation system. “I can stop for a bathroom break. Do you feel rested?” 

Dean nodded. “Oh yeah, that’s the best sleep I’ve gotten in a while,” he said as he glanced at the map on the screen. “I should probably explain where Sam and I live to you before we get there.” He pulled at the back of his neck uncomfortably as you flipped on your turn signal to exit at the rest stop that was approaching. 

You cleared your throat as you prepared to tell him what your brain had mulled over while he slept. “About that,” you said slowly at first. “I don’t want to invade your space, Dean. I was thinking it might be best if I stay in a hotel close by. At least until we figure out what’s going on.” You left out the words between us and avoided eye contact. The distraction of keeping your eyes on the road was a good enough reason to not meet his gaze. 

He was silent, maybe he wanted to try to find the right words, so you filled the gap with your reasoning. 

“I just don’t want to invade your space—for you and for Sam. I’d still be close by, in case of emergencies or anything,” you explained and stole a glance as you pulled into a parking spot at the rest stop. You could no longer blame keeping your eyes on the road for not looking at him, and you were also curious as to how he felt or what he was thinking. 

“You’re not invading our space,” he tried to assure you. “But, I understand if you’d be more comfortable in a hotel.” The words seemed painful as he said them, but he didn’t push back, and you appreciated that. 

“Just for a few days, maybe,” you sighed. “This is all just a lot.”

Dean nodded. “I get that,” he agreed. “A few days.” He smiled to show you it was okay. 

The rest of the drive had gone well, it was easy. Dean found a hotel that wasn’t far from where he lived, and Sam had met you both there with the Impala. 

“Hey, Sam,” you smiled at the younger Winchester as Dean moved his bags from your trunk to the Impala’s back seat, and then hauled your bags out to carry into the hotel. 

“Hey,” he smiled, though you felt as though something might be off. “How was the drive?”

“Not terrible,” you took a glance at Dean as he closed your trunk. Sam cleared his throat. 

“Listen, I just want you to know, you staying with us isn’t imposing on me at all,” Sam’s words sounded like Dean had filled him in via text at the rest stop earlier. “You’re welcome to stay with us.” He lowered his gaze to make sure you could see his eyes. You knew he was being genuine. 

“I appreciate it,” you said truthfully. “I just feel like I need a few days to catch my breath and then I can reevaluate.” 

Sam nodded, as he seemed to understand. 

“Let’s get you checked in,” Dean placed his hand on your lower back just above your jeans. The feeling of his hand sent a wave of warmth even through the sweater you had on, and you relished in the feeling as he led you to the lobby of the hotel. 

Both Sam and Dean seemed on alert as you checked in with the lady at the front desk. She didn’t seem phased as she handed you a key card and told you breakfast was between 6 and 9. You smiled and thanked her as you made your way to the elevators. 

There was silence as the elevator climbed to the third floor. You scanned your key against the lock on the door, but Dean’s arm went out in front of you and he grasped the metal handle. 

“Give us a sec,” his voice was low as he pushed into the room with Sam behind him. You caught the door with your foot and watched as they checked the room. It was just a bedroom and bathroom, so there wasn’t much to search. The rattle of the shower curtain echoed against the bathroom’s tiled walls. Once they felt comfortable, Dean nodded for you to come in. 

You noticed then that Sam had brought a backpack up with him from the Impala. He set it down on one of the beds and unzipped it. 

“So here’s the deal,” Dean said somewhat firmly. “You can’t leave this room under any circumstances unless Sam or I are with you. Don’t open the door for anyone.” Sam had taken a large container of what looked like salt and started putting it in front of the windows. “When we leave, I need you to take that salt and put it in front of the door, alright?”

“Do I want to know why?” You practically gulped as you watched Sam work. 

“Probably not,” Dean answered softly. “I need you to wear this.” You noticed he had a dainty silver chain in his hand with a charm on it. Your fingers reached for the jewelry and you swallowed when your skin grazed his. Upon further examination, you realized this charm was a carbon copy of Dean’s tattoo on his chest. 

“What is this?” You asked as you looked over the design. 

“It’s an anti-possession charm,” he explained carefully. “If you have this on, demons—like Meg—can’t possess you. Like what happened to your friend, Jen.” He swirled his finger to have you turn around, and you did. Even though all of this sounded absolutely insane to you, all you had to do was pull the images of Jen/Meg from your memory to remind yourself it was all very real. 

You gathered your hair over your shoulder and held it there as Dean adjusted the chain around your neck and his fingers worked to clasp it behind you. Every time his fingers flitted over your skin, you felt somersaults in your stomach. 

