#dean winchester nightmare no more

[wildwestdean]

impetus

summary: dean gets targeted by a witch while working a case, and she curses him to yearn for what he secretly loves the most. it seems to have no effect, until it's pointed out that he can't seem to stay away from you - but what happens when he tries to fight it?

pairing: dean winchester x female reader

word count: 9.4k+

warnings: violence, hunting/working a case, mentions of murders, gore, evil witches, reader and dean get attacked, swearing, alcohol consumption, angst, fluff, yearning, mutual pining, idiots oblivious to their own feelings, magical curses, hallucinations, nightmares, depictions of death, depictions of drowning, fighting/arguments, heart-to-heart, confessions, use of [y/n], nicknames, mature themes

“Right, well, this isn’t creepy at all,” Dean declared, rolling Baby to a stop before switching into park. 

You both sat quietly as you surveyed the desolate building, a feeling of unease washing over you. 

“Maybe we should wait for Sam,” you suggested half heartedly. He was only down at the Sheriff’s station, and it wouldn’t even take ten minutes for him to meet you here, but you knew Dean wouldn’t wait. 

“No,” he said, confirming what you already knew. “Someone else is missing and this is our best lead so far. If you don’t want to go in, that's fine, but I am.” 

“I’m not letting you go in there alone,” you snapped, sitting up as tall as you could despite the pit forming in your stomach. 

“Awe, you worried about me, sweetheart?” Dean teased, turning to look at you with a grin; one that was effectively wiped from his face when he saw the look in your eyes. “Hey, what is it?” 

“I don’t know,” you said honestly, shrugging lightly. “I just have a bad feeling about this.” 

“Bad feeling like what?” he questioned, his brows knitting together. 

You thought about it, trying to pinpoint what it was you felt, but you couldn’t. “Just…. don’t go wandering off,” you ended up saying- begging, more like. 

“Alright,” he agreed easily. “We stick together, and we’ll be in and out before you know it.” 

“Right,” you confirmed with a nod. “Let’s gear up.” 

You exited the car as quietly as you could, making your way around to the back as Dean unlocked the trunk and propped up the panel to the arsenal.

“You and Sam better be right about this,” he muttered, digging out the box of witch-killing bullets. 

Your mind raced through the details of the case: An exsanguinated priest, a dead nun with her tongue ripped out, the president of the high schools abstinence club found without a heart, and various livestock missing various body parts - if this wasn’t a witch, you were a little scared to find out what else it could be. 

“We have to be,” you breathed out, loading your ammo. 

“Can you do me a favour and sound at least a little confident?” he asked playfully, lightly nudging your arm with his own before tucking his gun into his jeans. 

“Sorry,” you said sheepishly, holstering your own gun. 

“It’s alright,” he said earnestly, handing you your favourite knife (one that used to be his before you claimed it as your own). “I’m just not used to seeing you so spooked.” 

You couldn’t help but chuckle quietly as you took the knife from him. “I’m not used to feeling spooked.” 

“We’ll make it through,” he consoled, closing up the trunk. “Just like we always do.” 

“Just like we always do,” you echoed with a nod, following him towards the building. 

The overgrowth brushed your calves as you made your way up the walk, and after a quick survey of the facade, Dean swung the door open after picking the lock. 

“Wait!” you hissed, stopping him before he entered. “Sam does know we’re here, right?” 

You watched as his shoulders shrugged before stepping inside. “Probably.” 

“That’s… comforting,” you sighed, following him across the threshold. 

The two of you did a quick preliminary sweep of the main level before making your way to the top floor, finding nothing of significance in any of the rooms. Making your way back down, you both stopped dead in your tracks as you heard a clatter come from beneath you. 

“Of course there’s a basement,” Dean whispered. “Why wouldn’t the creepy ass witch be in the creepy ass basement of this creepy ass house?” 

“How do you know she’s a creepy ass witch?” you teased, raising an eyebrow at him. “Maybe she’s hot. Or a guy. Or both.” 

He faltered over his response, considering your words for a moment. “I’ll bet whatever tab you drink up at the bar once we end up ganking this bitch. She’s creepy.” 

“Deal,” you grinned, wiggling your eyebrows at him. 

You both chuckled, before another noise from the basement drew your attention back to the case at hand. Dean awkwardly cleared his throat before leading the way in search of the basement entrance, using the occasional noise as guidance. 

“God, I hate witches,” he muttered to himself, slapping away cobwebs as he descended the stairs. 

“I don’t think the witch put those webs there,” you said with a snicker. 

“No, they’re just the one turning this rotting corpse of a house into a lair of evil and despair,” he hissed. 

You rolled your eyes in response, unable to stop the fond smile from creeping onto your face as you made it to the bottom of the stairs. 

A muffled cry caught your attention, and Dean spared you a quick look before running in the direction it came from, you hot on his heels. Coming up on a corner, he slowed to a halt and peered around the wall. 

“It looks clear,” he decided after a moment. “Just be careful,” he added, continuing on his way. 

Upon turning the corner, you were enveloped in the warm glow of candles, which would have been nice, had it not been for the rest of the scene. An altar lay at the far wall, burning candelabras stood in each corner of the room, and the very person you were searching for was bound and gagged in a chair in the middle of the room, surrounded by a circle of candles. 

Dean cursed and muttered under his breath, surveying the room. “I’ll get him, you get the altar.“

“Okay,” you agreed, running across the room. Once you reached the altar, you couldn’t help but stare in shock and disgust for a moment as you took in the sight; all the missing body parts seemingly staring back at you from where they lay soaked in blood. It took Dean shouting your name from across the room to bring you back to your senses, and you quickly upturned the altar as Dean instructed the now freed man to get out as fast as possible and wait by the car. As soon as the contents of the altar were scattered, an ear piercing shriek came from behind you. 

Quickly whirling on your heels, you were greeted by a cloaked figure, who seemingly came out of nowhere. 

“What have you done?” she screamed, dropping her hood as she stared daggers into you. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you feigned innocence. “Did I ruin your big plan?”

“You ruined everything!” she shrieked, slowly approaching you. “You’ll pay for this!” 

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” Dean called out from behind her. 

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited for this?! How many centuries passed by until the circumstances were right? I had it! I had it all! I was one spell away from seeing my love again!” she continued to scream, advancing further towards you as she ignored Dean.

“Back off, Grunhilda!” Dean roared from behind her, drawing his gun. 

“No!” she shrieked, barely lifting her hand in order to easily swing his gun away - and stop you from drawing your own. “You stupid little gnat. You think you can just come in here and mess with things you don’t understand? You think you can take this from me?!” 

Her shouting was drowned out by the sound of your own heart pounding in your ears, your entire body feeling like it was on fire as your throat constricted, the air leaving your lungs and not returning. You felt your bones cracking beneath your skin as your feet left the floor, and you shared a look of terror with Dean before black began to cloud the edges of your vision. 

Without an effective weapon handy, Dean rushed the witch and tackled her to the floor, sending you crashing down. You met the concrete with a thud, and it knocked the rest of your senses out of you. You laid there for who knows how long, fighting off the waves of pain and nausea, willing yourself to move as you listened to the struggle happening a few feet away from you. 

By the time you managed to prop yourself up, Dean was pinned down as she advanced on him, and you desperately looked around for either of your guns. 

“Do you have any idea what it’s like?” you heard her ask, menace laced deep in her words. “To want something so desperately, to feel that desire within your very soul?!” 

Dean struggled against her hold as you struggled to pick yourself up, to at least crawl to a weapon if you had to.

“Well you will,” she sneered, cackling to herself. “You’ll know how it feels. To have what you want the very most to be so close to you, to have it at the edge of your fingertips, only to never be able to grasp it! For it to be the only thing you can think about!”

“Shut the hell up,” Dean seethed through clenched teeth, glaring at her. 

She only stepped closer towards him, cackling to herself. “Your strongest yearning, hidden deep in your heart, will nevermore be yours to part. Be it with sun or with rain, that which brings joy won’t be without pain.” 

“You finished yet?” Dean interrupted, before he had the wind knocked out of him, rendering him silent. 

Moving as quickly as you could without being noticed, you closed in on Dean’s pistol while the witch carried on. 

“Whatever you crave you cannot say, yet you’ll seek it out be it night or day,” she continued, hovering over him. “Consider yourself lucky, you useless toad. I’ve had countless lifetimes yearning to see my love again, and I’ll spend lifetimes more. At least you only have this one measly little life to yearn for what you want.” 

Grasping the gun in your hands, you carefully rose to your feet and steadied yourself to take aim. “Man, you really do talk too much,” you huffed out.

The shot rang out just as she turned towards you, though it was silenced by a roaring wind that accompanied a bright blue light. Within seconds, everything was calm and quiet again.

Fighting every urge you had to collapse back onto the floor, you trudged your way over to Dean in an attempt to help him up. 

“God, I told you she’d be creepy,” he gasped out, groaning as he stood. 

“You want a prize?” you asked incredulously, staring up at him. 

“I wanna get the hell out of here,” he said, ushering you to take leave. “Then I want those drinks you owe me.” 

After what felt like another entire day, you and Dean had dropped the victim off at the hospital, patched each other up, cleaned out the basement, showered, and filled Sam in on everything that went down. 

“So… she cursed you?” Sam asked curiously, trying to understand. 

“I dunno. She tried to, I guess,” Dean replied nonchalantly. “But [Y/N/N] put a bullet in her. No witch, no curse, right?” 

Sam shared a brief look with you, before turning back to Dean. “Yeah, but… there was no body.” 

“What?” Dean asked gruffly. 

“The witch,” you said. “I shot, but she vanished. What if she isn’t dead?” 

“Well, I feel normal, so I’m gonna say she’s dead,” Dean declared with a shrug. “Now, can we head to the bar? I’m in desperate need of a drink… or twelve.” 

Without waiting for an answer, he quickly stood and donned his jacket before looking back at you and Sam. “You guys coming or what?” 

“Oh, do I have a choice to not go?” you asked playfully.

“You can stay if you want, but your wallet comes with me,” he replied, smiling innocently. 

“Alright, let’s go,” you said with a dramatic sigh, grabbing your own jacket. 

Not long after, the three of you were sliding into a booth in the nearest dive, enjoying the lack of people; you guys seriously needed to decompress. 

“Alright, I’ll be back,” you declared, hopping out of the booth to get the first round of drinks. 

“Make sure you get a tab started!” Dean jokingly called after you. 

You flipped him off in response, taking a seat at the bar after placing your order. While you waited, Sam watched as Dean grew more restless in his seat. 

“Dude, what the hell is your problem?” he finally asked, eyeing Dean as he fidgeted anxiously. 

“What?” Dean asked cluelessly, glancing around the bar. “I’m thirsty. She’s been gone for what, like, half an hour?” 

“It’s… barely been two minutes, Dean,” Sam informed him with an amused grin.  

“Yeah, well. I want my beer,” Dean mumbled, tapping his fingers on the table as he glanced around once more. “I’m gonna go see if she needs help.”

Before Sam could even reply, Dean was already halfway across the bar, meeting you just as you got your final drink. 

“Need a hand?” Dean asked cheerfully, his sudden appearance making you jump. “Sorry,” he added with a snicker. 

“Dick,” you muttered with a laugh, hopping down from the stool. “Here you go,” you added, handing him his beer.

“Awesome,” he beamed, taking the bottle from your outstretched hand. 

He followed closely as you made your way back to the table, handing Sam his drink before sliding into the booth; Dean followed suit, leaving you nestled in between him and the wall. 

The three of you had a few more rounds before Dean slipped away, determined to teach a lesson to the arrogant ass harassing players around the pool tables - just because you didn’t need to hustle people anymore didn’t mean it wasn’t still fun every now and then. You watched him fondly, laughing quietly to yourself as you watched him fumble around with his cue before making a terrible break. Harder than it looks, you could just hear him say. 

Your attention was turned back to Sam when he cleared his throat, and you were met with his questioning gaze. “Does he seem weird to you?” 

“Weird how?” you asked, face scrunched in confusion. 

“I don’t know, strange,” he replied with a small shrug. “Like- like antsy or something.” 

Your eyes flit back across the room to Dean, who was very much in his element as he upped his ante, before focusing on Sam again. “I haven’t noticed anything, Sammy.” 

He sighed in resignation, seeming to already know that would be your response. “It’s probably nothing, just forget I said anything,” he replied, shaking his head dismissively before finishing his drink. 

“If you say so,” you muttered quietly, sipping your drink as you cast a worried gaze across the bar, getting lost in thought.

By the time you each finished another round of drinks, Dean made his way back over to the table; much to the surprise of you and Sam. 

“Done so soon?” Sam questioned, raising an eyebrow at his brother. 

“Yeah,” Dean shrugged, sliding back into the seat beside you.

“But you only played one round,” you said quizzically. 

“So?” Dean wondered, gulping down the rest of his beer. 

“So, you usually play a lot more than that,” Sam pitched in, shifting his gaze between you and Dean. 

Dean sighed, his bottle clanging on the table as he set it back down. “Why am I getting the third degree here? I played a game, he learned his lesson, I got over it. End of story.”

“Okay, grouchy,” you snickered, ruffling his hair a little just because you knew he hated it. Except he really did love it when it was you doing it.

“Whatever, anyone want another round?” he asked with a huff, lightly swatting your hand away. 

“No, I’m gonna call it a night,” you admitted, shifting to slip your jacket back on. 

“Yeah, me too,” Sam declared, starting to stand from the table. 

Dean stood as well, assumingly just to let you out. “Alright, let’s go.”

You and Sam both stilled in your movements at his response, sharing a shocked look with each other. “You’re… coming with us?” 

“Why wouldn’t I?” he asked with a scoff, shrugging his jacket on as he looked questioningly between you and Sam. “Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you guys?”

“We just didn’t expect you to call it a night so early,” Sam explained helplessly. “Gettin’ old, huh?” he added, trying to lighten the mood a little. 

“Yeah, I mean, you barely even wracked up a tab!” you declared with a laugh, before grinning mischievously. “Drinks just don’t agree with you anymore, do they, old man?”

Dean scoffed and rolled his eyes, fixing his collar just to busy his hands. “Okay, alright, one more wisecrack and I’m leaving you both here.” 

Despite the finality in his tone, the amusement dancing in his eyes gave him away - as did the hand he extended to you to help you slide from the booth. 

“Whatever you say, grandpa,” Sam teased, patting Dean on the shoulder before walking away with laughter in his wake. “I’ll be outside!”

You chuckled in response, and the stern look Dean gave you only made you laugh even more. “Yeah, yeah. Hurry it up, chuckles,” he chided, wiggling his fingers at you. He surveyed the bar as you finally took hold of his hand, sliding out from your seat with ease and standing before him. “Ready?” he asked, gaze turning back to look down at you. 

“Yeah, I just gotta go pay,” you replied, nodding your head in the direction of the bar counter. 

“Alright,” he said with a nod. He gave your hand a squeeze, though instead of letting go like he normally would, he held it firmly as he led the way across the bar. 

You followed along quietly, trying your hardest to not read too much into it. Though when you stood before the bar and he had yet to release your hand, you gave him a puzzled look. “Did you wanna go get the car?” you asked hesitantly. 

He looked confused for a moment, as if he wasn’t entirely sure what was going on either, before he cleared his throat with a curt nod. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll meet you out there. Don’t take too long,” he rushed, giving your hand another fleeting squeeze before shuffling away. 

Strange, you thought briefly, before shifting your attention to the bartender before you. 

As you paid the tab, Dean settled into the driver's seat of Baby, and Sam watched him impatiently drum his fingers against the wheel as he hummed along to whatever song was in his head; and he couldn’t help but snort a laugh as Dean checked his watch one, two, three times since getting into the car. 

“You’re ridiculous,” Sam chided with a laugh, shaking his head. 

“What?” Dean inquired, annoyance clear in his voice. 

“Dude, please tell me you see what’s going on,” Sam pleaded. 

Dean widened his eyes in confusion, glancing around the near empty parking lot before looking back at his brother. “What’s going on?” 

Before Sam could reply, their attention was caught by the opening of the bar’s door when you emerged from the building, a grin forming on your face as you caught sight of them waiting in the car. 

Dean matched your grin, quickly reaching for the door handle and scrambling outside. “There she is!” he greeted happily, opening the back door for you. 

“Fucking idiot,” Sam muttered to himself, staring out the window with an amused grin as you and Dean settled into your seats. 

The three of you made it back in no time, and, having to settle for a single bed when first getting to town over driving for another who-knows-how-long just to find another motel, shuffled out of the car and into your shared room with heavy feet.

“Finally,” Dean muttered with relief, shutting the door behind him as Sam took a seat. “Whoa, whoa,” Dean barked, holding up a hand. “What’re you doing?” 

Sam froze just as he sat on the bed, staring up at his brother. “What?” 

“That’s my bed,” Dean declared with a huff. 

“No, it’s not,” Sam answered with a scoff. “It’s your turn for the couch.” 

“Dude, I’m not sleeping on the pull-out!” Dean declared with finality.

“What, are you kidding me?” Sam asked incredulously. “You got the bed last time!” 

“Yeah, and I just got ragdolled by a crazy ass witch, I deserve a mattress!” Dean argued, stepping towards the bed. “Get up.” 

“No,” Sam argued stubbornly, relaxing further atop the sheets. 

“You guys are ridiculous,” you said with an exasperated sigh, walking across the room. “I’ll take the couch.” 

“Not a chance,” Dean denied, not even sparing you a glance. 

“What, why?” you asked in confusion. 

“First of all, I’m not sharing with Sam,” Dean replied, turning to look at you. “Second, you got it worse than I did. I’m not shoving you on a pull-out.” 

“Oh, please-” you started to argue, before he cut you off. 

“I patched you up myself, [Y/N]. Don’t bother trying to lie to me,” he cautioned. 

You opened your mouth to argue once more, but the look on his face stopped you short. “Whatever,” you mumbled, turning towards the bathroom. “I’m getting ready for bed. Figure this out before I get back so I can actually go to bed, please.” 

The bickering resumed as you quickly retreated, shutting the bathroom door on Dean’s disgruntled declaration of “best two out of three.”

By the time you re-entered the room, you were met with silence. Surveying the surroundings, you found Sam digging through his toiletries bag while sitting in his original spot on the bed. Your gaze snapped over to the couch, where Dean sat looking like a kicked puppy. 

“You went with scissors again, didn’t you?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at him. 

He met your gaze as Sam snickered behind you, causing his face to sour even more. “Shut up,” he mumbled before standing, bristling past you with slumped shoulders. 

You chuckled quietly to yourself and grabbed the spare sheets, quickly making up the pull-out for Dean while he got ready; hopefully he’d be a little less cranky about it all if this was at least already done. 

Once finished, you made your way over to the bed and curled up under the covers. After saying a quick goodnight to Sam, you were asleep before Dean even left the bathroom. 

Fear gnawed at Dean, his body frozen in place as a cold spread through him, panic clinging to him like ice. He tried to call out to you, but all that left him was a strangled breath as his lungs seized up. He watched as the waves carried you away, further and further from where he stood. By the time his legs finally moved to carry him closer to shore, his feet were so heavy it was as though he was wading through quicksand. 

“No, no, no,” he pleaded quietly, watching as the waters edge never grew near no matter how far he ran. 

Your voice cried out to him, surging him forward even faster as you drifted ever outwards, terror seeping deeper into his bones with every futile step he took.

He couldn’t reach you. 

He couldn’t save you. 

The realisation that you were gone caused his world to come crashing down around him as he fell to his knees. A roaring filled his ears, and he didn’t know whether it was the irascible water that held you captive or the blood racing from his pounding heart. 

As he stayed there - watching the crashing waves for any sign of you, listening for a call of his name, unwilling to move for fear he’d miss you - the water suddenly crept up around him, as if to mock him. 

The sky darkened as he let out an anguished cry, his voice blending in with the storm beginning to brew around him. Yet despite the deafening howls, he heard it clear as day: your voice, calling out to him.  

“Dean.”

The world stilled around him once more, your voice ringing out in a whisper as gentle as the wind. 

“Dean.” 

He stood, frantically searching the horizon for you. He tried to call out, yet his voice still never came. 

“Dean!” you called out, voice booming like thunder from above. 

A small hand gripped his own, pulling him so forcefully he was yanked off his feet. He let out a startled cry, a spark of lightning igniting so brightly before him that he screwed his eyes shut. 

“God dammit, Dean!” 

Another force shook him, and when we reopened his eyes, he was met with the suspiciously stained ceiling of the motel room. He bolted upright, heart hammering against his chest as he looked around. He caught your worried gaze as he wiped the sweat from his brow, trying to steady his breathing as you leaned in closer. 

“[Y/N?]” he gasped out, pushing himself further upright.

His hand reached out automatically, fingers tentatively brushing against your cheek as if to evaluate your solidity. When he was satisfied that you wouldn’t evaporate, he surged forward to wrap you in a desperate embrace; the icy grip of terror finally starting to melt. 

