#dean winchester is hotter than the fires of hell

[crushedbyhyperbole]

Before I Met Angels - Pt 2 - Now...

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus!Fem!Reader

Summary: Dean came for the hunt, but he stayed for you. He shows you exactly why you don't need to be insecure about the thicc juicy parts of you he can't get enough of.

Words: 2.2k

A/N: Thank you for your request, Nonny! You wanted insecure reader who was worried that Dean didn't like her fabulous Goddess body, but he does, and shows her just how much he does by devouring her. I hope this hits the spot.

I actually wrote the back story for this which is Before I Met Angels Pt 1 - Then..., but this is part 2 - now... Enjoy 😘

Warnings: Smut, oral - mainly F receiving, insecurities/comfort, bit of fluff, bit of cheesiness. Surprisingly not much by way of profanity.

***MINORS DO NOT ENTER OR INTERACT***

The sound of the TV blends into the background, secondary to the steady thu-thump of your heartbeat and the whoosh of your pulse in your ears.  The sofa is soft beneath you, perfectly contrasting the firmness of the man you are partially wrapped around.

Dean Winchester had been with you for almost three months, and what months they had been.

You first met when Dean showed up on your doorstep after the ghost of your long dead boyfriend had started killing off your love interests all over town.  Dean had posed as your newest suitor in order to lure the ghost out and your connection had developed from there.

The weeks of pretending to be attracted to each other had resulted in undeniable chemistry and, once your ghost problem had been resolved, you had asked him to stay the night.  Months later, he was still staying the night.

Dean’s hands stroke your waist and hip as you snuggle up against him, his laugh is like poetry, even if it’s born from the most recent episode of Dr Sexy.  He inches your baggy sweater up until he finds bare skin, glancing at you when you tense slightly as his fingers slip under the waistband of your leggings.

You don’t like a lot of things about your body, such as your stomach and ‘thunder thighs’ as you call them, because they aren’t what people think of as attractive.  Dean has never said these things to you, but for someone with a sex drive like his, how can he prefer how you look over some of the women you have seen hitting on him since you’ve known him?

When you look up at Dean he is staring down at you, reading the anxiety on your face with a light frown, but rather than draw attention to it and make you explain what he already knows, he simply sits and adjusts himself so your legs are across his lap rather than you being lay against each other.

Just so arranged, he begins to give you a foot rub, gradually working his way up your calves while he glances less and less frequently at the TV.  When he slides his hands up the tops of your thighs, you close your eyes but he doesn’t stop.  Dean strokes and kneads your thighs before teasing with his fingertips over your clothes, feather-light touches causing a delightful tingling sensation to creep up to your core.

When his hand dips between your legs and gently glances over your covered mound you inhale sharply, earning a sly smirk from him.  That bastard knows exactly what he’s doing.  He strokes there again with the pads of his fingers circling until you clamp your thighs around his hand, trapping him.

“Just where I wanna be,” he flashes you a wicked grin as he continues to apply pressure and motion right over your most sensitive spot.  “I love it even more when you grip my hips like this… or my head.”

“Dean…”  You admonish half-heartedly.  You don’t want him to stop.  You never want him to stop.  “Please…”

“You want something, baby girl?” 

Of course you do, and he knows it.  Dean always knows what you want, it’s shameful how easily he reads the signs your body displays for him.

You nod, reaching for him.  “Just you.”

You want to pull him down onto the couch with you again and have him kiss you and make you forget all the hateful things your traitorous brain tells you about yourself and about how he feels about you.  How can someone as perfect as he is really be attracted so someone like you?

“Oh, you’ll have me, but I got something I wanna do first,” he says, reaching under your ass for the waistband of your leggings.  “Now lift,” he commands.

Dean slides your leggings down over your ass and up your raised legs until you are bare; he has brought your panties off with your leggings, exposing you to him completely.

Your instinct is to pull your sweater down over your stomach but he stops you with a kind but firm grip on your hands.  Releasing you, he bites his lip as he strokes the bare skin of your legs, abdomen and hips.  Embarrassed at being so exposed, you look away from him.

“Hey,” his finger under your chin stops you and turns your gaze back to him.  “Eyes on me, understand?”

You nod nervously, and he gets up to strip himself down to his jockey shorts before kneeling on the floor.

He’s half hard already – the firm shape of his arousal visible underneath the straining grey of his shorts – and he’s getting harder every second he looks at you with that hunger in his eyes.

Dean Winchester has never has ever taken anything from you he hasn’t given in return ten-fold, and he’s not about to break that habit now.  He tugs you towards him, his hands under your knees, and turns you to access your exposed heat.  Glistening with your need for him, you feel his breaths as a rhythmic cooling breeze.

“This,” he says lifting one of your legs up and bringing his lips to your ankle where he lays a kiss, “is sexy.”

You blush and look away, earning you a nip with his teeth right were he had kissed before, making your eyes snap back to where his eyes burn into you with heat and a warning not to look away again.  Soothing his bite afterwards with his tongue, he makes a wet meandering trail up your calf where he lays yet more kisses.

“And this,” he says, holding your gaze while his lips and short beard leave your skin sensitive and hot.  “This is gorgeous.”

Your face is aflame as he moves steadily higher, stroking his hands and lips up your inner thigh.

“But this,” he sucks a light mark into the delicate skin of your thigh, causing you to moan and pull away from the slight aching reminder of his mouth.  “This is divine.”

Dean slides his hand right up to the apex of your thighs where he blows a more cooling breath against the moisture pooling between your lips, laying kisses around where you want him most, but never actually touching you there.  He hums with satisfaction as you squirm when he pulls away.

“Patience is a virtue.”  The cheeky bastard says with a smugness he tries to hide behind a coy smile.  It doesn’t work and he looks devilishly amused as he raises your other leg to start the process again.

All you can do is watch him as he lavishes the skin of your legs with his kisses and the occasional scrape of his stubble.  When you flinch, he soothes you with obscene tongue-work that you know is going to ruin you when he finally reaches his goal.  All the while, his eyes hold yours as he does to you the things he knows you deserve.

Stroking his hand up the undersides of your calf, he guides your leg over his shoulder and slides his other up the inside of your other thigh.  He meets your gaze once more when he leans in with his lips a deeper pink from his kisses and the green of his eyes a mere sliver against the black of his pupils.  If there is any doubt that Dean Winchester is into you, this is your sign to throw that doubt away.

He places a gentle sucking kiss over your sensitive spot.  The tightly wound anticipation of this contact makes your thighs twitch, and you see his eyes crinkle with a smile as he does it again, sucking a little firmer this time, and again, until you moan his name.

Dean has tasted you before, on his fingers or on yours, but never had full access to the buffet table, so to speak.  Your sweet muskiness is alluring, and he devours you like a messy burger, his slurps obscene, his moans erotic.  He brings you so close to the edge multiple times, teasing you with the orgasm he knows you want but denying you at the last second.

You beg him to finish you but he smirks and pulls back, his beard dark with your slick and his lips red and swollen.

He leans his head on your plush thigh as he keeps your pleasure alive with his suckling kisses and the flat swipe of his tongue.  You’re practically pulsating with need when he finally speaks.

“God damn beautiful.”  His voice cracks with desire as he takes the sight of you in; burning with pent up need, twitching and writhing with desperation.  “Think it’s time I give you what you need, baby girl.”

You sigh with relief, though the white-hot tension in your core still consumes you, just the promise of release is enough to relax your frenzied senses.

Dean buries his face in your wet heat once more with renewed fervour, reigniting the fuse within you and causing you to crest the mountain of pleasure he had built for you. It bursts within you like a dam, cascading forth in waves of intensity far sharper than anything you have felt before, even with him.  The guttural cry that escapes your throat makes him moan against your flesh.

Just when you think it is starting to fade, Dean slides his fingers into you, changing the sensation altogether, making it deeper and more well-rounded, and you don’t stop coming – or at least you feel like you don’t stop.  When another climax crests you sink below the surface of the surging force he���s creating within you.

You reach out, fisting your fingers in his hair, not to draw him closer but to pull him away as his ministrations on your clit become too intense.  He chuckles as he rises, looking down at you with a devout reverence you had never seen from him before.  It shakes you but it doesn’t last long, his grip changes and so does his expression, becoming more focused and hungrier.

He looms over you, his arousal making a mount Everest-like peak in the topography of his underwear and abdomen, its dark peak a sign of just how hungry he is for you.

“I need you, Dean.”  You reach for him and gasp out as he curls his fingers more ruthlessly inside you.  Tears form in your eyes.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.”  He groans when you bear down around his fingers.  “So sweet, so tight, so… sexy.”

You go to protest, to tell him you’re none of those things but he doubles his pace, working his hand in and against you more frantically, bringing forth an explosion of pleasure that wipes the words from your brain.

“That’s my girl,” he praises when you spasm around his fingers once more, your slick coating more of his hand.  “Show me how you’re gonna wreck me when I finally put my cock in you.”

When you come this time, your back arches and you’re forced to close your eyes tight.  You shake and wimper in the aftershocks and Dean withdraws his hand, smoothing soft caresses up and down your thighs and you are overwhelmed by the sheer power of it.  He has never taken you like this before, never reduced you to a speechless mess.

Dean sits on the couch and pulls you to him, stroking your hip and back, your arm and thigh and then, when the shaking subsides, your face.  He brushes back your hair, tilting your chin up so he can lay a gentle kiss on your lips.

“Don’t you ever question how beautiful you are,” he says firmly.  “I’m not the kind of guy who hangs around if he don’t want to, you know that.”

You nod, “I know but-”

“Ain't no buts,” he takes your had and lowers it to his straining hard cock.  “I want you too, always have. See?”

You smile deviously, the idea of edging him like he did to you is becoming more and more appealing.  You stroke him firmly, sitting up to flash him sultry smile, licking your lips as you lower yourself towards him.

The way you kiss the tip has his head falling back against the couch, the slow swirl of your tongue makes fists of his hands in the cushions.

“You, know,” he says breathily, “before I met angels, I would have said you were one – jesusmaryandjoseph -” he moans low and throaty.

“Mmm-hmmm.”  You mumble with him in your mouth, sucking him in deeper, goading him to continue.

“But now…,” he swallows hard, licking his suddenly dry lips, “now I think you’re the devil.”

You chuckle deeply at the idea that you’re more of a tease than he is.  After what he just did to you, no less.  The notion that Dean Winchester, of all people, wants you is something you still don’t fully accept but every day he keeps showing you it’s true.  Every day he’s there with you is one more day you’re thankful that he showed up on your doorstep with his cheap suit and the promise of a different future.

[deanbrainrotwritings]

—  i hate buffering

SUMMARY : “hey hi, could you do an imagine with Dean who is dyslexic or dyscalcic? Please I would really care <3” — anon

PAIRING :  dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : none

WARNINGS/TAGS : explicit(18+), fluff

WORD COUNT : 826

A/N : title from a the devil wears prada song. ah, an imagine. I actually don’t know what the hell I'm doing, but I loved this as I started reading a Stephen King book in the semi-darkness and I kept reading words wrong and thinking about how difficult it would be to be dyslexic.

Dean heard your adorable giggle before he heard your footsteps coming closer to his bedroom. 

This new, long-term dating thing made his heart skip a few beats.

You were cute and compassionate, mostly, but there was so much to you than just that. The longer he spent getting to know you, the more you seemed to unexpectedly expose parts of yourself, like heated kernels turning to popcorn. 

He stopped cleaning the stuff in his bedside table’s drawer to watch you with a dimpled smile. He sat on the bed and you finally showed him what you were shyly hiding behind your back.

He blinked a few times, willing his brain to focus on the yellow sticky note and your pretty handwriting. He glanced up at you, your expectant gaze, the flush on your cheeks. Embarrassment flared up his neck and he panicked.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he blurted out. You tilted your head at him as your brows twitched and your smile faded into confusion. “I'm tired, I can’t focus,” he lied, rubbing his eyes.

You thought it odd, but shrugged it off anyway.

“Oh, that’s fine,” you smiled, “it says: show me your tits, cowboy.” Dean laughed softly and you slapped the sticky note on the wall above his bed as you climbed into his lap. He instantly grabbed your waist and slowly slid his hands down to your ass. “But if you’re tired, we can just sleep… after you finish cleaning this up.” You dipped down to kiss his forehead, but he searched for your lips for a real kiss that made you warm all over. 

One of his hands slowly moved up your back until he cupped the back of your head to deepen the kiss. Before you knew it, he had you laying down on his bed and impatiently moved between your legs to kiss you harder.

You laughed against his lips and moved up the bed, never breaking the kiss until your head was properly pressed into his soft pillow. His warm, calloused hand sneaked up into your tank top, slowly lifting it, distracting you by licking into your mouth.  

His soft tongue played with yours and he gently squeezed your breast, causing your breath to hitch. He pulled away with a smirk that made you feel hotter. He removed his hand from your warm flesh to kiss down your neck and your hands moved into his soft hair. His soft lips pressed and brushed teasingly against your skin, and his careful teeth grazed your sensitive flesh. He gently pulled down the strap of your top and followed the thin strip before moving to kiss your cleavage instead.

“Fuck,” you whispered impatiently, but let him do things his way despite the fire you felt on your skin from his touch and his kiss. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered warmly against your skin. You smiled and hummed softly, watching him with his greedy eyes while he grabbed a handful of your ass and slipped his hand underneath your shorts. 

“You're not wearing underwear.” His voice was low and deep, and all you could do was bite down on your lips while he licked his own and just watched you hungrily. Your heart was in a frenzy and your mind was clouded with incoherent thoughts of him. Naked.

“I pretty much told you I came here for sex, but cuddling is an option if you’re tired.” He slid his hand out from under your shorts, moved back up to peck your lips before smiling down at you cheekily. You pressed your lips together shyly and lowered your hands to his broad shoulders. 

“Can I tell you something?” He asked suddenly, pressing his lower body against yours and gently leaned on his side with his arm beside you. You tried to ignore the sensation of his body being all over your and lovingly cupped his cheek.

“You can tell me anything.” 

He inhaled and looked away from you slightly. “I’m dyslexic. I couldn’t really read your note.”

You almost blurted out really? without thinking, but this is Dean. He wouldn’t say that if he wasn’t completely sure about it. Your smile softened and he chewed on his lip for a few seconds before trying to cover it up with a seductive lick of his lips and a quick glance at yours as an escape for his confession. 

“That must make all this hunting research very difficult for you,” you considered thoughtfully. He kissed you softly to interrupt your thoughts. 

“It does…” he mumbled against your mouth and rocked his hips gently against your core. Your breath got caught in your chest.

“You’re still very good at it,” you reassured him breathlessly and grabbed at his shirt to tug it up and off his flushed body. He hummed appreciatively against your lips. “Thanks for telling me,” you murmured, teasingly nipping at his lip when he started pulling away to remove his shirt.

“Thanks for being you.” 

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[justwhisperingfantasies]

Memories Part 3 (final)

Characters: Dean Winchester x Female Reader, Sam Winchester, Castiel. Mick Davies. Mention of other SPN characters.

Warnings: memory wipe, language, angst, cute dean, fluff, not exactly cannon, light smut (more steamy than smutty) losing people, let me know if I forgot any.

A/N: This is the last chapter of my first-ever fanfic. Go easy on me. Thanks for the likes and the reblogs Enjoy

Summary: You've had your memory wiped and sent off to your death. Sam, Dean, and Cas save you just before it is too late. the guys struggle with being strangers to you after all the years you have shared. You are forced into a life-altering dilemma.

Word count: 5,217 words

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

Your heart started racing. Your breath was unsteady.  Your hands slowly made their way up his arms up to his neck. You could feel the goosebumps on his skin just from your touch.  Staring into those mossy green eyes you tried to fight the urges. But fuck it right. You close your eyes and feel his hand on your face, gently rubbing your cheek with his thumb. “You sure, (y/n)?” he whispers. You don't say a word, you pull his lips into yours. Sparks flew. His lips were silky soft and so full. In this moment you felt the passion, the heat the two of you shared. And that heat turned into hunger. Into need. His tongue grazed your lips asking permission. You parted them granting it. You could taste the lingering whiskey. You felt his hands find their way to your ass. His large hands gripped it as he picked you up. Your legs automatically wrapped around his hips. Your fingertips gripping his back. You could feel him getting harder against you and that made your fire grow even hotter. You wanted him. You needed him. He carried you over to the bed, gently laid you down and you felt his weight follow. He kissed your lips, then trailed over your cheek, then down to your neck, planting soft kisses along the way. “God baby. I missed you so much.” his breath was hot against your skin. You didn't know what to say, it's not like you could say I missed you too. You started to think about the situation. Was this really fair to him? You liked Dean and obviously found him attractive. From the pictures you saw you knew you loved him before everything had happened, but without the memories could you reciprocate the love he had for you at this very minute? Tears started swelling in your eyes and spilled out before you could stop them.

“Hey. Hey.” he stopped everything and started wiping your tears. “What's wrong? “ he slid beside you and pulled you into his arms. “I'm sorry. I should have stopped. I should have… I just got caught up in the moment. I am so sorry.”

“You didn't do anything wrong Dean. I'm sorry.”

“Why the hell would you be sorry?”

Just then there was a knock on the door. “Hey guys,” Castiel called awkwardly through the door. 

“Yeah Cas,” Dean yelled with a sigh.

“Sam says he's not reheating the food again.”

Just the mention of food made you realize how hungry you were and your stomach started growling like crazy again. 

Dean looked at you with raised eyebrows. 

“What do you expect? I haven't eaten all day. The hosts of this place kinda suck. “ you teased.

He chuckled. “Are you sure you're ok? We’re ok?”

“Yes, Dean. I initiated it just as much as you. You didn't do anything wrong.”

“And you did?!” your stomach growled again. “We’ll finish this after you get some food.” you nodded.

He took your hand and led you out of the room. 

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

“Finally. I’m Hank Marvin over here.” Mick exclaimed. He and Sam were at the set table, waiting. 

“Shut up and move over,” Dean told him. Mick did. Dean sat in the middle seat. He looked at you then the empty chair. You went over and sat down. Sam put some food on your plate with the biggest smile on his face. You look up and everyone is staring at you. You knit your brows and raise your chin. 

“What?!” 

Sam laughed. “Well try it.”

“Can we not start at (y/n) while she eats?” being the center of attention always made you uncomfortable. 

Everyone looked off in different directions smiling. Sam put some on his plate and then passed the dish to Cas. 

You took a bite. You gave a mmmm as you chewed. Sam looked pleased.

“Sam Winchester. This is freaking amazing!” You said after you swallowed. 

“I'm glad you approve.” He said giddily. 

You noticed Castiel giving you a strange Look. You raised an eyebrow. He shook his head and started eating. What the hell was that about? You decided you'd question him about it later. You didn't want to ruin the mood. 

After everyone was done you started gathering plates. “Thanks, Sam. That was great.”

“No problem. I can get those.”

“Um, no you cooked. I can clean up.”

“I'll help.” Dean offered. As he picked up the plates you couldn't carry.

“Sam, didn't you say you had a book you wanted to show me?” Castiel asked kinda weird and raised his eyebrows a couple of times.

Sam picked up on the hint. “Uh yeah, it's in the library.” He got up and started walking that way. 

“Okay,” Cas said as he got up and started following.

“What's going on? Why are you being weird?” Sam asked when they got far enough away. 

“Did anyone tell (y/n) your last name?” 

“I didn't, but I know she and Dean were looking at some pictures, maybe it came up?” 

“or she's remembering stuff on her own and not even realizing it.“Mick walked up to the other side of the table. 

“Can that happen?” Sam asked, “Is it bad?”

“ I know when she was at the base she started resisting and asking questions out of nowhere.”

A light bulb went on in Sam's head. “Cas, do you remember when I got my soul back and death put the wall up? I was told not to scratch, but I did and had to go through that whole soul journey thing. Then I remembered everything that happened while in the cage?” 

Castiels face lit up. “Yes, maybe it's just like that. Being here and looking at old pictures made her start to scratch. Now things are coming through.” 

They both looked at Mick. “ I guess you could describe it as something like that when they do a mind wipe, but I don't think the whole soul journey thing fits.” 

“So maybe you can break hers like you did mine.” 

“Which way would be easier on her?” Cas asked Mick. 

“I'm not really sure. I'm sorry lads I've never been this hands-on in a mind-wiping restoring memories case. And from what I've read nobody has ever scratched at the wall before.” He used air quotes while saying the metaphor. “I don't think either way is gonna be that easy on her though. Remembering all the bad shit at once is gonna be hard regardless.”