The sound of an aerosol can being sprayed jostled you back to reality as you spun around to see Sam with a can of spray paint. 

“What are you doing?” You asked as he finished a design underneath a rug in front of the doorway. 

“It’s a Devil’s trap,” Dean explained. “We’ll put one in front of the window, too. If a demon gets in, they can’t get out of that and they can’t hurt you.” 

That felt slightly reassuring, but you were still on edge. “I’m not getting my security deposit back, am I?” There was a nervous chuckle to your question. 

“Sorry,” Sam managed a small, sympathetic smile as he finished his art work and let it dry for a moment before he tossed the rug back over. He went back to the window to create it again. 

You were distracted by the sound of Dean emptying the remaining contents from the backpack onto the bed. There was, what looked like, an iron rod, a jug of water, more salt, a flask and then a serious knife—it reminded you of a hunting knife or something. The knife alone made you gulp, but everything combined had your head spinning. 

“What’s all this?” The words came out as a whisper. Dean placed his hand on that familiar spot on your lower back once more and led you to the edge of the bed. This time was a lot different than when you were in that bed and breakfast just a few days prior. 

“This,” he picked up the jug. “Is salt water. The flask is holy water,” he explained. “That’s an iron rod, extra salt for the doors and windows, and a silver knife. These are all the weapons I could think of for the monsters we hunt.”

“How will I know what to use?” You asked as your eyes moved over all of the things placed before you. Silently, you wondered if maybe you should have stayed with Dean and Sam, after all.

“Honestly, there’s so much to explain,” Dean started as he let out a breath. “Your best bet is to start slingin’ salt water and holy water,” he motioned to the jug and flask. “I don’t think you’ll see a spirit, because that’s more complicated—so you probably won’t need the iron. Werewolf or someone who looks like me, but isn’t me,” he picked up the knife. “Silver blade.” He paused for a second. “Shit, I didn’t think about the vampires…” his words were quieter as he processed. 

“I’m sorry, werewolves? Vampires? And what do you mean, someone who looks like you but isn’t you?” Your thoughts were swimming around in your brain. But it wasn’t a leisurely swim, it was like there had been a damn tsunami and waves were flooding and crashing every second. 

Dean somehow just knew. Maybe it was the way the words were flowing haphazardly from your lips, or the way your fingers had started to tremble. But he knew. 

He reached down and tugged on your wrist so you faced him. “Take a breath, sweetheart,” he said softly. Sam had stilled his movements after he readjusted the rug by the window. “Sammy, can you give us a minute?” 

Sam nodded. “Sure thing,” he gave you a small smile as he left the room and closed the door behind him. 

Dean’s hand came up to catch your cheek in his palm. It was impossible not to be pulled into the warmth of his grasp. You closed your eyes at the feeling. 

“I know this is a lot,” he kept his voice low. “I don’t want to overwhelm you, but I want to keep you safe.” His words hit at a spot in your heart that caused a flutter across your chest. 

“You don’t have to save me, Dean,” you reached up and held his hand on your face in place. 

“Oh, I’ll do whatever I can to keep you safe,” he said matter-of-factly. “That’s not even a question in this scenario. I’m just sorry I got you pulled into this shitstorm of my life.” His words felt sad to you, and you didn’t think he meant for them to be. His hand fell from your cheek back to his side. 

“Dean, I really, really like you,” you made sure you held his gaze as the words flowed. He needed to see the sincerity behind him—to know you were speaking the truth. 

“People I care about get hurt,” he said simply, but little worry lines had appeared by his eyes and between his eyebrows. His eyes matched the sadness of his voice. “Once we figure out what’s going on and I can make sure you’re safe,” he started carefully, as if he didn’t want to say the words but more so needed to. “I want to get you back to Virginia. Back to a normal life.” 

The words struck as if you had been slapped and your eyes widened. That wasn’t something you had expected him to say. “I don’t know, I feel like that’s for me to decide. It’s my safety you’re worried about, right?”

“Just yesterday, you were determined I was a psycho serial killer who faked my death and was on the run,” he quipped with a sad smile. 

While he wasn’t wrong, you still weren’t sold on his reasoning. “Can we just say we’ll take this one day at a time? Go from there?” You asked him gently. 

His eyes moved between yours and he managed a single nod. “Okay. One day at a time.” 

“Thank you,” you breathed. The heaviness of the day fell over you, and it seemed as though Dean noticed. 