“It was just a nightmare, De,” you soothed quietly, tracing a hand along his back. “Everything’s alright.”

“Yeah,” he said tightly, swallowing the lump forming in his throat as he let you go. “Yeah, it’s fine. I’m alright, get back to bed.” 

“You’re okay?” you questioned, concern laced in both your face and tone of voice. 

“I’m okay,” he affirmed with a nod, casting his gaze aside so you wouldn’t see the panic still swirling within him. 

“Okay,” you said softly, placing a gentle kiss upon the crown of his head before standing from the edge of the pull-out. 

Dean got up after you to grab a glass of water, his heart jumping in his chest as he remembered the sight of you being ripped away by the current. 

“Just a nightmare,” he reminded himself under his breath. “Just a nightmare.” 

Not having slept another wink after his nightmare, Dean was unsurprisingly the first one up the next morning. Taking it upon himself to get breakfast for the three of you, he found himself at the nearest diner waiting for his order. 

Drumming his fingers impatiently on the sticky linoleum counter, a burning desire to call you began to build within him. Knowing you were likely still sleeping, he decided to busy himself with a stupid game you downloaded on his phone. 

Yet the urge to reach out to you grew tenfold as he sat there, a sinking feeling that it might mean you were in danger starting to take hold of him. Just as his mind began to swirl with questions of what the hell was going on with him, he heard your voice calling his name. 

His head snapped up, expecting to see you sliding onto the stool beside him, ready to give you hell for walking here in search of him all by yourself in a random town. He figured you must’ve known he was here, and it wouldn’t have been a far walk from the motel, but it was still stupid.

Though the words died on his tongue as he realized you weren’t there, and that familiar feeling of dread trickled through him after scanning the diner and not finding you anywhere. 

Another voice called out, this time the waitress, announcing that his order was ready. He met her smiling face with nothing but confusion, her smile faltering for a moment.

“Everything alright?” she asked hesitantly.

“Huh?” he asked, before snapping out of his daze. “Oh, yeah. Just a little too early for me. Thanks-” he paused, squinting to read her name tag. “Thanks, Edna,” he charmed, flashing his signature grin as he gathered the order. 

“Anytime, sugar,” she charmed, her smile perking back up as she sent him a wink. 

With one last - albeit awkward - grin sent her way, Dean quickly left the diner; already feeling lighter for knowing he’d be back at the motel soon. His grin only grew when he glanced across the street and caught a glimpse of you staring back at him, proving that he wasn’t crazy and you really did come to meet him. 

He took a step forward, intending to call out to you, when a truck drove by and blocked you from sight. The grin was wiped from his face and the coffee tray nearly slipped out of his hand when he noticed you had completely disappeared in its wake. 

Fearing the worst once more, he scrambled into the car and quickly called you, firing Baby to life as the line rang. 

“Hey,” you answered with a stifled yawn. “Please tell me you’re getting breakfast. And coffee.” 

“Yeah, I-” he faltered in his response, having to let out a breath of relief as he realized you were safe and sound. “I’ll be back in a few, you and Sammy still there?” 

“Where else would we be?” you asked with a giggle. 

While the sound would normally bring a smile to his face, your words only caused a frown to appear. “You only waking up now?” 

“Don’t judge me,” you teased. “It’s only… ten after seven, I barely slept in.” 

“Just not used to being up before you,” he lied, knuckles turning white as he gripped the steering wheel. 

“Miracles really do happen,” you joked with a laugh. “You sound weird, is everything okay?” you added, worry tinting your voice. 

“Hm?” he wondered, not processing your question right away. “Oh, no- yeah, I-... just didn’t get much sleep.”

“Right,” you said, teetering on the edge of believing him or not. 

“Really, I’m good,” he assured, sensing your apprehension. “I just gotta catch some z’s and I’ll be good as new.” 

“Okay. I’ll see you in a few then,” you relented. “Drive safe,” you added as an afterthought before hanging up.   

The line went dead as he stopped at a red light, his stomach churning as he stared at his reflection in the rearview.

“Just need some sleep,” he assured himself. 

“Dude, would you quit it with the pacing?” Sam snapped, setting his book down on the table for sheer lack of concentration. 

Dean stopped just long enough to stare daggers at his brother before marching down the library once more. “She’s been gone too long.” 

“She’s been gone an hour,” Sam informed, hands running over his face in exasperation. 

“Exactly,” Dean replied, pointing a finger at Sam in acknowledgment. “Something must’ve happened.” 

“Dude, she’s at the grocery store. With Jack. What the hell could possibly happen?” 

“I don’t know!” Dean exclaimed, arms flailing as he whirled to face Sam. “Something must’ve! She hasn’t answered my last text and it’s been-” he paused, pulling out his phone to brandish the screen. “Seven minutes!” 

“Oh, my god,” Sam groaned, tossing his head back to stare at the ceiling. “I can’t deal with this anymore.” 

“What are you talking about? Aren’t you worried?” Dean asked gruffly. 

“No, Dean, I’m not worried! There’s no reason to be worried!” Sam proclaimed. 

“No reason? She could be dead!” Dean barked, his face taking on an expression of disbelief. 

Sam sighed as he leaned over the table, raising his eyebrows. “Okay, let me ask you this: why, exactly, do you think she’s dead?” 

“Oh, come on, Sam!” Dean grumbled. “We don’t exactly live cookie cutter lives here, you know. One minute she’s returning the shopping cart, and the next she’s got a damn knife in her back!” 

“Dean,” Sam soothed. “You know as well as I do that’s a load of crap.” 

“No,” Dean argued, shaking his head. “We don’t know that. We don’t know anything, you know why?” 

Before Sam could even respond, Dean waved his phone around before dropping it on the table. “Because she won’t answer her damn phone!” 

“Okay, this is actually ridiculous,” Sam declared. “How can you seriously not see what’s been happening to you?” 

“Knock it off, Sam,” Dean muttered, waving a hand dismissively as he began pacing again. “I’m fucking fine.” 

“You’re fine,” Sam repeated incredulously. “You’re friggin’ cursed, Dean!” 

“I’m not cursed!” shouted Dean. “Would you quit it with that crap?” 

“Right, because nothing’s been going on with you lately, right?” 

“Right!” Dean agreed with a huff. 

“You haven’t been, say, I don’t know…. not sleeping? Feeling stir crazy? Getting paranoid?”

“Sam-” 

“No, I’m serious, Dean! How can you not see this?” 

“Because I’m fine!” Dean argued, stalling his movements to gather his phone from the table.

After a few moments of silence, Dean rolled his eyes and found himself once more walking the length of the library. “Okay, maybe I’ve been feeling a little weird lately, but I’ve just been tired - and you know what? I survived worse. So yeah, I’m fine!” 

“Right,” Sam said sceptically.  “And have you… noticed when it is that you feel… weird?”

“I don’t know!” Dean announced frustratedly.

“Dean,” Sam chastised. 

“What?” 

“You’ve been feeling like this all week, and it’s only getting worse. You’ve been like this since that witch cursed you - and don’t say she didn’t. Use your fucking head, Dean! You’re cursed!” 

Dean’s jaw clenched as he tried to remain calm, taking a moment to formulate his response. “You’re insane,” he finally declared. 

“I think you’re the insane one,” Sam contested. “You were cursed to yearn for something, Dean. Only in this case… it’s someone.” 

“What the hell are you talking about?” 

“C’mon, Dean!” Sam pleaded with a laugh. “The only time you get like this is when you’re more than ten feet away from [Y/N].” 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dean muttered dismissively. 

“You’ve checked your phone another five times since you picked it up.” 

“So?” Dean questioned, failing to resist the urge to check it once more. “I’m worried, not cursed.” 

“You’re worried because you’re cursed!” Sam argued. 

“I’m worried because I lo-” Dean quickly fell silent as the words died on his tongue, his brain firing into total overdrive as he laughed nervously. “I care, that’s why I’m worried.” 

Sam stared at his brother in total disbelief, trying to find a way to make him realize what was going on- or, most likely, acknowledge what was going on. 

Yet before the conversation could go any further, the bunker door screeched open and the sound of your laughter fleeted down to greet Dean, effectively turning his scowl into an affectionate grin. 

“Hope you remembered my pie!” he called out, marching to meet you at the foot of the stairs without so much as a glance back in Sam’s direction. 

“When have I ever forgotten?” you asked, feigning offence as you held out the bag which contained his pie.

“Well,” he started, taking the bag from you. “There was that time in Redford-”

“Hey!” you interrupted with a laugh. “I didn’t forget, they were out!”

“See, I still don’t believe you,” he teased, heading for the kitchen. 

“Believe whatever you want, Dean,” you replied playfully. 

“I’m still waiting for it, you know. You should get me two next time,” he joked, though he was partly serious. 

“Dean?” Sam’s voice tentatively called out.

“Yeah?” Dean replied hotly, keeping his back to Sam as he went to grab a beer from the fridge. 

“Who, uh… who the hell are you talking to?” he asked carefully, surveying the empty kitchen. 

“Hilarious, Sam,” he said dryly, shutting the fridge. “I’m talking to-”

His mouth ran dry as he turned around, being met with just his brother, who was staring with concern from the doorway. 

“[Y/N],” Dean finished weakly. 

“Her and Jack aren’t back yet, Dean,” Sam said carefully, as though talking to a lost child. 

“Yes, they are. They got back, she gave me my pie, we came in here,” Dean said fiercely, his confidence shattering when he went to gesture at the pie he set down moments earlier and found it to be gone.  

“Maybe you should sit down,” Sam suggested, not knowing what to do. 

“I’m fine!” Dean shouted, hovering over the counter. “I’m fine,” he repeated, moreso to himself than anything. 

“Okay, look, how about I try calling [Y/N], okay?” Sam offered, hesitantly walking further into the kitchen. “See when they’ll be back.” 

“They are back!” Dean barked, glaring at Sam. “She was just in here!” 

Sam didn’t know what to say, the fear and concern for his brother crashing down on him. 

“She was just in here,” Dean repeated shakily, meeting Sam’s gaze with confusion. 

“Dean,” Sam started to say, before the familiar tone of your ringtone came from Dean’s phone, cutting through the air like a knife. 

Dean pulled the phone from his pocket, clearing his throat before answering. “Yeah?” 

“Dean, thank god,” you cheered, sighing in relief. “Listen, we came out to a flat tire and I don’t have a spare because I forgot to fucking replace it and there are too many people around for Jack to, you know, try fixing it,” you rambled anxiously. “Can you please come help?” 

“You’re still at the store?” Dean clarified, looking up at Sam with frightened eyes. 

“Yeah, we’re stuck in the parking lot,” you told him breezily. 

“Okay,” he said, swallowing thickly. “Alright, I’ll be right there.” 

“Thanks, De!” you said happily, ending the call. 

Dean stood there for a few moments staring down at his unopened bottle of beer on the counter, trying to gather his thoughts, before finally lifting his gaze to Sam.

“I’ll, uh…. I’ll be back,” he told him, not waiting for a response before trudging out of the kitchen.

You found yourself yet again rushing down the hall to Dean’s room, his muffled yells waking you in the dead of night once more. 

He uttered your name as you shut the door behind you, and though it took you by surprise the very first time it happened - nearly two weeks ago, now - it was something you’ve almost come to expect. It was killing you, watching him go through this every night and not being able to fix it. You would sit with him, find ways to gently rouse him from his terror filled slumber and comfort him when he woke, but it never seemed like enough; he deserved more.

At first you didn’t think there was too much going on, figuring his shift in behaviour was just due to his lack of sleep. You didn’t believe Sam when he talked to you about it; Dean may have been acting a little more strange than usual, but it didn’t raise any red flags.

It wasn’t until the morning following your conversation that you noticed it, cluing in and realising how different Dean had been; how long he’d been different. The excess text messages, the increase in phone calls, the insistence on you not going anywhere without him and his exuberant reactions to you getting back safe when you did go somewhere without him, his constant questioning on where you were or where you’ve just been. Something else was going on, and you could only think it really did come down to the witch you two encountered.  So you and Sam called up Rowena, getting her take on the situation and figuring out what to do. 

Her words now echoed through your head as you perched yourself on the edge of his bed: “Magic isn’t simple. Some curses are anchored by the witch, ending whenever they were to die. But others are more complex, rooted not in the witch but the object of the curse itself, not breaking until their purpose is carried out one way or another. Perhaps if you can figure out what it is Dean needs, you can break the curse yourselves. If this carries on for any longer… I’m worried it will kill him.” 

While you ran your fingers through his hair, you decided right then and there that once he woke up, you wouldn’t leave without confronting him about it. You knew it would likely start a fight, and you felt a little guilty knowing you would all but interrogate him right after having another nightmare, but all that guilt flew right out the window the second Dean startled himself awake, the sight of his panic stricken face as he gasped for air nearly bringing you to tears; you’ve seen him like this too often as of late. 

“It’s alright, Dean,” you soothed, reaching out to him. “I’m right here, everything’s fine.” 

His gaze snapped to you, unable to hide the confusion and terror still coursing through him despite the relief he felt. “[Y/N]?” 

“Yeah, De,” you cooed, running a hand across his shoulder blades. “We’re in your room, everyone’s okay.” 

He let out a shuddering breath, hanging his head in his hands. “You’re okay,” he whispered softly. “You’re okay.” 

You sat quietly with him for a few more minutes, patiently comforting him as best as you could while you thought of how to approach this conversation. 

Clearing his throat, Dean was the first to speak again as he rose from the bed. “Sorry I woke you again.” 

The dejection and shame laced in his voice tore your heart to bits, and you had to put up a good fight to keep your emotions in check. “You don’t need to apologize.” 

“Yeah, I do,” he disagreed, trudging to his sink in the corner. 

“Dean, please talk to me,” you pleaded, watching as he turned on the water. 

You fell silent, waiting for him to deny you and brush you off again. You waited for him to say something, to do something, but all he did was stare at the running water. 

“Dean?” you asked cautiously, slowly getting up from the bed yourself. 

“I can’t save you,” he muttered quietly, his gaze on the faucet unyielding. 

“What?” you asked curiously, not knowing what he meant. 

“I can never save you,” he carried on. “You always just… slip away from me. Every time. It’s always the same.” 

“What’s always the same?” you questioned, moving closer towards him. 

“I try,” he muttered, seemingly oblivious to your presence. “I run, and I fight, and I try, but I can never reach you. I can never get to you.”

He seemed to snap out of his daze a little, moving to splash water over his face before turning off the tap. “You keep dying. I keep watching you die. I can’t watch you die again, [Y/N]. I can’t.” 

“This is what your nightmares have been?” you wondered. 

He fell silent again for a minute before meeting your gaze in the mirror. “Yeah.” 

“It’s not real, Dean,” you told him softly.

“It’s real enough for me,” he muttered, turning to face you. 

“And is this why you’ve been… acting differently towards me?” you asked hesitantly. 

He averted his gaze, hanging his head as he considered your question. “I guess,” he said with a shrug. “Maybe, yeah. I don’t know.” 

“Dean,” you scolded with a sigh, plopping back down on the bed. “Why won’t you just tell me what’s going on?” 

“Because everything’s fine!” he argued once again. 

“I’m not stupid, Dean!” you challenged. “I know you. I can see something's eating you alive and it’s fucking killing me to witness it. So please, tell me what the hell is going on.” 

“It’s just nightmares,” he lied, crossing his arms against his chest. 

“It’s more than nightmares!” you cried. “You’re withering away into nothing, Dean! I mean let’s face it! You’re practically a zombie nowadays with how little sleep you get, you’ve been acting like a puppy with separation anxiety, and let’s not forget how completely erratic you’ve been.”

He glared at you, jaw clenching as he decided whether or not to entertain this conversation. “Okay, so maybe I haven’t slept lately,” he admitted starkly. “But like I keep saying, I’m fine.” 

“Don’t you ever get tired of lying?” you sneered, glaring up at him. 

He rolled his eyes, averting his gaze to anywhere else as he shook his head. “No, but I’m getting tired of having this conversation all the time.” 

“Well too bad!” you yelled, abruptly standing from the bed. “Cause I’m tired of never having this conversation go anywhere! I’m tired of you brushing off the idea of you being cursed. I didn’t believe it at first either, but what the hell else could it be, Dean?” 

“Oh, come on!” he barked, running a hand over his face. “I see Sam got his hooks into you.” 

“Yeah, he did. And you need to listen to us.” 

“No, I really don’t,” he scoffed, starting to head to the door. 

“Even if it kills you?” you blurted out. 

“It’s not gonna kill me!” 

“God, look at you, Dean! It already is!” you argued, marching closer to him. “How would you feel if the situation were reversed?” 

He let out a sigh, pausing with his hand on the doorknob before turning back to you. “What?” 

“What if it were me going through all this instead of you? Would you let me get away with not even listening to you and Sam?” 

He narrowed his eyes at you, staring at you in silence for so long you expected him to turn away again. Instead, he let out a deep breath as he took a seat, gesturing for you to carry on. “Five minutes.” 

You almost went to argue before you thought better of it, knowing full well that if Dean never came around to the theory he would actually cut you off at the five minute mark. So, you did your best to recount the entire situation for him, reiterating what you, Sam, and Rowena had to say about it all in the hopes of getting through to him. By the time you finished, you knew it was well over five minutes, so you took Dean not interrupting you to be a good sign. 

“Okay,” he finally said with a small nod. “Well, I listened. Can I go now?” 

Your heart dropped to your stomach, anger and fear bubbling inside of you as you exploded. “God, you are unbelievable!”

“Well what do you want me to say?” he grumbled. “I just don’t believe that’s what’s going on.” 

“How can you not believe it?” you asked incredulously. “It’s obvious!” 

“Look, I said I don’t believe it, alright?” Dean snapped. “Why are you so hellbent on making this into some big fight? Just accept it.” 

“No!” you seethed. “I can’t just accept the fact that this could kill you. Especially not when there’s a way we could end this.” 

“No,” he disagreed, shaking his head. “You can’t fix this, [Y/N/N]. You just can’t.” 

“I can!” you cried. “Just tell me.” 

“Tell you what?” 

“You know what,” you scolded. 

“This is so fucking ridiculous.” 

“Tell me anyway.” 

“Why the hell do you care so much?” he questioned exasperatedly. 

“Because I’m fucking terrified, Dean!” you exclaimed. “I’ve watched you grow more restless and anxious every day since the night we finished that case. I’ve seen the life drain from you more and more as sleep became nearly impossible for you. And I know it’s nearly impossible for you, because I have spent the last eleven nights sitting on that bed as you got terrorised by your own mind. I don’t care if you believe in this curse or not, Dean, because I do.” 

Dean stood quietly, absorbing what you said as the severity of the situation began to dawn on him. 

“I mean don’t you get it?” you asked sadly, cutting through the silence. “If something happens to you, if I lose you… that’s not something I can come back from.” 

Dean fell silent once more, running a hand through his hair as he took a deep breath, pacing around the room a little as he turned everything over in his head. 

“I’m scared, Dean,” you reiterated softly. “Please, just let us try to fix this.” 

“There’s some things I should tell you, then,” he admitted quietly after a moment of silence, taking a seat on the bed. 

“About what’s been happening?” you asked hopefully. 

He nodded, staring down at his hands folded in his lap. “Yeah.” 

“Okay,” you said, moving his desk chair to take a seat. “I’m listening.” 

He took a bracing breath, taking a few minutes to build the courage to speak. “Well, you know I’ve been having nightmares.” 

“I do,” you agreed quietly. 

“It’s always the same one,” he admitted, keeping his gaze cast downwards. “I could never figure out why. It didn't make sense to me why it was always the same thing. So I finally talked to Sam about it, and he had a pretty good theory. But, you know me. I didn’t want to believe it because it came back down to that witch and this stupid fucking curse.” 

He let out a bitter laugh, pausing long enough for you to speak up. “What did he have to say about it?” 

“I tried telling myself I was fine,” he continued, ignoring your question. “I was fine, at first. At first it was just not sleeping well… but then other things started happening.” 

“Other things like what?” you wondered quietly. 

“Like my blood feeling like it’s on fucking fire,” he muttered, wiping at his face. “And my skin feeling like it-… like it’s being peeled off my goddamn bones, and my face feeling like it’s melting… and how I get this- this bubble inside my chest that feels like it’s either gonna burst or suffocate me and how it all only happens-” he stopped in his rambling, taking a deep breath before chuckling in disbelief. “God, it only happens when you’re not around, [Y/N].” 

“I-... what do you mean?” you asked breathlessly. 

“Oh, come on, [Y/N],” he said bitterly. “I know you’ve noticed. I text you more, I’m almost always calling you. I just- I get this… this unwavering panic inside me when you’re not around. I keep-... I swear to god I see you everywhere when you’re gone. I catch sight of you across the street, I smell your stupid shampoo when I’m alone, I hear your voice when no one’s there. I had an entire conversation with you and you weren’t even there,” he carried on, shaking his head as he briskly wiped away an angry tear. “God, I’m going fucking crazy,” he added with a manic chuckle. 