“I guess we'll just talk to her and see what she wants.”  

“Dean seems to think she might not even want them back at all.,” Sam confessed.

“I've already had this conversation with her. She definitely wants them back.”

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

You start the dishwater as Dean brings the rest of the dirty dishes over. “I'll wash and rinse if you want to dry and put away?” You ask him. 

“Whatever you want princess.” he smiled. “ You wanna tell me why you seem to think you did something wrong?”

“Not really”

“You agreed.” you turned the water off and kept your eyes down. 

You took a deep breath and explained to him what was going on in your head. “ But when I get my memories back it will be better. I can love you the way you love me.”

“I ain't worried about me right now.”

“Well I am Pookie so get over it.”

“What the hell did you just call me?”

“What Pookie?” you chuckled “I was trying to annoy you enough to distract you from the conversation.” He stared at you with bewilderment. “Did it work?” you asked slowly. He turned and walked out without a word. You stood there dumbfounded. “Really Dean? it was just a joke..” You yelled and you were a little mad now. You followed him into the library.

“Sam!” 

“What's wrong?” Sam asked in dismay. 

“She just called me Pookie. She said she was trying to annoy me.”

Sam looked at you. Then his face lit up and you swear the corners of his mouth were touching his ears. 

“Um, does anyone wanna fill me in?” you asked.

Dean laughed. “ You used to call me Pookie all the damn time. At first, it was to annoy me. And oh did it annoy me. Then it just kinda stuck.” 

“Question,” Sam said, turning to Dean. “Did you tell (y/n) our last name at all?”

“No. I don't think so.”

“So she is remembering things.” Castiel chimed in. 

“Hello?! I'm the one everyone is talking about. Can we pretend like I have a right to be in the conversation?”

“ Sorry (y/n)” Sam apologized. He explained everything about getting his soul back, the wall, scratching it, and how Cas broke it. “ although I don't know if will be exactly like my experience. I lost my soul. I think the British men Of letters just put a blocker of some sort on your memories.” 

“Yes it's something like that, I do think it's gonna be hard for you to remember all the bad stuff at once, but I don't think it's going to be as bad as Sam's experience.”

“But won't she remember the good stuff too? Won’t it kinda balance out?” Dean asked. 

“Like I explained to your brother and Cas. I've never been this hands-on on a case like this before. So I'm not entirely sure how all this is gonna work. If she would rather Castiel break the wall.” Mick used air quotes again. “ We can try it. Or we can try sending someone in her brain. It's up To you love.” 

Everyone turned to you. “Um..” You didn't know what to say. You wanted your memories back, but The idea of sending someone into your brain freaked you out. 

“We could try to read more about it.” Sam offered. 

“I don't think there's much to read on it, Sam.” Castiel chimed in again. “I mean yes on the Men of Letters way, but we still wouldn't be able to compare the two”

“Well if we do it their way at least someone would be there to help her,” Dean said. 

“That's a good point,” Cas said. 

“Cas Just break it.” Everyone turned to you. “Seriously I'm tired of talking about it and the idea of sending someone into my mind freaks me the Fuck out.” 

“(Y/n) You sure?” Castiel asked you.

“Yep. Let's do it.” 

Cas walked up to you and started to lift His hand.

“Wait you're just gonna do it right here, right now?” Dean was kind of bummed you didn't want his help, but he understood and respected your privacy. He turned to you. “ when Sam’s broke he passed out. I think you should lie or at least sit down just in case. Cas takes her upstairs. Either her room or the cave.”

“But Dean… “ Sam started to argue 

“Cas will yell if he needs us, Sammy. She doesn't need to be stared at while going through this.”

Aw, my hero you thought. You kissed him on the cheek. Then you and Cas walked out. 

“I think she will be fine. Maybe depressed for a day or two, but she's tough and I really don't think it's gonna be the same as Sam's experience.” Mick encouraged them. 

“Yeah. I know.” Dean said. 

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

Castiel stopped in front of the hallway leading to your room. “ Where do you want to do this (y/n)?”

“I don't care. I just wana get this over with Cas.” 

He continued down the hallway. “The couch Dean put in the cave is ridiculously comfy.”

“Awesome,” you said in a sarcastic tone. 

“Don't be scared.”

“Easier said than done, buddy,”

“I know, but if I truly thought you were going to not be okay after I wouldn't have agreed to do this. 

You guys made it to the cave. There was a big TV on the wall, a huge couch, and a bar in the corner. Simple but it had a cozy feel to it. You plumped down on the couch. “Oh wow, this is super comfy.”

“Well, I told you.” He paused and sat beside you. “ Are you ready for this?” 

“Yes.”

“I suggest trying to focus on the good memories. It might make it easier.”

“Okay”

You were nervous, but you trusted these guys 100% you knew they loved and cared for you. 

“3…  2…  1…” You felt his fingers on your forehead.

There was a heat coming off of them, but it wasn't physically painful though. Then all of a sudden memories just started flashing in your mind. 

Your first date with Dean, you guys were 16. He packed a picnic basket of your favorite takeout. After eating, you spent the rest of the night cuddled up talking, laughing, and star-gazing by the lake.  Aw the lake, so many firsts there, first date, first kiss, losing your virginities in the back of the impala. It became our spot and your favorite spot in the world, Right down the road from Bobby’s. 

Oh, Bobby Singer. You knew him your whole life. He was your non-biological father. The tears started falling. The love you have for that man is unfathomable. He taught you everything you knew about hunting and life. He was there for you when you had no one. He helped you through so much. He would always look after you when your mom went on a hunt. He went through all the steps to legally adopt you when she was killed.  

Your mother. So strong so independent. The only person you ever saw her lea on was Bobby. Everyone is always saying you are just like her. She was your rock. Your safe space. Taken from you at such a young age. You begged her to take you with her on her last hunt. She was hunting a rugaru in Oregon and said you weren’t ready yet. Maybe she was right. You were only 14 at the time. But maybe you could have helped. Maybe you could have saved her. It killed you that you would never know. You openly sobbed now.

You heard Castiel's voice. “Think of a good memory.”  Good memory. Good memory you thought. It was the first time Dean told you he loved you.  It was after your first hunt together. You were 19  and it was the first time you got fatally hurt. He was sitting beside your hospital bed and thought you were asleep. “You can't leave me, I love you.” That was his exact words. 10 years later he finally openly said it to you. After all the years you had spent apart and after he came back from hell. 

You thought about the time you spent apart. You guys were 22. Dean was always on the road with John. Who didn't really think Dean should be tied down. “You have a job to do Son, and being that involved with someone could cloud your decision-making. Not to mention if anything happened to either of you. A hunter’s life doesn't have a place for spouses” You could hear John’s voice in your head. Maybe his dad finally brainwashed him. Maybe he didn't have Sam telling him to hold on anymore. Maybe he was just young and didn't want to be tied down. Maybe it was the look in your eye every time he left that made him break things off. Doesn't matter the reason it still broke your heart. 

Bobby’s place held too many painful memories. You need a clean slate. You needed someplace new with no memories of Dean Winchester. 

So Bobby called his friend in New England. She owned a hunter bar. He asked her if she needed someone to help out and hunt if need be. Ellen took you in with open arms. She became your aunt figure almost instantly. You would do anything she asked of you and more. The roadhouse became your second favorite spot. Flashes of you helping at the bar, Ash teaching you most of his computer skills, and knocking Jo down a peg on Big Game Hunter after she'd been hustling the guys all day. Jo was like your little sister. Although you guys didn't really get along at first, after about a year you guys were inseparable. She would always get so pissed when you went on a hunt. Ellen tried, but hunting was in your blood. You didn't stray too far away from the bar and since you had met Blake you never went alone. Blake was your unofficial boyfriend and hunting partner. You had a love for Blake, but nobody else would ever have your heart the way Dean did. You and Blake were together for about 3 years. You guys got into a fight and he went hunting alone. He never made it back. 

Your mother, Bobby, Ellen, Jo, Ash, Blake. They were your family. They all held such a special place in your heart. And they were gone.

Your heartbeat became rapid. Your breaths were shallow and painful. You felt like you were going to pass out. You instinctively pulled your knees up and put your head between them hugging your lower legs. With the quick movement you fell over into Castiel’s Lap. he wrapped his arms around you while you openly sobbed.

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

Dean was drumming his fingers on the table. “Dude. Stop. Like you said Cas will yell if something is wrong.” Sam said annoyed while on his laptop. 

“Yea. I can still worry though. Whatcha lookin' for over there?”

“Well, Jody called. She said there might be a case a couple of counties over from Sioux Falls. I was just looking into it.”

“Is it anything?”

“There are some signs of a ghoul.”

“You guys really aren't considering going on a hunt right now?!” Mick said as held two beers out for the boys. They reached up for them. They both nodded thanks as they took them. 

“ Of course not. I talked to Garth last night he's up in that area. He told me if I found anything interesting let him know and he’d check it out.” 

Dean pulled out his phone. He needed something to distract him, but before he could stop it he was texting Cas. How’s it going up there? He paused before he hit send and then deleted the message. He wanted to give you space and give Cas time to help you. He put his phone down on the table and started drumming his fingers again. Sam cleared his throat annoyed again.

“Yeah I’ll go find something to do,” he said as he stood up grabbing his beer and phone. He found himself wandering towards the garage. He flipped The lights on as he walked in. There was a car covered by a tarp that caught his eye. “Ah, perfect.” With everything That happened this project has slipped his mind. He walked over to the system that you had installed. He plugged his phone in and tapped Shuffle On the Playlist you made with him. Panama your favorite Van Halen song starts to play. He can't help But smile. He sings to himself as he walks over and pulls The tarp away. Revealing a 1971 Chevelle. It's a total mess. Rust everywhere, mismatched body pieces, vines growing in places, and broken windows. This was gonna be a big job, but he knew the look on your face when it was done would be worth it. He continued to sing and got to work. 

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

You finally managed to stop crying, but just laid there, you didn’t know for how long. You had a pounding headache, and your eyes were swollen and sore. Castiel lightened his hold. 

“(y/u) do you need anything?” 

You shook your head no.

“Is there anything I can do?”

You shook your head again. 

He tightened his arms again and then let go. He walked over to the mini fridge behind the bar and brought a bottle of water back over to you  “ You should drink some.”

“I'm fine.” your voice cracked. 

“Please.” he pleaded. 

Damnit. You couldn't say no when he said please like That. With a heavy sigh, you sat up, took the water, and put it up to your lips. As it hit your throat you realized how thirsty you were and before you knew it the bottle was empty. 

“ Well you didn't have to drink it all in one go, but thank you,” Cas said with a smile. 

“You bet.” You raised your hands to your hand. God your head felt like it would explode. Castiel put his palm on the top of your head and suddenly the pain was gone. 

“Thank you.” You said looking up at him. He opened his mouth but you cut him off. “ For everything Cas. You have always been there for me and  You have saved me more times than I can count. I don't know what I would do without you. And not I'm Not just Talking about your angel healing powers.”

His eyes got a little misty. “ (y/n) You're welcome. Honestly, I don't know what I would do without you either. I will always be there for you.” 

You stood up a Little shaky And wrapped your arms around him. He reciprocated the hug.  

“You ok?” He asked pulling You back to look at you.

“I'm not 100%, but I'll get there.”  you smiled and he smiled back. “Well, we should probably go check on the boys.”  You squeezed him one more time and released him. 

You both headed for the door. 

“So.” Cas sat walking down the hall.”Can I hear one of those good memories?”

“Do you remember when we hunted down that Djinn? Just you and me.”

He chuckled. “I think that was my second or third hunt. Although I think you did most of the hunting. I was just there for moral support. 

“Yeah. You were pretty terrible.” you both chuckled “ But I think that's when you and I became best friends. So it's one of my favorites” You saw his cheeks get pink and he smiled.

You stopped in the hallway leading to your Bedroom. “I'm gonna freshen up real fast.” 

“Don't you want me to wait for you?”

“No, You don't have to. I'll just be a minute.” He gave you a questioning look. “Cas I'm good I swear.”

And you really were. Yes, you still felt the sadness, but you felt better than you had in months. 

“OK. Yell if you need anything.” He said as he started to walk away. 

You nodded and made your way to your bedroom. The room is even more heartwarming than when you entered it the other day. All the great memories in this room made most of the sadness slip away. You made sure not to look at the dresser, it was too soon for pictures. You went into the bathroom. You weren't planning on taking a shower, but it sounded too good to say no.

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

Castiel made his way into the library. Sam and Mick were sitting at the first table. They both looked up. Sam was on the phone. He nodded when he saw Cas. “Yeah, Garth. I think there’s something there. If you could just take a look for me.”  “I'm not sure. Cas just walked in now. I'll call you back as soon as we find out everything.”  “Thanks, I will.” he tapped the phone and put it on the table. 

“So?” Sam asked as you looked up at Cas. 

“It was pretty rough. I've never seen (y/n) cry like that before, but she seems to be doing better. She's upstairs freshening up right now. I think she will be okay.”

Sam sighed in relief. “Good. So she remembers everything?”

“Yes. Everything.” Cas confirmed. 

“Good, good,” Mick said. 

Castiel said down with a heavy sigh. 

“You okay Cas?” Sam asked. 

“Yeah, just hated seeing her in pain and there was literally nothing I could do.”

“I'm sure you helped her more than you know.” Sam comforted him. 

Cas looked around the room. “Where’s Dean?”

“Oh, Ringo Starr was getting on Sam’s nerves. So he kicked Dean out of the library.” Mick said chuckling

Cas and Sam both laughed. 

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

Dean was working away. He had cleaned all the vines and guck off. Now he was working on buffing off the rust. His text tone went off on the loudspeakers. He dropped what he was doing and hurried to his phone. 

Cas: Where are you?

He couldn’t help but panic a little.

Dean: What's wrong? Is (y/n) okay?

Cas: Calm down she’s fine.  Where are you?

Dean: Garage. 

He hurried back over to the car to cover it. He didn't want you to see it until it was done. 

Dean was disappointed when Castiel walked in alone. 

Cas could see it on his face “ She went upstairs to refresh. She’s really going to be okay Dean.” he reassured him. 

Dean's face eased with relief. “Does she remember everything?” 

“Yes.”

“Good!” 

Castiel looked down at Dean’s coveralls they were filthy and then around the room “ What are you working on?” 

“You can’t say anything. Promis me Cas.”

“Okay?” 

They walked over to the tarp-covered car. Castiel’s eyes went wide when Dean peeled back the tarp. 

“Is that Bobby’s old Chevelle?”

“ She sure is,” Dean exclaimed very proud of himself. 

“How did you?”

“Well couple of years back Sammy and I saw it at his old place. I went back a couple of days later, borrowed a tow truck, and stashed it at Jody’s for a while. I wanted to wait until I had time to work on it before bringing it here. With all madness that we were going through I kinda forgot about it. 4 months ago Jody called me and told me she needed her barn back. I brought it here. With (y/n) missing, the only thing I could think about was finding her. So the Chevelle kinda slipped my mind again. I was getting on Sammy’s nerves earlier so I came here to find something to do. Kinda perfect I thought.”

“Dean. She’s really going to love it!”

Dean smiled. “I know! I still have a lot to do. It's going to be a complete restore.”

“But it will be worth it.”

“Absolutely!”  

“So how is she?”

Castiel explained everything while Dean got cleaned up. “Well, I'm glad she’s home with her memories back. I just hate she had to go through it all again.” Cas agreed with a nod and they walked towards to door. Dean stopped. “I gotta grab something. I’ll catch up.” Cas continued walking. 

Dean grabbed an item out of the Impala and headed toward the library.

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

You felt so much more relaxed after your scorching hot shower. The memories you had in it didn't hurt either. You dried off as you made your way to the closet. You found your favorite pair of jeans and your favorite v-neck back t-shirt. You finished drying and then got dressed. You went into the bathroom and squeezed your hair with a towel. You put some mouse in your hand flipped your head down and scrunched your hair.  When you got just the right curl you flipped your head back up. Your eyes went to the small hook where your necklace should be. It wasn't there. It had been a long time, but you're pretty sure you left in the same place you always did before a hunt. So you slipped your boots on and headed for the garage. 

You made it to the bottom of the stairs. You swirled around to the garage and looked up.

There he was. The man that had your heart. Your whole body froze and your knees went weak. Butterflies dancing in your stomach. His spikey short brown hair. His face beaming with the biggest smile you've ever seen on his face.  The scruff on the lower half. He usually didn't let his facial hair grow out, but damn did it look good on him. Hell, everything looked good on him. He had the dark green henley on that you bought him. Clingy to his broad shoulders and muscular upper body. The jeans he had on snugging his hips just right. You took it all in. he took a step and you did the same your steps turning into a sprint the closer you got. His arms opened and you jumped into his embrace. Your lips were on his instantly. Your legs and arms are already wrapped around him. You realized you had been wrong about your favorite spot. Though you loved the lake nothing could ever compare to being in Dean’s arms. You put everything into that kiss. All the love and passion you have ever felt for him. And you could feel him doing the same.

He turned and took a couple of steps. You felt the wall on your back. You unwrapped your legs and your feet found the floor. You felt one of his hands on your neck while the other was supporting his weight above your head. He rested his forehead on yours. Your lips were still so close you could feel his rapid breaths on yours. 

“Baby.. “ he tried to say but you cut him off. 

“I know..” you knew he was going to say how much he missed you, but you didn't need to hear it. You already felt it. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you in for a hug and his face found the crook of your neck. Your arms around his neck and head on his shoulder. He hugged hard once then pulled back some so he could see your face, your arms still around each other.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better now.”

He smiled. “Seriously?”

“Dean seriously. Yes, a lot of bad shit happened. Yes, it still hurts. But when I'm with you it hurts a lot less.” he smiled. “ and while we on on his subject. If you pull the shit of me being better off without you, or putting me in harm's way thing again I'm going to.” he cut you off with a kiss. It was short and sweet. But every kiss of Dean’s was great. 

“I got it,” he said chuckling. He turned to walk away and put his hand out for you.

“I gotta grab something outta the Impala real fast.” you turned to walk into the garage. He caught your arm and spun you back around. He pulled the chain with 2 wedding rings on it out of his pocket. You couldn't help but smile. Then pulled a single band out of his other pocket and put it on the chain with the other 2. 

“I think my mom would be elated to know her wedding ring is beside Karen’s and your mother’s.” He gestured to put it on. You grabbed your hair out of the way as you turned. “ around the neck of his oldest son’s true love.” your eyes watered. You turned around and kissed him on the cheek.

“Thank you. I love you, Dean.”

“I love you too baby, I'm so happy you’re back.”

[impala-dreamer]

Everlong - Chapter Thirteen

A Supernatural Series

~Y/N has everything she’s ever wanted - the love of a good man, a best friend she can lean on, drama, magic, and heroics. But everyone knows, things aren’t always what they seem.~

Dean Winchester x Reader, Sam Winchester, Rowena, Castiel, Others

Chapter Thirteen Word Count: 2031

Everlong Masterlist ~ Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist  ~  Patreon  ~ Published Works  ~  Buy Me A Coffee  ~  Feedback is Gold

There was no rest. 

If she slept, she fell in so deep that Dean was forced to shake her awake lest she scream herself hoarse and claw her cheeks bloody. 

Awake, she was plagued by the black mist and Chuck’s mocking stare lingering on the outskirts of her vision. She saw blood everywhere, watched Sam and Dean die on a loop. She tasted death, smelled the rotting flesh of forgotten bodies, walked through dense, poisoned air. 

Anytime she needed him, Dean was there to pull her back with a word or a touch, but it was wearing him down as well. 

She needed more help than he could give.

After striking out magically and spiritually, they tried a medical solution, drugging her with Haldol and sedatives, but the drugs only made things worse. 

She was in hell. 

Exhausted and miserable, she sat wrapped in Sam’s old hoodie in her favorite reading chair. Her knees were up high, her arms tight around her legs. She was quiet and still, staring off at nothing, trying to ignore the flames that licked at the books to her left. 

The fire grew hotter and she tugged on the strings of the sweatshirt, tightening the hood around her face. 

In the next room, Dean was pacing. He rubbed at the back of his neck and looked through the archway, checking on Y/N. 

“Not good,” he muttered, turning and walking back the way he came. 

Sam lifted his eyes from the computer and took a peek at Y/N as well. She was shaking visibly and his heart broke. 

“I know…” 

“What are we gonna do?” 