“I’m going to get going, let you get some rest,” he cleared his throat and took a step back. “I’ll be back first thing in the morning, or sooner, if you need me.” 

You followed him towards the door. 

“Remember, salt line behind the door once I leave. Don’t open it for anyone. I’ll say ‘Atlanta’ when I come back,” he placed his hand on the door handle and turned back once more. 

“Got it,” you nodded as you listened to his instructions. “And Dean?” He turned back towards you again for you to continue. “Thank you for bringing me here. For keeping me safe.” 

Dean nodded once with a small smile. There was a hesitation there, but you could almost make out when his heart changed his mind, and you could have sworn you heard a fuck it. He leaned back towards you and pressed his lips to yours with his hand on your cheek once more. 

Heat radiated beneath your skin, and you weren’t sure if it was from the traces of his fingertips there or the rush of his lips on yours—probably a mixture of both. 

“Goodnight, Atlanta,” he murmured against your lips as he pulled away. 

“Goodnight, Dean,” you couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at your lips as he opened the door and closed it carefully behind him. 

Dean climbed into the driver’s side of the Impala and closed the door behind him. Sam did the same in the passenger seat. 

“She doing okay?” Sam asked. 

“As good as can be expected,” Dean sighed and pulled his hand over his face. Sam was silent for a few seconds, but Dean knew he had plenty of thoughts floating around in his brain. “Go ahead and say it.” He said firmly. 

“Say what, Dean? Everything I have to say, you already know,” Sam sighed. Dean didn’t respond, and instead put the Impala into reverse and backed out of the spot. “I just feel like it’s not the right time to get this sucked in.” There it is, Dean thought to himself. 

“Don’t you think I know that?” He bit back but refused to meet his brother’s gaze. 

“We know what we need to do for the second trial now,” Sam said carefully. Dean’s jaw flinched. 

“Kevin figured it out?” He glanced between Sam and the road. Sam just nodded. 

“We both know it’s going to get a hell of a lot worse before it gets better,” Sam glanced out the window and then back at Dean. 

Dean nodded, his jaw set in a firm line. “I just need to keep her close by. At least until this shit is over. If Meg has made an appearance, we know more will be coming.” 

“I thought we were keeping her close in the bunker. How are you going to keep her safe when we’ve got a fifteen minute drive between us? The bunker’s the safest place for her,” Sam wasn’t wrong. 

“I know, but she’s scared. I was having a hard enough time trying to explain the bunker to her,” Dean sighed. “I’m dropping you off and going back to the hotel. I’ll sleep in the Impala in the parking lot.”

“Does she know that?” Sam smirked from his spot in the passenger seat, though he could’ve assumed the answer. 

“No, and we’re keeping it that way,” Dean said firmly. “It's the only way I know I can keep her safe.”

A/N: Sorry for the delay on this one! We decided to extend our vacation by a few days, and I hate posting updates from my phone, so thanks for your patience!

Things will certainly start to pick up with this story now (after some consideration, I also think this might go beyond 13 chapters--TBD). I ended up getting some ideas as I re-watched bits and pieces of seasons 8 and 9, so we shall see what happens!

I hope you're loving it so far! Thanks for all of the likes, comments and reblogs. I appreciate you all!

Chapter 10 will be posted on Thursday, 5/2!

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[girls-alias]

Have A Little Faith - Dean Winchester P4

Title: Have A Little Faith - Dean Winchester Part 4

Words: 1,361

Relations: Dean Winchester X Reader

TW: SPOILER S1E12.

For @deans-spinster-witch

Part 3

I put his hand on my shoulder to keep his balance as I pulled the pants past his hips, as slowly and softly as possible. Making everything as comfortable and painless as possible. His butt was a noted attribute I now noticed. I stood and looked him in the eyes. We were so close, I just wanted to kiss him but knew I shouldn't it would be like taking advantage of him or would hurt him. Instead, I kissed his cheek and smiled. He instantly smiled back.

"Does that count as the one kiss you're hoping for?" I asked with a giggle. He just lightly shook his head as he continued to stare into my eyes and smile at me.

"How are you so good at being a nurse?" He asked softly.

"My parents were sick so I was in charge of looking after them when I was young," I shrugged with sad eyes. I sighed slightly at the thoughts. "Do you want a shirt on or do you think you'll get too hot?" I asked softly.

"I don't think you want a half-naked guy in the same bed as you," He commented diverting his eyes.

"You don't know what I want and I'll be half-naked too so I don't mind. Your comfort is more important than my preference." I replied stubbornly making Dean smile.