“You’re not crazy, Dean,” you said gently. 

“That night,” he started, staring at the wall across from him. “She was trying to get back someone she lost… someone she loved.” 

“Right,” you agreed. 

“They used to drown them, people they accused of being witches,” he continued slowly. 

“Yeah, it was pretty common. Sink, and you were innocent. Float, and you were guilty,” you pitched in. “But… what does that have to do with this?”

“I think they were innocent,” he said simply. “Whoever she lost… I think that’s how she lost them.” 

“Why do you think that?” you asked curiously. 

Dean cleared his throat, staring pensively at his hands once more. “The nightmares. It’s always… you always drown. I keep-... I can never save you.” 

“I don’t get-” you started to say, before he cut you off. 

“It’s how she lost who she loves, [Y/N],” he said curtly. “It makes sense for me to see the one I love go the same way.” 

“I-... what?” you asked, too stunned to think of anything else to say. 

“The dreams, the hallucinations, the- the way I’ve been feeling… I didn’t want to admit it, I still don’t, but I can’t… I mean I can only ignore it for so long, right?” he said, scoffing quietly. “Especially with you and Sam breathing down my neck about it.” 

“Ignore what, Dean?” you asked breathlessly, your heart hammering in your chest. 

“You,” he muttered. “They way I feel about you. The way I’ve always felt about you.” 

You didn’t dare respond, his words ringing in your ears as he fell silent, each of you lost in your own thoughts for a while. 

“I’ve always known that I love you, [Y/N/N],” he carried on, slowly meeting your gaze with glistening eyes. “But this… this curse, this whatever it is. God, it’s just made it all so much worse, and I knew. I knew it was you that my entire being was screaming out for but I couldn’t… I couldn’t admit it.” 

“Why not?” you asked shakily, feeling your tears starting to build. 

“How could I put that on you?” he asked, a few rogue tears slipping down his face. “You said it yourself, this thing is killing me. It’s gonna kill me, unless I get what I want, and given that that’s you, I’m calling it game over.” 

“No, Dean, it’s not,” you denied with a sniffle, cutting through your own stray tears. “You should’ve told me.” 

“Yeah, well,” he grumbled, shrugging lightly as he looked back at his hands. “I told you now.” 

“Dean,” you sighed, wiping your face as you stood from your seat. “Do you trust me?” you asked, walking towards him.

“Of course I do,” he said quickly, almost offended by the question. 

“Okay, well, I’ll need you to trust me on this,” you replied, stopping just in front of where he sat. 

“Okay,” he said with a huff. 

“You gotta look at me, though,” you said, laughing softly. 

Sighing dejectedly, he slowly lifted his head to meet your gaze, a ghost of a smile dancing on his lips as he looked at you. 

You smiled softly at him, gently taking his face in your hands before wordlessly bringing your lips down to meet his. At first, neither of you really knew what was happening, and just when you thought to pull away you felt his lips moving against your own. His hands gripped your waist to hold you in place a moment longer before you each pulled away, staring silently at each other as you processed what just happened. 

“What, uh… what was that for?” Dean finally asked. 

“Well, it was either that or slapping some sense into you,” you said playfully. “Which I almost think you still deserve, because I can’t believe you honestly think I don’t love you back.” 

“What?” he asked, his grip on your waist loosening in shock before tightening once more. 

“You’ve had me since the day we met, Dean,” you told him softly, carding your fingers through his hair. 

“You actually…” he trailed off quietly, trying to focus his thoughts. “You actually love me, of all people?” 

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “I do.” 

“So I- well, I guess I could’ve saved a lot of trouble if I really did just tell you, huh?” he asked jokingly, laughing tightly. 

“I’ll give you hell for it tomorrow,” you teased, half serious. “For now, how about we try getting you back to sleep?” 

“Actually,” he said, eyes sparkling with mischief. “I have a better idea involving this bed.” 

You couldn’t help but snort a laugh, grinning fondly at him. “Oh, really?” 

He grinned back, laughing with you before taking on a more sombre tone. “Do you trust me?” 

“Always,” you said honestly. 

“Good,” he replied with a grin, laughing heartily at the shriek you let out when he tossed you on the bed. 

He stared down at you, a look you’ve never seen before painted on his face. “What?” you asked, giggling nervously.

“I love you,” he said earnestly, brushing a lock of hair away from your face. 

“I love you, too,” you replied shyly, grinning softly. 

He matched your grin, drinking you in a moment longer before crashing his lips upon yours once more. 

When Dean woke the next morning, it didn’t take long for a grin to spread across his face as he quickly realized two things. 

The first thing being that you, the love of his life, still remained tangled up in both his arms and the sheets, sleeping peacefully atop his chest. 

The second being that, for the first time in a total of thirteen days, he was able to sleep without being haunted by his nightmares. 

He felt you stir, and his grin widened as you nestled in closer, tightening your grip on him as you slept. He planted a kiss against your temple, pulling you in close as he blissfully settled in for another peaceful rest. 

Maybe witches aren’t so bad.

tagging: @roseblue373

let me know if you'd like to be tagged!

[dollsltt]

MAMA, A BIRD BEHIND YOU.

⠀⠀ ᡣ𐭩 ⠀ ⠀⠀angel!reader x dean winchester

sum. just angel!reader having a staring problem, and perturbing dean’s sleep with it.

includes. fluff, pet names (duck, duckling, sweetheart), it’s my first drabble have mercy, english is not my first language.

Dean jolted awake, his heart felt like it wanted to jump out of his chest. He wasn't sure what had disturbed him so much —a nightmare, maybe, or that weird squeaking sound the bunker floor made from time to time— but something felt... off. He blinked a few times, trying to get rid of the drowsiness and blurriness in his eyes. Then he saw you.

You. Fuckin' duck. He thought.

You were standing perfectly still in the corner of the room, your hands clasped together in front of you, staring deeply at Dean.

"What the fuck-" Dean wanted to yell at you, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't used to it. It was maybe the fifth time this week you'd taken it upon yourself to wake him or Sam with your eerie, silent presence. "Duckling, what are you doing here?" he asked as he sat up in bed.

You stared at him for another few seconds, blinking slowly. "You were asleep."

"Yes, I know. It's what people do at night." He rubbed his face, trying to make sense of the situation, and maybe trying to talk some sense into you. "Why are you always just... standing there? Watching me like a damn freak?"

You tilted your head slightly, as though considering your words. "You looked peaceful."

Dean froze, caught between a sense of confusion and sheer disbelief. "You woke me up because I looked peaceful?"

"No," you corrected, your voice as calm as ever. "You woke up on your own. I was merely observing."

"Observing what, exactly?"

For brief moments, you hesitated. Your expression was hard to read, since you just kept staring at him, but that question seemed to have made you think.

"Humans are... fragile. They take on too much. They carry the weight of their sins even unconsciously. I was ensuring that you remained unharmed."

Dean stayed just like you for a few seconds; still and staring, blinking slowly as if the gears in his brain were being dusted off. He opened and closed his mouth like a fish, trying to find the words.

"So you were angelically babysitting me?" he said, confused. How was he supposed to take that? Sure, it was... Cute, in a way. His chest tightened fondly at the thought of how much you cared for him, even if you showed it in such a weird way.

But still, it was fucking terrifying to be jumpscared by two shiny eyes staring at his soul in the middle of the night.

"Yes." you said, matter-of-factly, a tiny smile gracing your face, which only made Dean feel his chest tighten even more.

"Listen, sweetheart– I don't mind you watching me sleep, okay? Even if you look like a freak, I don't mind, but you should try to kick that habit. It's not very... uh, how do I say it? Human." Dean tried to explain it as simply as possible, but it was hard when you were looking at him with those big eyes, all wide and paying as much attention as if he were an exotic animal. "You scared five lifetimes out of me standing in that corner like an extra in horror movie. I'm just saying, others might react worse than me."

You blinked and looked down at your hands. "I didn't intend to frighten you. I'm simply drawn to your existence." You said softly. "If you would rather, I may go."

Dean shouldn't feel bad, but he did. It was like scolding a puppy for chewing on a shoe. He knew you were getting used to the Earth and how humans coexisted with each other, it wasn't entirely your fault you were a social misfit.

"Stay if you want," Dean flopped back onto his pillow with a groan, covering his face with his upper arm. "But I'd recommend you try doing other things while Sam and I asleep, believe me, anything is better than watching two idiots snore." He yawned.

Dean peeked out from behind his arm to watch you move toward the door, though you threw one last glance over your shoulder.

You hesitate, moving your lips as if you want to say something else. Finally, you nod. "Very well. Sleep well, Dean." Your gaze lingered for a moment, soft and curious, before vanishing down the hallway.

As soon as you left, Dean exhaled noisily. "Angels," he muttered, covering his head with the blanket. "Fucking weirdos."

a/n: hii hiii hello this is my first drabble, hope y’all like it :) i’m doing sam’s version soon cuz my boy deserves to be disturbed by the angel too

[sammyluvr]

✶ . ၄၃ . soft 'n sleepy — sam winchester

cw : gn!afab!reader, fluffy smut, consensual somnophilia, dry humping, finger sucking, praise, so super sweet sam, swearing, praise, aftercare, pet names (angel, honey, baby), unedited, 1.3K words. requested ! MDNI !!! 18+ ONLY

summary : it doesn't take you long to fall asleep after a long hunt. sam, however, can't seem to fall asleep or keep his hands dick to himself.

you're so pretty and soft every time you fall asleep in his arms. sam just loves it when you're sleepy, eyes bleary and fluttering closed, lips parting and little puffs of breath leaving your nose as he tucks you against his chest.

this hunt was draining, especially for you, and you fall asleep quickly now that it's over. sometimes, all he needs to follow right after you is your presence. having you close is so reassuring, comforting. but tonight, it’s not nightmares or guilt that he’s worried about disrupting his sleep. instead, it’s your closeness that keeps him awake.

your thighs against his, the little shift of your hips that pushes your ass right into his crotch. your soft, even breathing, and your limp fingers splayed across his wrist. he’s been aching for you, but hasn’t said a thing, knowing how tired you are.

and he’d feel guilty about the growing bulge in his pants as he thinks about your pretty chest under the loose fabric of your comfy shirt, the grey panties you fell asleep in, your bare thighs. but you’ve told him, most definitely more than once, that you like the idea of him getting off in bed with you while you’re asleep. you’d used the words “you can use me like that. it’s okay, i promise.” he replays the sound of your pretty voice saying it, sincere and flirty all at once, and he just gets harder. “i want it,” you’d said. you want him to use you like that.

so he really just can’t resist gently tugging you closer, pulling your ass flush against him, and wrapping his other arm around you to softly cup your chest over your shirt. he gives a roll of his hips into you and bites back a quiet groan. and with that, he’s a goner.

you had the sense to get a separate room from dean when arriving at the motel, so as sam gets needier and needier, slowly rocking his hips into you, he doesn’t bother silencing his quickening breath and soft moans. he only keeps his sounds quiet for your sake, though he’s sure you’ll wake eventually.

his hand slides down from your hips, under your shirt, past the sensitive skin of your lower belly, and right over your thinly clothed pussy. he can’t help it, he just loves to hold you there, his hand hot and heavy as he cups your pretty cunt. he groans softly at the feeling, pressing into you with both his hand and hips now.

you stir, just a bit, letting out a little huff of breath through your mouth that just makes him grind against your ass with more desperation. and when a sweet, gravelly moan leaves your lips, he can’t help but indulge himself. the hand that was so softly palming your chest moves upwards, fingertips brushing over your collarbone until he has a gentle grip on your chin. with your lips parted just enough, he’s able to push his finger past your teeth and into the warm wet of your mouth.

he feels your tongue instinctively push against the intrusion and you draw in a deep breath through your nose as you start to rouse. his other hand starts to rub soft circles against the fabric of your panties and despite how painfully hard and turned on he is, even the rocking of his hips against you is gentle, caring, and slow.

a quiet, throaty groan falls from his lips and right into your ear as he feels your lips wrap around his finger, followed by your sweet, sleepy suckling, signaling that you’ve woken and immediately accepted his filthy actions. with your mind still so foggy with sleep, you don’t seem to have much control over your body. your hips squirm tiredly, pushing back into him, and the way that you suck on his finger is unabashed and interrupts the stillness of the room with wet, sloppy sounds. in mere seconds, there’s saliva dripping down his fingers and past the corners of your mouth.

despite your wordless enthusiasm, and the way that his clothed dick pushing into the plush of your ass makes him practically whimper into your ear, sam pauses his desperate movements against you for just a moment.

“this okay, baby?” he whispers sweetly, gruffly because he’s holding back. one of your clumsy hands finds his wrist, wrapping around it in reassurance.

“mhmm,” you hum around his finger, too sleepy to do much else, but wanting him to know that this is more than okay.

“good,” he huffs out, his hips rolling against yours with more urgency now, voice thick with barely contained desperation. “you’re so good. so good for me, aren’t you, angel? so perfect and pretty, letting me– mmph, use ya while you’re still sleeping. always so– god, so fuckin’ good for me.”

his hand rubbing against your pussy, his fingertips pressing over your clit, are making you just as desperate as him, and the feeling of him pushing a second finger into your mouth only intensifies the pleasure. you suck on his fingers contentedly, and the both of you leak through your underwear enough for the other to feel it.

along with the quiet drip from the janky sink in the bathroom and rush of a shitty window air conditioning unit, the room fills with soft grunts and whines and moans, the rustle of overused blankets, sam’s praises, and your sweet suckling. sam cums first, soaking his boxers and the back of your panties. the sound of his broken moan in your ear and the insistence of his fingers over your covered clit sends you reeling in pleasure just moments after.

he lets you keep lapping at his fingers as you come down from it, knowing the feeling quiets your mind. he’s positive that you’d fall right back asleep with his fingers in your mouth if he didn’t insist on cleaning you up first. so even though it makes you whine tiredly, he slowly slips his fingers out and gently pulls you around to face him.

his reverent lips find your forehead first, then your own spit-slick mouth. he kisses you all chaste and lovely, as if to apologize for waking you, despite it being so good for you too. the kiss is enough to satisfy you after having his fingers pulled away from your eager mouth, so you snuggle up close to him, not resisting the pull of sleep as it tugs down your heavy eyelids.

“honey,” he murmurs into the skin of your forehead, “let me clean you up first, please. then you can sleep as long as you want, promise.” you just give him a sleepy hum, but he rolls with it, untangling himself from you. he strips himself of his dirtied boxers, quickly pulling on a new pair before he pulls the blankets away from your legs. 

he slips your own soaked underwear off, watching your face, barely lit from whatever light seeps in through the blinds of the window by the door. your eyes are barely open, just because you want to watch him, and a soft smile tugs at your lips from his ever present sweetness and care. his heart jumps at the sight, so he covers your bare legs back to avoid giving you goosebumps from the cold, and slips away for a moment. not before leaving a kiss to the skin of your calf.

just moments later, he crawls back into the bed with a warm, dampened washcloth to deal with all the stickiness and a spare shirt because he admittedly got the back of your sleep shirt wet too. he cleans the mess on your skin first, then urges you to sit up just a bit with gentle hands and a tone of voice he know you won’t be able to resist.

“arms up,” he mumbles as he pulls the shirt off for you, then replaces it with one of his own soft, worn t-shirts. then he tucks you back into his chest and under the blankets, fighting off the sleep that was previously evading him until he feels you fall asleep first. then he sleeps like a damn rock and is woken in the morning by your lips on his neck.

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Too Much (Little Sister Version)

Dean Winchester & little sister!reader

Requested by @redbird-tf

Synopsis: you have nightmares of dying like Mary, and you start to get really clingy with Dean.

It started out in a subtle way. Your first nightmare had been vague, and though it had jarred you, it wasn’t enough to curb your day-to-day activities…much.

“I’m going for a supply run.” Dean’s words had you looking up from the homework you’d been working on. “We’re out of beer…and food.”

“I’ll come.” You were on your feet before the words even left your mouth.

“It’s just a quick run,” Dean argued. “Don’t you have homework?”

“It can wait,” you insisted, already on your way to the Impala. “Let’s go!”

Of course it would be Dean—it had always been Dean. Sure, he had his anger issues and his bad moments. He drank too much and he isolated himself when he was upset. But he always came back; when Sam was at Stanford, when dad disappeared, it was always you and Dean.

So when you started having nightmares about burning on the ceiling, Dean was who you turned to.

Scary things shouldn’t phase you anymore, not after all you’d seen. But this was different. Your whole life you’d heard “what happened to mom.” Never any specifics—it was always, “the demon killed mom,” or “what the demon did to Mary.” Nobody ever gave you any details; they always said you didn’t need to know.

So when you snuck into Dean’s room in the bunker and stole dad’s journal, you were in for a surprise.

The pages you’d read had been stuck together—it didn’t look like anyone had read them—and it took you a moment to peel them apart.

I went to visit a shrink today—I thought he might be a vampire. I went in undercover, booked myself an appointment. I figured out pretty quickly that he wasn’t a monster, but I didn’t leave. It sounds stupid, but I actually talked to him. Told him about Mary. Well, as much as I could tell, which is more than I’ve told anyone. Point is, he told me to write down what happened to her. Every detail I could remember. I don’t like thinking about her…but maybe he was right. Little Sammy asked about Mary just the other day, and I yelled at him. I still feel bad…it’s not his fault, he’s just a kid. Maybe this is the only way I’ll be able to talk about her, but maybe that’ll be enough to keep me from going off on the kids. So here goes…

And John had laid out every gory detail of that night, and you’d read the whole thing. You’d always thought it would be better knowing; that it would somehow bring you some extra closure to know how your mother’s final moments went. You were wrong.

And so came the nightmares. The first one was fuzzy and indistinct; a fire, the sound of screaming. But it was enough to have you going with Dean whenever he left the bunker.

The second one was more vivid. It was also when you realized that it wasn’t your mother you were dreaming about—it was you.

It was so real—you felt the demon’s powers slashing open your stomach, you felt your body lifting off the floor…

But the worst part was the heat. It stung your eyes and sizzled against your blood and seared your skin. You tried to scream, but the smoke choked you and stopped your voice. You struggled to inhale, coughing on the smoke and crying at the pain that lit up every nerve ending.

The bright light of the fire left first, then slowly afterwards the pain. But you were still choking and gasping for breath when you sat up in your bed.

“Dean,” you whimpered, the lone word echoing through your empty room. You weren’t quite used to the bunker yet—you were so used to the motels, where your brothers were right next to you at all times. Most of the time it was annoying, but right now…

You threw your covers off you, finally getting a hold of your runaway breathing as you padded barefoot towards your door. You couldn’t stay in this room—it was this room that you’d dreamt of, this ceiling that you’d burned on.

You flung your door open and started down the hall, but you only got halfway to Dean’s room before you stopped. You couldn’t go to him like this, a tear-streaked mess in the middle of the night; he would know something was wrong, and then you’d have to talk about it.

You couldn’t talk about it.

A bang from the kitchen stole your attention and your breath, your mind wandering towards images of a yellow-eyed intruder. You tip-toed to the kitchen, peaking around the corner and breathing easily when you saw Dean rummaging in the fridge for a beer.

You slipped into the kitchen, heading straight for Dean.

“You’re up early,” he greeted, stiffening in surprise when you wrapped your arms around him. “Hey, something wrong?”

“No,” you mumbled, your voice muffled by his shirt. “Good morning,” you added lamely as you pulled away, as if the greeting would explain away the hug.

“Yeah, mornin.” Dean shrugged, choosing to ignore your strange behavior. “Couldn’t sleep? It’s only 5.”

It was later than you’d thought.

“Not really,” you said. “Can we make breakfast?” You weren’t hungry, but you’d take any excuse to keep Dean close.

“Only if you get the bacon,” Dean said with a grin.

“I think we’re out,” you answered.

“Unacceptable,” Dean decided. “You start on the pancakes, I’ll make a run.”

“Wait! Um…” you wracked your brain for an excuse. “Um, the pancakes can wait, I’ll go with you.”

Dean squinted ever so slightly as he stared you down—that was twice in a week that you wanted to go with him to the store without a good reason.

“You sure you’re ok?” He asked.

“Yeah, just…I want some fresh air.”

“Alright.” You both knew he didn’t believe you, but neither of you brought it up again.

You felt pathetic as you trailed behind Dean, but the idea of sitting around the empty bunker alone until he got back or Sam woke up…

You just couldn’t do it. You couldn’t feel safe anymore, not even in your own home, without Dean around.

You sat just a little closer to Dean than you normally would once you got into the Impala, sitting towards the middle of the seat even though the right side was empty. You felt Dean watching you from the corner of his eye, but to your relief he didn’t say anything.

…

“Ok, so how many pounds do we want?” You held a brand of bacon in each hand, eyeing them both. When Dean didn’t respond to your question, you turned around to find the cart there, but no Dean. “Dean?” You glanced up and down the aisle, but he wasn’t in sight. You threw both bacon packages into the cart and ran down the aisle, going down the row and looking frantically down every aisle you passed. Nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing.