Sam shrugged. “Really, there’s only one thing we can do.” 

Dean grit his teeth. “No. We’re not doing that.” 

“Dean-” 

“I said no!” 

Y/N appeared in the archway, tired fingers clinging to the stone for support. Her gaze drifted between the brothers and she pushed the hood away. 

“What are we not doing?” she asked, voice weak and torn. 

Dean shook his head and turned away, refusing to show his frustration. 

Sam swallowed hard and leaned back in his chair. He ran a finger across his upper lip, thinking. 

Y/N stepped forward. “Well?” 

Sam sighed. “I think- we- we think you need professional help, Y/N.” 

Her stomach twisted into a nervous ball. “What do you mean? Like a… therapist?” 

He dropped his gaze. “Probably a little more than that.” 

Her pulse quickened. “You want to lock me up.” 

Dean looked back over his shoulder. “No, Y/N…” 

Her throat tightened. “Yes you do. You wanna commit me. You think I’m insane.” 

A blood red tear slid down his cheek. Black mist crept slowly up the back wall. 

Sam cleared his throat. “We don’t. But… for your safety, I-” 

“My safety.” She laughed bitterly. “For my safety, you’re going to shove me in a padded room and throw away the key. Great. That’s just great.” 

“Y/N-” 

“No!” Tossing a hand up, she spun away from them both. “Ya know… anything happens to either one of you and it’s ‘tear the world apart looking for an answer’. Me? Nah… it’s just stress. Couldn’t possibly be anything remotely unnatural happening here. Just drag me to the nut house and pump me full of drugs until I die. Great plan.” 

Dean dropped his head, hiding him face between his hands. His shoulders shook with a heavy sigh as he fought back pained tears, but Y/N saw it all. 

“You don’t agree, Dean?” she asked, begging him with sad eyes to stay on her side. 

Dragging his hands down his face, he looked over, green eyes streaked with wetness. “Y/N…” 

Her stomach dropped and her lip trembled. “So you’re on board with this?” 

He tried to speak, but nothing came out. His lips opened and shut without a word. 

“I thought we were in this together,” she said, whispering her pain to the room. “You and me, right?”

He turned to face her fully, still at a loss. “It is… I mean, we are.” 

Anger swirled in her gut. She dug her nails into her palms and stared up at the ceiling, hoping for help from above. 

The lights burned her eyes, shifting from the warm ancient bulbs to the bright fluorescents of a hospital. She cringed at the glow as a strange wave of warmth washed over her. It felt like being drugged, like her body was melting with a strong sedative, and her knees buckled. She swayed on her feet and reached for the table, gripping the edge until the moment passed. 

Sam pushed up from his seat, ready to rush to her side, but Y/N glared up at him in warning. He stayed back, watching carefully. 

When the lights dimmed, she stood up, slightly out of breath and a little dizzy.

“You OK?” 

Sam’s voice scratched at her brain and she grit her teeth. 

“What do you think?” she spat. 

He flinched. “I think we need to get some help.” He was kind and his tone was soft but Y/N took it like a hammer to the skull. 

In her eyes, Chuck appeared in the corner, leaning casually against the wall, arms and ankles crossed. He laughed and it echoed through her head. 

“I think he’s right…” 

Y/N swallowed hard. “Shut up,” she whispered, trying to ignore him. 

Sam sighed, his shoulders dropping. “Y/N…” 

Chuck smirked. “You’re insane and they know it now. It’s time to stop fooling around.”

Y/N trembled. “I said shut up.” 

Sam jerked upright, standing at full height. He pursed his lips, startled and a bit hurt. 

“Y/N,” Dean spoke up, rounding the table to get to her. “We’re just trying to do what’s best here, and I think… I think Sam’s right.” 

Her heart was racing. Her jaw was aching from clenching so tight. 

Chuck mocked her from the corner, laughing. 

“They wanna lock you up. You should let them. It’s not safe here for you anymore.” 

Her lungs were tight, hands twitching. The lights burned bright again and her skin began to crawl. 

She looked over Dean’s shoulder at the shimmering vision of Chuck. “Why are you doing this to me?”

“I’m trying to help you,” he said, kicking off of the wall and moving closer. 

Dean’s chest sunk inwards and his shoulders turned. “We’re trying to help you.” 

Y/N closed her eyes, bit down hard into her lip, desperate to force Chuck to leave her be. 

“Go away!” 

Dean startled, boots halting with a thud. “Baby, please-” 

Chuck moved around him, standing in the space between them. He smiled. “I’m not going anywhere. But you are.” 

He reached for Y/N and she screamed, jumping back and nearly tripping over her own feet. 

“You can’t get away from this,” he told her, stepping closer as she skirted backward. 

Scared, she looked to Dean for help but he was frozen like a statue behind Chuck. His body was locked in place, his lips parted in a shout, his eyes glued forward. 

“Dean! Please!” 

She screamed for him and Chuck snapped his fingers. 

The bright lights struck Dean’s face, beaming off of every freckle, every line. He shone like crystal and the light burned into him. Y/N watched in horror as the lines around his eyes split apart, letting the light inside. The cracks deepened until the form could not hold together any longer and Dean shattered, his body breaking into a million tiny specs of glass. 

The tinkle of his fall against the tiles rang through the room and Y/N doubled over with a shrieking scream. 

Sam rushed to catch her, but another snap of Chuck’s fingers splintered every bone in his long body. His limbs turned to rubber and he collapsed at Y/N’s side, groaning in agony and looking up at her with a muted, pained plea. 

Horrorstruck, she screamed at Chuck as she bent to help Sam. 

“Stop this! Please!” 

Chuck sighed and took pity. With a flick of his wrist, Sam’s eyes went wide and a bubble of blood burst from his lips. Y/N lay her hand against his cheek and his skin turned to jelly, sinking in on itself until Sam was a puddle of putrid flesh and blood swirling around her knees. 

Screams shook her body as she slipped through the muck, trying to get away. Her back hit the ground, hands and feet sliding through blood and broken glass, the remnants of the Winchesters. 

“Help me!” Her voice hit the walls and raced back at her from every angle. There was no one to hear her, no one to help. “Please!” 

Chuck advanced, enjoying her pain. 

“You’re just going to have to deal with it,” he told her simply. “This is your life now. Your pain. Your constant torture.” He grinned. “Unless…” 

“Unless?” She looked up, eyes hopeful and flooded with tears. 

“Well, you could just kill yourself and be done with it all.” 

Her breath stopped in her throat. “W-what?” 

Chuck crouched down, leaning close. “Just one little bullet and this could all be over. You could be free.” 

“No.” She shivered violently as his words soaked into her bones. “No. No!” 

Chuck shrugged and set his hand on her shoulder, pushing her down flat onto her back. 

“Just a suggestion…” 

He caught her left wrist and shoved it down at her side, locking it into the velcro cuff that appeared. 

“No. Please! Help me!” Y/N struggled, kicking her arms and legs as the floor beneath her softened. Crisp white sheets emerged from the tiles, a flat pillow bloomed under her head. Stainless steel bars walled her in and Chuck grabbed her right hand, forcing it down into another cuff. 

The Bunker’s lights shone impossibly bright and the world around her flickered, morphing into the stark sterility of a hospital room. The off white paint flooded upward from floor to ceiling, taking over the dark walls and the fading echo of her screams became the tight, steady beep of machines. 

She raged against Chuck’s impossible grip but it was no use. 

“Don’t do this to me, please!” 

He sighed, blue eyes narrowing on her face. 

“It’s for your own good, Y/N…” 

“No!” 

He moved down to secure her ankles and Dean appeared by the foot of the bed. He was whole and alive but looked too different. His clothes were wrong, his hair too long, his cheeks hidden by a thick beard. He looked down with a pathetic frown and sighed. 

“It’s for your own good, Y/N.” 

His voice was different, higher and softer, lacking the gruff rasp that she knew and loved. 

Fear rumbled through her and she kicked at Chuck, twisting and tearing at the cuffs. The fabric bit into her skin and blood oozed down her arms. 

Tears rushed down Dean’s face and he stepped back, fading into the background. 

Y/N watched him vanish and panicked, feeling the emptiness and rejection deep in her soul. “Dean!” 

The blood flowed faster, soaking into the clean white sheets and Y/N’s head lolled to the side. Dizzy and lost, she thrashed on the bed, unable to break free. 

A whoosh of cool air struck her cheeks and Y/N looked up to see Castiel by her side. His forehead was creased with concern, blue eyes bright but pained. 

“Cas,” she gasped, struggling to catch her breath. “Help me…” 

Two fingers pressed against her temple and the horrors vanished as Y/N fell into blessed darkness. 

Dean cradled her unconscious form, hugging her to him and rocking gently on the floor. He turned to Cas and tried whisper a faint thank you, but speaking clearly was too hard. He was breaking with her, losing his love as she lost her mind. 

“What are we gonna do?” he asked, voice crackling around his tears. 

Castiel frowned and stood up. “She’ll sleep for a while,” he said with a sigh. 

Dean swallowed hard. “And then?” 

The angel had no answer and Dean dropped his head, pressing his lips to her forehead. 

“I got you,” he whispered, hugging her tighter. “Always.” 

2023 Forever Tags (Always Open! Send an Ask!)

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Series Tag: @globetrotter28 @iamtrash-withrespect @deans-baby-momma

[nowitswetme]

Wet for Dean

Word Count: ~675

Warnings: lots of Dean’s dirty talk, brief mentions of oral and p-in-v sex and squirting, slight dom!Dean, orgasm denial if you squint really hard, and Dean’s very real kink for giving you endless intense pleasure

A/n: part of the Dean Winchester NSFW Alphabet

Dean loves to spend hours playing with you. Like, actually hours.

Coaxing your clit to get sensitive and swollen in the best way and soaking your pussy, your panties, and whatever else happens to be underneath you. He gets a massive high from making you so incredibly needy – from the fact that you’re so distractingly wet that you can’t even think straight. Making you achy and horny and deliciously desperate is his favorite drug, and he’s addicted. Hell yeah, I am. Makes my cock so fuckin’ steely to have you drippin’ with need for me, Sweetness. And sure, he knows enough about women to know that wetness isn’t always a measure of how turned on you are, but it’s generally not unrelated either. So any opportunity he gets to make you crazy-fucking-wet is time well spent. Absolutely. Pretty sure I could spend forever makin’ you ache for me and not be any kind of sorry about it, y/n.

His favorite way to turn you to a slick, spiraling mess is when you’re snuggled up together with hours of time to kill and nothing to do but just be with each other. On the couch in the Dean cave or the bed in his room, bingeing your way through a marathon of something you’ve both seen before. Just laying with his arm draped over you, tracing his fingers around the lips of your pussy with gentle, teasing touches until you’re on fire with aching need. Or swirling infuriatingly slow, lazy circles on your clit with the pad of his finger while he trails his mouth along your neck in dizzying kisses and forces you to try to focus on the screen. Concentrate, Sweetness. This part’s good, ya know. I’d hate for you miss it just because you can’t keep your thoughts off your sweet, soaked, puffy little pussy. Sometimes he’s merciless when he’s teasing you like that, but it’s the most fabulous form of torture you can possibly imagine. He just needs to make you achingly wet. Until the only thing you can possibly think about is how much you want him to turn off the damn TV and make you cum so many times that you pass out. Fuck yes. You’re intoxicating like that, y/n – soaked and gone and fuckin’ begging for me. Makes me wanna chain you to my bed and never let you leave. In all honesty, he thinks there’s not much hotter than you with your ass propped in the air and your pussy literally dripping down onto his sheets. A gorgeous, delectable display laid out all for him. Mmmm. Gonna lick you clean, y/n. Fuuuck. And then I’m gonna make you a filthy mess again around my cock, yeah? Want you to be a good girl and soak us both in your pleasure, Sweetness. But he also loves when he’s bucking deep up into you while you’re riding him or he’s fucking you against the wall and he can feel your juices dripping down around his dick. It’s so utterly filthy and so beautiful, all at once. Your pleasure is his drug. Some people would probably call it being full of himself to get off on being so incredibly good at giving you indescribable highs, but it’s not. It’s not about him. It’s about how mind-blowingly amazing he’s making you feel. And how damn lucky he feels that he’s somehow the one who gets to do that to you. Fuck. Feelin’ good, y/n? Yeah, you are. Fuckin’ soakin’ us both. Shit. Can you hear yourself? Hear your pussy beggin’? You’re so fuckin’ wet. Gonna squirt for me tonight, Sweetness? That’s it. C’mon, give it to me. And when you do, it’s a total rush for him – that you’re feeling so insanely, intensely, can’t-believe-it’s-that-good because of him. Can’t really blame me, Sweetness. When your body’s practically droolin’ at both ends from pure bliss ‘cause I’m makin’ it feel so fuckin’ good, it’s bound to make me a little cocky. Works out just fine for you though, I think. You complainin’, y/n? No. No, you’re not.

[bagsley]

my top ten favorite wincest fics of all time... completely unsurprising that over half of them are candle beck!

Last Day on Earth by candle_beck

PODFIC

Sam has one day to live. You can imagine how Dean feels. (Probably my favorite wincest fic of all time. Dean’s frantic heart-stopping terror over Sam is just the most familiar version of him, you know?? It feels so true.)

Dean turns on his brother, fists Sam's collar and hugs him very hard. His face feels hot and slippery against Sam's neck, and Dean doesn't care, thinks clearly: fuck it. Fuck it, as Sam hugs him back just as fierce, fuck the highway and the night sky and the scripture being read in the background, the heavens and the earth and the light, the cattle and the creeping thing and anything else you can name. Every matchstick, every initialed square of sidewalk, every abandoned heart--fuck it all.

Ascalon by candle_beck

PODFIC

There are dragons in the world. (Breathlessly beautiful. Fantastic use of second person pov.)

You've always loved your brother and you've always been fucked up on one level or another, and somewhere along the line it got all screwed up in your head, all your history rewritten.

You love Dean because you're fucked up. You're fucked up because you love Dean. Being fucked up and loving Dean are the same thing.

Until at last, inevitably: the manner in which you love Dean is fucked up.

You should have seen that coming.

But he makes you so stupid.

American Myth by candle_beck

PODFIC

As long as you have a car, you are free, and other lies my country taught me. (Sam and Dean lose home, but only for about five hours.)

“Well, what the hell am I supposed to do about it?” Dean asks, a lace of impatience through his voice. “Apparently I bug you just by existing, so really, Sam, what do you want?”

That blows through Sam like a hurricane, blasting out the corpses and debris, the black curse shadowing his life, the twenty-odd years of vigilante violence and brotherhood, stripping him down to the elemental, and he looks at Dean feeling crystallized, thinking in astonishment, you.

Flying Weight by fleshflutter

Recently soulful Sam, vampire Dean. Sam feels in constant bitter competition with the ghost of his soulless self. (Whew.)

There's a moment he remembers very clearly, one of the last he does remember: He's in the graveyard at Stull, and his arm is drawn back, fist clenched with the force of mountains, and the sun catches his eye, and just for a heartbeat, Lucifer is blind, can't see a damned or blessed thing. That's when Sam sees Dean.

That's the moment Sam hangs his humanity on.

Welcome to Fog City by candle_beck

PODFIC

Sam's one blind spot is big enough to drive a truck through.

It was also mortifying, paralyzing at times, but Dean wasn't even horrified so much as familiarly resigned. Already he'd grown up as a refugee with demons trying to kill his whole family, and now he was irrevocably attracted to his kid brother too. Clearly Dean Winchester's life was a spectacular cosmic joke, a series of rugs to be pulled out from under him, and luckily his sense of humor was dark enough that he could at least appreciate the absurdity of the whole thing. This was just one more ridiculous cross that God had given him to bear.

So Dean went on through the highway world. Radio stations delighted in informing him that the hits would keep right on coming, and Dean didn't know what to expect next. Leprosy, maybe. A plague of locusts. The violent loss of one of his hands.

Instead, Sam left, ran away to California one lovely day in the late summer. It was not the worst thing that could have happened, but it was certainly in the top five. The weight of that particular cross had nearly smashed Dean into the earth.

Second Map of the World by candle_beck

They're on a lucky streak, and then Sam does something ill-considered, and the plot thickens.

Dean drove out of Topeka as if trying to outrun the shock wave of a nuclear explosion. Ninety, a hundred, a hundred and ten miles an hour, blowing past strings of red taillights, huge rattling trucks like dinosaurs with loose bones. Dean had the tape turned up loud enough that the speakers fuzzed. His hands were locked on the wheel.

The Firefly that Loved Metallica by fleshflutter

Dean's soul in a bottle.

[Sam] faces down demons and drives a four-day old corpse across the country on a hope so thin it wouldn't stand up to a light rain.

Waiting Games by Nutkin

Sam's having sex visions.

Dean's dug into himself deeply, become this tricky maze of raised hackles and sensitive spots that he's starkly open about. So open about, in fact, that it's like they've been worn into calluses, like they aren't even vulnerabilities anymore. He can bark out at Sam that he's the most important thing in his life, and it doesn't sound like he's admitting something private - it's just the same way he'd say, Give Satan my best, before ending a spirit. He picks and chooses the things he's embarrassed by, the things he lets become issues, and the way he feels about Sam isn't one of them. It's not a bruise that can be pushed on - maybe it was, once, but in the time Sam was off going to keggers and building a fort of textbooks and love letters, Dean just cemented it into one of the things that drives him.

Be Awake by candle_beck

Dean has a concussion.

"I'm sorry," Sam said as he sat Dean down on the bed, stepped back. He had a hard flush on his face, a downcast shadow in his eyes. "Shouldn't have gotten mad, I, I shouldn't have left you out there."

Dean shook his head, smiling dazedly at him. Sam's edges were blurred and his hair looked funny, fuzzing out like a halo, but the lines of his face stayed sharp, Dean's last remaining constant. He couldn't remember what Sam was talking about, but he said:

"It's okay, Sammy,"

because it was, and Sam would see that, Sam was smart. Dean wanted to get that serious look off his brother's face, win a smile from him no matter how far south the night had gone, but the fog was building in his mind again, rolling down hills to obscure his cities, ground his airplanes, wreck his ships.

Dean held his wavering head steady, fixed his eyes on Sam's face with the last of his focus. He managed to say, "Exit light," and then pitched backwards on the bed.

Gone Again by candle_beck

Harrowing and suffocatingly, inevitably heartbreaking. They never stood a chance.

The dream is different this time.

This time they’re in a motel room and the walls are on fire. It’s Sam’s fault; every time he touches something it goes up in flames.

Dean can hear his hair crackling and he jerks his head, watching the sparks fly. Sam’s close enough that Dean can see the firework reflection in his eyes. He flattens his hand next to Dean’s head and an outline of fire flares around his fingers.

“You gotta stop,” Dean says, barely able to breathe. These motel rooms are as flimsy as cardboard; if one part burns the whole thing will go.

And Sam’s laughing and shaking his head, licking at Dean’s throat and it’s hotter than fire could ever hope to be.

“I was made for this,” Sam tells him. “So were you.”

Dean’s eyes are raw and torn and wet but it might be blood. His shirt is smoldering and growing holes like black-edged tumors that Sam follows with his fingers, smearing soot on the bare skin of Dean’s stomach. Stuff that won’t wash away, like the blisters Sam’s mouth is leaving on Dean, the mad incendiary glee in his eyes.

[chocolateheart]

Twenty Minutes

Title: Twenty Minutes

Word count: 3088

Pairing: Professor!Dean x Reader

Summary: Online school sucks but your professor is worth the torture. 

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it kiddos), oral sex (male receiving), office sex, desk sex, sex from behind, biting, hair pulling, a hint of choking, professor Dean Winchester (yes, it’s a warning), student-professor romance and so on.

A/N: This one was inspired by “Pay Attention” written by my dear, lovely friend @winchest09 who also happened to be my beta once again and one of the best people I know. Thank you honey! <3

A/N:  @talesmaniac89 once again, thank you for those amazing dividers! <3 Guys, go check her stuff, she’s a talented devil! 

Lockdown sucked. Since the very beginning you knew it'd be a pain in the ass. Stay away from people, sit at home, wear a mask. Dammit. So many plans went to hell; your photography classes, your friends birthday party, visiting your parents in your family town. You knew it was safer like that but hell, you hated it. Your own apartment seemed to be getting smaller and even the flower on your window sill became annoying. Not to mention your online classes; sure, you didn’t have to get ready and drive almost half an hour to get to the Uni but sitting in front of your laptop had started to get on your nerves. 