"I prefer it off," He specified making me smile. I get to share a bed with a shirtless Dean… Hells yeah!

"You clean your teeth and I'll get changed," I informed and his eyebrows instantly lifted at the mention of me getting changed, I laughed and rolled my eyes. I helped him to the sink, which he used to hold his weight. I took a few steps to the side where he couldn't see me through the mirror but I expected he would peek anyway. I got changed into his shirt, I hid my pained grunt by sucking air through my teeth. Moving around to put clothes on seemed to pull on my wounds but I ignored it.

"Are you okay?" Dean asked quickly, panic written across his tone. I chuckled lightly, ignoring the stinging along my entire back and spine.

"Yep," I sighed and tied my hair back into a messy bun. I looked over to see that Dean was cleaning his teeth and not peeking at all. I giggled slightly. "Hmm, I'm impressed. I expected you to be watching with popcorn," I joked making him chuckle before packing up.

"I'm going to keep you one day and then I'll have all the time in the world, I don't need to peek now." He smiled at me as he studied my face. I smiled at him before thinking.

"So, what do you think?" I asked gesturing to me wearing his shirt. His eyes closely surveyed my body.

"You're gorgeous." I was kind of surprised that he was being so genuine and kind of romantic as I expected him to just always be flirty but this was making it harder not to fall in love with him I know we both have to resist as he might not have long to live and we aren't guaranteed anything. I walked over with a smile and gently hugged him making sure not to put pressure on him so I wouldn't hurt him. He hugged me back making sure not to touch my back and I could feel that he was resisting the urge to hug me tightly and never let go. I slowly pulled away and smiled at him. I offered him a hand before helping him out of the room. Sam was already in one of the beds and didn't take notice of us coming back as he read an old journal. That must be their dad's journal that he mentioned earlier. I helped Dean into the double-sized bed before walking to the other side and climbing in. We were sure to keep our space.

"Thank you for today," Dean softly spoke.

"You're welcome," I brightly smiled back making him smile. Once Sam was done reading he turned the light off and we all tried getting some sleep. I was lying on my back while Dean was on his side, facing me. I felt his hand touching mine and thought it was an accident until he intertwined our fingers. I looked over to see he had his eyes closed but was smiling. He wasn't asleep but he was being cute as hell. Why did I have to meet him too late?!?! If I had met Dean earlier things could have worked out. I fell asleep thinking of Dean the entire night. He's perfect! Now I know, I'm madly and deeply in love with the fool.

"Y/N?" I hear Dean whisper. I felt his hand on my cheek, I opened my eyes to see a sleepless Dean facing me. One of his hands is on my cheek, the other is in my hand. His eyes peer into mine through the dark making me smile. He weakly smiles back.

"Do you need the bathroom?" I whisperingly asked earning a nod. I quietly got up and tiptoed to Dean's side in an attempt not to wake Sam. I helped him up but he seemed to be in more pain than before. He was wincing profusely but staying quiet so he didn't wake his brother. We slowly made our way to the bathroom. "Would you like me to stay?" I asked sympathetically. Dean lightly nodded so I turned away and took a few steps. Once he was done I walked over and saw him wincing in pain from just standing. I quickly put the toilet lid down and sat him on it. I knelt in front of him, placing my hands on his knees with a smile.

"I'm normally stronger than this," Dean commented annoyed at his own 'weakness'.

"Dean, you had a heart attack," My tone showed my disbelief. Dean just sighed. "Admittedly, you're dying and you're the only one who's expecting yourself to run a marathon, don't be an idiot." I justified telling him how it is. Dean chuckled, making me smile. Damn, he's perfect!

"You're the only girl to talk to me like this," He paused. "You know how I'm dying? Have you heard of the 'make a wish' thing?" I nodded when he paused again. "Before I die can I have one make a wish?" I looked deeply into his eyes as his voice was soft and serious. I nodded again I had no idea what his wish was, I would guess that it would be the one kiss he kept mentioning but the look in his eyes showed his nervousness to ask. "Will you at least pretend to be my girlfriend?" I didn't know how to answer. Why me? I understand that he's dying and wants someone there but he has Sammy. "I just need to know what it's like to have someone so perfect as my own, even if it is a lie," He added, melting my heart. I decided actions were better than words so lightly hugged him. He hugged me back with a smile. As I pulled away I kissed his cheek again, making him smile some more. After a little protest, Dean let me give him some morphine to help him through the night. He insisted I take some too. He cares about me, it's adorable.