You rubbed a hand against your chest when your next breath wouldn’t go through your tightened wind pipe. You tried to take deep breaths, but each one was less satisfying than the last. Once you reached the last aisle with still no Dean, you turned around and started back the way you came, hoping that he was down an aisle on the other side of the store.

“Dean? Dean!” You were calling his name, but you could barely even hear your winded and squeaky voice in the vast emptiness of the store, so you knew there was no way Dean could.

You passed the aisle with your cart and kept going, looking down the first, then the second…

“Dean!” You rushed forward, flinging yourself into Dean’s surprised embrace.

“Hey, what happened?” Dean was stiff and alert, whipping his head around to see what had spooked you.

“I couldn’t find you,” you whimpered, tightening your arms around Dean’s midsection. “I-I didn’t know where you went. Don’t do that to me!”

“Ok, ok hey I’m sorry,” Dean soothed, pulling away and kneeling down, brushing your hair out of your face so he could see you. “C’mon, what’s going on with you? What’s got you so spooked?”

You didn’t answer—you just launched yourself forwards and wrapped your arms around Dean’s neck, burrowing your head against his shoulder.

“Don’t leave me,” you pleaded.

“Ok, ok.” Dean held you closely, rubbing your back. “Ok I’m right here kiddo. Let’s get out of here, ok? Let’s go home.”

…

You held Dean’s hand in vice grip on the way out to the car, but he didn’t comment on it. He waited until you were safely bundled into the Impala to speak again.

“Kid, you need to tell me what’s going on here.”

“I’m fine,” you mumbled. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Dean glanced at you, but he didn’t speak again.

…

You were feeling lucky for most of the day—Sam and Dean spent the morning going through books in the library, so you were able to do your homework right next to Dean without warranting worry or attention.

“Check this out.” Sam’s words to Dean had you looking up curiously while Sam turned his computer around. “Looks like a case in town.”

Your heart dropped to your toes—you were too young to hunt, so a hunt in town meant that you sat in the bunker while the boys were out.

They spent the next twenty minutes talking about the case before they got ready to head out. Dean was throwing guns in a bag in his room when you went to find him.

“We’ll be back tonight,” Dean promised. “But if we find the thing that’s killing these people, it might not be until late, so don’t wait up ok?”

“Can’t I come?” Your tug on Dean’s sleeve stopped his movements.

“You know you can’t,” he said. “What’s going on with you? And don’t say nothing, because I know something’s wrong.”

“I just don’t want you to go,” you said. “Please De? Please don’t leave me here alone.”

“You’re not gonna tell me what’s going on?” Dean asked.

You shook your head.

“Then I have no choice.” Dean sighed. “People are dying, and you can’t come. I have to go.” Dean zipped up his bag and slung it over his shoulder. “We’ll be back before tomorrow.”

“Dean—“ you reached out for your big brother, but in one stride he was out of your reach, then to the door, then he was gone.

…

You were trying to read the same page over and over, but the words were swimming around the page, blurred by the tears in your eyes and the shaking in your hands that had the pages fluttering. You looked up for the millionth time, a deep pit in your stomach convincing you each time that the yellow eyes demon would be standing in your doorway, waiting to kill you.

You dropped the book on your desk with a thud, finally giving up on homework—you wouldn’t get anything done until Dean was home, you just couldn’t focus.

You picked up your headphones and slipped them over your head, but you found that not being able to hear your surroundings made your anxiety even worse, and the soothing notes of your favorite song did nothing to help for once. You tried turning on the tv, but you found that you couldn’t look away from the door for more than a few seconds before you started to get scared again.

Finally you couldn’t take it anymore—you closed your room door, your bathroom, and even your closet; open doors just had your imagination running away with images of yellow eyes coming to kill you.

You burrowed yourself under the covers and tried to force yourself to sleep. Hour after hour you convinced yourself that you’d just never be able to sleep, but you didn’t have anything else to do but keep trying, so you didn’t move.

You were still laying there when the door opened.

“Hey sweetheart,” Dean greeted. You smiled at him, and he smiled back for a second before the smile faded. “Me and Sammy have another case—we’re gonna be gone a while, ok?”

“No, wait!” You tried to get up to stop Dean, but you couldn’t move. “Dean, don’t go! Dean don’t leave!”

He was already out the door, and in his place stood Azazel, pale yellow eyes glowing in the darkness.

“Dean!” You screamed, but it was too late; your pajamas were already soaked in blood coming from a painful gash across your stomach. You whimpered, finally able to move as you wrapped your arms around the wound as if you could protect yourself. You couldn’t.

You were sobbing as your body lifted off the ground, your stomach lurching as you went from wall to ceiling. There was no warning spark, or small flame—you were just suddenly and completely engulfed in flames, your hair burning and your skin scorched. You were still screaming when Dean came running back into the room.

“Dean,” you whimpered. “Dean no!”

Yellow eyes had a knife in his hand, and he turned it on your big brother in an instant. As the fire burned around you, you watched as Dean got stabbed again and again and again…

You woke up screaming. The fire was gone, and so was the pain, but you couldn’t even tell. Your eyes couldn’t take in a single detail of the room—they were blurry and unfocused from sleep. Your brain couldn’t decipher what parts of your dream were real and what weren’t. You sobbed out short and shaky breaths, and your cries were just starting to fade into whimpers when you heard it; the loud thunk of the bunker door closing.

Your fears and your crying returned full force, and you were gasping for breath as you felt around for any kind of weapon.

He’s coming he’s coming he’s coming he’s coming…

It was like all you could see was Azazel as you heard footsteps echoing down the hallway. You wanted to do what Dean always did—push his fear down, throw away his emotions, and just fight—but you couldn’t. You couldn’t catch your breath, you couldn’t stop sobbing, and you couldn’t find your gun.

When your door handle started to turn, you thought you were going to pass out. Your already-unsatisfying breath caught in your throat, and with the lack of breath came black spots at the edges of your vision.

You forced a single deep breath in and out—you couldn’t be unconscious when the demon came to kill you, you couldn’t be that helpless. You had to fight, even though you would lose.

The door swung open, and you were still gasping for breath and grappling for any kind of weapon when—

When Dean walked in.

“Dean!” You were off the bed and in your brother’s arms before he had a chance to speak.

“Hey, hey what’s going on?” Dean’s arms tightened around you when he heard you sobbing and felt you shaking. “Baby what happened?”

“Don’t leave me,” you begged between sobs. “Don’t leave me De, don’t leave me.”

“Ok, ok I’m not going anywhere,” Dean promised. “N/N I’m right here.”

“What’s going on?” Sam walked into the room, staring at his siblings with concern.

“I…I think we’re ok here,” Dean decided, carrying you to your bed. “You should go bandage that cut, I’ve got her.” When Sam hesitated, Dean assured him, “I’ve got her Sam.”

Sam finally left, and Dean climbed up on your bed, settling you into his lap when you wouldn’t let your vice grip around his neck go.

“I need you to talk to me,” Dean pleaded. “I need to know what’s going on, what this is.”

“There was fire,” you whimpered, your tears soaking Dean’s shirt. “There was fire, and it burned everywhere, and I was bleeding and I was on the ceiling, and-and yellow eyes stabbed you, and—“

“Whoa, whoa, slow down.” Dean started to rock you back and forth subconsciously. “Hey, how do you know about all that stuff.”

“I’m sorry.” You were sobbing again. “I know I wasn’t supposed to, but I read his journal and he wrote down everything and I thought it would help but…but now I can’t stop dreaming about it. I’m so—I’m so scared, De. All the time.”

“Shh, shh you’re ok,” Dean soothed, his hand cradling the back of your head. “I’ve got you sweetheart, I’m right here. Listen,” Dean tried to pull away so he could look at you, but you just tightened your grip. “Ok. I used to have nightmares about mom, too. All the time. I still get them sometimes.”

“You do?” You sniffled. “What do you do about them?”

“Well now it’s easier, because we killed yellow eyes. He’s gone, N/N. Nobody’s ever gonna die like mom did again, especially not you. You know that, right?”

“The dreams feel so real,” you answered.

“I know, I know they do. But they’re not. And I’m gonna help you through this, but kiddo, I can’t be around all the time, you know that. I’ve got a job to do.”

“O—ok,” you sniffled. “I can do better.”

“But I’m still gonna be here when you need me. I promise.”

“Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“I need you right now.”

Dean’s arms squeezed impossibly tighter around you.

“Then I’m here for you.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl @casmustdiee @987coley @deadlymistletoe @wayward-impala83 @whump-loverz

[vampiredaisiesss]

touch me — d.w. x reader

synopsis - you run your knuckles through the stubble littering his cheeks. your fingers travel upwards, thumb tracing his crow's feet. the lines on his face have deepened as he's grown older as has his hair gotten lighter. you find him all the more beautiful like this.

trigger warning - older dean winchester (early 40s) with younger reader (early 20s)

He thinks about time, about how it marks you, about how each silver strand falling to the floor is another reminder of all the years between the two of you.

The harsh glare of the bathroom light is unforgiving, casting every line on his face into sharp focus. Dean watches your reflection in the mirror. The gentle snip-snip echoes off the tile walls as you work the scissor over his hair, your lip caught between your teeth.

Steam still clings to the bathroom mirror from your shower, making the edges of your reflection soft, dream-like. Your tank top's damp where his hair falls against it, and there's something so domestic about this moment it makes his chest ache.

You hum "Hey Jude" while you work, because of course you know that's what Mary sang when she cut his hair. Of course you know that's what he sometimes hummed in his sleep whenever he'd have a nightmare.

"You're thinking too loud, again," you murmur, running your fingers through the short hairs at his nape.

"I've got shirts older than you," he says finally, the words tasting bitter on tongue.

You laugh out loud, and it sounds like every good thing he probably doesn't deserve. "And they're all flannel, and they all smell like gunpowder and cheap liquor that you probably spilled on them two decades ago, but never got dry-cleaned, and I love them." Your smile turns soft at the edges. "Just like I love the man wearing them."

"Kid—" he starts, but you cut him off.

"Don't 'kid' me, Dean Winchester. Not when you're balls deep inside me every night." You pause for just enough time to fix him a determined stare, and he offers you a small smile.

"You think I don't know who I'm choosing? You think I haven't counted every scar, every gray hair, every year you spent saving the world before I was old enough to know it needed saving?"

The scissor is forgotten on the countertop as you run your knuckles through the stubble littering his cheeks. Your fingers travel upwards, thumb tracing his crow's feet. The lines on his face have deepened as he's grown older as has his hair gotten lighter.

You find him all the more beautiful like this.

Dean's throat tightens. You're stripping him bare with your touch. "Exactly. You could have anyone. Someone who—"

He swallows hard, but he's smiling now. His chest feels heavier with something else. "When you say it like that, sounds like I should be in a museum, not your bed."

"Someone who what? Someone who hasn't survived forty years in hell? Someone who doesn't wake up reaching for a weapon? Someone who doesn't understand why I keep rock salt by the bed and devil's traps under the rugs?" You shake her head. "I don't want easy, Dean. I want you."

"There," you say finally, brushing loose hair from his neck. Your lips find that sensitive spot behind his ear, and he can feel you smile against his skin.

"Please," You chuckle. Your hands slide back into his hair, resuming cutting. "Museums are for looking, not touching. "And I'm very..." snip "...very..." snip "...fond of touching you."

"Touch me," he says, and it comes out like a prayer he never learned properly – rough and wanting and holy all at once. It curls around your heart in the shape of Dean's hand.

He reaches up, catches your hand before you can move away.

You touch him like you're reading braille, like every freckle on his body has a story to tell. Your lips trace constellations across the map of blue veins over his body. And when you finally put your lips on the scar along the side of his hip — the first ever souvenir he collected on his skin — you feel the smallest tremor in his breath. It’s so faint, but unmistakable, and for a moment, you could almost swear you made Dean Winchester mewl.

And you do.

[kimberly-spirits13]

Dating Dean Winchester Brain Dump Headcannons

Warnings: it's a bit random and all over the place but it's 3am and I've got random thoughts

you've either known each other for a long time (since childhood or teen hood), or you meet on a hunt

Bobby probably introduced you two

You guys realized pretty soon that you'd be good friends based off your interests in music, sarcasm, hunting, etc.

it also helped that Dean thinks you're hot

poor boy tries not to care much about the superficial, but he can't help that it helps

once you get close, he lets you start driving Baby and really pays attention to every detail about you

He's got a cassette tape that has all of your favorite songs on it

when you're not paying attention, he'll pop it in and start playing it

It's labled something like "Y/N/N's favorites"

One of his favorite types of dates are simply driving around, heading into some random roadside diner when you're hungry, and staying out too late at night

He likes basically all types of physical touch

Please run your fingers through his hair or scratch his back

he'll melt and pass away

You always share a bed

Even when you weren't dating, you would sleep together for comfort

Dean runs warm and he knows you're not trying to suffocate, so he turns the AC on full blast to make sure you have to stay close

He likes when you steal his clothes

will purposely leave articles of clothing out for you to take

acts like he's not doing anything when he does it, but you always get the hint

Most of the time, Dean makes Sam ride in the back and you ride shotgun

He loves his brother, but he doesn't get the same level of comfort if you're not up there

He likes to hold your hand in any circumstance

keeps his hand on your thigh when driving around

always makes sure that you're out of the haunted/ sketchy places first

opens doors for you and walks on the sidewalk closest to the road

He likes playing little pranks on you so that when you get over being mad, he gets good post annoyed kisses

Schemes pranks against Sam with you and always will say something like "She made me do it!" when caught

Secretly likes to paint your nails and brush your hair

Dean would die before he admits it, but it's relaxing and he likes being close

he'd do a facemask with you at any time

especially when there's a great shower with like, sixteen shower heads

You're always comforting when he wakes up with a nightmare

Poor boy is always having nightmares and they're mostly about you or Sam dying

He's known to hyperventilate and break into hives if the dreams are bad enough

put him in a warm shower and wash his hair for him and he's peachy

He's probably got an emergancy pie stashed somewhere at all times

Dean thinks that true love is that you make his coffee right every time

Coffee is the only way that he can complete a hunt without dying

Speaking of which, if you get injured or anything on a hunt, he is all over it

Carries you back to Baby no latter if it's a papercut or being shot

Drives pretty recklessly trying to get back to the motel or bunker quickly

Sam will try to help, but Dean insists that he can do everything and will be the only one to patch you up

if he's also injured and can't help you, he's losing his mind

To him, there's nothing worse than not being able to take care of you when you need him

Sam has to tell him to calm down since you seeing him in distress stresses you out more than if Dean would just be a calm bleeding person

Dean likes to take time for himself, but always ends up cutting it short since he misses you/ thinks it would be a better time if you were there

He's got some sort of corny ring tone that always makes him cringe a bit when you call, but he thinks it's too funny to change

He gave you a nice bracelet for your birthday one time and he notices every time you wear it

it makes his heart sour every time he sees you wearing or using something he gave you

makes him feel accomplished/ he did something well

you're the ONLY one that is allowed to wear the leather jacket

he'd go insane if someone else did

When you're up late researching or chilling out, he loves being able to sit in silence as close as possible doing whatever it is you're doing

there's no need for words, it's enough to be together

Obnoxiously singing in the car together

Cleaning Baby together

you walk outside and die when you see him working on Baby

he knows it too and it's annoying

[prentissluvr]

dead eyes — sam winchester

cw : gn!reader, hurt/comfort, established relationship, canon typical violence, blood, death, weapons, and monsters (shifter), reader has a panic attack, character death (in a dream), nightmares, crying, kisses, unedited, 2.4K words. requested !

summary : killing a shifter with sam's appearance scares you to the point of a panic attack.

MOVED BLOGS TO @sammyluvr !! no longer active on this blog! all fics can be found there!

his dead eyes. you shouldn’t have looked.

when you do, it feels like you’re being tilted on your axis, and your vision swims for a moment. his voice, though distant, brings you out of it. we should go find dean, he says, voice gentle like he caught a glimpse of the horror that flashes over your features. horror because they’re his dead eyes.

but it’s not over yet. there’s still another shifter in the house, and the adrenaline of an active hunt doesn’t let you dwell on it.

you had gotten separated, just like you said you wouldn’t, and when sam showed back up, you had to point your gun at him, you had to keep him at a distance. this proved smart when another sam walks in. your sam, you think, because he’s carrying the silver knife he took on the hunt today… and because it feels like him. but you couldn’t be sure.

so you kept your gun up and ready to turn on either one at a moment's notice, even when the mere idea of shooting sam, even a fake one, made you sick to your stomach. what if i shoot the real sam? you had thought to yourself in a terrified moment before your insincts kicked in.

you offered to test yourself first, slipping out your silver knife and cutting a thin line to prove to the real sam that you can be trusted. the shifter and sam stare each other down, and the one that you think is your real sam offers to test himself with his own knife. right as he brings the blade to his forearm, the other lunges towards sam, pulling out a long dagger and aiming right for the heart.

two shots rang out through the air before you could even think about it, and the shift dropped dead at sam’s feet.

now, as you find dean, just barely having killed the last shifter, you know that your instincts served you well, and saved both you and sam. but it had all happened so fast. the realization that there was more than one shifter, getting separated from the brothers, then the confrontation with both sams. your sam, who was calm and collected, but didn’t try to worm his way into getting you to trust him. and the shifter, who wore sam’s face and played with you.

he had insisted he was the real sam, he had chosen to confuse you. sure, to buy himself some time… but you think it was for the pure entertainment of it too. that’s exactly what the shifters had done to their previous victims; posed as their loved ones, but turned violent and angry until the victims tried to hurt or even kill them in self-defense. then they'd guilt their victim for trying to hurt someone they love. and then of course they’d kill them, with their loved one’s face as the last thing they see. they were a violent, messed up pair of monsters, and you’re glad to be rid of them.

but they got to you too. maybe you are their final victim, because sam’s voice saying please don’t hurt me keeps replaying in your head. then there’s sam’s body falling to the ground, blood pooling under him so fast and his eyes open in death. 

it wasn’t sam. you know it wasn’t sam. but in the car ride back to the motel you’re overwhelmed with images of his dead body anyway. and the fact that you had to point that gun at the real sam because you couldn’t be too sure. looking down the barrel of a gun and sam being at the end of it… it just about kills you.

from his seat in the front of the car, sam knows that you’re struggling. he can feel it. your eyes on the back of his head, looking haunted when he glances back with a silent smile of reassurance. and he can’t even see your hands where they are, tucked into your lap, but he knows you well enough that it’s like he can physically feel the way they’re shaking. he wishes he could wrap his solid hands around your trembling fingers and rub your back to soothe your breathing.

he’ll have to wait until you get to the motel, and he’s thankful the drive is almost over. the silence of the car isn’t a comfortable one.

dean reads the room easily and takes to the shower the moment you arrive. before the door to the bathroom is even shut, sam pulls you into his arms, one hand wrapped around your shoulders and the other planted on the back of your head to keep you close.

“it’s okay,” he murmurs, pressing his cheek against you. “i know you’d never hurt me. you don’t have to worry about that.”

the way that he hand picks words and tone and volume for you, with ease and purpose and a complete knowledge of you, your heart, and your mind makes you melt into his hold. you mold to his body, you hug him back so tight, and you cry a few tears. just a few, because his arms around you are grounding and real and better than anything else you could ever ask for. you thought you might fall into a panic, let your anxieties and tendency to overthink things get the better of you. he fixes it all with a hug.

a hug and a love for you that compares to nothing at all. it’s like the way that he holds you and the way that he knows you, gently close the gaps where worry and fear and tears slip through. no stitches, no needle and thread, just soft bandages that hold you together.

⟢⟢⟢

you kill sam in your dreams. you don’t remember anything else. just what it’s like to point your gun at him and shoot with intent. what it’s like to press your hands to the bleeding wounds you made and see his eyes go still. you wake before you can close them with bloody hands.

you’re trembling and you don’t think you’re breathing quite right.

it’s just a dream. it was just a dream. none of it is real. you would never hurt sam, never on purpose. 

with a sharp twist of your neck, you look over at his sleeping form from your spot on the pullout couch. 

you share a bed much more often than not, but this motel is out of rooms with queen beds. last time you slept in a twin bed with him you almost fell to the floor even with him holding you close. that thought brings you out of it for a moment. but seeing him so still in bed is too scary for you to stay calm for any longer than that.

he’s fine, you think desperately. he’s just sleeping. if you could take the time to let your eyes adjust to the dark or see through the tears in your eyes, you’d be able to catch the rise and fall of his breathing. but you can’t.

you can’t even keep track of your own breathing as you stumble out of bed and towards him before realizing at the last moment that you don’t want to wake him.

so you put a hand to your chest and try to breathe as you turn around and make your way to the motel room door on shaky legs. the tears run and run like they can outpace the fear, maybe drown it, and you don’t realize how much noise you’re making as you fumble with the lock and the handle and the door that wasn’t this heavy earlier today.

you’re looking for the cold. the wind, maybe rain if you’re lucky. you’re looking for something to feel that’s not a phantom of your nightmares or suffocating guilt and terror. how could you even dream that? how could you?

and you can’t breathe, you don’t think that you can breathe as your knees buckle and you sit down hard on the concrete outside. it would hurt if you could feel it.

you squeeze your eyes shut and drop your head between your knees because you know somewhere in the back of your mind that you’re having a panic attack. but from your position on the ground and the intensity of your anxiety, it’s not enough. you gasp and gasp and can’t hear sam’s footsteps or your name falling from his lips until he’s right in front of you.

he doesn’t touch you for fear of startling you, but he says your name so soft and steady and worried.