Your eyes were heavy and red after hours of looking at the screen, your body yelled to be stretched and you wanted to scream every time your internet lost connection. Headache became your best friend, so did coffee. You were pretty sure your addiction just deepened and instead of blood, there was caffeine in your veins.

You yawned and rubbed your eyes as you were sitting in on the first period of your last classes. The whole day on the same chair, you were sure you used every possible sitting position to try and remain comfortable. Glancing at the clock you growled; it’s been almost 10 hours. 

How long can one day be? 

Thankfully this subject was one of your favorites. And it wasn't because of the handsome man in white shirt who helped in enjoying the last two hours of this nightmare; at least that's what you've been telling yourself. 

You like the subject, Y/N.

You smirked seeing how he brushed his longer than always hair with those beautiful hands; forearms exposed and tempting because of the sleeves being rolled up. His stubble was more visible due to quarantine and he just simply got hotter; you honestly thought it wasn’t possible. But there he was, behind his desk in a soft light; black watch on his wrist as usual, ring on one of those long fingers. Knuckles, little bones and veins, all making you lick your lips. This sharp jawline you dreamed to kiss, eyes so green that you could drown in them even through the screen. Arms hidden under the shirt that gave him a more casual, domestic look which made him even more attractive. You bit your lip seeing a gorgeous smile spreading on his face as one of his students said something funny. 

Those teeth; incredibly white and sharp… the way they could sink in your flesh, leaving marks all over your body as his hands travelled up and down, raising up your temperature.

The things you could do with this man… The thought itself was bad but you couldn’t stop daydreaming about your professor. He was too tempting, too beautiful to hold back your imagination. You didn’t remember most of what he said during any classes, too mesmerised by him and even though his deep, smooth voice was so listenable, you weren’t able to focus. You caught yourself staring at him or closing eyes just to feel those vibrations running over your skin. 

You missed sitting in class on his lectures. There was a reason why you chose the first row and it obviously wasn’t your ambition to learn more. 

“Okay guys,” Dean started when you stretched. “I think we can take a break now. In the next meeting we’ll finish this Unit and I’ll let you free earlier. Um… so let’s make it twenty minutes and I will send you an invitation. Just don’t drink yet, I know it’s friday evening but I want you all sober just a little bit longer,” he joked and you smiled seeing few people laughing on muted. 

Then he simply said “see you” and ended the meeting. You stretched again, taking a deep breath and stood up. Before leaving your room you opened the window to let in some fresh, evening air and then went to the kitchen. Filling cups with some sugar and tea bags, you waited for water to be boiled. 

Leaning against the counter, you focused on the wall in front of you. The pictures hanging there were way too old and there were some stains marking the paper. This lockdown made you crazy; you already painted your bedroom and the office, and you made some renovation in the bathroom. All in all, you spent more money without walking out of home. Ridiculous. 

You jumped a little, detached from your thoughts by the whistling kettle and soon your tea was ready. Humming some random melody, you turned off the light with your elbow and headed towards the office room. Using your elbow again you opened the door and smiled.

"Hey there, professor," you put one cup down on the desk. "How's your class going?" 

He turned around on his chair and flashed you this charming smile. You were smiling at yourself from his laptop wallpaper; he took this photo almost a half year ago in his apartment, just two flats above your head. You still could feel the softness of his white sheets you had been tangled in on this picture.  

"All fine," he took a small sip and frowned. "Just… one of my students seems to be off today." 

"Oh, really? How?" You asked, leaning against a desk. He played with the cup, shrugging, visibly holding back a smile.

"She stares blankly, lost in her thoughts. She's not answering any questions willingly, she seems to be away." He acted like he was talking about some random girl. 

You felt his knuckles briefly touching your naked thigh; it was way too warm indoors to wear something else than shorts. The delicate movement tickled you and your legs jerked uncontrollably. You looked at him, deep in the eyes and suddenly the air thickened. The tension between you two shot up; his intense gaze pierced into you like a sword, forest green eyes making your breath lose its track. 

"Hmm, maybe it's your fault," you managed to suggest, putting down your cup. His eyebrows raised along with mouth corners.

"My fault?" 

Now both his hands gripped your legs and sharply pulled you closer to him. You sifted his fluffy hair between your fingers and scratched the back of his head. He hummed in response closing his eyes as his palms sneaked under your shirt, making you shiver a little.

"You can be very distracting, Mr. Winchester," you purred standing between his legs. 

Dean was looking up at you with sparks in his eyes and dimples caused by a pert smirk. Your shirt suddenly lifted up, exposing your stomach that he gladly kissed. Slowly and wet, using his tongue first, squeezing your hips at the same time. Hot, soft lips pressed to your skin, slightly sucking, heated breath fanning over your flesh, causing the ocean of goosebumps. You felt your insides tremble at the feeling. Closing your eyes you let yourself enjoy him; his strong hands now caressing your back, mouth placing open kisses across your belly and going up.

He knew how to build you up, how to turn you on. You swallowed hard and gasped when he licked your nipples; you didn’t bother to wear a bra at home. He smiled against you and backed away; you immediately looked down and kissed him. Deep and hard, cupping his cheeks, pushing on him so he leaned back on the chair as you straddled his lap. His grip tightening on your sides, fingers dipped in your flesh. 

"How much time did you give your students?" You jokingly asked when his lips dropped to your neck.

"Twenty minutes," he answered and stopped, looking in your eyes again. "How much did you get?" you smiled and kissed him once.

"Twenty minutes," you whispered as you played with his ear. 

"I like your professor," he whispered back, staring at your lips from under the hooded eyes.

"I like him too… A lot."

Smiling at your words Dean stood up, then dipped down just to catch you under your ass and lift you up. After sitting you down on the desk, he took away the cups and placed them on the floor; for safety.

Spreading your legs you allowed him to stand between them. Brushing your hair away he cupped your cheek and kissed you deeply, squeezing your thigh with his second hand. You didn't waste any time and kissing him back, you started to unbutton his shirt. When the material fell loosely, you caressed his strong stomach, feeling muscles rippling under your touch as he inhaled sharply. He sucked on your lower lip in response, then switched to your jawline, neck and collarbones; forcing you to close your eyes at the pleasurable feeling. When he reached this one, specific spot between your jaw and ear, a trembling gasp escaped you and your head fell back, revealing even more neck which he attacked immediately. 

"Dean," you breathed out heavily, glancing at the clock. "You have to speed up." You noticed how his eyes fired up in a second. "Do your magic baby, or I'll have to help you finish in front of my friends." You flashed him a devilish smile as he wiggled his brows on you.

"Would be interesting, we have to try it one day." He winked at you and helped you stand up so he could take down your shorts and panties. 

Then you dropped to your knees, taking down his pants in one move, freeing his cock. He moaned deep in his throat when, without waiting, you sucked on the tip. Looking up you saw his exposed neck as his head was tilted back. You licked the sensitive spot under the tip and smiled when Dean shivered and his body swayed a little. Taking him almost whole at once, you scraped his stomach; he instinctively gripped the back of your head which only made you growl. You bobbed your head a few times, hollowing your cheeks, tasting his flavor. Nipping on the apex every so often, dragged sexy noises from Dean what only made you weaker. You loved every tiny sound he made, you could listen to it all the time; that's why you enjoyed going down on this man so much. He was not holding back at all and it was such a turn on. You were easily losing control; wouldn't be the first time he finished like that because you couldn’t stop.

"Not today, sweetheart," not being able to take it anymore, he pulled you up, turned you around and with your front pinned to the desk you heard a low growl next to your ear.

"You have no idea how hard it is to focus while having you on the screen, knowing that you're next door, so close to me." 

Strong chest against your back, pressing down your body; you could feel his heart racing.

"Vice versa, professor," you panted, feeling the weight of his cock resting on your lower back. 

He fisted your hair, scraping your head and slightly lifted himself from you, kissing your shoulder blades and spine. You inhaled loudly, suddenly feeling his fingers on your clit, making small, sharp circles; drawing quiet whines from you. When his index slid inside, your body jumped in surprise. Dean chuckled low and sucked on the crook of your neck from behind; you couldn't help but smile, already drugged on him. And Dean Winchester was a high quality drug.

The last hour had been a torture. You knew he kept making moves that were waking up the corbes in your brain. Licking his lips, smiling straight to the camera, playing with his hair, "casually" flexing his body; this bastard knew exactly what he was doing. 

Placing his palm on your lower back, Dean made sure you were trapped and a moan flooded out  when he entered your pussy. Inch by inch he was going inside, stretching you in the most pleasurable way. You both moaned when he bottomed out, his fingers tightened even more on your skull. Your eyes rolled back with his first hard thrust; you clawed the edge of a desk. He pulled slightly on your hair and grabbed your shoulder, then started thrusting firmly, causing you to greet your teeth from the intensity. Every move, every push and pull, every squeeze and kiss was so delicious. Dean’s hot, fast breathing tickled the skin on your back, creating waves of chills that shook your body. 

Dean started slamming his hips stronger, hitting your sweet spot, making your head spin. None of you were quiet anymore; the mix of your voices, moans and skin slapping on skin, filled the room. His hands appeared on your ass and he squeezed it; you expected to see red marks from his nails later. Dean's muscles were flexing with every move, his face grimacing from blissful sensation. 

Even after almost a year, his game was a mystery to you; you had no idea what he was doing but the way he was moving was just different, making you feel some spiritual stuff you couldn't explain. Dean Winchester was the only guy who could make you feel like you weren't yourself; he was the only one you were completely losing control with. And with every bite you wanted more.

“Ah, Y/N,” he breathed out when you arched, giving him even better access, changing the angle a little bit.

“Five minutes, Dean,” you said almost out of voice, checking the time. “Faster.” 

He growled and fastened; slamming into you with more speed, pulling you to him with every push. He was close, you could sense that by his more and more erratic movements. He couldn’t decide where to hold you, where to touch; hazed by the pleasure and the smell of sex filling the air. His voice got higher and every moan was a slightly higher pitch.

“Come on baby, let go,” you encouraged him, reaching behind you to claw his side. 

“Fuck,” he cursed under his breath and scraped your back, leaving red lines on your body. 

Then he bent over and his sharp teeth sinked in your arm at the same time his fingers found your clit, rubbing fast. You choked on your voice that got stuck in your throat; it was too much. He was filling you completely, scrapping every spot inside and outside that you needed. Warmth radiating from every inch of his powerful figure heated the air. Sweat broke across your bodies; a lonely drop rolled alongside his spine, strands of hair stuck to your forehead. 

You managed to lift yourself up almost to a standing position; Dean palmed your throat, slightly squeezing it and kept working on you with his second hand. You started twisting, your knees sagging, eager for the relief you felt coming.  

“Y/N, baby,” he licked your earlobe. “Please come with me, I need you to come, please,” he literally begged, craving for mutual finish.

“Oh my… Dean,” you warned him feeling the knot in your lower abdomen tightening unbearably. “Dean!” fiercely gripping the back of his head you leaned back on him as he kept pounding into you. 

“Oh, fuck,” he stammered and thrusted forcefully two more times, then you felt his teeth sinking into your neck one more time, leaving yet another mark. 

“Oh, yes!” 

All of your muscles tightened to the max and then let go. Your pussy started pulsating along with his throbbing cock; it was like your bodies didn’t need any information from your brains, they knew exactly what and when should happen, they were connected. 

Dean coated your walls with a hot cum; hugging you tightly, panting against your nape. You were shaking, your heart racing; breathing was problematic and if Dean didn’t hold you, you would surely hit the floor. Your nails left half-mooned marks on his forearms, so did his teeth on your neck. 

You usually were slow - all touching, feeling every little inch of each other, moving smoothly but deeply, steady rhythm, building the other to the breaking point, to the edge. So when you needed to go quick, you would get crazy and high kind of easily. 

“Shit, sweetheart,” Dean took a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself down.

You rested your hands on his desk, chugging, unable to stand on your shaking legs without any support. The blood in your veins was still boiling, rushing in your ears pumped by your hammering heart. Hissing, Dean slipped out of you and his seed dripped down on the floor. He showered your back with small kisses, caressing your sides and arms. You purred and turned around, softly pressing your lips to his.

“We have two minutes, baby,” you said and laughed when he moaned unsatisfied. 

“This hour will be torture.” You both rushed to put your clothes on. 

“I know, but then we will order pizza and watch some horror movie.” Smiling at him you opened the window and smoothed your clothes; he quickly cleaned the floor. 

Standing in front of him again, you adjusted his hair and pecked him a kiss, thinking that people from your class will surely notice his blush and glassy eyes. 

He looked at you with adoration and gentleness, his orbs shimmering. You knew this look; he gave you it when you first bumped into each other on your staircase, unaware that you were living in the same building. You were already crushing on your professor back then, so the fact that you were about to see him way more often than just in class made your stomach clench. That’s how it started. Later he offered you his help in some housework and studying, you became his healthy food service and after realising you couldn’t stay away from each other you opened the whiskey and let fate do its job.

You both had the feeling like you had known each other for years and you understood the other, not to mention how honest the two of you were, you still couldn’t fully believe that you were the one his heart had chosen.

“I love you,” he spoke almost like he could read your mind. 

Your face lit up with a smile but the moment he bent down to capture your lips in yet another kiss this evening, you avoided it, biting your lip to shoo away a wide smile that wanted to break free and turned around heading to the door.

“See you in class, professor,” you said over your shoulder and smiled hearing his low chuckle.

A/N: Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it :) Feel free to leave some feedback, don’t be afraid to message me. Every word from you is gold <3

Tags: @deanwanddamons @jay-and-dean @katehuntington @winchest09 @talesmaniac89 @roonyxx @bunkerconfessions @akshi8278 @snffbeebee @lady-pswrld @rvgrsbrns​

If you want to be on my tag list, shoot me in asks or DM’s! :) 

[smol-and-grumpy]

EUPHORIA - Chapter 5

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: He’s Dean Winchester, owner of a shady night club. She’s a journalist who has been asked to write an article to expose the indecency and debauchery that’s going on behind closed doors. But he’s also Dean Winchester, the boy who sat next to her in class. The boy who was too cocky for his own good.

Chapter Warning: Flangst. Feelings. Yeah, definitely feelings.

WC: 2822

A/N: Please share your thoughts with me, I’d love to hear your feedback.

Beta’d by @deanwanddamons​​​​​​ <3

Series Masterlist ~ SPN Masterlist

Become a Patron ~ Buy me a coffee

Dean paces around in his office. 

He’s restless and fucking agitated, muttering curses under his breath. Dean has had an awful sleep, if he has had any sleep at all, he doesn't really know. He remembered going to bed and then it was morning and there was still no fucking message. It’s like he’s in his teens or early twenties again, only that it was the other way around back then. He was the one who ghosted all those girls and he can’t lie, it’s a fucking awful feeling. Dean would go back and right his wrongs if he could. He’d be frank with them from the start instead of giving them hope. 

Karma has its own fucking way, apparently.

They should have met yesterday. She should have come around. He waited way too long and was grumpy all fucking night about it. Was grumpy because she didn’t send him a text to tell him that she can’t make it. Which, in hindsight, he thinks was so unlike her, but what does he know? Maybe she changed after all. Maybe she likes fucking with his head. He didn’t want to be like, all over her, so he didn’t call or text either.

Now, it’s close to opening time to a new day, and she still hasn’t contacted him. What’s the fucking etiquette about texting or calling someone? He doesn’t know, and it’s driving him fucking nuts!

He sits himself onto the couch in his office and rubs a hand over his face when his phone vibrates in his pockets. Dean takes it out, looks at the caller ID, hoping that it was her but he doesn't recognize the number. Maybe it’s her? Maybe she lost her phone and has a new number? But if she lost her phone she would have lost his number too, wouldn’t she? He doesn’t know, alright? Dean groans out of frustration before sliding his thumb over the screen to pick up.

“Hello?”

“Yes, hello. Is that Dean Winchester?” It’s a male voice.

“Who’s asking?” He hopes it’s not a fucking marketing call because Dean has zero patience for that and he would give the guy hell.

“This is Rufus Turner, I’m Y/N’s supervisor. I believe she’s been to your club and she reported in three nights ago, but we haven't heard anything from her since and she hasn’t picked up the phone when we have called. It goes straight to voicemail. It’s a long shot to be asking you this, but maybe you’ve heard from her? You were supposed to meet again yesterday, no?” Mr Turner pauses before he adds, “Look, I wouldn't normally do this, but she told me after the first meeting that she knew you from high school and that she was excited to meet you again, so I thought it would be okay to contact you. I’m sorry if I’m out of line.”

She’s really a good girl, isn’t she? Dean should have known that her boss would be aware of their meetings. She had always been a teacher’s pet back in high school.

But now they say that they haven’t heard from her and he hadn’t either. What if something had happened? He doesn’t even want to think about it as it makes his head spin. All of a sudden, Dean’s heart sinks to his balls. 

He clears his throat, “Don’t worry about it, alright? I haven’t heard from her either. She was supposed to show up yesterday, but she didn’t. Have you tried her apartment?”

“I have sent someone around but nobody answered.”

“Right. You mind giving me the address? I’ll follow up on it if that’s okay?”

“Sure,” Mr. Turner said. Dean couldn’t hang up fast enough after he had been given her address. 

Dean floors the Impala, abandoning his work for the night. 

*

She doesn’t live in the safest part of the city but she’s probably used to it. Dean is, too. They grew up not too far from each other after all. The difference between him and her, though, is that he could leave his life behind while she is still stuck here. And that doesn’t really sit right with him. He hoped that she would have gotten out as well. Hoped that she had gone on to be a best selling novelist or a successful journalist. He knew that it was her dream and honestly, if someone deserved to get out, it was her. More so than him. She always worked so hard while he just floated through the shitty educational system.

He takes the stairs, three steps at once. The staircase smells like fucking piss and he has to hold his breath.

When he arrives in front of her door, he needs a moment to compose himself before he knocks. When nobody answers, he tries again, louder this time, and lays his ear to the door. He could swear that he heard something shuffling inside. 

Dean quickly abandons the door and runs down the flight of stairs, almost stumbling out of the building. He runs to the back alley and climbs up the fire escape. It’s not like anyone even cares about him doing it around here. When he’s level with her apartment, he peaks in. The apartment is pitch black and he closes his eyes, willing them to adjust to the darkness quicker to be able to see fucking something. 

Opening them again, he takes another look inside, and he thinks he feels his heart taking a leap. She’s in there, in her bed, blanket pulled up to her chin. She’s obviously asleep but he needs to wake her up anyway because he needs to make sure that she’s o-fucking-kay. 

He knocks at the window and waits.

Knocks again when she still didn’t move. 

Dean tries a third time, and he swears if she doesn’t fucking open her eyes right now, he’s going to break in. 

He exhales when he sees that he doesn’t have to go all Chuck Norris on the window, because he can see her slowly opening up her eyes. He knocks some more to get her attention, “Sweetheart, here, look at me!”

He can see her lazy eyes, can see the sticky hair when she turns her attention to him.

“Can you open up for me? I promise you can go straight back to bed.”

She nods, her eyes empty. But she gets out of bed, walks over to turn at the window knob. She doesn’t wait for him to open it up before she returns into the comfortable cocoon that she’d made.

Dean tries to squeeze his big form through the window, damn near dislocated his fucking shoulder while doing it, but he couldn’t care, his full attention is on her. 

The air is thick inside and Dean decides to leave the window open. 

He quickly walks around her bed to be by her side. He sits down and she curls herself up on her side, facing him.

Dean places his hand to her forehead and quickly withdraws out of shock, before doing it again, “Jesus, you’re burning up,”

“‘M cold,” She mumbles.

“Did you eat anything? Did you drink enough water?” 

Her head lolls around. She’s trying to shake her head, he realizes, “‘M not hungry,”

Dean strokes her hair, leaving his hand on the side of her face. Her heat is almost unbearable, “I know you aren't, come on, gotta get something in your belly, alright?”

“Mmh-huh,”

“Right, I’ll be right back, okay?” He says and gets up from the bed.

“‘K,” 

He walks into her living room, and goes straight for the fridge of the small kitchenette. He finds nothing edible in there but a bottle of water. This is just great. Who knows how long she’s been in this state?

Fishing out the phone from his pants, Dean calls her supervisor. Mr. Turner picks up at the third ring.

“Yeah, Mr. Turner. I found her in her apartment. She runs a high fever. Say, uh, is there anyone I can contact who could come take care of her?”