"Come on, we should get to bed," I commented and helped him up. Unlike all the other times, Dean now had his arm around my waist as we walked and I couldn't help but smile. I helped him into the bed before climbing in myself. I turned seeing Dean already smiling at me making me instantly smile. He intertwined our fingers again but this time raised our hands and kissed mine. I couldn't help but blush. He's such a sweetheart!!!! We both fell asleep with huge smiles on our faces. Dean's my fake boyfriend?! Is it too far to kiss him? I'm dying to just kiss him and hug him and be his real girlfriend! Either way, this is going to end in tears.

Masterlist

Working On

Part 5

Taglist

[winged-cries]

[cw incest/sexual abuse] a scene that's stayed with me, practically imprinted on my brain, was actually from a supernatural fanfic. it's from sam's pov when he's still a child and he hears sounds coming from where dean's sleeping (in a different room, they're staying at a rented home or something of the kind), little muffled pained sounds. he grabs a gun and silently approaches the room, fully ready to kill the monster hurting his brother. but when he approaches, door ajar, he sees it's their father fucking him, so he just feels his whole existence crumbling away and walks silently back to his own room. and nothing much happens, but his whole world has changed from one moment to the next. he looks at dean the next day and feels like he has no ground because the one person he leaned on is crumbling himself. he looks at his father and doesn't know what to feel. he just clings to dean and dreams of leaving.

and i guess it's a twist on the scene we get in the show, where dean approaches sam's room and finds the shtriga sucking his soul, which is one of the creepiest scenes to me.

[ruestheday]

Please expand on your Steph AUs??? I want to know everything????? From reading just those excerpts on that one post I already love your writing and I don’t even know anything about supernatural (we’re in this together Steph, Idk who Dean Winchester either) but I WILL read a crossover fic you write about it

i would love to!!!

this will be the death of me ( crime lord au )

this one was based off of a conversation i had with a friend about the various other ways steph could’ve stopped her dad instead of becoming a vigilante. i thought it was the most interesting.

in this au, steph is a little more morally gray. well, morally gray enough to decide to become a crime lord just to make her dad look stupid. basically one of those “you’ve been trying to be a batman rogue for years and it took me three months to do better”, and then it snowballs out from there. it gets to the point where she’s no longer looking at it as a way to get back at her dad, and an actual way of living.

it’s a crack treated seriously fic, because a lot of it you need to suspend your disbelief. it also has timsteph, because i think the idea of tim dating the girl who’s criminal empire he is trying to topple is funny.

she girl bosses so hard while committing several felonies.

also because she doesn’t have to worry about her secret identity she dyes her hair purple (also to symbolize her spoiler costume in another world). by the end of the fic she will have tried every purple hair dye i can find on google.

imagine being a goon and your boss is some sixteen-year-old girl also concerned about her english essay because she may be a crime lord but she’s a crime lord with an education!!!!

i see dead people ( clairvoyant au )

this one’s more serious but i can’t write just angst to save my life so it still gets silly.

stephanie has been able to see the dead for as long as she can remember, and she’s been helping them since she’d been able to. normally it was small things, like a ghost wanting to make sure her poor Mr. Fluffy was being well taken care of, until she meets the spirit of the once-was robin.

all jason wants is his dad to stop being so violent, but steph isn’t going to walk up to big man batman and tell him Hey, you’re upsetting the spirit of ur dead Robin, stop it, so instead she decides to just take his mind off of it.

they become besties. they hang out constantly. she teaches jason everything she knows about being a ghost. best six months of her life.

until he disappears!!!!

now, the fun thing about ghosts is they’re like little spies. they see everything and they can move faster and further than humans, so they see even more.

the ghosts tell her that jason isn’t just missing, he’s alive. and he’s been taken out of the country.

now normal people might’ve ran straight to the bat, but not steph, she’s got the power of ghost spies and spite, she’s hunting her undead bff down herself. with the help of a freaky little brainiac kid (aka tim drake).

and then she accidentally discovers the league of assassins … oops

the devil knows my name ( prophet au / supernatural crossover )

in supernatural, there are prophets of the lord. they all (seem, we have met two.. well.. it gets complicated) to have different purposes in being prophet. the first one, chuck, writes the "gospel of winchester" which is just the future of the main characters lives. the second prophet, kevin, is the person who translates the word of god.

there can only be one prophet at a time, which would suck for my au, but! but! in a fun plot twist (spoiler warning) chuck actually ends up being god in disguise.

so in the version, steph is the actual prophet that chuck replaced. chuck is still there because he is important, there's just two prophets because god committed identity theft.

this means the au takes place in season four of supernatural, which (spoiler warning) has dean winchester returning from the dead/hell because the biblical apocalypse is about to go down on earth. yeah, i'm throwing batman into the actual biblical apocalypse, where angels and demons are both the bad guys trying to have a grudge match that'll level the earth.

i'm so hyped for it.