“please look at me, honey,” he asks. sleep tints his voice, love colors it. “it’s alright. you’re alright. i’m alright.”

looking at him is hard because he’s already there, behind your eyelids and bleeding out. but he’s alright. that was his voice saying it, his voice calling you honey and maybe if you open your eyes and look up, he won’t sound so distant the next time he talks.

he’s in front of you. the sight of him sways a little, but he’s there and if you’re seeing well enough, he looks so concerned. so sorry and worried and a little helpless because he wants to bring you out of it and isn’t sure if it’s working yet.

but you hear him and you listen, and when he can see your eyes, it’s a little bit better. when you can see his eyes, it’s a little bit better. they are not open in death. they are alive and feeling and looking at you with love and pain and softness and sorrow. he’s so sorry that you’re so scared of hurting him.

“can you focus on me, love?” he asks, noting your distant eyes and faraway mind and wanting more than anything to bring you back to him.

like a miracle, you find out that you can. you can focus on his eyes, and then his voice, and then you see him holding a hand out in case you want something physical to ground yourself with. it’s instinct to grab his hand, to grip it and steady yourself with it like you have a million times before for a million different reasons. like when you got tipsy and wobbly or when you wanted to go home but you didn’t have one. when you missed him or when you twisted your ankle or fell in love. when you killed him in your dreams.

you still gasp for air and you still cry. but sam is there and that means you’re going to be okay. that means he’s okay, at least for now. he makes for now enough, and you’ll make sure that it’s always. i’ll protect him, you tell yourself. you’ll protect him.

but for now he’ll be the one to protect you; tonight it’s from your fears and the cruel tricks of your mind. he pulls your shaky form into him. he rubs your back and kisses your forehead and your breathing slows down. the air comes into your lungs and it stays there long enough to make a difference. you feel the cold and the breeze on your skin. there’s no rain, but the moon can be seen and it hangs over sam’s head. the moon reminds you of sam.

you walk yourself out of the panic attack without even needing him to ask you for five things you see or four things you can feel. he’s proud of you for it. of course, it’s his being there that helps you more than anything.

“that’s it,” he murmurs, “there you go. i got you.” he smooths his hand over the back of your head, soft and slow and sturdy. when your eyes flutter closed, the only thing you see is the imprint of the bright moon against your eyelids for a moment. the rest is dark and calm.

the fabric of his sleep shirt gets all bunched up in your weak hands. the t-shirt is soft and thin from wear and it feels familiar in between your sleepy fingers. it’s october. he’s probably cold.

i’ll protect him, you remember. your fingers loosen and the fabric falls away from your hold. it rides up and exposes his skin to the wind when you rub up his back. it falls back over the hem of his jeans when you rub down. you’re trying to warm him, but your hands are shaky and small compared to the expanse of his back, even smaller compared to the expanse of the sky.

for a moment sam isn’t sure what you're doing, but he smiles so sadly when he realizes. his heart aches with love and adoration.

“let’s get inside,” he whispers. you nod against his chest. he’ll be warmer inside. so will you. you might be shivering. he hoists you to your feet with steady care. your knees feel weak, but you hold his hand tight and walk back into the room. sam closes and locks the door, the guides you to his bed. he sits you down on the edge and crouches in front of you, wiping softly at your tears. then he leans forward and up to press a kiss to your cheek, then another to the spot between your eyebrows.

you fall into him, wrapping your arms around his neck, and he accepts you happily. he rubs your back soothingly, lets you tuck your head into the crook of his neck. he holds you there until you sit up. he lets his legs go sore and doesn’t care about it one bit. you heave out a huff of breath and he cups your face, thumbing softly at your cheekbone. your hand slowly wraps around his wrist, then you turn your head to kiss the heel of his palm.

“let’s sleep,” you mumble against his skin. with a soft heart, sam obliges, climbing into the small bed after you. he bundles you up into his arms before pulling the covers over your warming bodies. he kisses the top of your head, letting his lips linger for a long moment before he rests his cheek against the same spot.

“goodnight, sam,” you whisper softly, voice still holding a hint of its earlier shakiness.

“goodnight, honey,” he echoes, voice just as soft and prettily hushed. he wants to say more, maybe another ‘it’s okay’ or sweet reassurance. he wants to make sure you know that he’s not afraid of you hurting him, that he trusts you and that loves you all the way. but he thinks you already know, and that you’re better suited for silence now.

he’ll tell you tomorrow.

[wandering-winchesters]

Dean Winchester Masterlist

First Moments- Masterlist of the First Moments series.

Darkest Night- The reader loses someone close to her, Dean is close for comfort

Hunt Gone Wrong - The reader is injured while on a hunt, but doesn’t want the boys to know. Considering it should have been an easy hunt.

Not A Demon In Hell - The reader is taken by a Djinn, follows Dean as he does everything in his power to get her back. 

If this is how I go, it’s worth it - the reader is injured saving Dean. 

Please don’t shut me out  - the reader deals with depression and anxiety, Dean seeks to help her. 

Crossroads, Crossroads II, Crossroads III- (SPOILERS) Based around the time period of Season 2, when Dean makes a deal with the crossroads demon. The reader finds out that he made a deal, and what follows.

Nightmares-The reader has a nightmare and Dean is there to wake her. After, he questions what caused the nightmare. 

A Million Times More- The reader and Dean make a pit stop on the way back from a hunt, will their true feelings finally be revealed? 

Bad Feeling-The reader has a bad feeling about a hunt, the boys ignore it and she gets hurt.

Burning Up - the reader is sick and Dean takes care of her. Lots of fluff. 

The Mark Of Cain - Dean has the mark of cain, and Y/N is normally the one who can calm him. However, this time things go too far. 

Down Range- The reader is new to hunting and Dean takes her to learn how to shoot.

Premonitions- The reader has always had visions, but now they’re changing and causing her physical harm.

Not Yourself- The reader has been feeling off, ever since a nasty encounter with a demon.

Who Did This To You? -Sam and the reader are close friends, Dean on the other hand is kept at a distance. The reader has a boyfriend, who turns out to be abusive. What will happen when Dean finds out?

Tragedy -The reader is used to hunting solo, yet this solo hunt does not turn out quite like she had hoped. She is required to call on Dean and Sam after she is injured.

Hopeless - The reader can feel her depression creeping back in and eventually seeks comfort from Dean, who greets her with open arms.

When the Storm Clouds Rolls in- On a particularly hard day, the reader relies on Dean for comfort.

Haunted- the reader gets ghost sickness

Do It- The reader is taken captive and has given up hope of being rescued or escaping. Yet when Dean does appear, his life is the one at stake.

Don't Push Your Luck- After a bad argument with Dean, over the reader putting herself in danger, another hunt goes wrong. Will there be time to reveal the feelings that lie beneath the anger?

Grief- The reader loses her grandfather and eventually seeks comfort from Dean.

Take Me Back- Based on the song, The Night We Met by Lord Huron

Letters- Love Letter from Dean

A Calm in the Storm- When the world feels like it’s closing in, Dean is there to pull you back from the edge.

Steady Hands- When the weight of the world becomes too much, Dean is there to hold you together.

Breaking the Walls- Dean struggles with his growing feelings for you, battling the fear of letting you in while also being terrified of losing you.

The Weight of Darkness- In the midst of depression's grip, Dean's presence offers a glimmer of hope and the promise that you don't have to face it alone.

Under the Stars- you share a quiet, intimate moment in the woods, where a simple hand-holding leads to a deeper connection under the starry night sky.

A Moment too Late - A hunt goes wrong, leaving you seriously injured and Dean grappling with guilt. But through it all, the bond you share only grows stronger as you both fight through the pain and recovery together.

Comfort in the Dark- Dean Winchester seeks solace in your embrace during a vulnerable night.

Reunited - After days of fear and separation, you reunite with Dean.

When the Line is Crossed-What was supposed to be a simple night at the bar turns dangerous, but Dean steps in to protect you when it matters most.

A Cold Night's Warmth -On a freezing night after a hunt gone wrong, Dean Winchester quietly offers comfort

After the Battle - After a grueling hunt, you and Dean share a rare moment of closeness.

No Room for Blame- After a hunt leaves you injured saving Sam, a tense and emotional ride back to the motel forces Dean to confront his fear, anger, and the unbreakable bond between the three of you.

Unspoken Feelings - What started as simple, comforting snuggles between friends gradually deepens into something more

A Desperate Moment I, A Desperate Moment II -After a life-threatening hunt, Dean, overwhelmed by fear and desperation.

Sleepless Confessions- In the stillness of the bunker’s kitchen, a sleepless night turns into a tense, unspoken confession between you and Dean.

Wreckage- The things you see as Dean is taken by the hell hounds.

[witchy-worm]

Here's my art for the @destielbeatlesminibang!

I had the absolute joy of teaming up with @eyesofatragedy67 and her wonderful fic for this bang. I had the best time working on this, and am truly honoured that a few of my little creative choices in the art made their way into the fic :) There's so much I love about this story but I can't spoil it so you'll have to go read it yourself on AO3

Link to Masterpost

More info behind the cut

Title: While My Guitar Gently Weeps

Author: @eyesofatragedy67

Artist: @witchy-worm

Rating: Teen and Up

Summary: Cas’s deal with the Empty broke Dean’s heart. And no matter what they tried, they couldn’t get him out.

They did manage to take care of Chuck, though, and with him out of the picture, Dean finally hung up his gear and built a life for himself. Or whatever passes for life when the one person you want to share it with most is out of reach.

But Dean’s got his bar, Charlie at his side, and his guitar to keep him company on the nights memories pull him under.

And he hopes against hope that someday Cas will return to him.

Tags: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester & Charlie Bradbury, Dean Winchester & Original Female Character, Past Major Character Death, Temporary Character Death, Canon Divergent After Episode 15x18, Fix It Fic, No Rebar Was Used In the Making of This Fic, The Empty Deal, Songfic, Dean Winchester POV, Non-linear Storytelling, Flashbacks, Nightmare Containing Non-Graphic Suicide, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dean Winchester Needs a Hug, Dean Winchester/Castiel First Kiss, Cas Gets By With A Little Help From His Friends, Domestic Fluff, Domestic Castiel/Dean Winchester, Loosely Inspired By Across the Universe, Finale What Finale

[jasvtsc]

demon!dean x angel!reader.

tw! mentions of death, anxiety, blood, graphic language, manipulation, dean being an a-hole, corruption, grammar mistakes (ig)

word count! 2.1k

it was hard seeing dean in this state.

at first, you thought he was dead. you watched him die in your arms. then, you found out that he was a demon? and to make everything worse, no one wanted to tell you anything — they thought it was for the best.

why? you had no clue.

so, when they brought him in, back to the bunker, you almost got a heart attack. you wanted to scream, cry, throw up and do everything else that humans do when they’re overstimulated with emotions. however, your state of distressed euphoria didn’t last for long when the bad news came crashing down on you, making you hyperventilate and experience what was called a panic attack. while you were getting more human, your beloved was turning into his worst nightmare.

dean was a demon.

yeah, he indeed died a year prior, but because he was bearing the Mark Of Cain at that time, he was resurrected. and you weren’t exactly sure if you were happy about that.

sure, it was dean. he looked the same.

but it wasn’t your dean.

those green eyes, once full of love and adoration for you, now were as empty as the hole in your heart that his death left. whenever you looked at him, you didn’t see him — the soul once shattered but put back together by you. now, it was only darkness which consumed every tiny bit of light you tried so hard to put in him.

it wasn’t your dean.

you were sitting in the war room in your usual place — an armchair in the corner, right next to the cabinet stuffed with lore books and other things. nervously picking at your wings, you let the feathers drop to the ground as you stared with empty eyes at the wall in front of you. castiel and sam were discussing what to do with dean and how could they possibly save him — if the whole process was even reversible.

you had no idea how they managed to catch him in the first place and drag him back here — no one was telling you anything. you were as clueless as you could be, knowing only that the man you loved the most was now the creature of darkness you were taught to despise since the early stage of creation.

you didn’t get a chance to talk to him yet. and you weren’t exactly sure if you wanted to. you only saw how they dragged his unconscious body to the basement and locked him up in there, chained to the chair in the middle of the anti-possession symbol.

as more and more feathers covered the wooden floor, the man and your angel brother noticed the state you were in. they looked at each other and then back at you. sam sighed and came closer, placing his hand on your shoulder. you shivered lightly and looked at the younger winchester.

“hey, listen, we think that we found something which can help bring dean back. but we can’t leave him alone here so—“ sam explained with a soft smile, and you could see that when he turned his head towards cas, he wanted him to continue. the angel widened his eyes and nodded.

“oh, yeah. we want you to stay with him,” as always, painfully straightforward.

“why me? can’t one of you stay?” because frankly, you didn’t want to face him. not yet.

“birdie, you’re—“ sam started, but you quickly cut him off.

“don’t call me that,” you said with a stern voice, your tone almost threatening. it was what dean used to call you. no way you’d let this word slip from someone else’s mouth — it was reserved only for dean winchester.

“okay, fine, i won’t,” he raised his hands in surrender, taking a step back as he felt like you were about to hit him with something. “it’s just… you’re in no shape to go outside at the moment. look what you’ve done to your wings—“

“what i do with them is my fucking business,” you hissed, and both of them were stunned. you just cursed.

they were looking at you in disbelief, and suddenly, you felt embarrassed with your little outburst. however, you weren’t going to apologize for your feelings — you had an absolute right to be upset and frustrated. so, shooting them both a cold glare, you left the room.

in the end, you were left alone with dean. it took you some time to mentally prepare for the confrontation. but eventually, you pulled your shit together and decided to go down to the basement.

carrying a tray with some food, you slowly opened the door and peeked inside. suddenly, you felt as if your heart was about to burst out of your chest, and your mouth was dry as if you hadn’t seen a drop of water in days. you slowly walked out into the dim light, showing yourself to him after god knows how long.

and then, you heard it — a mocking, cold-hearted chuckle that echoed through the air.

“oh, now, who do we have here? my little birdie. i missed you so much, baby. did you miss me, too?” he asked with a cruel smirk, tilting his head to the side as he sized you up, his eyes flashing a pitch-black colour for a second.

for some reason, all the courage you built up in yourself vanished as soon as you made eye contact with him. he was scary. you never thought you’d admit it, but you were genuinely scared of the man who once used to hold you so dearly in his arms, stroking your hair and whispering sweet nothings into your ear as he placed small kisses on your temple. now, he had this darkness in his soul that made you want to hurl — your angelic nature physically declining being anywhere near such evil.

you tightened your fingers on the tray, looking around the room, thinking what you should do. you couldn’t free him from his restraints, but then again, he had to eat, somehow. because still, you cared about him. fuck, you still loved him.

“come on, birdie. you’re not even going to say hi to me? please, let me have a look at your pretty face. it’s been so long,” he cooed, suddenly putting on that soft voice you were so used to hearing. but then again, you could just sense the mockery and the dark intention behind his words. everything coming out of his mouth in this moment was insincere.

but was that enough to make you weak? yes.

because, oh god, even if it was just for your delusions and how naive you were, you just wanted him back. you wanted your dean back, and you were ready to pretend as long as it was needed.

so, slowly, you looked up at him, trying to hold back your tears as they dwelled in your eyes, threatening to spill down your rosy cheeks.

dean smirked menacingly, running his tongue over the top row of his pearly white teeth, letting out a grunt as he bit his lower lip, slightly thrusting his hips forward and spreading his legs.

“there we go. my good little angel,” he taunted, eyeing you up and down with a predatory smile.

“what happened to you?” you asked meekly, your voice trembling as you swallowed a lump in your throat. you were sick to your stomach, and the smell of evil basically radiating from him didn’t help.

“me? nothing, birdie. it’s me, dean. your dean. your precious human, don’t you remember?” he tried acting clueless and innocent but quickly gave in to his demonic nature, letting out a cruel laugh as he threw his head back. “come on, don’t act so fucking dense. i’m a demon, now. you should’ve gathered that much by now. or did they not tell you? no wonder. you’re so fucking infantile that it’s just straight-up pathetic. you’re not a fucking kid. sure, you’re this cute, little, clueless angel. but come on, use your damn feathered brain sometimes,” he scoffed and rolled his eyes.

and holy shit, did that hurt.

you bit your lower lip, your eyes now obviously glossy when you let out a small sniffle. you just wanted to run and hide somewhere, away from him and his cruel insults. now, you were 100% sure.

it wasn’t your dean.

you were ready to leave the basement. you turned around and took a deep breath, but dean wouldn’t let you go so easily. as soon as he noticed that you wanted to escape, he used his soft voice. again.

“hey, hey, hey. birdie, i’m sorry. you know i didn’t mean that. it’s just—“ he grunted as if he was struggling. “it’s this demon in me. i can’t control it,” he started panting heavily, a smirk still on his face as you were turned with your back facing him. “birdie, please. you have to believe me. i would never hurt you.”

damn, did that work.

hearing him struggle and be in pain just cut at your heartstrings. quickly, you turned around with a panicked expression and stepped closer to him.

“dean?” you asked, your voice breaking as tears flooded your face, dropping from your chin onto his thighs. he nodded, putting on an act and using his most pathetic expression.

“it’s me, birdie. please, help me,” he almost choked on his words, his voice pained and hurting. “please, baby, you’re the only one i can count on.”

you knew you’d probably regret that later. but jesus, you were so gullible, and you loved him so much.

almost immediately, you freed him from his restraints, cupping his face and stroking his stubbled cheeks. he sighed and grabbed your wrists, giving them a gentle squeeze as he leaned into your touch. at this point, you were long gone.

“tell me what’s happening, dean. let me help you,” you whispered, carefully scanning his face, still clueless that all of it was just a scene.

“it hurts. baby, it hurts so badly,” he whimpered, squeezing your wrists tighter. hearing that only made you panic even more.

“where? tell me where, i’ll heal you,” you sobbed, your vision blurry because of your tears.

“you can’t. you can’t heal it,” he panted, closing his eyes shut and grunting in mock pain.

“what do you mean?” you widened your eyes. “why not?”

“there’s only one way you can help me,” and you were ready to do anything for him, your self-preservation instincts turned off instantly. with a nod, you encouraged him to continue. “birdie, i need your blood.”

and that was enough for you to freeze on the spot. your mouth went dry, and you exhaled a shaky breath. he needed your blood, which was probably the most sacred thing in the universe. angel blood was the rarest to get, and it had its power.

“h-how? why?” you stuttered, shaking your head as you tried to understand it. you didn’t know anything about angels helping someone with their blood. and you were scared of the possible consequences.

dean cursed in his head, trying his best not to frown and scoff. instead, he kept on with the pathetic act. he whimpered again and then grunted, leaning forward as he put his hand on his chest, pretending that he struggled to breathe.

“please. i- i can’t,” he groaned and then screamed in pain.

“okay, what do i do?” you asked, widening your eyes as even more panic flooding your system.

“feed it to me. please, birdie. let me drink your blood,” he begged and then, you acted purely on your feelings, throwing any remaining logical thought out the window.

without much further ado, you lifted one of your wings and took a single feather. you slit your wrist with the sharper end, and as the crimson liquid started dripping down your skin at high speed, you put it closer to his face.

dean closed his eyes and inhaled the metallic scent. it took him a lot of effort not to moan in pure pleasure and excitement. he licked his lips and then grabbed your hand, putting his mouth in your wrist and drinking your blood like a man starved. you gasped and scrunched your eyes, tilting your head away as he dug his teeth into your skin for a better grip.

you began to feel more and more lightheaded as he drank more and more of your blood. when you finally looked back at him, only then did you realize your mistake. his eyes were pitch black, and his mouth was covered in your blood. he pulled away and smiled sadistically, looking at you like a feral animal.

he pushed you onto the floor and chuckled darkly, looking around the room. he grabbed the feather you dropped and it practically rotted in his hand, turning into a dark blade-like object. you widened your eyes, crawling away from him as he started to walk towards you with a bloodthirsty smile. and then, only one word slipped from his blood-covered mouth.