“I’m afraid not,” Mr. Turner sighs, “I know that her mother is dead and I don’t recall her talking about any relatives,”

Yeah, Dean should have known, “Alright, thanks. I’ll take care of her. I’ll get her to contact you once she’s better,” 

They said their goodbyes and Dean takes a look around. Her phone’s still in the living room, but the battery is dead. Picking it up, he brings it with him when he walks back into her bedroom. He unscrews the bottle and lets her take a sip, propping her up so she can swallow better. 

“I’m taking you to mine, okay? I have plenty of food and water,”

It seems like the most logical thing. That way he can make sure that she’s alright and he can still be close should someone need him at the club. It’s the only thing he can come up with, really.

“‘K,” Her eyes are closing again. 

Dean stands up to close the window before he picks her up and walks her towards the front door. Her body shivers and she tries to bury herself deeper into him.

“‘S cold,”

“I know, sweetheart,” He whispers and picks up a key that’s hanging next to the apartment door. He tries to see if it fits and thankfully it does.

He closes the door and locks it before slipping the key into his pants pocket as well. 

Inside his car, he props her comfortably against the door and drives back to his apartment with a passed out Y/N. 

Dean gnaws on his bottom lip on the drive back, thinks it’s maybe fate that brought him to her. She does not have anyone else who she can turn to, and maybe it’s weird that he thinks that, but he’s actually kind of glad about it.

She’s still out of it when they arrive and Dean takes the back door and gets into the elevator to ride up to his loft.

There, he goes straight for his bed, strips the sheets from the duvets and covers her up with only the thin sheets. She’s still shivering but she’s going to get better. It’s not the first time he’s taken care of a sick person. He took care of Sammy more times than he can remember.

He leaves to call down for Cas, his club manager, to let him know that he won’t be in tonight, and plugs her phone into the charger. He is glad that they have the same phone. He also draws a bath, a little hotter than usual, because he will need time to feed her and the water will have time to go tepid. 

Dean changes into something comfortable and cooks up a soup he knows will help. When he finishes, he places all the things he needs onto a tray and carries it over to her.

Sitting down, he touches her forehead. She’s still burning up.

“Hey, Y/N,” He pulls her up into a sitting position.

“Hmm?”

“Open your eyes, come on, sweetheart, you gotta drink,” He places a straw to her mouth and watches her open up her eyes. Her lids probably feel heavy as hell because she’s fighting to keep them open. 

She takes sips of the water. At least there’s that. Dean tries the soup next. He has already mixed it with cold water so it won’t burn her tongue. The goal is to get something into her that has anti-inflammatory effects. 

He watches her suck at the straw and her eyes are half closed again. She swallows loudly and Dean grins for the first time this evening, “Good girl, that’s good, sweetheart,”

Her eyes are almost closing but the glass of soup is empty and she’s already shifting around in bed, trying to make herself comfortable. Dean has to pull her right up, “We gotta get you in a bath, Y/N.”

She frowns and pouts. He thinks it’s so cute it’s not really fair, “Why?” She whines a little.

“Gotta get you to cool down, baby—” Dean pauses. The word slipped out without thinking and he stared at her but she’s kind of out of it again already, so phew!

He scoops her up, carries her to the bathroom. Once in there, he strips her off her shirt. She’s not wearing a bra so her tits are bare to him but he tries to be good and not stare at them too long. Next, he rids her off her pj pants and pulls her panties down with them. He forgot to take some of her clothes with him and made a mental note to text Cas to get Claire to go buy some clothes for Y/N.

When he has her naked, he tries not to groan out loud, tries to keep his mouth shut and his dick in check because it’s already half hard. Dean places her into the tepid bath water and she whines, “‘S cold,” 

Dean kneels down next to the tub, braces his forearms on the ledge and rests his chin on it, “I know, just a little, okay? We gotta cool you down,”

She pouts with half closed eyelids. Dean thinks that he probably can’t leave her alone for too long because he’d hate if she would fall asleep and drown. So he just goes out quickly to grab his phone. He’s right by her side in a heartbeat and sits down to text Cas that he needs to send Claire out for a clothes run right now while the stores are still open. 

After the bath, he wraps her up in a towel to dry her off, sitting her down to brush her teeth with a new toothbrush he broke off a pack. He forgot a shirt so he runs out, comes in with a simple white t-shirt. He takes the toothbrush out of her mouth to rinse it, puts it back into the holder where his toothbrush already is and pulls the shirt over her head, helping her with her arms. He’s fucking hard by now, even if he tries not to look at her but she’s in his fucking shirt and she doesn’t wear panties. How is his dick supposed to be acting?

Dean carries her back to bed and she buries her face into the crook of his neck. It’s still hot, but it’s much better already. At least there’s that. 

“Dean, ‘m cold,” She mumbles into his skin and it makes all the hairs on his body stand up because it’s the first time that she calls him by name tonight. It makes him happy that she knows it’s him. 

“I know, sweetheart, I’ll get you to bed, okay?” 

“Mmh-hhm,”

She clings on to him and he has to pry her arms from around his neck. He covers her with the sheet, “I’ll be in the living room, you need to rest, Y/N,”

Her eyes are already closed, “Stay?”

Dean lets out a huff of air, his lips curve up into a smirk, “Okay,” He walks around and climbs in with her and she turns herself, curls up against his body in search of more warmth.

 *

 About an hour later, Cas knocks at his door and Dean drags himself up and returns with a bag full of clothes. He isn’t sure if they’ll fit nor is he sure if Claire was the right choice to let go clothes shopping for Y/N but he hopes that at least one of the things would not make her look like a rebellious teen.

Dean takes his laptop and props himself on the couch, thinks about going through some emails since she’s sleeping peacefully but he gets disturbed by a ringing of a phone.

Her phone.

It’s almost midnight, who would call her?

He gets up to look at her phone, sees the name and frowns. 

Jody Mills.

Dean picks up on instinct, forgetting for a second that it’s not his phone and regrets it immediately. 

“Hello,” He says, claps his hand over his face.

“Who’s there?”

“Dean,” He pinches the bridge of his nose. 

“As in fucking Winchester?”

“Yeah,” He says, “that’s not what people call me but, yeah.”

“What are you doing with Y/N’s phone?” Jody can be so fucking loud, he has to hold the phone a little further away from his ear. 

“Listen, if you want to talk to her you might wanna try in a couple of days. She’s sick and has a high fever. I don’t think she’s coherent enough to listen to your whining about your daughter.”

“Oh, my god, you got her under your control too, don’t you?”

Dean groans, “Oh come on, you can’t possibly blame me for everything! I did nothing!”

Jody hangs up before he could. And boy, is Dean mad that he isn’t the one to hang up first.

Chapter 6

[jawritter]

Challenge Accepted..

Requested: ok so here is a request(IDK if you do these)(also it’s smut) so dean talks about how good he is in the bedroom and the reader says something along the lines like “I bet you can’t make me come” Dean challenges this. In the bedroom and you know they do the dirty or whatever. Dean edges her and edges her and just when the reader had enough of the teasing Dean finally takes her over her edge and the reader is left with the hottest shaking orgasm ever. I hope this makes sense! ❤️ur stories!!

Warnings: Smut, Unprotected Sex, Edging, Angst, Light Bondage, Blindfolding, Oral (female receiving), Angst, Dean being a cocky, sexy little ass. (yes that’s a warning.) Language probably somewhere. I think that’s it.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 2573

A/N: Hope you guys enjoy this one! As always all mistakes are mine! Please don’t copy my work! If you want to be added to my tag list feel free to ask! Feedback is golden! Share, Like, and comment! You guys are awesome!!

Want More? Check out my Masterlist!!

*****MASTLIST*****

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“I’m telling you by the time I left Milwalkie everyone in that damn hotel room knew my name was Dean Fucking Winchester because that bitch was screaming it so loud they could hear it a county over,” Dean bragged, walking down the stairs into the bunker behind you and Sam. You exchanged an exhausted look with Sam and both of you rolled your eyes. 

Dean had been bragging about how great he was in the sheets the whole three-hour drive back from your last hunt. 

It was a Siren, posing as a striper, luring unsuspecting men to their deaths. Not the first time the boys had encountered such a thing, it’s happened before, but it got Dean to feel all nostalgic about his glory days. He had been gladly narrating them for you and his brother the whole way home. 

You had heard tales of everything from grateful damsels in distress, to barroom wonders. 

Normally it didn’t bother you so much. You’d heard Dean brag about his… abilities before... You also had been in the next room at hotels when he was wowing whatever conquest he’d brought home from the bar that night, and you couldn’t tell whether the girl was just that damn drunk, faking it, or he was just that damn good. 

This time though, you were damn tired, the hunt had required you to ‘act’ as a stripper in this local sleaze whole for a whole damn two nights, doing things you really will never talk about again just to get information, and you were just done with the whole damn trip, and everything that had to go with it, and Dean’s Milwalkie story about his stripper and her impressive vocal abilities had gotten on your last dying nerve. 

Even though you knew deep down you were just a little jealous, and that’s the real reason it was irking you so damn bad, but still, who wouldn’t be jealous? Any woman with a pulse would want to let him bang her into the mattress. 

“Then there was this one time in New Mexico hunting a vengeful…” 

“You know what Dean, you talk a big game, but I bet you can’t even make me cum.” 

The words flew out of your mouth before you could stop them. It was too late to take them back, he’d heard every word, and was not staring at you with this smirk that could make the devil blush.

The tip of his sinful tongue was perch just between his perfectly white teeth. He looked over you like you were a piece of meat, and he was starving. Just his look was enough right there to make you wetter than you’d ever been in your life, but you weren’t gonna tell him that. Hell no. You’d opened your big mouth, now you were going to deal with the consequences. 

“Oh really? You think I can’t make you cum? Is that a challenge sweetheart?” he asks, his deep husky voice going straight to your core, making you swallow hard to get your voice to work again.

“You heard me Winchester, and I didn’t stutter,” you bight back, trying to keep up your cocky act even though your resolve was quickly wavering. 

Dean dropped his bag on the world table and made his way over to you, you vaguely realized Sam was no longer anywhere insight, and you figured he thought you got yourself into this, you were more than capable of getting yourself out of it… One way or another…

“Well, challenge accepted, pretty girl,” he said, his face inches from yours, his hands on your hips. 

You could feel his breath fanning your skin, making you even hotter than you already were. You were all but panting in anticipation. Just as you thought he was going to kiss you, his lips so close you could almost feel them on yours, your body was practically vibrating with anticipation, he moved his lips to your ear right before his lips would have made contact with yours.

“You better be ready baby, cause you never know when I’m gonna decide to,” His warm tongue reached out and licked the shell of your ear slightly, and a violent shiver rolled down your spine, landing in your core. “Show you just what the fuck I can do.” 

And with that, he grabbed his bag and threw it over his shoulders. Strutting out of the room, leaving you breathless, and incredibly frustrated. The anticipation of his promise still fluttering around in your gut like a thousand butterflies. Dean never backs out on a challenge, and only God knew what you’d just signed up for.

———————-

You stir up from your sleep because you felt like you couldn’t move your hands. The more you became awake, the more you realized your hands had been secured above your head by what felt like a rope or something. You opened your eyes, but still saw nothing, blindfolded. 

Your breaths came in short spurts and you were on the verge of panicking when you heard the distinct husky chuckle that you would recognize if you were clinically dead. 

Dean.

You thought he’d forgotten, it had been three days, and nothing, things just went on as they always did. Laundry catchup from the job, relaxing and recuperating, nothing more than the usual. Dean had walked all around you like nothing had even happened between the two of you when you got home from your last hunt.

It had been driving you nuts!

When you finally thought he was just blowing smoke up your ass and got into your bed tonight, you had no Idea you would wake up in your current predicament. The bastard was good, too good, and he hadn’t even really touched you aside from restraining you yet.

“Dean! Uncover my eyes!” you snarl in the direction of his voice, and he just chuckles again this time closer to you.

“Oh no Sweetheart, see lack of vision makes the experience more… extreme… It uh… heightens the other senses,” he said as he trailed his thick finger from the valley between your breast all the way down to your already dampening folds. Feather-light, barely touching at all, but it felt like a fire was ignited in his wake. 

You felt him move next to you, leaning down in your ear, you feel his breath fan over your rapidly heating skin. You couldn’t help but shudder a little when his deep voice whispered right next to your ear.

“I’m going to ruin you tonight for all other men, make you mine. You will never be able to touch another man again, just me.” 

You had to bite your lip to stop the moan from falling from them, the possessiveness in his tone going straight to your already aching core.

You heard Dean moving around the bed and you could hear the sound of his belt buckle clinging as he undid it, you listened as he stripped himself of his clothes, you couldn’t see anything, but your mind was painting you a damn fine picture.

You felt the bed dip and suddenly he was hovering over you. His warm breath fanning your face, his hands trailed gently down your side. Your breath hitched in your throat at the feeling when he bumped your thighs open and settled between them. You could feel his thick, and ready leaking length brush against your inner thigh. He felt huge, even though you couldn’t see him.

His lips meet your lips in a kiss that started out gentle, loving, then moved more demanding over yours. His tongue reaching out and running over your lower lip, asking for permission you gladly gave him. He moaned into your mouth as his tongue quickly dominated yours. His taste fills your mouth, invading your senses. 

Whiskey, spearmint gum, and a hint of something that was just. Dean.

He was right about one thing. Everything seemed to be heightened, and your body was already responding to him even though he’d barely done anything more than just kiss you. 

Moving down your jawline to your ear, then down to the pulse points of your neck nipping, sucking, leaving his mark on you. His tongue trailing over your skin. A soft moan fell from your lips. He trailed his kisses and nips down to your nipples, taking one in his mouth, sucking, pulling, swirling his tongue, and then moved to the other. Your body arched off the bed as close as it could to him, but he moved away, not giving you the friction you so desperately needed. 

Moving back up to your lips he found yours again, kissing you heavily as his fingers trailed their way down to your breast playing with them in his strong hand, grinding his hips down to yours, running his thick length through your soaking folds, the tip brushing against your clit with each brush of his hips. Your breath was coming in pants, you pulled against your restraints, but it was no good. You wanted to run your fingers through his hair so bad, but you couldn’t. 

Much to your surprise a warmth started to spread between your legs, and move it’s way up to your stomach, your body was hurtling towards its release under his touch. Your legs started shaking and just before you were thrown over the edge he got up, pulling his warm body completely away from you. 

You whimpered loudly and felt his lips brush yours. “I’m gonna take care of you, Sweetheart, eventually.” 

You were a panting sweating mess. If you could have punched him in his ridiculously gorgeous face you probably would have.

When you had finally regained control of your breathing he was on you again. Kissing your neck. Biting harder at the swells of your breast as he moved his way down your body. Licking the skin of your stomach, then kissing and licking his way down your inner thigh to your knee, before doing the same to the other leg. Hovering over your aching dripping cunt, his hot breath hitting you in waves. 

Just when you thought he was going to go away again he licked a strip from your ass hole all the way up to your clit and back again. 

You all but screamed at the surprising sensation, pulling on your restraints again, wishing you could pull that perfect spiky hair, hold his head right where you needed him most.

“You taste so fucking good sweetheart, just like I always imagined,” he said before bringing his mouth back to your core, licking, sucking, nipping, like a starving man having his last meal. Your hips bucked up on their own and he threw a strong arm over your hips, holding you where he wanted you.

When you thought you couldn’t take anymore he added two thick fingers into your clenching pussy, curling them inside of you to match the pace of his tongue. Your body jerked hard at the intrusion and his name fell from your lips in a needy moan that you didn’t even recognize. You were almost sobbing with pleasure, so damn close to the edge if he curled his fingers inside of you one more time you were going to be thrown over the edge. 

Almost like he sensed your end as well he pulled away suddenly, stopping your release in its tracks right before it consumed you. You were so close, You made a strange noise somewhere between a strangled sob and a gulp of breath as he rubbed your sides with his calloused hands. Letting you know he was still there with you. 

Leaning down in your ear again his voice pulled you back to reality. “Never, tell me, Sweetheart, that I can’t make you cum. It’s all I’ve wanted to do since we met each other. I can’t tell you the ways I’ve thought about how I’d do it. What you’d look like underneath me, what you’d feel like, falling apart with me deep inside of you.”

“Dean, please!! Please, Dean!” you begged him, all pride threw right out of the window. You needed him more than you needed oxygen right now. 

“What baby?” he said, his fingers trailing down your body again. Playing with your breast, making your nipples stand on end before bringing his tongue down to circle each of them. 

“Please Dean, I need you,” you begged him. 

You felt the bed dip again as he positioned himself between your legs, running his thick length through your folds, gathering up your slick before seating himself inside you in one smooth thrust, all his teasing makes his entrance easy.

Both of you groaned as his cock stretched you almost painfully. Filling you up in a way you had never been before. 

He gave you very little time to adjust to him before he was pounding into you, hitting that most sensitive spot deep inside of you at a ridiculously hard pace. You were caught somewhere between pain and pleasure as he pounded into you. 

Incoherent words and sounds falling from your mouth as he pushed you again toward the edge again, your body already clenching around him as his pace got faster. 

“Dean!” you begged him again. 

You were right there, one more trust and you would be in pure bliss. 

But again he stopped. 

You were crying this time in earnest. You didn’t know how much more of his you could take. You heard his knife flick open next to you before your hands were released, and he brought them down next to you gently rubbing your shoulders and wrist where you had been bound. Your body felt like jello. His hands gently pulled the cover from your eyes, revealing him to you for the first time tonight. 

His forest green eyes filled with more love and admiration than you ever expected to find there when he met yours. Bringing his lips down to yours again in a kiss full of fire and need as he entered your body again, slowly thrusting in and out of you, grinding deeply inside of you, deeper than you had felt him when he had you bound. His lips barely ever leaving yours as he drove you back to the edge again, his leaking tip hitting your cervix with each slow, deep thrust. 

Your body was nearly shaking under this touch as he held you close to him and you clung to his shoulders, his eyes never leave you. 

With one last deep thrust your walls clamped down around his throbbing length and he yells against your neck, spilling his seed deep inside of you as your body milked his. 

Your orgasm was stronger than anything you’d ever had in your life, your vision momentarily going black as you completely lost control of your body. Wave upon wave of pleasure racking your you until you were pretty sure you blacked out completely.

Dean held you close to him as you came down from your highs together, panting like you’d both run a marathon. 

Your body lay limp against his as he laid down on the bed again, disappearing only long enough to retrieve a damp rag, cleaning you up gently before cleaning up himself, then sliding in the bed next to you, pulling your exhausted body against his strong chest.

“I love you Y/N. I always have, and I always will. Even If until now I’ve been too stupid and scared to admit it.”

Looking up at him your lips meet again in a sweet kiss. 

“I love you, Dean.” 

For the first time, you felt whole, safe. More than you’d ever thought a hunter was allowed to feel.

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Tag List:  @deanwanddamons​​ @imabitch4jensen​​ @rvgrsbrns​​ @bi-danvers0​​ @onethirstyunicorn​​ @i-love-superhero​​ @akshi8278​ @alanegaming​

[mysteryartisticwriter]

Body Stealing Black-Eyed Bitch // Jack Kline/Belphegor X Reader

A/N: I was a fan of the show ‘Supernatural’ WAY before I started to write on this account. I’ve always wanted to write for it but I lost interest in it before I could. But lately, since the show is ending, I got back into my love for the show. My favorite character is of course, baby boy Jack. I just love him so much

TAKES PLACE DURING 15x01 (SPOILERS IF YOU HAVEN’T WATCHED IT YET)

REQUESTS ARE OPEN BTW

Requested: Nope

Warnings: Blood, death and some angst

PART 2

Not my gifs!! (Please tell me if you, the owner, would like me to take the gif down!)

-

Seeing the love of your life die right before your eyes, knowing you couldn’t do anything, was one of the most traumatizing things you’ve ever encountered.

Jack Kline, the sweet Nephilim, was being killed by someone you thought was a friend right in front of you. No one could see it coming, Dean was just about to kill Jack until he managed to come to his senses and lower his gun. Chuck apparently didn’t like it.

With a snap of his fingers, Jack’s screams echoed through your ears and a bright light showed where his eyes and mouth would be. He fell to the ground in pain.

“Jack? Jack!” Castiel asked fantically, kneeling down next to him.

“What’s happening?” Dean asked Chuck.

“Stop it. Stop it!” You screamed, starting to run towards him.