[crackers4jenn]

Fic Masterlist - Supernatural (Dean/Cas)

CANON-ADJACENT

TITLE: down the road (WIP)

SUMMARY: Set immediately after the s7 finale, when Dean and Cas get sucked into Purgatory. They stick together to fight their way back out, running into some old friends along the way... and some old enemies. (Or, Brokeback Purgatory 1.0. Dean and Cas work through their issues in monsterland.)

TITLE: every inch of my life

SUMMARY: Post-season 15, in a version where Dean doesn't die and Cas is back from the Empty. Gabriel shows up with some mischief in mind, hurtling them through classic porn tropes.

TITLE: one more time (WIP)

SUMMARY: Set during the s15 divorce arc. What if Cas got captured by a djinn. What if he experienced his moment of ‘true happiness’ while caught in its dream, and it summoned the Empty. What if Dean saved Cas from the djinn, only to have a portal of black goo open up in front of them?

TITLE: lapse and fall again

SUMMARY: A post-finale fix-it fic where Dean doesn't die. Instead, he pulls Cas out of the Empty. Eventually, after the reunion, there's romance and a road trip, but not specifically in that order.

TITLE: like a tidal wave I'll make a mess

SUMMARY: 5 Times Dean and Cas Get Mistaken for a Couple (and 1 Time They Actually Are)

TITLE: and I will pull my whole heart up to the surface

SUMMARY: 15x20 fix-it fic. Heaven feels perfect, until suddenly it doesn't.

TITLE: here's a map, here's a shovel, here's my achilles heel

SUMMARY: Post-15x19. Turns out, Dean doesn't have to ask to get Cas back.

TITLE: sink

SUMMARY: "Where to?" A 9.06 coda.

TITLE: dry and blown like dust

SUMMARY: They worry first about angel doings and once-dormant plagues and monster illnesses from cursed objects around the bunker, but Sam WebMD's Cas' symptoms and diagnoses him with: the flu. Set in s9.

TITLE: Mr & Mr Winchester

SUMMARY: "No pet names, I popped the damn question, and you're the girl." (Or, Dean and Castiel: fake-married. Set in a hypothetical s9.)

TITLE: lights down low

SUMMARY: When Dean comes to, it's with a fuzzy, head-pounding disorientation. He's on his back, on the ground, that much he immediately knows, where there's an overgrown lawn cushioning what must've been one hell of a landing. (Or, my excuse to do a canon-compliant Dean/Cas rom-com.)

TITLE: the morning when it's clear

SUMMARY: Post-8.02 Purgatory fic. When it all goes to shit, and obviously it does, it feels like the world is splintering open. That's probably because it is.

✨

ALTERNATE UNIVERSE

TITLE: 99 problems (and a stitch ain't one) (WIP)

SUMMARY: Dean gets a job at a craft store to woo and date ladies, but his plans backfire because his boss is the v. annoying but v. dreamy Castiel, who might be the actual temptation.

TITLE: Wedding Guy

SUMMARY: Cas slips Dean his number at a wedding, and a friendship/relationship takes off from there.

TITLE: on higher grounds

SUMMARY: (based off a tumblr post) charity collector cas who has a spot outside dean’s favourite book store in town and who always looks so cold despite the huge scarf he wears so dean takes to bringing him hot chocolate every day and cas gets this little smile every time he sees dean coming down the street

TITLE: a way not steep

SUMMARY: Dean's twenty-six and his roommate's a guy who cries during E.T.

TITLE: like only a best friend could

SUMMARY: They're both 18 now and Cas is going off to college and Dean's. Well, Dean's probably headed for a fun future of 'would you like fries with that?' and sometimes it scares him so much he thinks about running away too. Like their dads.

✨

CROSSOVER/FUSION

TITLE: Filming Jesus

FANDOMS: Community, Supernatural

SUMMARY: God is not here, Dean. (Or, Jeff and Annie meet Dean and Castiel. Set during Community s3 and SPN s5.)

TITLE: 11 characters that never were the slayer

FANDOMS: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Supernatural, The Office, Community, Glee, Parks & Rec, Gilmore Girls, etc etc.