“run.”

a/n: idea inspired by @angelicjackles !! lmk what you think, all feedback is very much appreciated:))

༄♡ tags: @internetitgirl17 @beausling @deanswidow @titsout4nicholas @deansbite @aileenunfiltered @a1ecmcdowell @angelicp0etry @figthoughts @fitxgrld @hrtsoldierboy @10ava01

[hauntedwitch04]

Hero

Dean Winchester x reader

Words: about 1.6k words

Warnings: smut, possessive!Dean, swearing, kinda voyeurism, male reciving, not proofreaded

Author’s note: Hi loves! New day new kink, tbt not my best work but I hope you like it, your witch Becky

Requests are open I Ask

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DAY 12: Tit-fucking

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Dean had seen Hell, but no torture could match this moment for him.

You went out as usual to celebrate yet another hunt that saw you return home victorious to some seedy bar nearby. None of you, Dean, and Sam had dressed up for the occasion, indeed looking like an ordinary Friday night, but for certain the elder Winchester knew he was going to have quite a bit of trouble when he saw you leave the room a few hours earlier. You were wearing a simple tank top under the usual shirt that is now in common use among hunters, almost in recognition of each other, but that 'outfit so unreasoned was capable of making poor Dean take trips far beyond the pure and chaste thoughts a friend should have about you.

Sam is sitting at the bar sipping his beer while talking to a very pretty girl; you, on the other hand, probably caught up in the alcohol a bit, are having a good time, dancing along with a couple of girls you met earlier while getting drinks, and Dean can't help but stand there watching you ecstatically. Hunter watches you move your body to the music, as your form brushes against the bodies of the other girls, and he can't help but think if it wasn't his body that yours is moving next to.

He dreamed of being able to touch your breasts, caress them and love them, before starting to bite and suck them so as to leave obvious marks, and let everyone see that they were only his, that you were only his; he dreamed of seeing your tits jump at the same rhythm with which he would fuck you, hard and mercilessly; he dreamed of falling asleep on your chest, listening to your heartbeat, and of finding you there when he would wake up because of yet another nightmare.

Too lost in the far corners of his mind, imagining you under him while he tortures your nipples with his mouth, he does not notice that you are approaching him quickly and with fear in your eyes.

As soon as you touch his arm, with a gentle touch, he awakens from that daydream and stares at you, not understanding this sudden change of emotions on your part.

"Hold your ground." She whispers in his ear, before changing expression again and smiling at him with a sweetness that Dean feels melt over the chair in that provincial bar as if he were standing before the goddess of beauty herself.

"Love I finally found you! I couldn't see you anymore and I got worried, luckily this gentleman accompanied me." You say in a squeaky voice, as you point to the man just behind you, who looks at you as if you were nothing more than a piece of meat, who lays his gaze on the hunter once you tighten around his arm with a look mixed between anger and resignation, ready to move on to the next victim.

Dean immediately understands the situation and feels a sudden rage invade his body, in the need to protect you and affirm to the other man that you are not merely a doll good for satisfying his desires, but that you are his to preserve and love, even if the contact of your chest with his arm is enough to short-circuit his brain for a few seconds.

He feels your breasts against his elbow, your skins touching, and for a moment he is sure he would have come in his pants if it were not for the threat in front of you.

"Good thing he was there baby, I was starting to worry." Dean says as he gets up from where he's sitting and moves his arm that you're holding tightly, behind you, to hold you against his chest, to make you feel safer even though selfishly he can't complain about feeling your chest pressed against his. He knows perfectly well that if he looked into your eyes, he would see everything he wants from your cleavage, but after all, he is still a gentleman and this is not the time.

"Well buddy, since I'm so nice to bring your lady back to you, you might thank me by letting me take a ride with her, don't be-" The man begins to say with a grin on his face, before being interrupted by Dean's fist making contact with your face. You look shocked at the hunter, who in response holds you even tighter to him, while gesturing to his brother that he would take you out, or rather to the motel, since Sam was more than busy minding his own business anyway.

Once outside you find yourself in the parking lot, get into the car and start driving. You stand silently beside the man watching him grip the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white. At some point without explanation Dean pulls over and gets out of the car, walking over to the first tree and starts punching it. You immediately get out and stand between him and the poor unfortunate object on whom the hunter has decided to unload his anger by grabbing his wrists.

"Hey, it's okay, you can relax now." You whisper, trying to reassure Dean, who shakes his head.

"You don't know how much willpower I'm using right now not to drive the car back and hit that son of a bitch so hard that I would send him straight to Crowley with a one-way ticket." He comments, as he closes his eyes and prays to any listening deity to give him the strength not to kiss you right now, and ruin your whole friendship.

"Hey I know, but we're here now, he's not our problem anymore." You retort, wrapping your arms around his waist, trying to appease his ire with a hug, but he jumps back at feeling your chest make contact with his again, knowing you would surely feel his erection pressing against your belly.

"I can't even touch you now? What is it with you that that man touched me?" You ask shocked, as you see him shaking his head vehemently.

"No, it's not that. It's just that if you touch me-" He pauses for a moment, to swallow and look you in the eye, and then within a second blow all plans not to ruin your friendship and pounce on your lips like a hungry man. You let him take full control of the kiss, letting you press against the tree as his lips from yours move down your neck, to your shoulder. "-I don't know if I can control myself." He finishes, returning to look into your eyes.

"Who said I want you to control yourself?" You counter, only to kiss him in turn, then kneel before him, unfastening his pants.

"Baby, we can't here, someone might see us." He comments, as he watches you lower his boxers and take his member, already stiff, in your hands before leaving a couple of kisses on the tip.

"Then we'd better hurry up." You retort, winking at him as you begin to move your hand back and forth on his cock, eliciting moans of pleasure from him. You continue this for a few minutes, until you are satisfied with your work, and you lower your tank top slightly so that your breasts come out.

Dean's eyes widen as he sees you rest his member between your breasts and for a moment that this is yet another beautiful dream from which he will wake up as usual with the most painful erection of his life. Instead he feels the soft skin of your chest in contact with that of his member and realizes that it is all real, in fact for a moment it feels like he is going to orgasm right away as he tries to hold back. You squeeze his member between your breasts and he begins to move back and forth creating a friction that Dean would not know whether to describe as hellish or angelic.

After a few minutes managing to find some sort of inner balance to avoid coming right away, Dean finally opens his eyes, to see you looking at him with a satisfied smirk as your hands resting on your breasts squeeze them, causing him to curse.

"Baby, you're going to kill me like this. How did you know my greatest weakness?" He comments, gritting his teeth as he hears you giggle.

"You were never very good at hiding that you were looking at my tits Dean, and this seems to me the best way to thank you for always being my hero in shining armor." You respond as you feel him coming closer and closer to orgasm, so you squeeze his cock even tighter between your tits and increase the speed until he comes releasing all his seed onto your breasts. You stay still for a moment, until you bring a finger to catch some of the cum that was on your chest, and bring it to your mouth, to taste it. Dean that sight almost picks you up, leading you back to the car, opening, however, not the driver's door, but the back seat.

"But how, I thought someone would see us here?" You tease him as he throws you on the seat, and he lies on top of you, kissing you fiercely.

"Let them watch, what is certain is that I will not spend another second of my life without knowing how you groan my name as I fuck you so hard that you forget yours as well."

What can I say, this night certainly promises to be fun.

TAGLIST

@river-rat69 @ladysparkles78 @samanddeansannoyingsis @ash04w3 @l3viathanpup @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @that1nerd20 @the-house-of-rose-and-ember @hi-my-name-is-riley @shodowbane09 @supernatural-lvr @imaraccoon @shhdontlookk @justawinchesterwhore @deansbbyx @xbugsyx @newtdumbledoorstarksoot @afcnds @biahz1

[castiwls]

juno .ᐟ

Paring; dean x reader

Prompt; 'one of me is cute but two tho’

Requested; @mochminnie

Notes;

Masterlist | short n sweet

Children had never really been on your or Dean's radar. Sure when you were younger the idea of a picket fence had sounded nice but now as an adult and knowing the life you currently lived, you’d both come to an unspoken agreement that it was not the time for kids.

Well, that was until you ended up in the possession of a shifter baby.

“C’mon, sweetheart you’re not seriously considering it.” Dean laughed climbing into bed beside you. He pulled you into his side with a quiet sigh.

The last few days had been nothing short of insane. He thought he’d seen it all and then suddenly Sam’s back and now he has an extended family he wasn’t sure if he trusted or not.

The only person acting like god damn normal was you. Well, you were until you’d announced that you wanted a baby.

He wasn’t ready for a baby! He was pretty sure he’d also just proved it if the way you’d reacted when he’d given the shifter whiskey was anything.

“Think about it.” You hummed, your tone dreamy almost as the image of him holding the baby flashed through your head again.

“I am.” He responded gruffly as his eyes slipped shut. “I’m thinking and I’m telling you no.”

You huffed looking up to him with a slight pout. Dean cracked an eye open, grinning at your expression. “Don’t pull that face at me. No babies end off.”

He squeezed your body closer to his as you continued to frown. “Can’t we just talk about it? I saw you with that baby Dean, you didn’t look too annoyed then.”

He hummed looking at the ceiling for a moment. Maybe the baby had been slightly cute.

“Though if we do have a kid we are not naming it Bobby-John.” You scoffed. Dean shot you an offended look as he moved back ever so slightly to see your face better.

“Hey! What’s wrong with my naming abilities!”

“You can get middle naming duties.”

“Hey, if we’re doing this it’s my child too sweetheart and I’m not letting you name it somthin stupid like…like Sally.”

“Sally? Seriously?” You shook your head, amusement flashing in your eyes as you saw the playful glint in his own.

Dean nodded. “So we’re at an agreement. No Sally.”

“No Sally.” You nodded.

Dean’s hand rubbed over your shoulder slowly as you sat up, shifting to sit across his lap. He smiled as you came face to face, his other hand brushing a piece of your hair back.

“Think about it. A little baby who’s the spit of me or you? How cute would that be!” Your voice was soft now, the same one you used to convince him to let you pick the dinner place whenever you were bored of his constant fast food.

“Think about it? For me?”

He huffed but fell quiet. A mini-you did sound a lot more appealing than another version of him. The world didn’t need two Dean Winchesters running around.

“I dunno sweetheart, two of you sounds kinda like a nightmare.” You gasped hitting his chest.

“Shut up, a mini version of me would be so cute.”

“Mhm.”

“Dean!”

“I’m joking.” He laughed. “I’m joking. I think it would be adorable.”

You nodded happily before falling quiet. “Does that mean you’re willing to try?” You said after a moment, peaking up through your lashes.

“Jesus-“ he huffed before taking a breath. God damn it you’d made the idea so appealing.

“It better be a damn girl.” He grumbled before flipping you both over. You gasped as your back hit the mattress before a slow smirk grew on your lips.

“If not we can always try again.”

[kaleldobrev]

Please Don't Leave

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Summary: Dean's lucky to have you in his life and honestly doesn't know what he would ever do without you

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Cursing (3x), Fluff, Vulnerable/Angry Dean

Authors Note: The gif makes me sad | This might seem a little non canon but at the same time I honestly feel like Dean would react this way (fight me if you want, but I said what I said) | I just love this man so fucking much | Dream/Flashbacks are in italics | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

Dean didn’t have a lot of consistencies in his life, but you were one of them. Out of everyone he had known in his life, you were one of the only people that had remained with him through all the heartbreak, all of the death, all of the blood, sweat, and tears that this life had. You had been through it all with him: Sam going to Stanford and leaving him behind, his fathers death, him selling his soul, the year that Sam went to Hell, the year the two of you were in Purgatory, the few months he was a demon, his bloodlust fueled by the Mark, him being possessed by Michael. He had an endless list of things that the two of you had been through together, things that would cause any normal or rational person to throw in the towel; but not you. “You can’t get rid of me Dean Winchester, not even if you kill me yourself.” You had joked. And that was something that he had almost done – and on several occasions too. And yet, you never left him. “I guess I’m just stupid.” You said. “Or maybe the sex me and you have is just that good.”

The sex he had with you, now that was something. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced; and he has had quite a lot of sex during his lifetime (not that he bragged about it of course). When the two of you initially met, it was only supposed to be a working relationship, a friends with benefits sort of deal. But eventually it turned into more. He wasn’t sure where him or you had gotten your wires crossed but they did; and it turned into you and him always finding each other at the end of the night regardless of the different men and women that had hit on both of you at the bar you two were at.

The sex used to be quick, usually done in either a drunken haze or after a tough hunt. But it eventually turned into something that either one of you would initiate through soft touches: a kiss on the forehead, a simple hand hold, or cuddling into each other. Once, in the middle of sex, he wasn’t sure why he had said it but he did. He kind of just blurted it out. “I love you.” Now that was something he never thought he’d ever say during sex before. But here you were beneath him, staring up at him with those doe eyes of yours that you frequently had during sex and said, “I love you too.” It was something he didn’t expect.

Dean didn’t know what he could or would possibly do if you weren’t in his life; and that was something he didn’t want to think about. But it was something that has been an unavoidable thought as of late. Waking up to you was one of the worst but best things after a nightmare of losing you. He would wake up in a panic, his heart racing, sweating; afraid that you were gone for good this time. But without fail, every single time you would be right there next to him. Either sound asleep or awake enough to tell him, “It’s okay, I’m right here.” He would always reply the same way. “Just…please don’t leave.” It was a simple yet complicated sentence. “I’m not going to. I’d never leave you.” Those words that you always uttered back should have been comforting to him, but it was just an empty promise – even though he knows that’s how you never intended it to sound. In your heart you loved him deeply, and he knew that. He knew that you’d never leave him; the two of you have been through everything together. But when it came to this life, it was hard to make and keep promises like that.

“Dean, I just can’t do this anymore I’m sorry.” Your words had cut into him like a knife. Like he’d been shot hundreds of times. The torture he received from Hell combined with the loss of his mother was child’s play compared to what he was currently feeling. He just started blankly at the two duffel bags at your feet as you stood in the doorway of the room the two of you shared. Well, formally shared that is. “Aren’t you going to say anything?” You asked, your question snapping him out of whatever trance he was in.

“There’s nothing to say.” Of course there were hundreds, no thousands of things that he had wanted to say to you, but he knew that he couldn’t say any of it. As much as he wanted to beg for you to stay, he wasn’t going to make you stay. Once you made up your mind that was it; there was no convincing you.

You looked at him with a confused expression. “You don’t even want to know why I’m leaving?” You asked, and Dean simply shook his head. “Why not?”

“It doesn’t really matter.” He tried to keep his voice even, to make you believe that he was okay. But he could tell that you knew he wasn’t (you knew him long enough to know when he was or wasn’t okay).

“Dean.” You said, your voice sounding more heartbroken than his.

“It’s alright. You don’t…you don’t have to explain yourself.” He said, taking a seat on the bed you two once shared.

“I feel like you deserve an explanation. We were together for almost twenty years Dean.” You sat down next to him on the bed. He had just wanted to push you away or wrap you in his arms. Two completely differently reactions, but that’s the way he felt. “Dean.” You touched his shoulder and he flinched, you quickly removed your hand. “I love you, and I know you know that but –”

“Please just…stop talking. I really don’t want to hear what you have to say.” His voice was more hurt now, and he could feel himself trying not to say or do anything that he was going to regret. He wanted to cry, but he didn’t want you to have to see that, despite seeing him do it so many times before. “Just, leave if you’re going to leave.” You didn’t move, simply just staring at him. “Go!” He snapped, and that’s when you got up.

You walked over to your bags, slinging one over your shoulder and holding the other one in your hands. “Goodbye Dean.” You said, before walking out of the room. For a while he heard the sound of your boots down the hall, but they suddenly became faint, almost inaudible. The Bunker door opened and closed again. You were gone. Gone for good this time.

“You said you’d never fucking leave.” He whispered to himself. “Said you’d never fucking leave me.” He pounded the bed with his fist. “You fucking lied!” He got up from the bed and he felt himself start to lose control; no longer in control of the emotions that had been building up when he had started watching you pack up your bags.

Dean woke up abruptly, sitting up. He was panicked, his heart racing. His breaths were heavy, his chest moving up and down. He rubbed his face, trying to fully wake himself up. There was no way he would be getting back to sleep for a while; not after that nightmare. “Y/N -” he began to say as he looked over to his right side; your side of the bed. You were gone. “Sweetheart?” He asked, his hand reached out and touched the emptiness next to him: it was cold.

He looked up at the door to the bedroom which was slightly ajar. The only light in the room came seeping in from the hallway. He didn’t remember having the door open, the door was always shut whenever the two of you slept. Despite how safe the Bunker was, sleeping with the door closed added an extra layer of safety, not just for him, but for you as well.

A shadow appeared, blocking some of the light. He reached over and opened the drawer of his nightstand, slightly gripping his gun that he always kept there. Before he could fully wrap his hand around the weapon you squeaked inside the room and shut the door again quietly. A huge amount of relief washed over him in that moment as he let go of the gun and closed the drawer. “Dean?” You questioned, upon hearing the drawer close. “Baby are you okay?” You asked, walking to sit on his side of the bed. He looked at you as you placed a hand on his cheek. Your eyes full of worry.

“You were…” his eyes flickered to your side of the bed that had been empty when he woke up before looking back at you again. “You were gone. When I woke up you…”

“It’s okay. I’m here.” You reassured him, your voice calm.

“Where did you go?” He asked tiredly.

“The bathroom. I really, really needed to pee.” You said, Dean chuckled a little at your comment. “You know I wouldn’t willingly leave you right?” You reassured him again. You felt him nod in your hand.

“I know.” His voice sounding just a hint sad. “I uh, I feel stupid for freaking out.” The sentence was a whisper.

“There’s nothing to feel stupid about Dean.” Another reassurance. Dean had every right to react the way he did; he had lost so much, even before you had met him. You had been with him through everything. Witnessed so much loss and endured just as much. “Was it a nightmare?”

He nodded. “Yeah. It was the…the one where you break up with me.” You hated that one just as much as he did.

“I’m never going to break up with you. I love you too damn much.” You said, giving him a smile. You crawled into bed next to him getting underneath the covers. “Come here.” You held out your arms for him, and without hesitation he went into them. He wrapped his arms around your torso and rested his head on your chest; your arms wrapping around the back of his neck. Your fingers started playing with his hair, gently massaging his head.

The two of you sat there in silence, both of you with your eyes closed. You weren’t sleeping, but you were unsure if he was. Even if he wasn’t, his breathing was starting to get more even, he was starting to calm down. Hearing the sound of your heartbeat always calmed him down. “Y/N?” Dean asked.

“Yes my love?” You asked, opening your eyes.

He looked up at you briefly, tiredly. “I know I don’t tell you enough but…I’m really lucky to have you in my life. I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you.” He kissed your neck, as that was one of the only spots he could currently reach.

“I’m lucky to have you in my life too.” You responded, giving him a kiss on the top of his head.

“And Sweetheart?” He asked again.

“Yeah?” You asked.

“Thank you…thank you for not leaving me.” His voice sounding a little pained. The sound of this sentence had broken your heart a bit. Leaving Dean was never an option for you, no matter what had happened between the two of you. Being with him wasn’t easy, but you couldn’t imagine being with anyone else. He was your person, the love of your life, your soulmate. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You kissed him on the top of the head again, and you could feel his smile.

That night, Dean didn’t have another nightmare, but he did dream. He had one of his favorite dreams; one that always gave him a sense of calmness and normalcy. The two of you would be just lying in bed together watching some random horror movie on tv. It was something that the two of you have done hundreds, no, thousands of times, so there would be no reason why it would be his so called favorite dream. What made it his favorite though was purely based on one small detail, a detail that made it known to him that it was in fact a dream: wedding rings would be on both of your fingers.

Someday maybe, he thought.

Tag List: @roseblue373 @beansproutmafia @queenie32 @deanwanddamons @missy420-0 @jackles010378 If you'd like to be on a tag list, just message me!

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Triggers

Sam and Dean Winchester x little sister!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: Sam does something that reminds you of your abusive stepfather, and your response scares both of your brothers.

Sam and Dean didn’t know much about your life before them, and you wanted to keep it that way.

You were John’s daughter, but Mary wasn’t your mother. John didn’t find out about you until your mother died, at which time he took you in. But there was something about your life that even he didn’t know.

You had a stepfather.

You hadn’t told John, because even when you first met him, you had sensed something. You had sensed that if he knew that you had any option other than him, he would be gone in an instant. You found out why soon after; his life was a very dangerous one.

But you had told him that you had no one else, so he’d taken you in. And you didn’t regret it. You’d take monsters with two big brothers and your real father over a “safe” nice home and your stepfather any day.

He’d abused you both emotionally and verbally as soon as he’d married your mother, and you were almost certain that it would’ve turned physical if he hadn’t known that your mother would leave him over that. As soon as your mother died, you knew you weren’t safe in that house anymore; your stepfather could do whatever he wanted to you.

So here you were, with the Winchesters, and it couldn’t be better. They were your real family, more than your stepfather and even your mother had ever been. As much as you’d loved your mother, she’d stood by and watched while your stepfather said whatever he wanted to you, even when he threatened you and terrified you to the point where you had nightmares about him going through with his threats. You could never go back to that kind of life.