Chuck waved his hand and sent you flying back to a nearby gravestone, breaking it in half and causing you to black out for a few moments. Your head pounded as you tried to sit up, your body aching.

You looked up to see Dean and Cas still trying to help a screaming Jack on the ground, not knowing what to do. As Chuck walked away, Sam looked around for anything. He picked up the gun (the one Chuck said could kill anything) and pointed it at the man.

“Hey Chuck!”

The man turned around and Sam fired the gun straight towards him.

However, once he shot the bullet, it just bounced right off of Chuck’s shoulder and into Sam’s. Sam fell to the ground and Chuck looked at his damaged suit with a displeased face.

“Fine! That’s the way you want it?” Chuck said, looking over all of you.

Each of you looked towards him, scared of what was going to happen next.

“Story’s over. Welcome to the End.”

Suddenly, the sky went pure black. The graveyard was quiet as the rest of you laid on the grass in defeat. Chuck disappearing without a trace.

Groaning in pain, you stood up and tried to run over to your friends.

“Hey, you okay?” You asked Sam.

“Yup. Y-Yup, I’m good.” He replied, obviously still in pain from the bullet.

As you helped him up, you looked over to wear Jack laid on the ground from before, Dean and Cas leaning over him with distraught faces.

“I thought Chuck said that the gun was the only thing that could...” Dean stopped his sentence midway.

Cas looked off far into the distance, trying his best not to break down crying.

“He’s a writer. Writers lie.”

Once you managed to get a closer look at Jack’s body, you covered your mouth trying to muffle a sob. Tears ran down your face as you saw the body of your boyfriend, lifeless and his eyes burnt out. A sign showing that he was gone forever.

You dropped to your knees in despair, doing your best to cover your crying. Dean crawled over to you on the ground and held you in his arms. He had always been like a father figure to you, seeing you so broken was terrible for him. You all had lost Jack, one of the kindest and innocent boys to ever exist.

You felt a rumbling sound come from the ground and you looked up, cheeks full of tears. All four of you stood up in confusion, looking around and off not too far in the distance, you could make out the figures of something escaping from the ground.

At first only a few flew out, then dozens of them came out flying in all directions.

“What the hell is happening?” Dean yelled out.

“The souls,” Castiel told you. “They’re all souls from Hell.”

You and Sam glanced at the angel in horror. Somehow, Chuck had managed to let the souls of Hell escape? As if things weren’t already bad enough.

You kind of spoke too soon. Cracks in the graveyard ground formed and an explosion appeared in front of a stone. When the dust disappeared, the rotting corpse of a man replaced it, walking towards you.

The same thing happened with other gravestones as well, souls flying into their old bodies and popping out of the ground.

Dean had found two iron spears for him and his brother, while you and Cas only had your angel blades, yours being a gift from him. The zombies started to walk to you four, enclosing you in circle. You got into your fighting stance, ready to attack.

Dean went first, trying to kill the clostest ones to him and then the rest of you followed. Cas expelled souls from their bodies, Dean and Sam fighting off as many as they could, and you were going all out on stabbing and killing them.

“Sam! Dean! (Y/n)!” You heard Cas call.

While still trying to fight the corpses, you focused your attention on your friend. You saw him out of the corner of his eye take Jack’s body over his shoulder and run off, the rest of you behind him.

You helped Dean and Sam kill off the ones that were in the way, making a clear path for Cas.

“This way!”

Sam had directed you guys toward into a mausoleum for shelter. You all ran inside and shut the doors tight. Taking a moment to catch your breaths, Cas set Jack down on the ground.

You were trapped in the crypt like flies in a venus fly trap. Maybe Chuck was right, maybe this is the end. While the Winchester brothers and the angel tried their best to think of a way out, you sat on the ground and laid on a wall, your boyfriend’s body not far away.

You felt tears build up in your eyes again, close to breaking down once more. You could hardly look at his body, knowing you could never seen his bright smile or hear his soft voice again.

Memories came back from Kevin Tran, your old best friend. Both of them with their eyes burnt out and dead. You failed to save him too, you failed both of them. Now, they were both gone and all you wanted to do was go join them.

A sound in the walls drew your attention. It wasn’t a familiar sound but it didn’t mean it wasn’t good either.

“Guys.” You tried to call out to the three men.

But they continued to talk and argue amongst each other. You rolled your eyes and yelled to them again.

“Guys!” This time, you got their attention almost immediately.

“I hear something. Something inside the walls.” You said, pushing your ear against the wall and followed the sounds to another one.

“Could be just a sewage pipe line.” Dean suggested.

The sounds in the wall started to get louder, like a pounding. You backed away from the wall and Dean walked past you, pulling a thick concrete slab off the wall to reveal a bunch of bricks.

The brick wall was broken open by another corpse, all of you jumping in shock as the zombie snarled at you. You whipped out your angel blade as the brothers held their spears.

“Cas, a little help here.” Dean said.

The said angel picked up the large cement block and dumped it right onto the dead body. It died and you watched as the soul left its body.

“Well so much for the pipes.”

“The hell are we gonna do now?” Dean questioned.

You and the boys looked around the chambre for anything that could be used as a weapon or an escape route.

“Hello.”

Your heart stopped, you knew that voice. You turned around quickly to see Jack- or at least the body of Jack standing across the room.

You looked at him shocked, wondering what was happening. Was Jack alive? No, he couldn’t be. His eyes were burnt out by Chuck, God. But then, who was the one standing across from you?

“Jack.” Sam whispered in disbelief.

You and the others looked over him, he seemed as alive as ever but just without eyes.

“You’re alive.”

“That’s not Jack. It’s a demon.” Cas said, staring down the body of his son.

“What?” You asked, shocked and confused at the same time.

You knew it wasn’t really him, but a part of you wanted to believe it was.

“Yeah...sorry about that.” The demon apologized, shrugging.

“How in the hell...?” Dean started to say.

“Look I just got here and uhh...I needed a body. So...”

“So you’re a demon?” Sam wanted to confirm.

You started to get angry at this demon. There was no way in hell that you were going to let your love’s body be used by some black-eyed bitch.

“Yeah well I-I would do the whole eyes thing but,” He waved his hand over where his eyes would be. “No eyes.”

He clapped his hands together and looked around the room before setting his eyes-err eye sockets onto a pair of white sunglasses in the corner. A pair that belonged to Jack.

“What do you think you’re doing?” You asked in anger.

The demon picked up the glasses and set them on his face, making him look like a real human. Making him look just like Jack.

He smiled. “Blending.”

“Get out of him.” Castiel sneered.

“Look, I-I know it’s weird. Okay um,” the demon sighed. “Where do I start? Like the first day of school, I guess. Hi! My name is Belphegor and I’m here from-“

You interrupted him by pushing him against one of the tomb’s pillars, your angel blade against his neck.

“Get out of him.”

The demon just laughed in amusement.

“Cute, I’ve heard about you. You’re much hotter in person than what people say.”

In response, you just pushed him further against the pillar. Your eyes full of fury.

“I won’t ask again.” You hissed.

“No, I can help. Okay, I can help!” He pleaded, looking towards the three men still across the room.

“Why the hell would be want your help? You body stealing black-eye bitch-“

“(Y/n), let him speak.” Dean interrupted you, walking to your side.

“No, don’t, he’s an abomination!” Castiel yelled as he came next to you.

“You’re an abomination to wear that stupid, dumb trench coat.”

You just forced him more into the concrete pillar and glared at him.

“(Y/n), (Y/n), listen to me,” Dean pushed you off of the demon in your boyfriend’s body and directed your focus to him. “We need the help.”

“Like hell we do.”

“He is defiling Jack’s corpse!” Cas tried to tell Dean.

“But if-if he can help,” Dean pointed to the demon. “Jack’s gone! Alright? So let’s listen to what the demon has to say. If we don’t what he says, then we stab him.”

“Cas, (Y/n),” You looked to the taller Winchester sibling. “Dean’s right.”

Not really agreeing but backing off anyway, you slowly walked over to the demon.

“You try anything and I will send you back to where you came from.” You threatened him.

He just wolf-whistled back at you as you went over next to Sam. Belphegor then proceeded to walk to the middle of the room.

“Got a lot of fire in that one. Good thing I like fire, then.”

“Shut it.”

“So we are-“ Sam was about to say before being interrupted by Belphegor.

“The Winchesters. Ah, I know. I read the papers.”

“You have newspapers in Hell?” Dean asked.

“Yeah the wifi sucks. Anyway, I’m guessing this whole thing is kinda of uh...you?” Guessed the demon.

“No. It was God.” Cas corrected him.

Belphegor laughed for a moment, thinking he was joking until he noticed that no one else had laughed.

“Oh, you’re serious?”

“It’s a long story.” Sam told him.

“Okay, okay well listen. I’m not some cross road demon, I’m not even one of those black-eyed goons who crawled his way up here and eats virgins, puppies...or virgin puppies.” He joked.

“Look, downstairs I punch a clock. A soul comes in, I torment it- it’s what I do.”

“What’s your point?” You impatiently asked.

“The point is, sweetheart...I like my job! I like Hell the way it is or was. So all those bad guys,” Belphegor pointed to the sounds of the dead souls still pounding on the door. “You want them back where they came from, right? Well, me too! Okay we’re...we’re twinsies, guys!”

“We are not twinsies.” Cas growled at the demon.

Sam gestured up to the sounds of the zombies. “Can you fix this?”

“Umm...no. But I can get you out of here.”

“How?”

“Oh just a little spell. You know, nothing major. I just need some graveyard dirt,” he said as he picked up some soil on the ground. “And some uh, angel blood.”

Cas held up his hand until you grabbed his wrist, protesting against the action.

“No, no he’s not handing over his blood to you!”

“(Y/n)-“ Sam tried to convince you but you ignored him.

“No! What if he’s not actually helping us, hm? He could take Cas’ blood and end up making us...into those zombies outside.”

Dean looked tired, not wanting to deal with you at the moment. “Do you wanna get out of here or not? We could always stay trapped down here until those things eat us alive.”

You bit your lip anxiously, a habit you’ve always had.

“Come on, doll. Don’t you trust me?” The demon inside your boyfriend asked, grinning.

You said nothing and let go of Castiel’s hand, allowing him to cut his palm open with his angel blade and pour his blood over the dirt in Belphegor’s hand.

The man walked into the center of the room, holding out his hands then clapped. The pounding outside the doors silenced right away and the ingredients fell to the ground after the clap.

The guys ran to the doors to check the outside while you stayed back and stared down the demon. He noticed you looking at him and smiled.

“What? No thank you?”

You scoffed. “As if I’ll ever thank you.”

-

A/N: This is only part one! I wanted to make this longer and do the whole episode but this was already pretty long in itself so I’ll just do a second part later

Lemme know if you wanna be tagged in my Supernatural stories!

[waywardimpalawriter]

Hey kristy-waves-I saw your blog and I liked it so much,so I have this request about castiel xreader about the song no light by florence and the machine ,I want it angst no happy endings necessary ,it's about the reader is hiding a secret about castiel and he knows that and faces her but she refuse to tell ,I hope you hear the song it might help and thanks

Hidden agenda  

Pairing: Human!Castiel x Reader

Rating: PG

Warnings: anger, angst, verbal fighting,  

Word count: 3,295

Note: Requested by @justmasblack a while ago, sadly I had problems with things in life and writing fell behind. That being said I’m now getting around to finishing up requests and hopefully other stories as well. This inspiration from the song ‘No Lights’ by Florence and The Machines. Enjoy doll.  

Forever:

@angryschnauzer @feelmyroarrrr@aquabrie @fandommaniacx   @becs-bunker

Supernatural:

@aprofoundbondwithdean @ruprecht0420 @akshi8278 @andkatiethings

“Listen buddy, um,” eyes darting everywhere but Castiel’s, not wanting him to see the truth. “You can’t stay.” 

Those are the words you walk in on, words that send a dagger through your heart not only for yourself but for Castiel as the look on his face speaks volumes. An array of emotions, from anger to disappointment and betrayal to the greatest being hurt all flit across his features. It makes your heartache and anger to ignite in your veins, combine that with an itch to punch Dean in his face for sending his best friend away.  

Taking two more steps forward you’re able to hear what Castiel says, “What do you mean I can’t stay?” 

Running a hand through his thick brown hair tugging on the strands in frustration, “You’ll be putting us in danger Cas. The angels their all looking for you and with Sam still recovering…” 

He leaves the rest hanging and though you don’t know if he’s actually looking at Castiel you suspect he’s not making eye contact as he normally would. You suspect there could be more to his reasoning and only part of it has to do with Sam. 

You go to step forward when Castiel speaks, rough and full of pain his voice cracks slightly, “I understand Dean, Sam’s family, and he’s still recovering, I’ll be going then.” 

Giving Dean one last look, Castiel spy’s you standing in the archway coming from the library, giving you a sharp nod as well before heading for the stairs. It’s unusual to have him walk away instead of just fly in a swish of trench coat and wings. Partly disturbing that the once powerful angel has been reduced to a normal human. This makes anger surge hotter, especially when the door slams, the ringing echoing through the bunker and your body with a finality you never wanted to hear. 

“What the hell is your problem Winchester? Why would you send Cas out to face such uncertainty and the possibility of death? He’s never been human before this isn’t something he should be facing alone,” anger tinging your voice as you step forward to confront the eldest Winchester. 

   Pivoting on his booted feet a deep glare marring his handsome features, “You think I wanted to do that, to send him out into a world he barely understands?” 

“That’s what it sounded like to me.” A sneer twisting your features, “You all but tossed him out the front door yourself. With no regard for what could happen to him.” Stepping down so that you’ve come face to face with Dean, arms crossed over your chest a glare showing the disapproval. 

Shaking his head, Dean slumps back against the war table, “I have no choice Y/N it’s either dump Cas out like yesterday’s trash or loose Sam.”

“Sam wouldn’t just up and…” realization smacks you in the face like an unexpected branch while running, deflating some of your anger. “Ezekiel threatened to leave didn’t he and let Sam die?” One sharp nod and you’ve come to lean next to Dean against the table. Knowing without words how hard this position is for him and what he’s gone through to make sure Sam heals.  

You are the hole in my head

You are the space in my bed

You are the silence in between

What I thought and what I said

You are the night-time fear

You are the morning when it’s clear

When it’s over you’ll start

Running a hand through already ruffled hair making it spike, “How can I not protect Sam when it’s my fault he’s in this mess. On the other hand, I’ve signed Cas’s death certificate,” pulling the stands Dean turns his back. Frustration courses through his veins making him itch to punch something. 

“I’ll go find him, help acclimate him to being human,” the very words shock you. Not that you don’t care for Castiel in fact if you were truthful… Shaking your head you push those thoughts aside, you were doing this to ensure his safety and wellbeing. “I promise to look after him, Dean.”

Turning, “You sure about that? You’ll be painting a target on your ass the size of Texas.” 

“Nothing I haven’t been through before,“ a deep sigh leaving parched lips. "Been hunting since I could walk, made a few enemies that way. Wiley Coyote chasing the Road Running,” giving a half smirk, “just a friendly game of tag that’s all.”  

Harsh snort leaving his lips, “I think you got that twisted sister,” shaking his head, Dean rests a hand on your shoulder. “Be careful and keep the two of you safe.” 

Smirking, “Now why would I go and do stupid a thing like getting us killed or captured?” slim brow lifting, you turn to head back the way you came. 

“All the same don’t let your mouth over load your ass Y/N,” calling after you, before slumping back against the table worried for the both of you warring with everything else already clouding his mind.

You’re my head, you’re my heart

No light, no light in your bright blue eyes

I never knew daylight could be so violent

A revelation in the light of day

You can’t choose what stays and what fades away

And I’d do anything to make you stay

No light, no light

(No light)

Having left without cleaning up or changing clothes you tossed your stuff into the passenger seat of your Ford Rancho, got in, turned the key and gunned the engine. Wanting to catch up with Castiel before he got too far or worse into trouble and your promise to Dean would be null in void before getting off the ground. Though you reasoned being on foot he may have gotten a mile, two at most. What you hadn’t counted on was the ride he hitched not far from the bunker. 

Exasperated you’re just about ready to give up driving around Lebanon looking when you catch a flash of something. A fight and by the looks a pretty nasty one with the guy on the ground getting the crap beating out of them. You pull over, jumping out to run over, getting the shock of your life when you see Castiel on the ground curled in a ball. 

Muscles react, hand goes to the angel blade in the small of your back hidden by your jacket, and ready yourself for a fight you may lose, “Hey assface why don’t you pick on someone who can fight back?”   

“Not your fight human just run away while you can still breathe,” tall and blonde, his nasally voice already getting on your nerves. 

“Pff,” flipping the blade a sneer on your face, “And why don’t you come over here and meet Mr. Pointy, he’s really looking forward to sticking it to ya.”

Lunging forward his own blade glinted in the low light, trying to take a swipe at you but missing as you’ve side stepped the angel. Who by the looks of things is still trying to use to his new body, “Ah what’s the matter fluffy haven’t got the balance  to keep up?”  

“Shut up mud monkey,” words gritted out between clinched teeth, eyes quickly assessing the scenario. Taking a few quick steps seeing that you drop your left side. An entry point he takes advantage of by landing a right hook to the side of your face. Having you stagger backwards at the power, “Not too cocky now are you human?” smirk drifting over his lips.  

Catching yourself, tasting blood from the broke lip, you gather the coppery substance and spit it out right at his feet. “Nothing I haven’t felt before fluffy beside that punch was weak my grandmother could hit harder than that.”  

No words, just lashing out throwing punches and slashed between the two of you. You’ve landed a few good ones to his chest, and side with cuts to his face angel grace flashing low with the cuts. While he’s managed to figure out your fighting style, inflicting a number of blows that have you staggering backwards and bumping into Castiel. Holding his bleeding side with one arm and trying to help balance you with the other.  

“How sweet trying to help your girlfriend Castiel?” shaking his head in disgust a sneer crossing his angelic face. “Trading all of Heaven for these mud monkeys? You’re pathetic Castiel truly a disgrace to your angel wings.”  

From your periphery, seeing the hurt and shame make his expressive blue eyes dim, and your blood to boil at the audacity of this piece of shit. Gently pushing away from his warm embrace, flipping the angel blade in your hand once more so that the blade is cocked to the side. Fire dancing in your eyes along with a healthy dose of hate for this piece of shit, “If anyone is truly pathetic it’s you. For following orders and not asking questions.” Taking a step forward new strength filling your veins at the memory of Castiel’s face. “You who think you’re so superior to us humans. But let me tell you one thing assbutt, Castiel has more heart and courage in his little pinkie than you have in your whole body.”  

This time the angel snorts, hands out waving them carefully in front of him waiting for the next attack to come. Almost growing bored with the whole encounter. “Are you gonna talk me to…” before he could finish the words you start to attack.

Aiming your blade for his chest you throw it with all your might, only to have it deflected by his own blade. The act just the opening you needed to get a running start using his bent knee as a step to vault you up and around his shoulders. Arms wrapped around his neck to cut off air and put pressure to his throat. The two of you flailing in circles, he tries to stab at your arms and legs a few times. Getting a hit in a time or two, but his world is starting to go black, his senses unaware of the fact that Castiel has joined the fight.  

Not wanting to lose you to this piece of shit you’ve taken upon yourself to defend him from, Castiel moves quickly as his injures will allow him. Picking up the discarded angel blade he moves forward, careful of the swinging weapon in the other angel’s hand. Castiel gets close enough hesitating for a fraction of a second, at killing one of his brothers. However, that thought flew out, especially when he notices that the angel has the opening, he needs to disengage you from around his shoulders and in the process ending your life.  

Rage like he’s never felt before courses through his veins, his aim never wavers as it lands, sinking deep into the angel’s chest. Blood curdling scream leaves his lips, bright bluish white light enveloping them all, his body disintegrating under you, a yelp of surprise added to the noise. Feeling your body dropping, preparing yourself for the pain that would come. Eyes screwed closed but pop open when warm arms and chest catch you. Staggering a few steps, to almost dropping you, but managing to hang onto the most precious being in the world to him.  

A surprised gasp leaves your lips when you land in his arms, your own go to wrap around his neck, eyes meeting the bright blues of his. You have to resist the urge to lean in to kiss him only helped by the wounds on your side as a hiss leaves you lips.  

“Your damaged Y/N?” it’s both a conformation and question that has him gently moving towards the bench to set you down. Looking over your body and cursing his inability to heal you, while seeing the cuts adoring your face and sides. He flinches at the soft feel of callused fingers bringing his chin up to look you in the eyes.  