Even if it meant this, what was happening now. You were wandering around a maze of boxes and crates in the middle of a warehouse, trying to find your brothers. You’d recklessly ran down a corridor to chase down a vampire, but once it was dead you realized you’d gotten yourself lost. It would’ve been fine, if not for a couple of key factors. 1: Your phone was dead, and 2: there wasn’t just one vamp in the warehouse, it was a nest.

You just hoped that Sam and Dean found you before the nest did.

“What do we have here?” You cringed at the unfamiliar voice. Of course you couldn’t be so lucky.

“I’d say it looks like dinner,” another vampire said from behind you.

“You don’t want to do this,” you warned as your fingers tightened around your machete.

“You have no idea how much I do,” he grinned at you.

You backed away from the two monsters until your back hit a stack of crates and your movement was stopped. You were semi-confident in your ability to take them both out, until you saw movement behind some boxes to your left, and three more joined the group. One of the first two had snuck up behind you while your attention was on the other vamps, and you didn’t notice him until his hand shot out, gripping your arm and twisting it until your machete clanked to the ground.

“See,” the first one spoke as he advanced on you. “Doesn’t matter that you’re a hunter.” The man moved, and before you could blink he had your arms pinned to your side, his fangs dangerously close to your neck. You felt your whole body shiver when you felt his next words as a breath against your throat. “You’re gonna die like every other brat we bleed dry.”

“You think so?”

The sound of that familiar voice almost made your knees go weak in relief. The pressure on your wrists disappeared as the vampire turned to charge at Dean, who deftly took his head off in one swing.

Sam was right beside him, taking out a couple of other vampires. Before long, all five lay dead on the ground, and you leaned heavily against the crate behind you, your legs feeling too shaky to hold you up.

“Are you ok?” Sam’s voice didn’t quite reach through your fogged mind, until he stepped forwards and grabbed your shoulders, shaking you until you looked at him. “Are you ok?”

“I-I’m…” you nodded feebly, and Sam’s demeanor changed.

“What were you thinking?” His sudden raise in volume made you flinch, your whole body tensing.

“I’m sor-sorry, I-“

“You could’ve been killed! Where were you? How could you be so-“

“Sam!”

You didn’t even hear when Dean interrupted Sam, pulling him away from you. You couldn’t hear anything except the ringing in your ears, and the voice that was so clearly not either of your brothers.

“What were you thinking?”

“How could you be so stupid?”

“If you pull anything like that again, I’ll kill you!”

“You’re lucky your mother is here, or I’d beat you until you couldn’t stand!”

All the different times, all the different threats just merged together, playing over and over in your head. You couldn’t hear anything but that voice, couldn’t see anything but that face.

You didn’t even feel it when your legs gave out and you sank to the floor. You squeezed your eyes shut tightly, hands coming up to cover your ears as you rocked back and forth, back and forth.

“No…” you whimpered. “Stop, please stop.”

Meanwhile, Sam and Dean didn’t know what to say.

“Sam, what did you…”

“I-I didn’t…I don’t…” Sam couldn’t take his eyes off you as you shuddered and began to sob. “Hey, hey,” Sam spoke softly as he knelt next to you on the ground. “Sweetheart, look at me, it’s Sammy.”

Sam froze when you flinched away from his touch, but he didn’t back down.

“Hey, c’mon.” Sam took hold of your hands, gently prying them away from your ears.

“No!” You sobbed. “Don’t, don’t!”

“Commere,” Sam sighed as he pulled you into his arms, his chin resting on your head as he rocked you back and forth. “Come on sweetheart, come back to me.”

“S-Sam?” Sam breathed a sigh of relief when you opened your eyes and spoke to him.

“Hey, hey it’s me, it’s ok.”

“I’m sorry,” you sobbed as you fisted his shirt, clinging to him.

“No, hey, don’t apologize. I-I shouldn’t have yelled, I’m sorry.”

“Baby,” Dean spoke softly as he leaned down to look at you. “What was that?”

Sam felt you shift as you turned your head against his chest, unwilling to look at Dean.

“No,” you whimpered.

“What?” Dean reached out and placed a hand on your shoulder. “It’s ok, you can talk to me.”

“No!” Sam’s heart ached at the sound of your sobbing as you burrowed closer to him.

“Ok, ok,” Dean said as he backed away. “I…I’m gonna go start the car,” Dean looked at Sam. “Just…bring her out when she’s ready.” Dean left, knowing he couldn’t help. This was something Sam had to fix.

“You have to talk to me,” Sam pleaded. “Kid, you’re scaring me.”

“Y-you have to promise me.” Sam felt you pull away from him, and he looked down into your eyes. “You can’t tell Dad or Dean. And-and you can’t make me go back.” Sam stiffened when you started to cry again. “I-I can’t go back.”

“Shh, shh,” Sam pulled you close again as he whispered. “Ok, ok I promise honey. What’s got you so scared?”

“You-you just…you reminded me of-of someone, and I got-I got scared.”

“Who?” Sam pulled away again to look at you. “Who did I remind you of? Did this person hurt you?”

“M-my…” Sam swallowed as you took a deep breath before speaking. “My stepfather.”

“You don’t have a…” Sam’s voice trailed off at the look on your face. “You have a stepfather? But I thought-“

“I didn’t want dad to know, because I-I had to get away.”

“You chose monsters over this guy?” Your silence was all the answer Sam needed. “And…and I reminded you…” Sam swallowed. “Honey, you-you know I wasn’t trying to scare you, right? I just…” Sam shook his head. “Sweetie you scared us so bad. I thought those vamps had…”

“No,” you insisted. “I-I know you didn’t mean it, I just-just got scared. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Sam said as he shifted. “Are you ready to go?”

“Y-you won’t tell anyone, will you?” You looked up at Sam as the two of you stood, and his stomach twisted at the fear in your eyes.

“Commere,” he sighed, pulling you close. “You’re family, kid. We would never send you back to him, never. But I’ll keep it a secret, if that’s what you want.”

“Yes.”

“Ok, I promise,” Sam said as he pulled away. “Now c’mon.”

Sam kept his arm around your shoulders as he led you out towards the car.

“I’m sorry,” Sam spoke again just before you reached the Impala. “I never wanted to scare you.”

“It’s ok,” you leaned closer to your big brother as you spoke. “I-I know you’re not like him.”

“If you ever want to tell us about him…we’re here, kid. You can trust us, always.”

“Hey,” Dean interrupted, sticking his head out the window of the Impala. “Are we all good?”

“Yeah,” you grinned. “We’re all good.”

[ninii-winchester]

Crossed Allegiances

Pairing: Dean Winchester X Reader

Word count : 7.5k

Warnings: angst, smut, fluff, spn spoilers, language, canon violence. Not proofread.

A/n: had to split in two because the long fic has become too long.

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO COPY MY WORK, TRANSLATE IT OR POST IT TO ANY OTHER PLATFORM. REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED.

"Hurry up." Said the man in hushed whisper, his voice barely audible in the dead of the night.

"You're going to regret this, you know?" She whispered back, her voice was soft. She wasn't threatening him, rather she was scared for what might happen after.

"Don't make me change my mind." He replied. His words held no malice. They were more of a plea for her to hurry up. Before he could speak any further, she pulled him into a tight hug. He wasn't shocked at her action. He was used to her embracing him whenever the opportunity presented itself. Although he hated when she did so, this time he held her back and cherished these last moments with her.

"I'll owe you. For the rest of my life." She whispered lowly.

"You won't. You just be safe." He said pulling away from her. She nodded her head in a silent promise that she wouldn't be reckless and be safe. She looked at face, remembering every last detail, his short dark brown hair, the scar on his right cheek, his eyes, knowing this would be the last time she ever sees him in a very long time.

With a loud gasp Y/n sat up in her bed. Her forehead was covered in sweat as she heaved looking around. She relaxed a bit as she realised she was in her room, in her apartment.

It wasn't a nightmare per say that woke her up from her slumber. It was a memory. A memory buried in the back of her mind that she doesn't want to forget or remember. She wants to remember the last time she was with the most important person in her life but she wants to forget how she got here. She wants to forget how it was the last time she ever saw him and how she has no way of contacting him without risking his life.

With a heavy heart she dragged herself out of the bed, making her way towards the bathroom to get ready for her day.

Y/n L/n, a twenty four year old woman, who lives in Lebanon, Kansas for the past five years. She lives alone in her one bedroom apartment. Works two jobs, at the local bakery, near her place, during the day and as a bartender at the bar during the night.

She doesn't necessarily need the money. She works to keep herself busy. To keep herself from sitting idle and remembering the things she desperately wants to forget.

Making her way towards the bakery, she was the first to arrive there. It has always been like this, she's the first to arrive and the last to leave. She fumbled with the keys, her breath forming small clouds in the crisp morning air. With a soft click, she unlocked the door and pushed it open, the familiar scent of fresh bread and vanilla greeting her.

Y/n flipped the sign from "Closed" to "Open" and stepped inside, her movements practiced and efficient. She turned on the lights. The countertops were spotless, and the display cases were lined with freshly baked goods from the previous day, waiting to be restocked.

Soon her coworkers arrived and the bakery came to life with the customers filling in, and the aroma of rising bread and sweet pastries, filling her with warmth she lacked in her life.

Y/n's day went as usual, being in the back, finding solace in the warmth of the kitchen and  taking pleasure in baking goods.

"Hey Y/n." James, her co-worker called out. "Can you take the counter please? Ellie isn't back from her break but mother nature's calling me!" Y/n laughed, nodding her head. "Thank you you're a life saver. I owe you." He yelled running towards the bathroom and she just grinned. She didn't mind helping out.

Y/n made her way outside and stood behind the counter. Rush hour had passed and there weren't many people in the bakery. Just an old man enjoying his cupcakes, and a young couple having donuts with coffee.

The front door opened and the bell chimed indicating someone had walked in. Y/n prepared herself to greet the customer but the minute she looked at him, the air was knocked out of her lungs. He was gorgeous. She stared as he came closer, noting his eyes were the greenest eyes she'd ever seen.

"Hello!" The man said as he finally stopped in-front of her. His voice snapped her out of her trance, it was velvet smooth.

"Hey, what can i get you?" She cleared her throat flashing him a smile.

"Pie." He said with a childlike excitement. "The banner outside said it's Special Pie Day."

"Sure is. And it seems to be your lucky day mister, we're down to our last slice." She smiled before moving to get him his pie. She placed it in a takeaway box and gave it to him and he thanked her before paying for it.

"Have a nice day!" She said to him.

"You too." He replied before walking out.

The rest of the day Y/n spent thinking about of the handsome stranger. After closing up, she went home, she ate the leftover pizza and took a shower. Dressed in her jeans and a blue crop top she left home for her other job.

Time went by as usual, drunk fights, pool hustling and bad karaoke. After serving another patron Y/n wiped the counter top. She threw the paper towel into the bin it missed, so she squatted down to pick it up and throw it in properly this time. She jumped a bit when she stood back up and saw green eyes sitting on the stool.

"What can i get ya?" She questioned the handsome stranger. He recognised her from earlier.

"A beer please."

"If I didn't know any better I'd say you're stalking me." She teased him putting the bottle in front of him.

"Nah, sweetheart. You just happened to be at two of my favourite places." He flashed her a charming smile.

"I haven't seen you around here before." She leaned a bit on the counter trying to remember if she's ever seen him before.

"Just passing by. But a good pie and beer, key to my heart." She nodded her head in understanding, it wasn't the places that were his favourite rather the items.

"Did you like the pie then?" She couldn't help but ask. She knew she was at what she did but it never hurt to ask for a bit of validation.

"Best damn pie I've ever had." He exclaimed.

"Then I guess I've unlocked your heart." She grinned at him.

"You made it?" He questioned and she nodded eagerly. She didn't know what it was about this stranger that made her act like a high school girl but she was having fun. She liked that she had his attention. She wanted to get to know him, even if he was just passing by.

"Well it was some pie..." he trailed off looking at her, hoping to get a name.

"Y/n." She filled in. 

"Dean." He introduced himself.

"So what brings you here Dean?" She asked hoping to find more about the extremely gorgeous man sitting in front of her.

"Work." His vague answer told her he didn't want to talk more about it. So she dropped it. He asked her a few questions about her life here, he didn't ask her any personal questions so she was happy to indulge him. After he was finished with his third beer, he got a call and had to leave, much to her dismay. Fifteen minutes after he left, her shift was over and she headed home.

It was a silent night as she walked in the dark. She could feel another presence behind her and she knew she was being followed. Whoever it was, it's his bad day. She wasn't just a girl and she was really waiting for him to jump her just so she could beat the daylights out of him. But he didn't, and she couldn't risk him follow her all the way to her home so she slowed her steps, and then completely stopped.

"I know you're there." She called out. She moved towards the alley behind the dumpster and saw a figure in the shadows. The figure moved back as she approached him. Another pair of footsteps could be heard from outside the alley. She grabbed the shadow's arm and placed her forearm over his neck, pressing him into the wall, slightly cutting of his oxygen. As she pushed him to the wall, the light from the street lamp shone on his face. "Dean?" She questioned. "So you are stalking me!" His eyes widened as she said that.

"No, this isn't what it looks like!" He replied in a hushed voice.

"Three time's not a coincidence, Dean." She snapped. The sound of another pair of footsteps was getting louder. Dean rolled his eyes, not at her but the approaching footsteps.  Soon enough a man appeared in-front of them and Dean managed to break free from her hold and pushed her behind him. The man in front of him snarled as he barred his teeth in a menacing display. They weren't teeth Y/n noticed. Fangs.

The vampire lunged at Dean and the hunter was quick, getting his machete out of his jacket he charged at him. The vampire pushed at Dean's chest, throwing him against the wall, his machete slipping off his hands. The creature, closed in on Y/n. With calculated moves, she kneed the monster in the stomach.  The green eyed hunter watched as she reached over and picked Dean's machete, beheading the monster in one swift motion. Dean stood up but his jaw was still on the floor.

It was true that he was following her but the other two times he met her was purely coincidental. When he met her at the bakery, he just thought she was pretty. The next time he saw her at the bar, it was pure coincidence, after talking to her, he found her enticing. But then he got the call from his dad asking about his hunt and he remembered he was here for work. So he went back to his motel for research, however during his research he noticed that vamp was taking a certain type of females. Girls with Y/e/c eyes, y/h/c hair and the ones with a specific body type. His mind flashed with an image of Y/n and he immediately left his motel. His assumption had been true since the vamp actually came after her but he didn't expect her to do what she did.

"What did you do?" He asked her.

"Killed him, obviously! And saved your ass." She snapped folding her arms across her chest.

"Damn it Y/n, I could've followed him to his nest." He argued. "I'm gonna have to start over now."

"You wanted to use me as bait? Are you fucking kidding me?" She glared at him. "Stop hunting if it's such a bother to do your job in the first place."

"I wasn't using you as bait, I came to save you. If you hadn't killed him, I would've made him tell me where the rest of them are." He retorted. "Are you a hunter?" He asked after a moment of silence.

"No." She replied unfolding her arms and walking over to the dead creature's body. She patted his pockets hoping to find something that could lead them to his base. Dean scoffed at her response.

"Are you seriously going lie to my face after I just saw you decapitate a vampire?"

"I'm not a hunter Dean." She answered through gritted teeth. She found a cellphone in the vamps pocket, she threw it at Dean who caught it effortlessly. "That might help you." She said walking away.

"Hey.!!" He ran behind her and grabbed her arm as he caught up to her. "I could use the back up, you know." He tried to convince her with his captivating smile. She gave him a deadpan expression. "C'mon sweetheart, I'll owe you." He didn't give two shits about back up. He just didn't want her to leave too soon. Now that he knows he can be himself in front of her, he just wants to spend a bit more time with her.

She narrowed her eyes at him, he fidgeted under her scrutinising gaze and she smirked. "C'mon, out with it, sweetheart." She demanded in a teasing tone. Dean let out a huff.

"I thought you were pretty. But now I think you're smoking, you're badass and it's hot so can you blame a man for wanting to spend some more time with you?" He rubbed the back of his neck bashfully. "Besides you seem to know about this stuff and it's just a cherry on top."

"You could've just said so. Besides now that I think about it, you actually might need backup." He rolled his eyes at her teasing, knowing he's completely capable of holding on his own. "Lead the way." She motioned him to lead the way.

He took her to the Impala and she settled in the passengers seat. It wasn't long before she found herself out a cheap motel. He guided her inside his room and she could see the beds were still made, a few empty beer bottles were placed on the table with his laptop sitting on it. 

"May I?" She gestured to his laptop and he shrugged. She took a seat on the chair, before she could open the computer he jumped a bit before snatching it from her. He gestured her to wait a minute and closed all the tabs before giving it back to her. She gave him an amused look and he looked sheepish. "The phone." She raised her palm out in front of him. She went through the messages, the recent one stating,

Get back ASAP. -Rick

Y/n quickly traced the number and a few minutes later the computer pinged. "I got it." She turned the screen towards Dean and he was impressed by how quickly she found their target.

"Let's go, sweetheart."

It didn't take them long to arrive at the vampire's nest. They quickly sneaked inside the abandoned building, Y/n's grip tight on her borrowed machete. She scanned the area before moving in stealthily. Dean right behind her. As they ventured further into the building, a bit of chatter could be heard over loud music coming from upstairs. The duo nodded at each other and made their way upstairs. It all happened in a flash, Y/n noticed they were seven of them and charged fearlessly. Slashing heads after heads. One of them had managed to knock the machete out of her hand but she didn't falter, she jumped a bit and spin kicked the vampire which made him fall a few feet away with a loud thud. That gave her the opening to grab her weapon and end his life.

Y/n and Dean panted, covered in blood with victorious grins of their faces. Dean had witnessed how she'd kicked the vamp and he was impressed. This girl was astonishing him every second. He wanted to know her, he needed to know the girl who denied being a hunter but fought better than one.

"I believe a celebration is in order." Dean said holding his hand out to her. She grabbed it without hesitation.

"My place, Deano." She whispered in his ear and he swore he felt his blood rush to all the right places. After burning the bodies the two got into the Impala, driving to her place. She let him inside her apartment and closed the door behind her.

"Drink?" She questioned walking into the kitchen. Dean nodded. "Have a seat, make yourself comfortable." She gestured to the couch.

"Nah, don't wanna ruin your couch, sweetheart." Dean replied as she came back with two bottles of beer. He took one graciously and took a big swig.

"Then why don't you strip, sweetheart." He mentally groaned as he's never met a woman like this before. He swore if he was capable, he would've fallen in love with her. Her eyes watched how his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. Leaving her bottle on the coffee table, she moved toward the bathroom. She tossed her top at him before disappearing inside.

"Fuck, this woman." Dean groaned before joining her inside. She was waiting for him under the shower in all her naked glory. Dean didn't waste anytime before stripping off his clothes and joining her. He stepped under the warm water his chest pressing against her back. She could feel his length pressing into her back. She turned around, slamming her lips into his. He grabbed the back of her head, pulling her closer, their lips met in an incredibly intense kiss, charged with a raw, electric heat. The kiss deepened, becoming fierce, that left them both breathless and craving more. He groaned into her mouth.

"Fuck i gotta take you to bed." He growled. As much as he loves a good shower sex he needs to take her to bed, he needs to have a taste of her sweet nectar, he wants her to fall apart on his tongue at least twice before has his way with her, before he spilts her open. Most of all he wants her to enjoy this as much as he does, he wants her to be comfortable.

She nodded before turning off the shower. He picked her up effortlessly, and threw her on the bed. He kissed her once before making his way down between her legs. He buried his head in her core. Lapping at her juices like a starved man. As much as his body ached to be inside of her, he needed her to come undone on his tongue. And she did. Hard.

"I could eat you all day, fuck you're sweeter than any pie I've ever had." He praised kissing the inside of her thighs.

"Dean." She whimpered. "Need you." She was needy for him, she had never wanted a man as much as she him and she didn't even know his last name.

"Patience, baby." He rasped. Fuck, his voice alone was enough for her to lose every last thread of her sanity. And his expert mouth and fingers had her wanting, begging for more.

He hovered above her, his hand resting beside her head. His other hand tracing all over her body as his mouth left open mouth kisses over her neck and chest. Although she was loving being submissive for him, she was running out of patience. Pulling him down slightly she flipped him on his back, moving up to straddle his waist.

"Easy, princess." Dean teased as she positioned herself and sunk down on him. He groaned loudly as he sheathed inside her completely. "Fuck baby." He grunted as she started moving.

"Dean." She gasped as running her hands all over her body. Throwing her head she moved faster.

"Say my name, just like that." He flipped them over so she was under him again. Pulling her legs over his shoulders, he pounded into her. She didn't remember the last time a man had her screaming his name over and over until it was the only thing she remembered. He pressed his lips onto hers, one of his hands wrapping around her throat, adding slight pressure making her roll her eyes in the back of her head. She kept repeating his name like mantra, with each snap of his hips.

After hours of immense pleasure, she'd lost sense of her surroundings, lost count of the times he's made her come, she didn't even know if it was night or day anymore. All she knew that this enigma of a man was making her feel things she'd never felt before. She came back to her sense as she felt Dean rub gentle circles on her skin.

"You okay, sweetheart?" She nodded slowly. "You were amazing baby girl." He grinned at her handing her a glass of water he brought for her.

"You were fantastic." She responded as he settled in the bed with her. He laid back pulling her down to rest her head on his chest. Pretty soon the day's exhaustion took over and she drifted off to slumber.

"We have to. I have to." A blonde girl muttered with no emotion.

"No we don't." She replied looking somber.

"You don't understand, there is no other way." The blonde girl took a step closer.

"We will find a way. This doesn't have to happen.!" She exclaimed walking backwards.

"I am sorry." Was the last thing she heard the blonde girl say.

A loud scream, woke Dean from his slumber. He shot up and watched Y/n sit up beside him. Her eyes were wide open and she was out of breath.

"Hey hey! Sweetheart, just a nightmare, yeah?" Dean nodded at her, slowly coaxing her.

Not just a nightmare.

"Yeah!" Dean gathered her in his arms, placing a kiss on her head. He didn't know why but his is heart was aching for the girl in his arms. He felt the need to protect her. He gently laid her back on the bed, his arms tightening around her. She felt safe in his arms. She wanted to ask him to stay forever. But she knew she couldn't and she knew he wouldn't.

Dean's woke up as he heard vibrations coming from somewhere. He snuggled into her neck further, but his eyes flew open as he realised it was his phone buzzing. He slipped out of the bed, tripping on his feet as he rushed towards his phone. He somehow managed to pull it out of his jeans before it stopped ringing.

"Fuck." He cursed as he saw the called ID. It was his dad. "Yeah Dad!" He said answering the phone. "Yeah. No, I forgot. It's done." Dean waited for his father to finish speaking so he could go back to the baddie in bed, cuddle her, wake her up with his head between her legs. But his father ordered him to be back in three hours. Since there's no use for him to stay there if the job's done. "Yes, Sir." Dean muttered before hanging up. He knows it's a long drive and he'd only make it in there in three hours if he left right now. There's no time for a quickie and the thought made him groan.

Y/n yawned and stretched as she woke up to an empty bed. She tried not to feel disappointed that he was gone; she knew he would leave eventually. But she had hoped for at least a goodbye. She heard footsteps approaching. Dean emerged through the doorway and flashed her a smile.

"Good morning."

"I thought you left," she mumbled, pulling the covers closer to her body. He inched closer, then kneeled on the bed before her.

"You really thought I'd leave without saying goodbye?" he asked softly, his voice tinged with surprise and amusement. He nugded her nose with his before pressing his lips to her. She gasped as he slipped his tongue inside her mouth. She pulled him closer, pulling him above her, but he pulled apart. "As much I'd love to, I have to leave. My dad called." He explained kissing her pout.

"Alright."

"This is goodbye?" Dean questioned.

"You can stop by whenever you want." She shrugged. Dean nodded.

"Do you think I can call you for backup?" He asked getting dressed.

"Don't you even dare." She threatened even when they both knew they hadn't exchnaged numbers, they didn't even know anything about each other apart from their names. He chuckled placing one last kiss on her lips before leaving her house.

Over the years Dean often thought about Y/n. She was the only woman ever that made Dean's heart leap out of his chest. He was beautiful, fierce, a badass when it came to hunting, but still had a graceful feminine touch to her personality. He was pretty sure she had ruined every other woman for him. His hookups were all meaningless and never enticed him to go for another night. He had every intention to go back to Y/n, visit her, maybe beg her to come with him. But due to this life, he never got the opportunity. Part of him stayed away because she didn't want to do anything with hunting, and he wasn't sure if he could bear her rejection. So he never tried.

Ten years had passed the bakery owner Mrs. Reed passed away and left the bakery in Y/n's name as she had no kin of her own. And she loved Y/n dearly. The old woman knew she was passionate about her job and was worthy of owning the place.

Dean never came back. Y/n never expected him to or even remember her. Y/n was thirty four now. Dean had managed to leave an impression on her. She tried not to think of him often. But this is life. You meet people, you remember some, you forget some. But there's some people she desperately wanted to forget but yet her mind wouldn't let her.

She stopped working at the bar ever since she inherited the bakery, but she still visited the bar on weekends. Having a drink or two. Had she known what awaited her, she would've never left her house that day. Y/n was by the pool table, a glass of whiskey in her hands as she watched the game between between two bulky men.

Her eyes wandered around the place ever so often. Her breath caught in her throat as she made eye contact with those blue eyes. She gulped down her drink in one go. She hoped he didn't recognise her but the smirk on his face said otherwise. She watched as one of men was positioned to take his shot, she accidentally stumbled into him ruining his shot. The large man turned to her and she cowered back in fear.

"He told me to do it." She pointed to his opponent and the large man turned to him. Grabbing him by his collar he threw a punch at his face. A fight broke out, creating enough diversion for her slip away.

"That was clever Y/n." A voice said from behind her as she walked out of the bar. "But you should know it isn't enough to outrun me." She stepped dead in her tracks as turned to face him. There was no way to run. Now that he knows she's alive, there's no way she could ever run. 

"Mr.Ketch." She stuttered taking a step back.

"I never believed you died." He took a step forward. His thick accent still the same as she remembered. "Even if you were nineteen, you were one of the best." She watched in anticipation as he inched closer. "Though I never thought I'd run into you in America."

She was terrified of him. If it had been anyone else, she would've tried to run. If it had been anyone else, she might've felt relieved that they hadn't hurt her yet. But this was him—ruthless, calculating. The more he stalled, the more her fear grew. He liked to make his prey think they had a chance to escape. He liked the chase.

"Mr.Ketch." She spoke again, but she didn't even know what else to say.

"I just don't understand how'd you do it? How did you run from the Men of Letters. And more importantly why?" He circled around her. "Ah you know what, don't bother. I'm not interested."

"Why are you here?" She finally mustered the courage to question him. "I have been living a normal life, I haven't told anyone anything about the Men of Letters." She added feeling the need to explain.

"Don't flatter yourself, darling." Arthur snipped in his usual tone. "I'm not here for you, though it is a pleasant surprise to see you here." A moment of silence passed and Ketch gripped her arm tightly. "Now that I think about it. You're coming with me." She knew struggling against him would be a waste of her energy. He dragged her towards his vintage looking motorcycle.

The ride was short, she didn't recognise where he was taking her. They stopped in front of what looked like a base, located in a hidden bunker. It appeared to be deeply hidden and fortified. He placed his hand on the biometric scanner, the security gate opened and he dragged in her inside the by arm.

He nudged her move on her own, he opened a door to what seemed to be a briefing room. There were screens placed all over the place, some showed maps, locations and security footage of God knows what places. A huge table with chairs was set up in the middle. The door opened for a second time and someone entered the room while her back was to the door.

"Look what I found." Ketch announced, turning her around forcefully. Her heart stopped for a minute when her gaze landed on the newcomer. Those eyes, the ones she memorised fifteen years ago, stared back at her with an unreadable expression. That scar across his right cheek was the same as she remembered.

"Mick." She breathed out. He was frozen in his place. He never thought he'd ever get to see her. He had always hoped and prayed for her safety. Seeing her back in the same hell again, the one he rescued her from, he didn't know how to feel.

She didn't care if she shouldn't have done it in front of Ketch but she ran straight into his arms. Her best friend. The one that helped her when she it needed the most. The one who risked his life help her run. As the initial shock wore off, Mick wrapped his arms around her. Hugging her tightly, not wanting to let go. He'd missed her.

"Well, isn't it heartwarming." Ketch said sarcastically, from behind her, making them pull apart.

"What do you want from me?" She snapped, her fear now turning into anger and frustration.

"Now that is a very good question, darling." Ketch clicked his fingers before towering her. "What do you think will happen when the Elders find out a rogue hunter is alive?" He sneered as he spoke. "They'd issue your death warrant. And trust me I would love to carry out those orders."

There was no doubt that he was right, Y/n knew and Mick did too. They would have her killed. The main reason Mick declared her dead was to ensure they would never look for her ever again. And that plan had been successful for fifteen years- until today. Until Ketch found her.

"I have a job for you. Complete it, or you won't live to see another sunrise." Ketch said retrieving his gun from his gear. "So what's it gonna be?" He questioned pointing the gun to her head.

"What's the job?" Ketch smirked at her answer and Mick let out a resigned sigh.

"Eliminate the Winchesters. From within."

Y/n didn't know who the Winchesters were or why the British Men of Letters were so concerned about them. But knowing Ketch as she did, she was sure he wouldn't hesitate to assassinate the Winchesters if it weren't so complicated.

"Mick here will tell you whatever you need to know," Ketch said, grabbing his stuff. Turning to her, he added, "And Y/n, one wrong move." He warned, pointing his gun at her to emphasize that he wouldn't hesitate to shoot. She nodded meekly before he left.

"Oh god." She let out a breath as the menacing man left the room. She turned to Mick embracing him again. He patted her back, calming her down. "How have you been?" She asked pulling away to look at him.

"I've been better. I'm ecstatic to see you, but I'm terrified for what might happen to you." He replied, his familiar accent soothing her. She gave him a small smile.

"Don't worry about me, Micky." He rolled his eyes at her for using his old nickname she'd given him. "I've had a great life thanks to you. After I'm done with these Winchesters, I might end up killing Ketch and maybe we can run away. I'm not leaving my best friend behind this time." She said sounding determined.

"Sure thing kiddo." He ruffled her hair. She pouted slapping his hand away. She hated when he did that.

"Fill me in about these Winchesters." She said plopping down on one of the chairs.

"They're brothers. American hunters, currently residing in a Men of Letters bunker in Lebanon, Kansas." Mick stated sitting beside her.

"What's Wretch's beef with them?" She questioned. Mick let out a laugh knowing who she was referring to.

"It's not a personal conflict. They're meddling with business." Mick replied.

"Such as?"

Mick gave her a look. She immediately understood that the Winchesters weren't fond of their methods. The British Men of Letters had no regard for collateral damage, as long as their goals were achieved. It was one of the reasons Y/n got out. She had had enough of having innocent blood on her hands.

"And why can't that cunt deal with them himself?" She asked.

"They've proven to be a bit unpredictable. They've outsmarted him. And they're resilient as hell." Mick informed her, a smirk appeared on her face.

"I like these Winchesters. At lease someone gave Wretch hell." She snickered. Mick chuckled before dropping a file in front of her. The file was labeled as 'Winchesters'. She flipped the file open and read through it.

Sam and Dean Winchester. The name Dean brought back memories, her mind flashed with the images of the green eyed hunter. Her eyes widened as realisation hit. Dean, American Hunter. She flipped through the file for a photo. When she found one attached to the page with a paperclip, she removed it and inspected closely. The man in the photo looked familiar, he no longer had that boyish charm on his face, he looked her older. But those eyes. Those green eyes.

Son of a bitch.

Y/n mulled things over, he probably won't even remember her. But does she want to play puppet for Ketch. She ran away from this god forsaken organisation for a reason. But then she knew Ketch wouldn't just kill her. He would torture her, mentally and physically. She could bear the physical pain being inflicted onto her but she knows he would drag Mick into this to break her. And she can't let that happen. She owed him her life, her happiness, those fifteen years she spent as a normal human being. He'd always treated like a little sister and she'd seen him like the big brother she never had. She can't let anything happen to him. She won't.

"I guess I got work to do." Y/n mumbled closing the file. "Call Wretch." She told Mick. The man nodded and called Ketch. The man came back with a stoic look on his face. "Final goal?" She questioned.

"On our side or dead." Ketch replied.

"When I do this, you'd better keep your pestering ass out of my way. And don't you dare show up anywhere near me!" Ketch scoffed at her threat. "I'm serious, those guys hate your guts and I don't want to be seen with you. Don't want your incompetence to mess up my work." This triggered Ketch and his face twitched a bit but he held back.

"Be my guest." He taunted before leaving again.

Mick helped her get back to her apartment. She dropped on her bed as she formulated a plan.

Plan A, get them to be partners with the British Men of Letters.

Plan B, Elimination.

She hoped it never came to Plan B.

Y/n knew her best shot at getting close to the Winchesters would be Dean. She'd read about them, the British Men of Letters had kept an eye on them for a long time. She knew Sam would be a bit suspicious of her but given her past with Dean, she could manage to accomplish her mission. Out of all the places in the country, Y/n never thought Dean would settle down here, in Lebanon. How come she never ran into him she wondered, but then again, she never went out much, just the bakery or the bar. It makes her question why he never visited her. Maybe he did forget about her.

Y/n visited the bar Dean visited frequently, according to the files. She'd been here for the fourth day in a row and he hadn't showed up yet again. She wanted to run into him accidentally, just so he wouldn't get suspicious of her. It wasn't unlikely for him to bump into an old fling at the bar. It would be completely coincidental. The door to the bar opened and walked in the green eyed hunter she'd been waiting for.

If he looked gorgeous back then Y/n didn't know how to describe him now. His features a bit more rugged, his hair a bit tousled, a bit of stubble present on his jaw and she pressed her thighs together, wanting to feel that scruff between her legs.

She downed her drink quickly as she watched him take a seat on one of the stools by the bar. She quickly made her way towards him. She lightly tapped on his shoulder and waited for him to turn around.

Dean wasn't in the mood to be bothered by anyone, and he certainly didn't want to deal with an annoying woman clinging onto his side. He presumed if he'd act uninterested, whoever it was, would leave him alone. But they persisted, tapping on his shoulder once again. He grumbled before turning around, ready to tell the intruder to fuck off but time froze as he did.

Dean didn't believe his eyes, it was Y/n. She was right in front of him. In the flesh. She logged a bit older than the last time he saw her. Her y/h/c was a bit longer, her body had grown, in more ways than one. She was a pretty girl but she's turned into an even more beautiful woman. He blinked a bit when he heard her call his name.

"Dean? Dean, you zoned out."

"Fucking hell. Y/n!" It wasn't a question. It was an exclamation. He remembered her. "Goodness, sweetheart. Look at you." Dean beamed. "Still beautiful as ever."

"And look at you, still charming as ever." She replied with a grin. He missed her. He missed this. She was the only woman who could tease him and match his flirty banter.

"How have you been?" Dean asked her.

"Been good. Though I'm a bit upset." She pouted. Although she was doing a job, she couldn't help but say what she felt.

"Why is that, sweetheart?"

"Well you're here, and you didn't visit." She replied honestly. He hadn't expected her to say that. He never thought she'd want him to visit her. "Is there a girlfriend or a wife I should know of?"

"None." He replied. At his answer she stepped closer, wrapping her arms around his neck, his arms immediately circling her waist.

"Missed you." She whispered in his ear making him shudder. The woman that has been invading his dreams for the past ten years is back in his arms and he was losing control. He dragged his nose through the column of her neck, inhaling her scent.

"Missed you too baby." If she was being honest, being back in his arms made her forget why she was there in the first place. Although she'd barely spent 24 hours with him in total, she'd missed him immensely over the years. "Let's get out of here, yeah?" She nodded, he turned and threw a few bills to cover for his beer. His arm never leaving her waist, he pulled towards the Impala. "You still live at the same place?" She nodded again as he pulled the car out of the parking.

They reached her place soon enough but none of them were eager to rip their clothes off of each other. With his hand tightly clutched in hers, she pulled him to the couch Dean's strong arms encircle Y/n, holding her close against his chest, where they can feel the steady beat of his heart. His warmth surrounds her. Dean's fingers lazily trace patterns on Y/n's back, his touch gentle and reassuring. Y/n nestles her head against the crook of his neck, inhaling the scent she missed so much. It hasn't even been an hour since she was back in his arms, and she's already considering telling Ketch to fuck off.

"What have you been up to these days?"

"Hunting. What about you?" Dean shifts slightly, pulling Y/n even closer, and presses a soft kiss to the top of her head. There's a quiet contentment in the air, the kind that comes from being with someone who makes you feel safe and cherished. Neither of them knew just how desperately they wanted each other, until now.

"Ah same old. I'm the owner of the bakery now. And i stopped working at the bar."

"That's amazing, sweetheart."

"When are you leaving?" Her question echoed through the quiet apartment. He tensed slightly; he hadn't told her he lived here now. He wasn't ready for her reaction upon discovering he'd been living here for years and never bothered to visit. Not this soon But he knew he had to come clean sooner or later. If he wanted something more with her—something real this time—he needed to tell her the truth.

"I'm not." She looked at him with curious eyes, although she knew he was living in the Men of Letters bunker with his brother. She knew almost everything about him— yet here she was, pretending. She hated doing it. "I live here with my brother. Have been for a while."

"I see." She replied looking down at his chest. A part of her was hurt that he had been living her and he didn't come find her. If Ketch hadn't appointed her with this job, she would've never met Dean again.

"Cmon, don't be like that, sweetheart. I wanted to come see you. I just thought maybe you'd moved on, had someone in your life. We didn't exactly make any promises." He rubbed the back of his head. "Besides, I don't think I would've been able to handle seeing you with someone else." A smile broke onto her features at his admission.

"There hasn't been anyone. No one was the flirty green-eyed hunter." She grinned up at him. It was the truth, she did meet other people over the years but they weren't Dean.

"I was wondering, if you'd want to give us a real chance? I know this is sudden, we just met again-" she didn't let him complete, she stopped him mid sentence by pressing her lips to his.

"I'd love to." Y/n was now questioning her own skills; she hadn't been on a job for fifteen years. The lines were blurring for her. She wasn't sure if she'd be able to complete this job or get herself killed by Ketch. Whatever it was, she didn't care in that moment. She wanted Dean. And he was willing to himself to her.

Dean stayed the night but nothing happened. Y/n served Dean the pie in her fridge, she loved how his face lit up like a child. Even after years his love for pie was still the same. The curled up in bed, catching up on each other's lives they missed over the years.

"Your best friend is an angel?" She looked at him incredulously. He chuckled at her reaction and nodded.

"Yeah. He's more like a baby in a trench coat."His laugh made her smile sadly. The more he told her about his life, the more she was second guessing this job. Is she really going to kill him and his brother if they don't cooperate with the British Men of Letters.

"I'm sorry Dean." He looked down at her with a questioning gaze. "The years haven't been kind to you." She pressed a soft kiss to his chest. "I can't even imagine how you'd felt, going to hell, purgatory. I'm so sorry." She cupped his cheek, staring in those green eyes that'd seen so much. There's pain but there's adoration, for her.

"It's in the past." He shrugged nonchalantly. He didn't know what possessed him to tell her his life story but he wanted to tell her everything. He wanted to be emotionally connected with her, he wanted it to be real, more than just a physical relationship. "Go to sleep, sweetheart." He kissed her forehead as she snuggled closer to him.

Tags:

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@s0urw00lf @monkey-d-hoshizora98 @deans-baby-momma @fullbelieverheart

@riah1606 @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @hobby27

@starkleila @suckitands33 @m3ntally-unstable @kanekilovelove-blog @candy-coated-misery0731

[loop-hole-319]

My headcannons about Danny Phantom and Supernatural crossover

He likes to fly above/behind the impala on long car trips and sleeps in the backseat. He has claimed it as his domain and would rather invisible sit on the roof then share.

When ever they check in at a motel Danny always races in to book the room so he can get a room with 2 beds for 'him and his dads'. Unless they are with Cas, then it's his dad's and his uncle.

Danny sleeps on a hammock he got from the Far Frozen which he phases the ends in to the ceiling unless he has a nightmare, then he cuddles one of the brothers.

He can sniff out Hex Bags like a drug dog. He says that they smell like hatred and Old Spice.

Danny stores important stuff inside of his own pocket dimension, which is located in his chest right in front of his core. So when access it he must stick his hand into his chest. At first the Winchesters think he is storing stuff inside his body like a smuggler or something.

Dean calls it his hammer space and Charlie refers to it as his chest of holding.

Charlie babysits him whenever the brothers have to do a Meetup with other hunters, because he has been traumatized.

Danny sneaks them in to places,except morgues. He also does not participate in salt and burns.

He was the one to tell them that by just holding a ladder and a high vis vest. You can get it in about anywhere without question.

The first time Danny went on a ghost hunt with them. He punched the ghost and knocked it out.

He punched a death echo out of its loop.

He LOVES to fuck with the Ghost Facers and other Ghost hunters.

He has broken them out of jail more times than he can count.

He bit Cass the first time he met him.

He has helped Dean out of a panic attack with his ghost purring. Immediately following, they teased him about being a cat.

He will whine about not wanting to carry gear because it's "anti-ghost".

The first time he met Crowley he ran and hid behind Dean. Dean felt really honored about that.

Sometimes on long hunts and when they're out in the woods, Danny likes to drape himself in ghost form, across with Sam's shoulders like a boa.

Dean teaches him how to shoot a gun and Sam teaches him about lore. Bobby teaches him a whole bunch of other useful Hunter skills.

Danny has fallen asleep on all of them.