“Nothing I haven’t dealt with before Cas I promise I’ll be fine,” eyes soft as you take in his own injuries. “We just gotta get back to my car and to a motel room to get cleaned up.”  

Tell me what you want me to say

But would you leave me If I told you what I’ve done And would you leave me If I told you what I’ve become

‘Cause it’s so easy To say it to a crowd But it’s so hard, my love To say it to you out loud

You go to stand with help from Cas, the two of you holding on to each other and limping back to your car. Once in the driver seat a small sigh of relief leaves your lips, and you glance over at Castiel who’s got one arm wrapped around his chest where a gash seeps a thin line of blood through his shirt.  

“Don’t,” gravelly and deep, though he doesn’t turn to look at you, just stares out the windshield.  

Putting the car in drive, you pull away from the curb, “Don’t what Cas?”  

Broken sigh leaves his lips though he still stares out the window, “Look at me that way Y/N, with pity in your eyes.”  

Shock doesn’t even begin to tap into what you feel at his words. Surely he doesn’t think… “Castiel I don’t pity you. I’m worried and not understanding why you left the bunker.” Biting your bottom lip knowing that last part is a lie that tastes bitter on your tongue.  

“Dean asked me to leave, it’s wasn’t my choice Y/N,” this time he turns to look at your profile hidden except for the times when they pass under a streetlight. “Did you know?”

No light, no light in your bright blue eyes I never knew daylight could be so violent A revelation in the light of day You can’t choose what stays and what fades away

And I’d do anything to make you stay No light, no light

Tell me what you want me to say

Rolling to a stop at the light, glancing over at Castiel his bright blue eyes searing into yours, making it very hard not to tell him the truth. “No, I didn’t know Cas.” Those five simple words bitter in your mouth, breaking your heart for the man beside and for yourself. “I only walked in on the last part of your conversation. Dean told me what happen and I left to find out to find you.”  

Nodding solemnly, turning his eyes back on the road missing the hurt in your own. He’s unsure if he believes you but for now, “Thank you.”  

“For what?” biting your bottom lip to keep the small sob of regret from leaving your chapped lips.  

“Saving me back there,” his answer short and clipped while you pull the car into a parking spot.  

Nodding though you know he can’t see as the interior is too dark, “Stay here I’ll get us a room.”  

Watching you go, Castiel’s eyes drop to the cell phone on the dash. A text message from Dean flashing on the small screen that he can’t help but read.  

Text: Have you found him?  

Are y’all safe?  

Fucking hell Y/N answer me.  

The screen goes black as Castiel’s thoughts swirl in his head. Caught between picking the phone up to answer and just leave things alone. The answer comes with the next text message.  

Text: You’re right Y/N I shouldn’t have made him leave. But I can’t lose Sam. Tell him….

Three dots blink for a moment as if Dean’s trying to figure out what to say next.  

Text: Keep him safe and don’t let him know

The revelation hits him hard and he scrambles to get out of the car just as you come back from getting the motel key.  

“Cas where are you going? I need to patch you up,” confusion coloring your eyes as you look him over. Gut dropping as to what has him acting this way. “What happened?”  

“You tell me Y/N? What does Dean not want you to tell me?” eyes boring into yours making you flinch and turn away.  

Running a shaking blooded hand through your hair, “It’s complicated Cas but I can’t tell you.”  

You want a revelation You want to get it right But, it’s a conversation I just can’t have tonight

“Secrets never get you anywhere Y/N you know this. Sam and Dean know this so why the lies? Why keep this from me?” taking a step towards you wanting answers but also wanting to hold you. How could two conflicting emotions be warring inside his mind.  

Moving towards the car to pull out your bags, “Not here,” motioning towards the room you’re rented for the night. Hoping that Castiel will follow and not just disappear.  

Entering, you drop you bags on the bed as Castiel follows, standing as a status by the now closed door. “We’re in, talk.”  

Sighing, you turn to face him arms crossing over your chest. Eyes catching the blooded shirt, “Take your shirt off and let me bandage you up first.”  

“No,” firm and harsh Castiel stalks forward and grabs your arm as you’ve turned to rummage through your medical bag. The forcefulness in his tone and grip has you gasping.  

You want a revelation Some kind of resolution You want a revelation

Pulling your arm free from his tight grasp, “I can’t tell you Castiel, its not my place plus I promise Dean,” seeing the pain, sadness that etches its way across Castiel’s features breaks your heart even more this time. Since you’re the one hurting him, something you promised you’d never do. Not to the man you love.  

Shaking his head, “That angel was right I am pathetic for choosing humanity, for choosing…” he bites the last words off turning from you. From Dean, he could stomach the secrets and betrayals but from you that damn near killed him.  

“Cas…” you step towards the injured angel now human wanting to try and make things right. “Tell me what you want me to say?”  

Turning back, eyes catching yours, “The truth Y/N, I want you to tell me the truth.”  

“I can’t.”  

“I didn’t think you would. Goodbye Y/N,” starting for the door he doesn’t see you follow him till your hand grasps his. Thumb brushing over the back of his warm callused hand.  

Wordlessly you try to tug him back inside, “Please,” you whisper, tears clogging your voice. Trapped between loyalty to Dean and your love for Castiel. “Stay, let me take care of you and we can do this together.”  

“No not when I can’t trust you won’t hold other things a secret from me. Unless,” he pivots back pulling his hand free from yours. The warmth and tenderness getting too much for him to bare. “Tell me the truth Y/N and I’ll stay.”  

Anguish flows through your veins, eyes down casting, arms wrapping around your body once more. “You want a revelation, a conversation I can’t have Castiel. Not tonight,” looking up at him pleading eyes dripping with tears. “Stay.”  

No answer comes it’s almost like he has his angel powers back and he’s just flew away. But you know that’s not the case. No, this time Castiel walks out, quicker than you thought he could in his condition. That revelation destroys you. Legs weaken so that you drop to the musty carpeted floor. Sobs wrack your frame as you curl into a ball, cursing yourself for letting this happen. For letting him walk away.  

You want a revelation You want to get it right But, it’s a conversation I just can’t have tonight You want a revelation Some kind of resolution Tell me what you want me to say

[there-must-be-a-lock]

Set  Yourself On Fire

Word Count: ~1550

Warnings: Depression and suicidal thoughts. No, seriously, this is not a happy fic. It centers on Sam and his mental state between seasons three and four, so. Yeah. Demon blood, sad Sam, self-loathing, etc. Some mentions of Sam x Ruby, but the pairing is not the point. 

A/N: For @idreamofplaid​‘s “Thanks For The Memories” Challenge.  My episode was “I Know What You Did Last Summer.” 

I snagged bits from a drabble I wrote called “Might As Well,” which was about this same time in Sam’s life, and worked them into this. 

Thanks to @fangirlxwritesx67​ and @fookinghelljensensthighs​ for read-throughs, and to @stunudo​, @thoughtslikeaminefield​, and @lastactiontricia​, who helped me work through the fine points of the psychology that was going on here. 

Title from the Stars song Your Ex-Lover Is Dead: “When there’s nothing left to burn, you have to set yourself on fire.”  

The whiskey stings when Sam splashes it over the cut on his arm. It’s a good kind of pain, blindingly sharp and clean, and for a moment it takes his mind off the slimy ache in his chest and the filthy squirming guilt in his gut. 

Dean’s looking at him again, searching and suspicious.

“Why do you trust her so much?” he asks, and Sam doesn’t want to meet his eyes. 

“I told you.” 

“You got to do better than that. Hey, I’m not trying to pick a fight here. I mean, I really want to understand. But I need to know more. I mean, I deserve to know more.” 

He does. Dean deserves that and so much better. 

Sam tilts the bottle again, watching the booze wash away the blood as it burns him clean, and he takes a sip, as if that’ll do the same thing to the ugly wound in his chest. There isn’t enough whiskey in the world to sanitize his insides. 

He knows he can’t tell the whole truth, but Dean deserves to know more. The question is, where does he start? 

He could start with the moment the dirt closed over the grave. Sam, Bobby had said, so quietly. Sam, don’t. And it was funny, how much Sam had always wanted that; he always wanted a father figure who would ask him to stay. I can’t, he told Bobby, and he lurched away, staggered to the car, started driving.

He can’t tell Dean about the days that followed, because he doesn’t remember much of them. Two, three, maybe four days slipped away while he hid in a shitty motel, drinking, and the memories that remain are disjointed flashes in his mind: the ugly floral duvet under his cheek as he collapsed face-first into the bed, the cold white bathroom tiles and the bruises they left on his knees, a ceiling fan distorted through salt-swollen eyes as he watched it spinning lazily overhead, the taste of bile, the blood on his knuckles, the broken shard of mirror that he picked up and turned over in his hands for longer than he’ll ever admit. 

No. He can’t start there.

“She saved my life,” he says hoarsely, and Dean waits while Sam tries to find the words. 

He still hears John, sometimes: Why are you crying? Be strong. Be brave. Get over yourself. Other people got it a lot worse, y’know. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. 

He’s gotten better at ignoring John’s voice, over the years, but it’s harder to ignore his memories of Dean. Dean blinking back tears, forcing a smile. It’s going to be okay, Sammy. I’m fine, Sammy, don’t worry about me. He’s always wanted to be like his big brother, and his big brother wouldn’t let himself wallow the way Sam had. His big brother would’ve found a way to fight back. 

The crossroads demon had been his only real hope. 

Just take me. It’s a fair trade. 

The worst part was, that no didn’t really surprise him. Of course his life wasn’t worth the same as Dean’s. Of course it wasn’t enough, he wasn’t enough, to save his brother the way Dean had saved him. 

Sam wasn’t sure who he was without Dean, without a mission, without anything to hold onto. 

He’d gotten in the car and started driving. He thought about heading West, out to the cliffs and curves of Highway One; the guardrail was so flimsy, and the Pacific would be steely-grey and welcoming. He thought about heading East, all the way to Maine; the shoreline was rocky and rough, and the crabs would find his body. He could go to Florida, drive into a swamp, let the muck swallow him slowly. He could go to the Dakotas, drive out into the desert, park there and wait, and the vultures would descend eventually. He wondered if anyone would notice that he was gone. 

He can’t tell Dean that.  

So he doesn’t tell Dean about the directionless days. He starts with the day Ruby found him. 

He doesn’t tell Dean about the relief he felt, when he thought Ruby was going to kill him. He doesn’t tell Dean about the cold crush of disappointment in his chest when she stabbed the demon instead. 

He tells Dean about her new body, “100% socially conscious.” He tells Dean about the plan to find Lilith: “I wanted to go right away.” 

Sam had asked, What do you want from me? 

A little patience. And sobriety. 

Sobriety made it harder to sleep, and insomnia made it even harder to remember what was real. He didn’t feel real. He felt like a faded, dull husk of a person, a sunbleached copy of a photograph instead of a breathing human with a heartbeat. Ruby told him to use his strength, but he didn’t have anything left. 

Sam didn’t much care if he died, and some days he wasn’t even sure he was still alive. 

He can’t tell Dean that. 

He sees the way Dean looks at him sometimes. He sees the exhaustion in Dean’s eyes, the worry flickering behind that, and Sam doesn’t want to add to the weight on his big brother’s shoulders. 

Ruby said, Just give it time, Sam. It'll get better. I'm not talking about pulling demons. I know losing Dean was…

I don't want to talk about it. 

The anger tasted ashy in his mouth. It burned, but in a purifying way, like a forest fire clearing the land for new growth. The anger helped him focus. He balled his hands into fists, imagined punching her, imagined that pretty face swollen and bleeding. 

He doesn’t tell Dean about that. 

You know what? Where do you get off slapping me with that greeting-card, time-heals crap? What the hell do you know? I used to be human. And I still remember what it feels like to lose someone. I'm sorry.

He almost did punch her, at that. 

When she kissed him, it was Dean’s voice in the back of his head saying, this is wrong. He shoved her away. 

“I knew it was wrong,” Sam confesses, and he can’t meet Dean’s eyes. “But…” 

He didn’t care, in the moment. It was his brother’s opinion that had always mattered; he always wanted to make Dean proud. But Dean was dead, and Sam had been drifting for so long, and Ruby’s skin was warm and soft and real under his hands.

It was more like a battle than a kiss. It was teeth and claws, ripping each other apart, but every bite and every scratch felt like a reminder that Sam was still alive. 

“Sam?” Dean snaps. “Too much information.” And there it is, there’s the disgust Sam knew was coming. Dean’s lip curls and Sam feels like a child again, clumsy and stupid next to his strong, steady anchor of a big brother. 

The half-truth sits uncomfortably in his throat, and Sam has to work to get it past his lips: “I’m coming clean.” 

There’s something monstrous inside him, something warped and wrong. There’s always been something wrong with him. 

He thinks of the vial in his pocket, the burst of copper on his tongue like a mushroom cloud, the silent dare in Ruby’s big dark eyes and the way she sighs when he slices her open. It burns a little hotter every time he drinks, and he must be charred and black inside by now. 

He hasn’t felt clean for a long time. 

That’s the thing about fire, though; it cleanses, purifies, and maybe he’ll burn up hot enough to take Lilith with him someday. Self-immolation seems inevitable, at this point. His life doesn’t mean much, but maybe his death will. 

“Pretty soon after that,” Sam says, “I put together some signs. Omens. Lilith was in town, and I wanted to strike her first.” Ruby had looked so goddamn concerned, when she realized, and Sam had hated her for it. You don’t want to survive this. This isn't what Dean would've wanted. This isn't what he died for.

“She came after me,” Sam says. “She saved me.” 

He hesitates. 

He doesn’t tell Dean about the blood. 

Sam remembers the night after that failed attack. He remembers watching Ruby cut herself for the first time: his stomach roiling and his skin crawling, the blood welling up and beading into shiny pearls of red. He imagined it sliding down his throat and staining his guts that same dark crimson. 

He doesn’t tell Dean about the way it sizzled on his lips, crackled and sparked inside him, lit him up in a whole new way. He doesn’t tell Dean about the next demon, the way the black oily smoke poured out all at once, faster than he’d ever seen it leave a human before, and the way his veins sang with the power. 

He doesn’t tell Dean about the too-hot shower afterward, when the fizz was long gone and he scrubbed himself raw trying to get rid of the itch that it left behind. 

He didn’t like the way he felt with Ruby, but at least he felt something again. 

“If it wasn’t for her, I wouldn’t be here,” he tells Dean quietly. 

He doesn’t ask, Do you regret dying for me? Was I worth it? 

He’s not sure he could live with the answer. 

.

.

.

If you enjoyed this, please reblog or leave a note here!

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[sweetsugarycanfyfloss]

Here's some of my supernatural pick up lines, hope you enjoy them!

1. I'd go to hell and back just to be with you

2. We should go out on a Tuesday so I can relive it over and over again

3. If I’m a demon, you must be a devil’s trap, because I’m stuck to you.

4. If you were a doctor, you’d be Dr. Sexy.

5. I’ll bet you taste better than the pie

6. Are you the impala? Because I would love to get in your trunk

7. Cupid must’ve marked our hearts with enochian symbols, because baby I feel like we’re meant to be.

8. My love for you burns like a ceiling fire

9. You must be the Impala because I wanna ride you all night long.

10. You're hotter than apple pie

11. I'd sell my soul for a kiss from you

12. You must be a trenchcoat because you would look great on me

13. We're you born that beautiful or did you make a deal with a crossroad demon

14. Are you a demon? because I want you inside of me

15. Demons are bad news, angels are too, I'll face them both but only with you

16. You and I go together better than hunters and plaid

17. You must be full of demon blood because I am addicted to you

18. My love for you burns as strongly as Dean Winchester's love for pie

19. My love burns for you like how Dean burned in Hell

20. My love for you burns as brightly as Castiels eye's cause damn they are blue

21. You could carry my wayward son

22. You light up my world like Mary Winchester lit up that house

23. Is that the Colt in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?

24. If you spend a night with me, I promise you’d be pinned to the bed and not the ceiling

25. I couldn’t help but come and talk to you. It must be the Heat of the Moment.

26. You must be a werewolf because you've stolen my heart

[demonsofhunting]

"A Sweet Embarassment" ( Dean Winchester x male!reader )

Request from @winchesterzforever​ :

"I just need a really intimate Drabble with dean winchester, male reader aswell, I miss seeing male readers for Dean I haven’t seen one on a while, is if you’re taking requests that would be nice 😊😊"

Warnings: very light angst, fluffy fluff, implied smut

Words: About 900

A/N: Hey! Thanks again for sending in a request, I feel very honored. <3 Well, about this one...since I'm not writing smut ( I would mess up, trust me XD ) this is all I could do for you. I hope that's okay as well. <3 Creating this was pretty fun, and I kinda got carried away while writing, so it turned out as a little longer than I expected. XD

( If anyone wants to send in drabble requests ( character x reader or destiel ), feel free to do so! <3 )

Anyway, hope you'll like it! Enjoy! <3

"Y/N! Get down!" Dean's voice pushes you back into reality, saving you from drowning in your own thoughts and getting stabbed, additionally. You throw yourself onto the ground, quickly. And you are just right in time, gladly. The spear, that Sam just threw at the monster, is flying above your head, sinking into the thick, smelling flesh of the creature. Oh, fuck. I didn't even know that it was behind me. Jeez, I'm a terrible hunter. Blood spills all over your body, sticky and disgusting. You swallow, carefully, making a face. How embarrassing. "Ew. That's gross," you moan, trying to get up again. Dean chuckles, helping you to your feet. "Awww, look at him, Sammy. Isn't he cute when he's grumpy?" he scoffs, playfully. "Sure, Dean," Sam mutters, "That was the last one of these creatures. I think, we're done here. Can we go now, please? Or..." "No, it's fine. Let's go," you cough, shooting Dean an angry look, while trying to hide your blushing. The elder Winchester just blinks with his long lashes, making an innocent pout. You shiver internally, wishing that the other hunter knew how you feel about him. Sure, he's always pretty flirty with you, but this doesn't mean anything. This guy flirts with literally anybody on a daily basis... On the one hand, you want him to stop, too afraid that he will notice your feelings for him, but...in the other hand, there's nothing hotter than him talking to you like that. Wow. This hopeless love already fucked me up, didn't it?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Back at the bunker, you go to your room without hesitation. Your face still feels like it's burning because of your embarrassment. Every single hunt, I'm the one who needs to be saved! I'm always the clumsy one who can't stay on their feet. In your anger you forget to close the door, that leads to the hallway, as you're starting to get rid of your filthy clothes. You're muttering curses to yourself, throwing your bloody flannel onto your bed, just to realise that you screwed up your sheets with this move. Fuck. "Oh...no," you moan, trying to make the mess disappear, quickly. "You need any help, honey?" a deep voice asks from the door frame, filled with amusement. You almost jump out of your skin, your heart skipping a beat. Dean! Oh - You turn around, stuttering something about the lines of: "N - no, I'm fine. I just..." You can't help but be aware of his gaze that lands on your bare chest. You shift, uncomfortably, crossing your arms with an unsteady gesture. You try to look as calm as possible, trying to read the other's facial expression. Dean just looks up and down on your body, raising an eyebrow, slowly. "What the hell are you're doing, Y/N?" he asks with a smirk, stepping closer. You try to avoid his gaze, looking down. "I - ", you begin, but get distracted by the feeling of his fingers touching your shoulder, gently. "Why so nervous?" Dean whispers near you ear, making you close your eyes while breathing in, deeply. "Dean..." "Hm...?" "Can you please stop doing that? I...I need to take a shower. I'm covered in blood, if you didn't notice yet," you mutter, weakly. Dean hesitates, searching your gaze. "And?" he asks, chuckling. "And...and when you're standing so close to me, you're getting all filthy..." you whispers with wide eyes, biting your bottom lip. Dean just smiles at you. It's a wide smile, his eyes filled with...what is that? Love?! No way! "Are you fucking kidding me?" he says, softly, "I'm trying to flirt with you since the moment we met, and you still don't get it?" You froze, feeling thousands of butterflies fluttering in his chest. "Oh," is all you manage to say. Then the other hunter's lips are meeting your, making you drown in the moment, completely. You always imagined how Dean might taste, but this...this is so much better than you ever imagined. Dean's hands are running through your hair, over your chest, making you feel dizzy. It feels like you're on fire. "Y/N," he hums, just to kiss you again. Obviously, he doesn't mind all the blood and dirt getting on his clothes...he just enjoys this moment with his whole heart. After a while, you pull away, breathing, heavily. He grabs your hand. "Wow," you whisper, smiling, widely, "And I always thought that you're just trying to fool me with your flirty comments." Dean frowns: "Seriously?" You chuckle, stroking his cheek with a gentle gesture: "I'm so sorry, honey. But now, I really need that shower. If you don't mind me disappearing for a couple of minutes, of course." Dean just cocks his head, thoughtfully. Then he holds your gaze, firmly. "Actually, I do mind," he says, making no attempt to let go of your hand. That causes you to form a thought in your head, that makes you blush. You blink at him, slowly, searching for his gaze. "Well...you are welcome to join me, if you want," you say, immediately regretting your words, biting your tongue Oh no, that's it. I messed up, I - Dean just cocks his head, licking his lips. He looks down on himself, his gaze lands on his filthy clothes. The he smiles. "Actually, that's a great idea. I really think that I could use a shower," he mutters, deeply. Your heart almost stops. "S - sure?" you whisper, shivering. "Absolutely," he answers, kissing you, gently.

 Aaaand that's it! Thank you so much for reading, and if you would like to leave a comment or reblog this shit, I will love you forever! <3

( And again, guys, if this isn't your kind of thing, just ignore it. Love u! *hugs* )

Destiel/Forever Tags: @adoptdontshoppets @rebeloftheseas @trenchcoatsandfreckles @ablavalba @smodernlife @ignis-glaciesque @certaindeanwinchesterforcastiel @xsghn @helpmeluci @legendary-destiel @leahslovelylibrary

[oddsocksandstuff]

Mercy

For @badthingshappenbingo

Square filled: Not used to freedom

Fandom: Supernatural

Genfic.

Tags: reference to torture, aftermath of torture, canon compliant, rescue, first meeting, trueform!Cas, brief mentions of being buried alive and coming back from death.

A story of an Angel of the Lord plucking the righteous man out of the black. (Set briefly before Season 4 episode 1) 

Reprieve in hell was a fickle thing, it came at the expense of another’s pain. It came perched on the tip of a blade or inside the flickers of flame directed at another. You held out until you didn't, and everybody cracked in the end; a small splinter that grew until you caved in on yourself and became hollow.

An endless feedback loop, a snake eating itself, a spiralling path that turned ever inwards; down and down into depths darker at every turn.

Dean had been black for years, if one could count time in hell in the rotations of the earth and passage across the stars. It seemed an eternity, and the reason for his own reprieve was long lost to the recesses of memory. He turned the screw tighter, and cut deeper, and burned hotter and faster and crueller so as not to look back. His own pain like a phantom in the night that never gave up the chase, his own fear a choking fog that drove him ever onward to pulling apart those around him; so that he might be saved the punishment himself.

Not a willing pupil, but an attentive one, an eager learner; how to carve, how to make them sing. They all sang eventually, they all fell to his knife and his whims. 

Reprieve in hell was never a sure thing, and always the terror of being inadequate made him righteous in his anger. How dare anyone, or anything, put him back on the whipping post when he’d worked so long, and so hard, and endured so much to be free of it?

But resolve in hell was a thin thread stretched taut, and he never did his surety waver more than in those last moments. The crash came loud and long, a booming cacophony that echoed from above as though all the walls were falling inward. It grew louder, and nearer, and he gripped his blood stained weapon with all the strength he had. He was certain, for moments that spanned an eternity, that his luck had run out. Alistair must be displeased to come for him with such ferocity, such wrath. Screaming and clashing of blades that seared through his skull and rendered him motionless in fear.

Surely he was done for, the pain about to swallow him whole, the darkness come to consume him.

Light erupted ahead of the noise, the very sight of it overwhelming to his much-dimmed vision. He turned, and struck, and met his match. A flaming, winged thing so very far from Alistair’s blackness. Resplendent and terrifying, it battered his attack away with a blow that set his bones to rattling.

He snarled, and threw himself forward with fists and nails and teeth, and was caught up, wrapped in tendrils of power and strength that smothered and burned. He thrashed and kicked, and threw back his head with a wail. This was worse, whatever punishment he’d earned now, than anything he’d felt before. It seared him from the inside out and he looked down to see blackened, charred flesh fall from his body. Flakes and ash peeling away everywhere the light touched him.

Fighting raged above and behind him, roars of anger and shouts of victory reached his ears. Something looked down at him, peered close and tilted him this way and that. He cowered under its gaze, a gaze that seemed like a mirror reflecting all his brokenness back at him. He saw the ruined, scarred mess of his soul in many giant lidless eyes and clenched his jaw to keep back tears. He knew what he must look like, and he didn’t want to see it.

“Dean Winchester has been saved.”

No!

Fire red and coal dark walls sped past him as he was thrust upward with a lurch, the thing that gripped him held tight and kept him close. 

Stop, no!

“Yes, you have been saved.”

You can’t.

“It has already been done.”

Saved for what?

“For earth, for your purpose.”

I have no purpose, I’m just a tool, I wield and am wielded.

“You are many things, a soldier yes, a brother, a man, perhaps a saviour… it remains to be seen.”

Brother? No? It couldn’t be. That way lay danger.

“Would you like to see the sun again? To be free again?”

There is no sun here, it has all been taken. There is no freedom, not from what we’ve done.

“I can return all you have lost. Give all of it back to you.”

Look at me, I’m not worth saving. Where could I go, that would have me?

“Sam, I think, will be glad to see you.”

You can’t! I’m not… I would hurt him!

“Why?”

It’s what I do, that’s my purpose, don’t you see?

“I see a man, broken, but not ruined.”

I don’t think I count as a man, anymore.

Time slowed, the fire grew colder and the speed of their ascent got slower. Heaviness weighed down on his head, pressure that spiked pain through his being, an ache behind his teeth that ate its way upward.

“It’s all falling away now, all of it left behind. Look back, you can see it.”

He screwed his eyes closed and refused until gentle light suffused him and he gasped.

“Look Dean, it is all alright.”

One enormous eye, on the face of a great lion, held his attention. “You are not withered anymore.”

He glanced back, and down, and saw his own form glowing. Star bright and effervescent, and a trail of dying flesh that floated away from him, burned off by the intensity of the flames around his body.

What did you do?

“Returned you to the way you should be, unmarred.”

It’s all…. gone?

“Memories remain, the taint of them is lifted.”

Why? I don’t deserve it.

“That is not for you to decide. What I see beneath, of who you really are, that is what matters.”

The pressure increased until he convulsed with it, walls closed in and pressed upon him. The being that held him didn’t seem fazed, or falter.

Please don’t take me back to Sam, it won’t be the same. He’ll see what I really am.

“Forgiveness is a glorious thing Dean Winchester, and I believe your brother is better at it than most.”

And you, do you forgive me?

He needed to know, to feel it. The stink of the pit was still in his nose, still lingered on his breath and he wanted nothing more than to be free of it.

Blue irises, emanating light, shone brighter as they looked at him. “I saved you, I think that speaks for itself."

What am I supposed to do? 

“Live, survive, be the light in the world you were always meant to be.”

Saving people, hunting things, the family business… he hadn’t recalled these things in a lifetime. They felt so alien now. Whatever escape he had found came at the expense of his humanity— he had thrown it away like an unwanted gift. He couldn’t save anyone now, not when he was the shadow himself, when he was the monster under the bed that all fathers warned their sons about. He had drowned himself in evil to spare himself a little pain, he was well on the way to having eyes as black as his soul. How could he go back to cutting away the evil in others, as though he didn’t know where it came from?

Who will tell me what to do?

“No-one, you will be free.”

Freedom is just a length of rope, an illusion. Freedom isn’t for me. I’m not made for it.

“You will be, again, in time.”

He felt the press and roughness of earth and stone crowd around him. A physical weight on his being. The Angel— he knew now that was what it was— that carried him thrust harder, forcing them forward. Through. To the surface.

To life. Life that was so far beyond his scope of understanding, life that he had left behind, turned away from. His hope for it had been abandoned to survive the cut of the knife. 

You can’t do this, I’m not ready!

Roots struck out and barred their path and his saviour slowed, carefully pushed them aside like a tender gardener.

“There is no time to waste, Dean Winchester. Life is waiting for you, the world needs you.”

I’m not strong enough, I don’t want it, I don’t want to be needed. 

“No-one ever does, fate has her plans.”

The pressure was suffocating, and he remembered suddenly that life came with breath and breath needed space for air, and there was no air here in this underground place.

It’ll hurt, won’t it. The worst things always did.

“I know little of pain, but I fear it will not come easily. Your body awaits you, go with grace, Dean Winchester. I have faith in you.”

What’s your name?

The Angel paused. “Castiel. You will not remember me, I think, not like this anyway. It has been good to know you, and I will know you again.”

With one final thrust, one parry through the jaws of the earth that split apart atoms with a single push of energy, he felt crushed through dirt, and wood, and bone. Light flashed behind his eyes, energy fractured him apart and knit him back together. He became whole. Spirit and flesh reunited.

He gasped.

And opened his eyes in the dark.

Life in the ground is such a fragile thing. Survival against better judgement is an instinct one cannot fight.

So he clawed, and scraped, and dug, and thrashed until the coffin was empty. Until he was free. Until the hollowness in his chest was filled deeply, until sunlight burned his eyes and he knew reprieve had found him; and it had come at the hands of light, the mercy of blue eyes, and the revival of his soul.

He rubbed the place in his chest where the dark had taken root and resolved to fill it with something else.

Coming home, Sammy. Coming back to life. Whatever that means.

He stood on shaky legs, and started walking.

[also on ao3 here]

[wafflewarriors]

The Not-So-French Mistake

Chapter 3: Fallen Ashes to Angels

In the cool shelter of the house, Castiel guarded Sydney as covertly as possible. The Winchesters and Bobby were present, but he felt it necessary he patrol the girl he had first gathered. His posture was ramrod straight and his shoulders were square to his spine; although, his muscles eventually tired from his stationary position. Humanity, he reasoned, cannot simply sit and be content. Their muscles exhaust too rapidly. This was where their impatience originated from, he supposed.

After an hour of waking only to supervise, he had noticed an aching emptiness centered within the pit of his stomach. Startled by the unpleasant experience, he had casually hunched into the couch as his stomach begged and craved food. He had, of course, once experienced this foreign desire when they had encountered Famine, but he had never become accustomed to such.

No one among him had seemed to satisfy their own hunger, so he assumed that it was a typical pain at this early hour. However, he found that throughout the day nobody mentioned any food of sorts, and the dull grumble of hunger grew into a slow starvation. He was inclined to slouch further into the couch cushions but decided against it. With a cautious eye pinned to the girl browsing their library, he entered the kitchen with an intent to raid the fridge.

Dean questioned his purpose, as always. “What's got you in such a hurry?”

Upon opening the fridge to find it bare, Castiel was experiencing a taste of humanity's impatience, and his clipped voice represented this. “Dean, there is a deep greed I have felt for several hours now. I have a great desire to ingest food, and I must eat or I will further suffer hunger.” Was this himself speaking? He hadn't meant his words to be bitter.

Dean’s lips curled upward in entertainment. “You know, you could say you're hungry like a normal person, Cas.” He sighed, “Yeah, we can eat. Hey, Sam; how about we go to the local diner for lunch? Cas here is getting hangry.”

“Hangry?” Castiel baffled in his own irritable way. “I believe it's pronounced―”

“Sounds like a plan.” Sam interrupted.

Castiel quieted when nobody acknowledged his question. He was only curious as to why Dean deliberately stressed the word hangry when he had said hungry only seconds before. Had he done so purposely? The English language was rather complex, he decided. Humans love to complicate their languages. Enochian was much more straightforward.

They looked expectantly to Sydney, who was uncertain. “I... I might stay back and research.” She extended the book she was skimming in an attempt to strengthen her plea.

Dean vetoed that. “No, no, sweetcheeks. We aren't losing you from our sight. Loco angels, remember?”

Castiel sent a sad, apologetic smile to Sydney from behind Dean's shoulder; it was his species, after all.

Bobby nodded to her. “Go on. Nothing here except the phones. We’ll dig into it further once you've had something to eat. I'll stay behind in case somebody calls.”

She squinted, yielding to the hunters’ hidden demand. While their politeness covered it neatly, it all broke down to the fact that she had to accompany them. She set her jaw and nodded grudgingly. Four against one was no fair argument.

She and Castiel trailed behind the Winchesters, the angel clarifying that she was under his surveillance. “Hangry?" he whispered to himself, wondering.

Sydney chuckled at the angel's innocence. If she wasn't currently a prisoner, she’d have found him to be good company. “Dean combined the words hungry and angry.”

“Oh, I see,” he said, though not really seeing.

●●●

The immediate rise of the temperature outside was alarming. Heat surged down fervidly onto the group. They were practically baking in their jackets... and a specific trench coat.

“Dog days this late, hm?” Dean was skeptical. “Well, take off your jackets or you will fry in the car. The air conditioning takes a few minutes to kick in.” He shrugged off his dad's old jacket, taking care to form it into a neat fold. His shirt hugged his form, showing his toned physique and aged scars.

Dean grasped the handle of the car door and hissed in pain when it seared with heat. The sun radiated off the car's reflection. “Jesus!” He exclaimed, inspecting his palm, which was thankfully free of burns. “That is hot.”

“We know you love your car, Dean.” Castiel chortled courteously, expecting his friend to have been joking. It was usual Dean-personality.

“No, that thing is hotter than the pits of hell. And I've been there.” Dean was sincere. His hand was now a light, sore pink, but thankfully the skin was intact. He cradled it momentarily. Using his shirt as a barrier for his hand, he wrenched the door open awkwardly. Hot air blasted out like a dragon breathing fire. “Well, get in.”

After several minutes of uncomfortable fidgeting in the oven-like seats and complaining over the fiery seatbelts, they took off with the windows cranked at their full capacity. With the constant whoosh of humid air rushing through the windows, so the car was merely warm. A rattle of Legos in the vent synched with rhythm of Sydney's heartbeat.

“So... Sydney. To hit two birds with one stone, we're going to the town we found you in. We’ve heard evidence of murder, and they haven't found the bodies,” Sam informed her delicately.

Dean turned down the radio a notch so he could speak and be heard over the windows and blasting rock music. “Y-ep. The creepy part? There, reportedly, had been a huge community bonfire exactly the night after they went missing. I'm going on a hunch here, but I'll take it the fire smelled like burning flesh and nonconsensual sacrifices.” Dean informed, glancing in his rearview mirror. “Hey, Cas, could you stick with her for the day? Sam and I just have this one case to look into.” Dean wrung his sweaty palms on his steering wheel and muttered, “Or maybe two if this sun thing doesn't chill out.”

Castiel nodded. He had been doing so since she had arrived, anyway. “I planned on it,” he replied happily.

Dean made a turn on the road and fidgeted miserably when the sun's light hit his lap, pooling heat onto his legs. “Okay,” he said finally, speaking over the open windows as he drove, “what is it with the supersun? It's almost fall. I feel like one of the ants we held magnifying glasses over when we were kids. This thing is microwaving us.” He briefly wondered if he could bake a pie in this weather. It surely would pay off for all their previous efforts among any work they accomplished.

Castiel considered the possibility. “You may be correct. Something could be magnifying the sun to create havoc.”

Dean’s eyes were fixated on the road, but he couldn't help glancing back in tired disbelief. Man, their lives just got weirder and weirder. “So what could we be looking at? Witches? Satanic worshipers? Demons? Monsters? A summoning? What do we got?”

Castiel brooded. “It takes a great amount of effort to reign the Sun, Dean. I'm not sure.” He shuffled, shirt clammy with sweat. “They would need to be incredibly powerful.”

“Right.”

Oddly enough, as they entered the town, traffic had not seemed to accumulate. The roads were barren of any vehicles, and as they approached the town, they promptly discovered why.

Pedestrians riddled the sidewalks under the grilling sun, their faces flushed and dehydrated. There were at several people arguably ill to heat stroke.

Dean parked the car abruptly, eyes widening at the disorder of people. He turned to his friends: "Scratch everything I said. Some of these folks need to get to the hospital. Now. The murders can wait before more deaths occur because of our overly sociable sun.” Not a dot of leniency stood in his tone, expecting their immediate service to secure the town, which was reasonable.

Sam looked ready to protest, but Dean shut him right up. “Sam,” he spoke dangerously, “something screwy is going on with that sun, and if we don't act now, there won’t be a town to save! Cas, Sam, Pug-face, I need you to gather some townspeople, and watch her, Cas. I have to park this baby in the shade before we haul these strangers to the nearest hospital.”

There was no time to dwell, so with Sydney's shrunken, annoyed pip of, “Pug-face?”, everyone was scrambling out of the car. Cas and Sydney headed to the left while Sam sprinted right. They didn't bother checking for traffic; the asphalt had been deserted once people realized they could griddle an omelet on its surface.

The town was in a fragile state. The sky had become stale, altering from a beryl blue to an ashen grey as the sun cloaked the atmosphere with a withering glare. Ruddy, rich soil had crisped into a cinder-like dust. The budding, lush greens of trees had faded to a tarnished, mossy hue. As the heat elevated, the saturation crumbled.

Sam found his shoes sticky with softened bitumen from the road. He dashed toward a feverous woman, a victim to the cruel weather. She swayed, rocking on their heels in misery. With a parched, dry mouth, she begged, “Water. Please―”

Sam promised almost pitifully, “We'll get you water. We’ll get you water, okay? They'll have water at the hospital. I swear.” He prayed that to be true and that the curse had only struck upon this town. If the entire globe was suffering against a Hulked-out, mammoth sun, an immense epidemic would occur, and it would become outside of the Winchester's hands to solve it.

Sam supported the woman as she staggered clumsily. Her sweat dripped and sizzled on the concrete, and her brow was furrowed into a distressing, hazy determination as she struggled to remain conscious.

Across the street, Cas and Sydney had their hands full. Cas was carrying a frail child in his arms, her face flushed and scarlet. Sydney provided assistance to a young man; his steps wavered, so overtaken by blistering temperatures it ached to focus upon the mere idea of walking.

Dean had fortunately parked in some nearby shade, and the chattering of the engine echoed like an impish cat. The heat couldn’t have been good for Dean's beloved car, but he had set aside materialistic issues and had dug into the true stakes at hand: the lives of innocent civilians and children.

Now with the heat-stricken people stuffed inside the Impala, Dean took charge. He spoke through the window, voice sharp and commanding, “You guys help the rest of the people get shelter and water, and help yourselves too. I mean it―I don't want to come back and drag you all to the hospital as well, you understand?”

His friends nodded in unison, and Dean then mirrored the action. “Okay. I should be back soon. Don't do anything stupid!” He aimed a finger pointedly at Sydney. “Especially you, Sparky.” With that, he revved the engine, and then drove off.

They got straight to business, heading toward the groups of people who had scarcely kept from stewing in the daylight.

However, as Sydney drew nearer to her assignment, she slowed as the sun flushed heat against her sweaty back. The people about her were in such grave conditions, but she couldn't find it in herself to care much at the moment. “I'm going to go…” she pointed lazily, “uh… get water...” she let them know sluggishly, endeavoring to sound as casual as allowed at that moment.

Castiel looked sternly to her, seeing past her weak facade. “Dean does not want us doing something regrettable. Especially you. I believe going on your own counts as such.”

Hearing Dean's snarky words through the angel's mouth was comedic. The comment became totally unlike Dean: uncertain and... unusually gentle.

Sydney almost chuckled, but she was too exhausted, hot, and dehydrated to manage it. God, I feel sick, she thought miserably as her stomach twisted and clenched in nausea, not realizing her apparent prayer. “Cas. I really―”

Then, he was in the way, blocking her path stubbornly. She feebly pushed but found him encouraging her to rest on the sidewalk amongst the townsfolk and lean against a shaded, brick wall.

A habit of saying or thinking his Father's name in vain usually lead to accidental prayers. “Sam will do so. You are growing ill.”

She searched for her voice, and once she’d found it, she weakly argued, croaking, “But I want to help―”.

“I have been assigned to serve amongst the ill, and now you are included amongst them, so I shall tend to you.” He asserted faithfully, concern clouding his features. “I wish I could heal you.” 

He found his predicament highly counterproductive. If only he could have utilized his wasted grace upon the suffering people in this town. If only he had clutched further onto it before it snuck past his impatient fingers. The circumstance made him resentful and upset, realizing he could have accomplished something just yesterday.

A time as simply distant as 24 hours ago, yet he could do nothing now.